“Your cats are really embracing their roles as theme park royalty,” comes a familiar voice behind me.
I turn to find Savvy approaching with Cupcake, the poodle, trotting regally beside her. Savvy is wearing a black dress that manages to look both elegant and vaguely sinister—perfect for someone who discovered a corpse in her cake display less than twenty-four hours ago.
“They’re naturals,” I agree. “Fish has been practicing her regal wave, and Chip has perfected his I’m-too-important-to-acknowledge-the-peasants’ stare. Mostly, he’s begging for snacks.”
Savvy laughs, then leans closer. “This location is perfectly appropriate for anyone who’s already dead inside.” Her voice drops to a whisper only I can hear. “You know, Dilly always said Nadine had killer instincts. Turns out, she was more right than she knew.”
Before I can respond, she’s already moving away, calling out cheerfully to another guest while Cupcake yips what sounds suspiciously like insider information.
Delora, the silver-haired maven of rolling pin destruction, stalks through the crowd with a clipboard in hand, barking orders at the catering staff with the efficiency of someone who could organize a military coup while simultaneously planning a bake sale. She spots me and marches over, her expression suggesting I’ve personally ruined her evening by existing.
“Ms. Janglewood,” she says, managing to make my name sound like a diagnosis. “I trust you’re here as the park owner tonight, not as some sort of amateur detective stirring up trouble.” She leaves her son’s newfound love interest off the name-calling roster for now.
“Just here for the baking tips,” I lie smoothly. “Though I have to say, hosting this so close to where Dilly died shows real commitment to the theme.” It is Delora, after all, who strategizes which baker goes where and when during this sweet treat meet and greet.
Delora’s eyes narrow to slits that could cut glass. “Life goes on, Ms. Janglewood. Some of us understand that business must continue despite unfortunate interruptions.”
Unfortunate interruptions,Fish snorts from her post.That’s one way to describe murder.
Spoken like a true killer,Chip growls.
He’s not wrong.
A hush falls over the crowd as Nadine Halbrook finally takesthe stage. She’s dressed immaculately in a black dress with a vintage silver brooch—playing the grieving business partner to perfection while radiating an energy that suggests she’s enjoying this more than any recently bereaved person should. Her silver-gray hair is braided into its usual crown, and despite the mourning attire, there’s something almost festive about her demeanor.
“Welcome, my darling bakers, to our very first Spooky Symposium!” Her voice carries across the lawn with the practiced projection of someone who’s spent decades commanding kitchen attention. “I know this isn’t quite how we planned to launch our sweet yet spooky celebration, but I believe Dilly would have loved the drama of it all.”
Nervous laughter ripples through the crowd.
“Now, I have a very special treat for you tonight,” Nadine continues, her eyes sparkling with something that might be mischief or might be madness. “I’ve arranged for a very special guest to help me field some questions from our audience.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Team, cue the old crone!”
The air shimmers beside her, and suddenly a translucent figure materializes on the stage. The crowd gasps collectively, several women scream, and Fish’s and Chip’s fur stands on end, making them look twice their size. I think Cupcake just barked until all she has left is a squeak in her voice.
“Oh my goodness,” Georgie breathes. “Is that?—?”
“A hologram of Dilly Thatcher,” I finish, staring at the ghostly figure that’s now waving at the crowd with ethereal enthusiasm.
“Everyone, please!” Nadine raises her hands to quiet down the crowd. “I know it’s a shock, but Dilly would have loved to be here tonight, even if it is as a ghost. She always did love being the center of attention, dead or alive.”
The crowd gives another nervous laugh, but you can feel the energy shift from startled to fascinated. Becausehonestly, who doesn’t want to see a dead woman roast people from beyond the grave?
“Now then,” Nadine says, settling into her role as moderator, “who has our first question?”
A woman in the front row raises her hand tentatively. “Um, what was the secret to your successful partnership?”
Nadine’s smile could have powered the mansion’s spotlights. “Years of practice biting my tongue until it bled. Dilly, what would you say?”
The hologram flickers to life and sparkles. “I’d say having a partner who follows directions and doesn’t ask too many questions about the business side of things.”
Oh wow, that ghost has nailed Dilly’s voice to a haunted T.
“Oh yes,” Nadine replies, her voice dripping honey over razor blades. “Dilly was always so good at the business side—especially the parts she handled without telling me. But let’s dish about baking secrets! Speaking of secrets, Dilly, why don’t you share your famous brown butter technique?”
“Brown the butter until it’s the color of Nadine’s mood on a good day—which is, to say, dark, sinister, and slightly bitter.”
Yikes,Chip mewls.These two make my relationship with the vacuum cleaner look healthy.
Another hand shoots up. “What was your creative process?”
