Mel took out her phone. She figured she could take a picture of the gown and send it to Alma. Maybe the designer would have a quick fix for making it more of an eye popper.

As Mel fussed with getting the dress out of its clear plastic covering, she noted the other women in the room seemed to be keeping their distance. Mel wasn't sure if it was because she was an outsider in the pageant world or because Lupe was the prime suspect in Mariel Mars's murder.

"Hi," she greeted the woman at the next makeup table.

The woman gave her an alarmed look and muttered something that sounded like "hello" but Mel wasn't quite sure. The woman turned her back to Mel as if to discourage any further conversation.

Mel snapped a couple of pics and carefully rewrapped the dress. She wandered out of the room and into the hallway, where she quickly composed a text with the picture attached and sent it to Alma.

A man in a pale yellow polo shirt, khaki shorts, and brown loafers stopped beside her. He looked her up and down and then made a puckered expression of concern with his lips.

"Here's my card," he said. He handed Mel a card in the shape of a woman's silhouette-a very well-endowed woman. "I notice you don't have a rock on that finger, so I'm assuming you're single or having a problem sealing the deal?"

Mel opened her mouth to speak, but he didn't give her the chance.

"You're not bad looking, but if you really want to nail down a guy, you might want to consider enhancing the package."

He made an hourglass gesture with his hands and if shock hadn't rooted Mel to the spot, she was pretty sure she would have kicked him in the privates on principle alone.

"And don't worry. We can work out a payment plan," the man said. Then he gave her a wink and a flash of his incandescent veneers and he was off.

Mel stood looking at the card in her hand as if it were printed in a foreign language that she couldn't decipher. When she realized it was outrage making it hard to focus, she closed her eyes for a second and pictured punching the jerk in the face. That helped.

When she opened her eyes, she could read the card. And, oh shocker, it belonged to Dr. Brandon Richards. She might have known. For a moment, she wondered if Brittany had sent him just to insult her. Then she glanced down at her figure. Yeah, no. Probably, he had seen her lack of endowments and decided to hold his own personal intervention.

Mel was just settling into her funk when she heard a shout from the lobby. It sounded like a deep male voice and the last time she'd looked out there, Oz was the only male capable of that sort of bark.

Mel started toward the lobby, but she only got a few steps down the hall when she spotted Oz coming at her with a dripping wet Lupe being carried in his arms.

Joyce was racing behind them, looking equal parts worried and furious.

"What happened?" Mel asked as she followed them.

"Karma," a petite little blonde said from behind Mel. Mel turned to see the girl toss her hair with a look of disdain.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mel snapped. She stopped following the others to face down the little brat.

The delicate blonde looked at her in surprise and then slunk behind a sturdier version of herself-presumably, her mother.

The mother gave Mel a sharp look. "It means a murderer has no business competing in this pageant. She needs to go and if she doesn't, well, it looks like karma is going to catch up to her."

"Shut up," Destiny Richards snapped as she strode into the room. "If karma was involved, you two meanies would have been bounced a long time ago." Destiny was carrying Lupe's robe and she handed it to Mel. "She left this behind."

"Thanks," Mel said.

"Sure." Destiny turned and left the room before Mel had a chance to say any more.

Mel quickly crossed the room to where Joyce and Oz stood hovering over Lupe, who had one leg propped up. Her face was pale and her expression tight. Mel guessed she was holding back some tears.

"Destiny Richards brought your robe," she said. She held it out so that Lupe could shrug into it. "Pretty nice of her, huh?"

"Huh," Joyce said. "That's the least she could do."

"What do you mean?" Mel asked. "What happened out there?"

"Lupe was making her final walk back to her spot on the dais, after passing the judges, when suddenly there was a puddle of water on the concrete. Lupe's shoes slipped right out from under her and she fell into the pool. Brittany Richards was standing right by the puddle with an empty glass in her hand."

Twenty-one.

"She didn't even care if anyone saw her! If Lupe hadn't used her momentum to fall into the pool, she could have broken her leg!" Oz shouted.

Mel had known Oz for a long time and she'd never seen him lose his temper. Right now, he looked as if he'd happily strangle someone, preferably Brittany Richards.

"I'm okay," Lupe said. "I've taken worse falls off of my board. Remember that time my right butt cheek hit the curb so hard it looked like a Rand McNally road atlas? I swear I could have charted a course to San Diego."

