Police sirens wail in the distance, growing closer with supernatural speed. Within minutes, the beach is swarming with officers carrying evidence kits and wearing expressions that suggest they were prepared for this exact scenario.
“They got here awfully fast,” I’m loath to point out. “Were they lurking on the sidelines waiting for someone to die?”
“We may have been strategically positioned around the resort tonight,” Koa admits.
“You expected this?”
“Let’s just say when you combine alcohol, family drama, and people with questionable ethics—we like to be prepared.”
Ruby snorts. “Smart man. You’ve clearly met Jinx’s ex-husband, Erwin.”
He nods. “And I’ve clearly met Jinx.”
I gasp at the insinuation.
Like a demon summoned by the mention of his name, Erwin appears through the palm trees, swaying slightly and clutching a half-empty cocktail. Candy trails behind him, still carrying her ring light like a technological security blanket, her platinum hair catching the police strobes in a way that’s most likely giving her ideas about new content opportunities.
Erwin takes one look at the crime scene tape and immediately zeroes in on me with laser-focused accusation. “Jinx,what did you do now? Did you stage this to ruin our wedding?”
The silence that follows is so heavy that even the waves seem to pause mid-crash.
“Yes, Erwin,” I say with an exaggerated patience usually reserved for explaining basic concepts to houseplants. “I personally murdered Alana to inconvenience your destination wedding. Because clearly, everything revolves around you and your profound impact on the universe.”
“This is just like you,” he continues, immune to sarcasm. “You can’t stand to see me happy, just because?—”
“Wait, baby,” Candy interrupts, finally noticing the body sprawled in the sand. “Is that actually a dead person? Is that reallyAlana? Should I be filming this? This has the potential to go viral!”
She raises her phone with that silly ring light of hers blazing like the sun, and I watch Koa’s jaw tick with restraint, calculating whether arresting the bride-to-be for disturbing a crime scene would generate too much paperwork.
“Ma’am, please step back,” he says with an admirable level of control, but a wise person might also detect the threat layered in there, too.
Erwin takes a step closer.
I said a wise person.
“But the lighting is just perfect right now! The way the moonlight dances on her cheeks… She always did have the very best shimmer face oil on hand. She really knows how to spotlight her best features.” Candy adjusts the angle of her phone for maximum dramatic effect. “This could be amazing for my reels—think of it now—love conquers tragedy! The human-interest metrics would be incredible!”
Human interest metrics? And yet she sounds about as warm as a robot.
I gape at her. “Your business manager is dead, and you’re worried about engagement rates?”
She lifts her chin in defiance. “Alana would have wanted me to turn this into positive brand messaging,” she hisses my way. “She was very dedicated to my platform growth. This is exactly the kind of raw content that builds a genuine connection with followers.”
A rooster chooses this moment to crow from somewhere behind the crime scene, offering his commentary on the homicidal shenanigans afoot. Two cats—Pineapple and what looks like a new orange tabby with two intact ears—slink through the police officers’ legs like a couple of furry investigators conducting their own examination of the evidence.
“Even the wildlife thinks this is ridiculous,” Ruby mutters.
The crowd of wedding guests and police officers parts to reveal Bertha stomping this way with her trademark scowl and handbag big enough to hide a body. She surveys the scene with a look of disdain—her go-to expression.
And oddly, I can’t help but note that Bertha doesn’t look shocked, or stunned, or even slightly horrified. She doesn’t gasp, or ask what happened, or express any of the normalhuman reactions that stumbling across a murder scene might require.
Figures. She’s either playing dumb or a stone-cold killer. Honestly, in this case, two things can be true.
Bertha stands in complete silence, staring down at Alana’s body with an expression that can only be described assatisfied,as a tiny smile plays at the corners of her mouth.
She adjusts her purse, and I swear I catch a glimpse of something that might be maile leaves sticking out from the top. Okay, fine, it’s probably just my overactive imagination, and the fact that I may have fantasized a time or two putting Bertha away behind bars. Don’t judge. Some people really do belong in cages. Okay, so that was harsh too, but I’m running off mai tai fumes and am officially suspect number one in a homicide investigation. As much as Koa might believe I’m innocent, I’m the one who conveniently discovered the body. That puts me right at the top of the list. Trust me, I know the drill.
“Well,” Bertha finally says, breaking the silence. “I suppose that solves one problem.”
