“Too soon?” I ask, but I can’t help but smile.
“Definitely too soon. But I’ll risk it if you will.”
“DEXTER!” Delora’s voice cuts through our moment like a chainsaw through wedding cake. “Are you seriously making dinner plans right now?”
“Yes, Mother,” he calls back without taking his eyes off me. “I am.”
“With HER?”
“With the woman who makes kettle corn disasters look charming,” he confirms, and I’m pretty sure my face is now permanently red.
“Tomorrow night?” I ask, because apparently, I’m brave enough to tackle a killer, but asking a cute detective to clarify dinner plans still makes me nervous.
“Tomorrow night,” he agrees. “I can meet up with you anywhere at seven. I’ll get in touch. Try not to find any more bodies between now and then.”
“I make no promises,” I tell him. “But I’ll do my best.”
And somehow, in the middle of flying cat keychains and his mother’s meltdown, I realize that any man who can call me distracting while standing in a kettle corn disaster zone might actually be worth fighting for—even if it means going to war with a woman who weaponizes clipboards and proper etiquette.
CHAPTER 12
Apparently, finding one dead body makes you qualified to find them all—a career pivot I definitely didn’t see coming when I signed up to run a theme park.
The evening air at Bayou Bend Hollow carries the scent of cinnamon-spiced cider mixed with corn dogs, while somewhere in the distance someone is screaming their heads off—let’s hope it’s not literal.
Autumn mist drifts between the moss-draped cypress trees, and the earthy smell of fallen leaves mingles with smoked turkey legs and just a hint of what might be a supernatural presence.
It’s been several days since I discovered Dilly Thatcher’s body artistically arranged in Savvy’s Rest in Peaches coffin cake, and somehow my day of amateur sleuthing has led me right back to where it all began—standing in front of the haunted house where tonight Nadine Halbrook is hosting her Spooky Symposium.
The massive white antebellum mansion looms against the twilight sky, transformed into something straight out of a Gothic romance novel where everyone dies tragically but fashionably.
Purple and green spotlights bathe the wraparound porches in an otherworldly glow, highlighting the permanent graveyarddisplay that’s always been part of the haunted house scenery. Pumpkin scarecrows with jack-o’-lantern heads stand tall throughout the fake cemetery—some wearing tattered top hats that have seen better decades, others sporting Victorian bonnets that probably made their way straight out of that haunted era. Their flickering faces cast spooky shadows across the cobblestone paths where wrought iron fencing decorated with plastic ravens and skeletal hands creates the perfect backdrop for tonight’s festivities.
Well, this isn’t ominous at all,Fish mewls from her position in my left arm.Nothing says innocent baking symposium like hosting it in a fake cemetery right after an actual murder.
I vote we skip straight to the snacks,Chip adds as I struggle to hold him in my other arm, his orange fur still doing that thing where it sticks up in seventeen different directions.All this investigating is making me stress eat.
“That makes two of us,” I say with a sigh.
The crowd gathered on the mansion’s lawn is impressive—easily two hundred women sporting the new Fright & Frost Halloween merchandise. Cat ear headbands with glow-in-the-dark stitching bob through the crowd, ghost and pumpkin embroidered aprons flutter in the evening breeze, and hoodies readingFrost If You Dareseem to be the unofficial uniform of the night. The atmosphere buzzes with excitement and just a touch of macabre fascination, because apparently, nothing draws a crowd like a good murder followed by a baking demonstration.
It’s dark and cold out but the tiny orange pumpkin shaped twinkle lights add a level of warmth and coziness that only this time of year can provide.
“Josie!” Ree waves me over. She’s ditched her usual librarian cardigans for a black sweater with glow-in-the-dark cat’s eyes that makes her look mysterious instead of just chronically caffeinated.
“Please tell me you’ve solved the case,” Georgie says, lookingas if she’s got a few bats loose in that gray tumbleweed that sits on her head. “Because I’ve been practicing my I-knew-it-all-along face in the mirror, and I’m ready to debut it.”
“Well, let’s just say our dear departed diva had more secrets than a government file cabinet.” I glance toward the mansion’s front porch, where a makeshift stage has been erected. “Savvy practically did cartwheels when she heard about Dilly’s face-plant into the peach cake, but her alibi checks out. She was busy flirting with the catering staff all night.”
“Ooh, details!” Georgie demands, her hair flapping with excitement.
“Apparently, Dilly was planning some major bombshell announcement this weekend—something about exposing secrets from past symposiums. Savvy swears she had nothing to hide, but she was definitely rattled.”
Ree scribbles frantically. “Motive and opportunity!”
“Exactly. But right now, we need to focus on suspect number two,” I say, because Nadine Halbrook is making her grand entrance, and I have a feeling tonight’s going to get interesting.
A barrage of employees plucks the cute kitties from my arms, and soon enough, Fish and Chip hold court on ornate Gothic thrones near the graveyard display. A long line of fans waits patiently for photos, while park employees in Victorian mourning costumes direct traffic with the efficiency of funeral directors at a mass burial.