Mel knew she was trying to make light of the situation. Oz was having none of it.

"This is different," he said. "Someone tried to hurt you."

The two teens stared at each other. Lupe reached out and took Oz's hand.

"Thanks," she said. "But I'm okay. Seriously, I don't think you're supposed to be in here."

Oz looked away from her and glanced around the room. Sure enough, it was filled with women, contestants and mothers, and all of them were staring at him.

A hot red suffused Oz's face, but he didn't run out of the room. Instead, he looked at Lupe and said, "You call me if anyone so much as gives you a dirty look. Am I clear?"

He said it loud enough for even the women in the back of the room to hear him, then he strode through the room shooting ferocious looks at anyone brave enough to meet his gaze.

Joyce watched him go and then gave Lupe a small smile. "You've got quite a champion there, don't you?"

A small smile parted Lupe's lips and her pallor gave way to a faint blush of pink. Joyce and Mel exchanged a glance. Mel felt a surge of relief that Lupe seemed to have the same feelings for Oz that he was having for her. It would have crushed her to see Oz get his heart stomped on.

"Now that you don't have to keep up the brave face for Oz, how are you really feeling?" she asked Lupe.

Lupe met Mel's gaze in the mirror. She cringed.

"Like a loser, actually," she said.

"Now, Lupe, we talked about that," Joyce said in her most bolstering voice. "You are not a loser. We just have to upgrade your wardrobe a bit and nail down your talent and you'll be fine."

Lupe's eyes got damp and she glanced down at her hands. "I don't have a talent. It doesn't matter anyway because I'm probably going to be arrested for murder."

"No, you're not," Mel said. She picked up a hairbrush from the table and began to brush the tangles out of Lupe's wet hair. Mel remembered when she had been little and had long hair; it had always soothed her when her mother brushed it out at night. She worked the brush from the crown of Lupe's head down to the tips of her hair in gentle strokes.

A girl across the room was strumming a guitar and singing. It was a pretty folk song and Mel had to admit the girl had a beautiful voice.

Lupe met her gaze in the mirror and heaved a sigh. Mel kept brushing while Joyce took a seat next to Lupe and patted her hands.

"Now, listen to me," Mel said. "You know how I feel about these pageants."

"You think they're stupid," Lupe said.

"Mostly, yes," Mel admitted. "But you went into this to win a scholarship. Now you have the cupcake competition, the formal wear, and the talent portions left. You have hung around the bakery enough to be able to submit an idea for a cupcake that will be amazing, yes?"

Lupe nodded.

"And you are beautiful enough that even if your gown doesn't cost a fortune and isn't covered in ruffles and sparkles, you will outshine all of the others," Joyce said.

Lupe gave a long, shuddering sigh. She closed her eyes for a moment and Mel kept brushing her hair. When Lupe opened her eyes, they weren't watery with a sheen of tears anymore.

"You're right," she said. She straightened in her chair and looked at her reflection in the mirror. "I can do this."

Mel and Joyce exchanged a smile. So long as Lupe was in, they were in.

A murmur began in the room, drawing Mel's attention away from their group. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Uncle Stan and Cici standing in the doorway. Cici glanced in their direction, gave Uncle Stan a nod, and hurried toward them.

"This can't be good," Mel said. Joyce rose and stood beside her as if they could make a human shield and block Uncle Stan's view of Lupe.

Joyce frowned. Mel glanced at her and noted that she had her "scary mother" face on. Mel hoped Uncle Stan was wearing flame-retardant underwear because if he thought he was coming after Lupe without Joyce going volcanic on him, he was seriously mistaken.

"Detective Cooper says he needs to speak with Miss Guzman," Cici said. "I would appreciate it if you would go quietly so as not to upset any of the other contestants."

The entire room was staring at them. Mel was not overly concerned with upsetting them and she could tell her mother couldn't give two hoots, either.

"Sorry, Cici," Joyce said. "'Quietly' is not in my vocabulary."

She then marched across the room, looking ready for battle.

"Stan!" she yelled in a voice that made everyone jump, including Stan. "I want a word with you."

"I'm doomed, aren't I?" Lupe asked.

"Let's give Mom a minute to handle it," Mel said, and she put a reassuring hand on Lupe's shoulder. She glanced at Cici and asked, "Did Stan say anything else?"

