I remembered standing in Connie’s kitchen, teasing her that she was jealous of the elegant glassware.

She had told me not to spill anything on her table.

“What about the other guests?” I asked.

“We’ve spoken with staff and obtained portions of the venue’s camera footage.

One bartender remembers Octavio insisting on bringing the glasses to your table personally.

Another recalls Leticia asking whether cleanup had begun before the ambulance arrived.”

The picture took shape slowly, a puzzle built from unremarkable moments that turned sinister only when placed together.

“Is that enough?” I asked.