Which, considering what I suspect, is probably exactly what’s happening.
Carlotta, meanwhile, has discovered yet another chocolate display and is scooping up chocolate bunnies with the dedication of someone preparing for the Easter apocalypse. She tosses one to Lenny, who catches it in his massive jaws and gulps it down whole, foil and all.
“Carlotta, you can’t just take?—”
“It’s called quality control, sweetheart,” she interrupts, unwrapping another bunny with haste. “I’m making sure these chocolates are fit for human consumption. It’s sort of a public service I’m providing. Someone has to protect the good people of Honey Hollow from potentially substandard Easter confections.”
An entire thicket of people turns and gives her a dirty look. Everyone here knows there’s not a substandard Easter confection within reach.
She bites the ears off yet another innocent bunny and chews thoughtfully. “Not bad. Could use more sugar. And maybe some brandy. Everything’s better with brandy.”
“Would you stop?” I pick up an errant bunny nearby and swat her with it. “There’s no brandy in these.”
“Well, that right there is the problem,” she says, snapping up a few more and shoving them into her purse. “Say, I think I’m onto something. How about you and me go into the chocolate bunny business? I’ll even let you use my secret recipe. Hint: it involves brandy.”
“I’m going to fill a barrel with brandy, shove you in it, and roll you into Honey Lake if you don’t behave.”
“Don’t tease me with a good time.”
Lenny crunches through yet another chocolate bunny, colorful foil paper and all. “This is quite good, actually. Much better than the usual fare I had on the planet. Do you think they have any with nuts?”
“Focus, Lenny,” I say. “We’re supposed to be investigating, not having a chocolate tasting party.” I reach over and grab a chocolatefudge egg with walnuts and toss it to him on the sly. I can’t help it, he really is that adorable. Plus, if he gets really hungry, he might just take a bite out of me.
“Thank you,” he says, but I notice he’s already eyeing another bunny. I guess he and Carlotta have more in common than I thought. “It’s just been so long since I’ve had proper chocolate. Death really limits your snacking options.” He toys with the box that contains the fancy fudge egg before wolfing it down, packaging and all.
Something behind the booth catches my eye, and I spot Gina crouched near several boxes of chocolate, inspecting labels and counting inventory with the intensity of someone conducting a drug deal. Which, considering what I suspect, might not be far from the truth.
Her movements are quick and furtive, checking over her shoulder every few seconds while she examines what looks like a shipping manifest.
“There she is,” I say, pointing her out to Lenny. “Let’s go have a chat with the queen of creative bookkeeping.”
We race over, Carlotta trailing behind us while still clutching stolen chocolate bunnies and providing a running commentary.
“You know, Lot, for someone who’s supposed to be solving murders, you sure do attract a lot of chaos,” she says. “It’s like you have a special talent for turning peaceful Easter festivals into crime scenes. It’s very on-brand for you,” she says as we leave the confines of the booth. “Hey,” she crows as she glances back at the bustling makeshift shop. “You just turned me into a thief!” she protests as we approach Gina.
“Please,” I reply without breaking stride. “You were already a thief. The chocolate is just making it official. Besides, considering your track record, this barely registers.”
“That’s true,” she admits cheerfully. “Remember when I stole that Christmas tree from the town square? Good times.”
“That’s because you chased a dozen elves into its branches beforehand.”
“I’ll have you know they werehotelves, and someone needed toshow them a good time while they were in town. They were a long way from the North Pole. Speaking of poles, Santa met up with us at Red Satin that night, and boy, could he ever rock a banana hammock. Or should I say, a sugar cookie hammock?”
“Please don’t say anything at all,” I whisper as we come up on our suspect. “Speaking of thieves,” I mutter as we approach Gina, who looks up with a smile that could sell ice to penguins and make them ask for seconds. Come to think of it, she’s always had that talent.
She’s dressed in a sultry red number that screams femme fatale at an Easter festival, which is quite the fashion statement. The dress clings to her curves as if it were painted on, and her platinum hair is styled in perfect waves that probably took three hours and a team of professionals. Her lipstick is the exact shade of trouble, and her eyes are doing that thing where they try to look innocent, but instead, they’re sending my radar pinging.
“Well, if it isn’t our resident amateur sleuth,” Gina purrs, her grin widening to show ultra-bleached teeth that probably cost a mint. “Did you have a chance to speak with Bunny? I imagine that was quite enlightening.”
There’s something in her tone that suggests she knows exactly how that conversation went, which means she was probably counting on Bunny looking guilty as sin.
Not that she didn’t, but still.
I step closer, and Lenny moves by my side like the intimidating beast he is, albeit invisible. “Nice flowers you gave her,” I say. “They really helped with the setup, or so you thought.”
Gina’s smile falters just a fraction, like a crack in expensive porcelain. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Oh, I think you do,” I continue, getting into my investigative stride and feeling like I’m finally putting together a puzzle made of chocolate, murder, and family dysfunction. “Those gorgeous foxgloves were quite the conversation starter. Too bad the digitalis didn’t work the way you planned.”
