“I was just being friendly.” Her tone is still light, but something shifts in her posture. “Getting to know the community.”
“I saw you arguing with Larry. The day he died.” I try to keep my voice neutral. “Care to share what that was about?”
Her shoulders tense, and that whole peace-and-love vibe evaporates.
“That was nothing. Just vendor stuff.”
“Didn’t look like nothing. You were pretty heated. He knew something about you, didn’t he? Did he threaten you? Is that why you killed him?”
Her crystal necklaces jangle as she stiffens, but she maintains her peaceful hippie façade. “I’m sorry, what? Effie, that’s a terrible thing to accuse me of. Julia Washington killed Larry Rocket; everyone knows that,” she spits the words out with venom as her eyes light up like wild flames. “She even bought the pentobarbital to do it with. I have proof.”
“Actually, Julia was picking up that pentobarbital for her neighbor’s sick horse,” I continue, watching her reaction like a hawk. “It was very humanitarian of her, really. Helping someone who couldn’t afford proper veterinary care.”
“Well, that’s... That’s what she claims,” Sunshine stammers, her crunchy granola act starting to crack around the edges. “But people lie, Effie. Especially when they’re facing murder charges.”
“You’re right,” I say, leaning back on my hands and tipping my gaze to a firework bursting gold and silver overhead. “People do lie. Like when someone with an MIT chemistry degree sellsnatural remediesthat are actually dangerous drugs.”
Watson’s ears flatten, and he gives a low growl, like he knows this just turned into something else.
“I don’t know what you’re implying—” she starts, but I cut her off.
“I’m implying you used that impressive chemistry brain of yours to poison Julia’s corn pudding—knowing Larry’s obsession would make him the perfect victim and Julia’s pentobarbital purchase would make her the perfect patsy. He was trying to ruin you. And you somehow found out about Julia’s purchase. She was a convenient red herring.” I meet her gaze. “Pretty clever, actually. If it weren’t murder, I’d be impressed.”
“You’re crazy,” Sunshine snaps, the last trace of hippie calm gone. “Flip Flapjack had way more motive than I did. His son lost everything because of Larry!”
“Flip’s too straightforward for something this elaborate,” I say. “And Julia’s too honest to hurt a fly. But you? You had motive, means, and opportunity—and the chemistry background to make it look like someone else’s crime.”
A massive firework explodes overhead, painting the lake red and blue, and in that flash, I see her mask finally slip.
“Fine,” she snarls, crystals catching the light. “You want the truth? Larry Rocket was destroying lives for profit. He was going to expose my business—ruin everything I built—because I was offering natural alternatives to people who couldn’t afford overpriced pharmaceuticals.”
“Natural alternatives that were actually dangerous drugs,” I point out.
“People were getting better!” she shouts, jumping to her feet hard enough to make the dock creak ominously. “I was helping them! Larry was just another corporate shill trying to protect Big Pharma’s profit margins!”
Watson barks sharply and plants himself between Sunshine and me, officially done with this conversation.
“So you killed him,” I say, standing slowly while keeping my voice calm.
“I eliminated a problem,” Sunshine corrects, her eyes wild with a gleam that suggests she’s fully committed to her twisted version of justice. “And I made sure the blame fell on someone who was already guilty of fraud.”
She takes a step toward me, her hands clenched into fists. “Too bad you couldn’t mind your own business.”
Before I can react, Sunshine lunges forward and shoves me hard enough to send me stumbling backward. I reach for Buttercup, my trusty Glock, pulling her from the holster strapped to my thigh, but Sunshine hits me before I can draw.
She crashes into me, and we go over the edge of the dock and into the lake in a tangle of limbs with a splash that’s not audible over the fireworks.
The water is shockingly cold and deeper than expected, and suddenly I’m fighting to keep my head above the surface while wrestling with a woman who’s decided that drowning me is the cleanest solution for avoiding a murder conviction.
And if it works, it might be.
Watson erupts into barking that could wake the dead, racing the length of the dock like a furry siren while Sunshine and I engage in what has to be the world’s least graceful aquatic fight.
“You should have minded your own business!” Sunshine gasps, trying to push my head underwater while I struggle to maintain my grip on Buttercup, who’s rapidly becoming a very expensive lake ornament.
“Should have thought of that before you decided to poison people’s desserts!” I gasp back, managing to break free and splash toward shallow water.
We’re both screaming now, a combination of rage, fear, and a primal fury that comes from fighting for your life in lake water that probably contains enough bacteria to stock a medical laboratory, when the blessed sound of footfalls cuts through the chaos.
