18
HUGHES
“Whoo! The strippers are here!”
Several elderly women whoop when the police walk into the living room.
The party is crazy. The Christmas punch is flowing. And Willow has disappeared.
Bobby tries to yell something over the thumping remixes of Christmas carols.
“What?” I yell at him.
Bobby yells something unintelligible.
“What? There’s been a what?”
Someone pulls the plug to the music right as Bobby screams at the top of his lungs, “There’s been a murder at the Jingle Bites Café! Taylor Grace is dead!”
The partygoers let out drunken gasps, then it’s a free-for-all as people yell for their coats and stream out into the night, heading into town.
“A murder? Who murdered her?” I demand.
“We have the suspect in custody.” Bobby sounds out of breath as we head to the café.
“It’s probably the same person who murdered Jonah,” Josie says, hurrying up next to me.
Mace Svensson runs after her with her coat, yelling, “Stay away from that crime scene, Josie, please!”
“Oh, go drink some hand sanitizer—you’ll be fine!” she calls to her husband.
“Where is Willow?” I search the crowd. “She’s going to want to see who the murderer is. Has anyone seen where she went?”
Bobby looks grim. “She’ll be difficult to find, because the person we have in custody is Willow.”
“What?” I stop short. “Willow didn’t kill Taylor Grace.”
“She was shot dead in Willow’s café. The evidence begs to differ,” Bobby tells me.
I shove my way through the crowd of people peering in through the windows of the Jingle Bites Café as, inside, the police conduct their investigation. An ambulance pulls up, and the EMTs start unpacking the stretcher.
Willow sits on one of the café seats, head in her hands.
Winston Girthman points at her. “Caught the murderer. It’s always who you least expect.”
“Willow didn’t murder Taylor Grace—she’s been at the Christmas party this whole time,” I argue.
“The whole time? Because several people”—Bobby gestures to the crowd outside—“said they saw her leave twenty minutes ago.”
“So she leaves the party, lures Taylor Grace here, and kills her? Then what? Calls the police? Doesn’t go back to the party, doesn’t just leave the body here and pretend to discover it in the morning?” I argue. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Don’t talk to the cops!” Willow’s grandmother rails, swatting at the police as she bursts into the café. “They don’t want to do their jobs, so they go after my granddaughter.She’s about to get married and have a baby—she’s not out here murdering anyone!”
“You’re getting married?” Nana exclaims, hugging me. “Oh, this is a wonderful Christmas!”
“If you’d caught the murderer earlier, then Taylor Grace would still be alive,” I argue with Bobby.
“This isn’t our fault!” the police argue with Nana.
