Percy stiffens. “I’d like to see you try, sassy vixen.”
I shoot him a look. “We probably shouldn’t goad her,” I whisper.
Dolly blinks. “Pardon?”
“Nothing.” I wave it off. “Just thinking out loud.”
“Thinking about your investigation,” Carlotta clarifies, because she has never met a boundary she didn’t strip for parts and sell on the black market. “Lottie’s got her littlebaker brain working overtime. She’s trying to figure out who whacked Vivi with that skillet like she was last night’s leftovers.”
Oh, for Pete’s sake. Why do I even bother? Ozzy gives an exasperated sigh as well, as if he agrees.
Dolly’s face turns pale, even her freckles look startled.
“I’m not accusing anyone,” I rush to say, elbowing Carlotta hard enough to make her double over and groan. “Yet. I’m just asking questions. You know, trying to make sense of things.”
Ozzy chooses that moment to let out a cheerful squeal and grab a fistful of my scarf, shoving the corner in his mouth.
“See?” I say. “This is my intimidation tactic. I show up with weaponized drool.”
Some of the tension leaves Dolly’s shoulders. “He is certainly precious,” she says, reaching to lightly touch Ozzy’s foot. “They both are. I don’t know how you manage it all, dear. The babies, the bakery, the murders.”
“It’s like spinning plates,” I say. “Except the plates are on fire and filled with Jell-O.” And I’m being chased by a killer, but I leave that last tidbit out for now.
Carlotta nods sagely. “Also, half the plates are felonies.”
Dolly huffs out a laugh, but it dissolves quickly.
“Dolly,” I try again, softer this time, “I know Vivi hurt you.Publicly. That video at the meeting…” I wince on her behalf. “That couldn’t have been easy.”
Her eyes gloss over. She looks away, toward the sea of curling irons and pearl necklaces, as if she were actively searching for an exit.
“She ruined my reputation in ten minutes,” she says quietly. “Thirty years of catering. Thirty years of feeding this town. I have brides ask me to cater their weddings, families who celebrate every milestone with my pies—and now they all look at me like I’m the punchline of a joke.” Her chin wobbles. “My bookings are down forty percent. People don’t wantpedestrianfood at their special events.”
Carlotta frowns. “Vivi sounds like she was a spoiled viper in kitten heels.”
Percy lets out an approving trill. “At last, someone with taste. Kitten heels should be worn day and night by all women everywhere. Why isn’t there a law about that?”
Dolly wipes at the corner of one eye. “I was so angry that night. After the meeting. I said terrible things.”
I nod. “People heard you shouting in the parking lot.”
“You’ll regret this, Vivienne,” she quotes herself bitterly. “Mark my words. I sounded like a soap opera villain.” She lets out a watery laugh. “I didn’t mean it. Not really. I just wanted her to feel an ounce of what she’d made me feel.”
“Humiliated,” I say with a shrug.
“Small,” she corrects. “Like I was less than. Like all these years, I’d just been reheating frozen dinners instead of building something that mattered.”
My heart squeezes. I get it. If someone reduced the Cutie Pie Bakery to cupcakes and social media nonsense, I’d consider arson.
“Wanting her to hurt is understandable,” I say. “Hitting her in the head with a skillet is something else.”
“I know that, Lottie.” Dolly meets my eyes, and for the first time, I see something steely behind the softness. “I didn’t kill her. I swear to you on every biscuit I’ve ever baked.”
Percy gives a little shimmy. “Oaths sworn on baked goods are about as reliable as meringue in humidity, dear. Pretty, but they don’t hold up. However, I don’t think she’s capable.”
I let out a breath. My amateur sleuth radar hums, and for once it agrees with the ghost bird. Dolly is guilty of a lot of things, wearing gingham unironically, weaponizing mayonnaise—but murder doesn’t feel like one of them.
“Okay,” I say. “Then help me understand what Vivi was doing. If she wasn’t just being cruel for sport, what was allof this about?”
