CHAPTER 21
Nothing says awkward conversation starter quite like approaching someone you suspect of murder while they’re having a moment with a skeleton in a wedding dress.
The fog machines continue pumping mist across the cobblestones with theatrical determination, while the scent of bourbon cake and maple donuts does yummy things with the crisp bite of autumn air that’s arrived three weeks early. It’s dark out, save for all of the eerie holiday illuminations around us.
Purple and green lights twinkle through the cemetery display with the kind of aggressive cheerfulness that makes everything look either magical or mildly disturbing, depending on your current mental state. The sound of laughter and the spooky mood music that never ends drifts from the crowd, punctuated by the occasional screams from our guests having the time of their lives, or crying for help.
I approach Savvy Sparrow, who’s standing beside the ornate casket in full Bo Peep regalia—flowing pastel dress, shepherdess crook, the works. She looks like she stepped out of a nursery rhyme book, assuming nursery rhymes included costume parties and potential homicide suspects.
Cupcake sits beside her in a princess costume that’s probably more elaborate than most people’s wedding dresses. Her white fur has been secured into half a dozen perfect pom-poms, she’s wearing a rhinestone tiara that catches the purple lights, and a pink satin cape completes the ensemble.
Well, hello there, sugar,Cupcake observes in her perfectly cultured voice as I approach.Don’t you look festive in your vampire attire?
I give her a quick scratch behind the ears, because even when you’re about to accuse someone of murder, basic manners still apply.
“Oh Josie!” Savvy jumps, her Southern drawl coming on thicker than buttermilk biscuit batter. “You startled me! Believe it or not, I was actually thinking about you.”
I inch back slightly, my detective instincts immediately shifting into high alert. “You were? While staring at the skeleton bride?”
GAH! She’s plotting how to land me horizontal, permanently.
“Why yes,” Savvy continues, apparently oblivious to my sudden wariness. “I’ve been going over every menu in the park, and honey, I have been busy. I’ve even studied all the vendors that line the streets here at Huckleberry Hollow Wonderland, and I have a comprehensive overhaul planned for each and every dish. I’ve already sprinkled some of my magic here and there, but, honey, I’m just getting started.”
She settles into full presentation mode, her eyes lighting up with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for winning lottery tickets or finding the perfect pair of jeans.
“Nothing too crazy, mind you, but something that will elevate your game substantially. When I’m through with this place, people won’t just be coming here for the rides. They’ll be making pilgrimages for the food.”
I blink at her, my murder accusation temporarily derailed by culinary ambition.
“Now, I think you need to add a Mexican restaurant, an Italian place, and definitely a Chinese establishment to the grounds. I’ve already selected three existing locations that can easily be modified.” She gestures toward different areas of the park with the confidence of a killer who’s clearly done her homework.
“Picture this,” she continues, warming to her subject. “Carnitas tacos with house-made tortillas and pickled jalapeños, served with Mexican street corn that’s been elevated with cotija cheese and lime crema. For Italian, think fresh pasta made daily—maybe a butternut squash ravioli with brown butter sage sauce for fall, or a seafood linguine with lobster caught right here in Maine.”
My mouth starts watering despite my better judgment.
“And the Chinese place? Oh honey, we’re talking about hand-pulled noodles, five-spice duck pancakes, and dumplings so perfect they’ll make grown adults pay cold, hard cash to move up their reservations. Plus, I’m thinking we do a dim sum brunch on weekends that’ll have people driving up from Boston.”
“Oh wow,” I manage, and now I’m really feeling bad that I’m about to accuse her of murder. It’s hard to maintain proper suspicion when someone’s describing food that sounds better than anything I’ve eaten in my entire life.
Maybe Dilly had it coming?
“Savvy,” I begin gently, trying to ease into what’s about to become a very uncomfortable conversation. “I need to ask you about something.”
“Of course, sugar! What’s on your mind?”
I take a deep breath and dive in. “I know about your mother. About what Dilly did to her bakery on national television years ago. How she called it amateur hour with delusions of grandeur and suggested your family stick to church bake sales.”
Savvy’s smile falters just enough to let me know I’ve hit my target.
“We all know that your Rest in Peaches coffin cake ended up being the scene of the murder, but I did see myself that you and Dilly had a very public argument before the reception, and that you made some pretty pointed jokes about revenge cupcakes that look a lot less funny now.” I study her face carefully. “Everyone thinks you’re just naturally cheeky, but what if you’re actually naturally vengeful?” I pause, watching her expression.
Her eyes widen to the size of pancakes.
“I also know that Dilly was planning to expose secrets at this symposium, and that you had access to those marble rolling pins.” I study her face carefully. “Is that why you did it? Is that why you took a rolling pin to Dilly’s head and shoved her into your Rest in Peaches coffin cake?”
Savvy inches back, her hoop skirt rustling with the movement. “Josie, what are you saying?”
Josie, are you serious right now?Cupcake barks with a note of genuine surprise.You think my hooman is a murderer?
