Emma bounces toward the latte line just as McKenna immediately leans forward with the scheming intensity of someone about to reveal which rides break down most often. Spoiler alert: I already know. It’s a tie with all of them.
“Emma has a brother,” she whispers.
“A criminallyhotbrother,” Riley elaborates, because Riley never met a detail she couldn’t improve. “Criminal justice major. Looks exactly like Detective Dreamboat but younger and less emotionally unavailable.”
“Jack,” McKenna continues. “Single by choice, not by circumstance. Tragically unattached.”
I watch Emma explaining advanced foam art techniques to the increasingly overwhelmed barista, probably revolutionizing their entire operation before her order’s ready. Poor Dexter. His daughter refuses payment, his son is tragically unattached, and his mother might be sitting in jail for murder.
“You realize now that you’re already behind on Halloween prep?” McKenna points out, flipping through my notebook with inherited organizational obsession.
“I’ve been slightly occupied with the whole murder situation,” I defend. “Forgive me for prioritizing homicide over holiday marketing.”
“That’s where multitasking comes in. Riley grins. “Solve murders while planning Halloween. It’s called time management.”
The girls abandon me for the latte line, where Emma appears to be explaining seasonal business theory to anyone within earshot. College students—they’ll revolutionize your life before their coffee cools.
I’m considering the implications of faux-hiring someone whose father I may or may not be dating when a familiar Southern drawl cuts through café chatter.
“Well, butter my biscuit, if it isn’t the empress of Huckleberry Hollow!”
Savvy Sparrow approaches with the confidence of someone who owns whatever space she currently occupies. Today’s tight red outfit screamssuccessful Southern businesswoman who could charm the devil into buying fire insurance, and her smile could convince you that the air we breathe is actually cotton candy.
But it’s her furry not-so-little companion that stops traffic.
Trotting beside Savvy is a poodle that’s been subjected to grooming that makes Vegas showgirls look understated. Pure white fluff has been sculpted into elaborate pom-poms at strategic locations—head, tail, ankles—while the rest sports a cut so precise it could qualify as geometric art.
Pink bows perch on each ear, and her collar sparkles with enough rhinestones to be seen from the top of the Ferris wheel.
“I don’t go anywhere without my sweet Cupcake,” Savvy says with a touch of pride. “She’s my business partner and chief quality control officer.”
Cupcake poses with the insufferable confidence of a pooch who knows they’re not just the cutest thing in a fifty-mile radius, but probably in the entire state of Maine. She’s ready for circus auditions, which is perfect since she’s in exactly the right place for it.
That’s not a dog,Fish observes from her throne.That’s a cotton candy sculpture with delusions of being a mammal.
I shoot her a look that says both be nice and good at the very same time.
I wonder if she tastes like actual cupcakes,Chip muses.You know, for research purposes.
“Cupcake is absolutely stunning,” I manage, because what else do you say about a dog who looks ready to hit the Great White Way?
“Why, thank you, sugar! She’s quite the celebrity back in Tennessee at my bakery, Sweet Dreams &Sugar Schemes.” Savvy’s expression shifts to business mode. “Speaking of which, I’m heading to Storybook Hollow for the morning session I’ll be hosting. Nadine will be there demonstrating advanced frosting techniques later, and that delightful Delora will probably be there critiquing everyone’s piping skills.”
If she isn’t trying to clobber them.
So, Dexter decided to give his mother a pass in the homicide department. Interesting. Maybe Ishouldmake things official with him? After all, I’ve got an annoying ex who’s still breathing somewhere. And heaven knows I’d love to get away with murder.
She studies my face with menu-reading intensity. “You should come, Josie. I’m presenting coffin cake construction—the technical aspects of edible mortality. Plus, watching our prime suspect handle sharp objects should be educational.”
I like Savvy immediately. Anyone who treats murder investigations as entertainment has my kind of priorities.
“Sounds perfect,” I tell her. “I’ll be there.”
“Wonderful! See you in an hour, honey.” She glides out with Cupcake prancing beside her, both moving as smooth as a mint julep.
My phone buzzes.
Ree: Is the hunt officially on?