"No, just if I would let Miss Guzman know that they would like to ask her some questions."

"See?" Mel said to Lupe. "That's not so bad. Come on, let's go see what this is all about. You'll feel better if you know."

Lupe gave her a dubious look. As they crossed through the room, the whispers that followed them made Mel roll her eyes. This is exactly how she'd felt in her chunky youth when the whispers started every time she was called up to the front of the class to read or work a problem out on the board. She had always felt as if everyone was just waiting for the fat kid to trip or fall. The ghost of the memory made her clench her teeth in slow-burning anger.

Sarah Hendricks, the sharp-featured, underfed redhead she'd seen before, the one who was so nasty to her mother, was whispering frantically to a petite blonde as they passed.

"See? I told you she did it," Sarah hissed. "Look at how manly her walk is. She is so not Miss Sweet Tiara material. I bet they only let her in to make the pageant more ethnically diverse. She probably works in farm fields when she's not here. I mean, look at her hands. They're huge. And did you see her gown? It was totally off the rack. She is so not one of us."

Mel stopped in her tracks. Now she was crazy mad. She turned on the redhead and stepped so close to her that her face was inches from the young woman's. The girl went wide-eyed, as if expecting Mel to hit her.

"You're right," Mel said. "She isn't one of you. She has a beauty and grace that shines from within, not bought from a box or a bottle. You'd be lucky to be half the person she is."

The redhead glowered and gave Mel a contemptuous look. "That may be enough where you come from, but this is the big leagues. That little leaguer isn't up to the game and neither are you."

The girl's disdain was like a slap in the face. Mel refused to take it.

"Funny you should talk about the big leagues," Mel said. "Your nose is a major leaguer on a T-ball face. Probably, you should have that looked at." She then slapped the card Brandon Richards had forced on her into the girl's hand.

She heard the redhead gasp as she and Lupe strode away. It was unquestionably mean and immature of her, Mel knew. But for these girls, everything was about their looks, and Mel knew she could only dent the girl if she slammed her appearance. Had she gone after the girl's mean personality, the redhead would have shrugged it off like an acrylic sweater.

Mel knew her behavior had been revolting and she felt her insides twist in self-disgust for sinking to Sarah's level, but when Mel glanced at Lupe out of the corner of her eye, the young woman gave her a small smile of gratitude and Mel felt a little part of herself heal.

Growing up, she had been the one who was derided and picked on and she had never stood up to the bullies because deep down she was ashamed of her weight and afraid that the people who made fun of her were right. Somehow, standing up for Lupe made all those years of misery fade. For the first time ever, she didn't feel the need to stuff her face with comfort food after being insulted. It felt pretty good.

"Stan, you can't be serious," Joyce was chiding him as they joined them. "You know Lupe. You know she didn't do it."

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He looked as if he was trying to ward off a headache.

"It's just a formality," he said. "But we have to take her in for questioning."

"Fine, then I'm calling Steve and he'll meet us at the station," she said. Joyce began fishing her phone out of her purse.

"I figured you would," Uncle Stan said. Mel thought she heard a note of approval in his voice. She knew he had to hate this as much as any of them. His next words confirmed it. He looked at Lupe and said, "I want to be very clear, this is just protocol, do you understand?"

Lupe gave him a shaky nod and Mel squeezed her shoulder in reassurance.

"Can I at least let her get dressed and then take her in my car?" Joyce asked. Her voice was clipped and Uncle Stan looked pained.

"Sure," he said. "That would be fine."

"Watch her things," Joyce said to Mel. "I don't trust that viper pit not to tamper with her clothes and makeup."

Mel thought about her exchange with Sarah. If they did, it would be her fault.

Uncle Stan and Mel watched Joyce lead Lupe into the dressing room. Mel fell into step beside him as he headed down the hall to the lobby and asked, "Scale of one to ten, how serious is this?"

His face was grim. "New evidence has come to light from the medical examiner that makes it a nine point nine. That's all I can say."

Mel knew by his tone that she would get no further information. Still, she was mad at him. "So, you lied to her when you said it was just protocol?"

Uncle Stan gave her a flat stare. She was aware that she might have just made him mad, but damn it they were talking about a young girl's life. She didn't give a rip what anyone else thought. She knew Lupe was innocent.

"No, I didn't," he said. "Between you and me, and I mean that, I don't think she did it, but the evidence-"