She stalks off through the crowd with icy composure, leaving behind the scent of expensive perfume and barely contained fury.
“Well,” Georgie sings, “that went better than expected. She only threatened you once, and she actually showed some vulnerability. Very humanizing.”
“Plus, we learned that Savvy’s gotsecrets,” Ree adds, consulting her notes. “And that Delora’s been carrying around fifteen years of guilt and shame about that affair.”
“Both of which could be motives for murder,” I muse, watching Delora disappear into the crowd. “Though I’m starting to think we might be looking at this all wrong.”
My phone buzzes against my hip with the insistence of a small earthquake, and I pull it out to find a text that makes my stomach do interesting things.
Dexter: Hey. Hope the parade went well. I’m almost there for our do-over dinner. Where should I meet you? - D
I stare at the message, torn between the thrill of seeing Detective Dreamboat again and the reality that I’m currently standing next to a purple fountain, having just interrogated his mother for murder.
“That’s the face of a woman who just got a text from a man,” Georgie observes with the accuracy of someone who’s witnessed too many romantic disasters. “A very attractive man, judging by that expression.”
“Detective Dreamboat?” Ree asks hopefully. “Please tell me it’s Detective Dreamboat.”
“It’s Detective Dreamboat,” I confirm, still staring at my phone. “He’s almost here for our date.”
“The same Detective Dreamboat whose mother just threatened your theme park?” Georgie points out helpfully. “This should be interesting.”
“Interesting is one word for it,” I mutter, typing back.
Josie: I’ll find a place and text you the locale in five minutes. Fair warning—I just finished interrogating your mother.
His response is immediate.
Detective Dreamboat: Of course you did. Should I bring bail money or just a really good bottle of wine?
Despite everything—the murder investigation, the family drama, the fact his mother might be planning my professional demise—I find myself grinning at my phone.
Because any man who can joke about bailing me out after I’ve interrogated his potentially homicidal mother is definitely worth keeping around.
CHAPTER 19
Great news. For once.
The parade went off without a hitch—or a hit, or a body. I think that’s some kind of record for Huckleberry Hollow Wonderland. And speaking of records, we sold out of almost all our haunted Halloween merch before the last float came to a stop.
Those college kids are geniuses. I’ve already put in another order of everything times a thousand and retrieved Fish and Chip from their respective floats. Now we’re on our way to dinner with Detective Dreamboat.
Yeah, I know the cats aren’t exactly the most romantic accessories I could bring to the table, but in truth, I’d rather they see firsthand where things might be going—and let’s be honest, the case will definitely be discussed. They’re my partners in crime solving, they need to be kept up to speed.
Dexter and I finally decided to meet up at Pendulum’s End, a snazzy quasi-romantic locale in Gears & Dreams Hollow. The entire area looks like Jules Verne had a baby with a Victorian inventor and raised it on pure imagination and questionable engineering choices.
This place smells like motor oil and broken dreams,Fish mewls from my arms, her purple wizard’s hat slightly askew from the evening’s festivities.Very atmospheric if you’re into junkyards.
I like it,Chip announces cheerfully, his pumpkin costume making crinkling sounds with every step.Very authentic mad scientist vibes. Plus, someone definitely dropped food around here recently.
Copper pipes snake along the walkways like metallic ivy, occasionally releasing puffs of steam that smell suspiciously like vanilla and coffee. Massive gears the size of wagon wheels turn slowly in glass displays, powering absolutely nothing but looking impressive while doing it. Edison bulbs cast everything in a warm golden glow, and the sound of ticking clockwork provides a rhythmic soundtrack that’s either soothing or mildly anxiety-inducing, depending on your relationship with punctuality.
Pendulum’s End is a cozy little restaurant that sits at the heart of it all, a three-story building that looks like someone crossed a Victorian mansion with a locomotive factory. Brass fixtures gleam in the lamplight, and actual pendulums swing lazily in the front windows, marking time with hypnotic precision.
As soon as we step inside, the scent of grilled steak and garlic fries hits me like a culinary dream wrapped in woodsmoke and possibility. “I don’t care if the food here is medium, I’m so hungry I could eat everything on the menu.”
Me, too!Chip chimes in enthusiastically.Everything smells like it was kissed by angels and seasoned with pure happiness.
You say that about cardboard if it’s shaped right,Fish retorts, but even she’s eyeing the dining room with grudging approval.Though I admit, the ambiance has potential.
