Something Borrowed, Someone Buried

He photographed a murder and never knew it. She is the only person who can find it. Margo Selkirk has been invited to a wedding in the driest desert on earth by a bride she has met exactly once, eleven years ago, over a vending machine pretzel. Forty stone casitas. Thirty-two guests who all know each other. One true-crime podcaster who knows nobody and cannot work out why she is here. Malachi Doyle is being paid to photograph it. He is charming, unbothered, permanently underdressed, and he has shot this family three times before, which means he goes everywhere and nobody remembers he was there. On the second night, the family's lawyer of thirty years is found dead beneath the observatory dome. The family calls it a fall. By morning, a strike has closed the only road out. No police. No exit. Four days, minimum. Margo cannot get near the guests without an invitation she does not have. Mac cannot get anyone to take him seriously as anything but staff. So they tell one small lie at dinner, in front of everyone, and by dessert they are sharing a casita, a story about a bookshop in Lisbon, and a wedding-long performance neither of them can back out of. The evidence is already sitting in thirty thousand of his photographs. Somebody on this mountain knows it. Something Borrowed, Someone Buried is a closed-circle murder mystery with a fully solvable puzzle, a slow-burn fake relationship that gets out of hand, and two people who are very good at their jobs and catastrophically bad at saying what they want. Book One of The Honeymoon Detectives. Fake dating. Only one casita. A closed circle at the edge of nowhere. A clue that has been on the page since the beginning.