Okay, so she’s got another point. Come to think of it, I should probably be walking around with one of those things myself.
“Well, if you didn’t do it, who did?” I ask, pulling out my phone to scroll to the crime scene photo I took. “I mean, you were right there with her and?—”
I stop cold as something in the picture catches my attention.
“Oh my word,” I breathe, zooming in on a detail that makes my blood run cold. “How did I not look into this before?”
I glance at the picture I snapped at the crime scene. And then I see it. There, on the ground next to Dilly’s body, sits a tiny copper measuring spoon with an intricate pearl handle. Something I noticed at the crime scene but dismissed in all the chaos of finding a corpse face-first in cake.
Let’s see it, Josie,Chip yowls, and I flash the phone their way.
What’s that shiny thing on the ground?Fish asks, peering at my phone screen withlaser-like focus.
That copper measuring spoon looks old,Chip observes, his orange head tilting as he studies the image.Sort of like an antique. Very fancy. Hey, I’m basically copper and fancy myself. And much like a measuring spoon, I can hold food, too.
Now you’re stretching.
I zoom in further on the measuring spoon—the one with the intricate carving and pearl handle that had caught my attention at the crime scene, but somehow slipped my mind in all the chaos.
It’s definitely out of place,Fish continues thoughtfully.All the other baking equipment is modern, but that thing looks like it belongs in a museum.
“That’s right,” I murmur, realization hitting me like a haunted freight train. “Wait a minute…”
I gasp as Delora’s earlier words echo in my memory.That woman is a junk collector when it comes to all things concerning a kitchen. She’d rather surround herself with antiques than people.
“An antique!” I breathe, staring at the ornate measuring spoon that’s been staring me in the face this entire time. “She collects antique kitchen equipment. That measuring spoon isn’t evidence that was left behind accidentally—it’s her signature.”
Either that or it fell out of her pocket while she was dancing with death.
I gasp and turn toward the haunted house just as a crackle of thunder, followed by a shrill scream, goes off over the speakers.
“I think I know who the killer is,” I announce, my voice carrying over the scary music and mechanical laughter.
I turn and stare up at the haunted wonder behind me.
Because apparently, when you’re a killer with a flair for the dramatic, a haunted house is the perfect place to tie up loose ends.
CHAPTER 23
“And where do you think you’re going?” Delora demands as I march toward the haunted house with murder on my mind.
The sounds of creepy music and distant laughter drift from the costume party behind us, while the scent of all things sweet permeates the air.
Purple and green lights continue their manic twinkling through the cemetery display, while Delora the Demented wields a rolling pin just like the one that the killer used that night.
I shoot her a look that could freeze the fountain solid. “To solve a murder in my own haunted house, now if you’ll excuse me.”
I scoop up Fish and Chip, their costumes rustling with indignation, and cut directly across the line of waiting customers—much to their immediate dismay and more than a few colorful choice words that would make a sailor blush.
“Hey!” someone shouts. “No cutting!”
“This is ridiculous!” another voice adds. “We’ve been waiting twenty minutes!”
I can hear Delora grunting and telling people off behind me asshe pushes through the crowd with the subtlety of a bulldozer in pearls. And she’s eliciting an entire gaggle of colorful words. Come to think of it, most of those colorful words are coming from Delora herself, and she’s got a vocabulary that could educate a longshoreman.
We hit the entry, and I unhook the velvet rope that leads to an area reserved for staff, letting myself into the employee entrance with confidence because, well, I happen to own the place.
Delora bustles through before I can stop her, apparently deciding that following me into potential danger is preferable to explaining to the angry crowd why she just bulldozed through their line.
