Page 65

You’re one of us, Josie! Chip’s tail whips so hard his entire backside threatens to spin right off. I knew it! Fish said hoomans never wise up, but look at you! Purple, sparkly, and finally dressed like the superior species!

I must admit, Fish says, looking a little too pleased, the choice is flattering. Though you could have gone for black and white to properly honor superior feline genetics.

She’s orange! Like me! Chip protests.

She’s purple, you big color blind oaf. Fish whips her tail at his face to prove her point.

Close enough!

The parade route is packed to the spooky gills.

Guests line Huckleberry Lane three and four deep, with kids perched on shoulders and everyone clutching glow sticks, looking ready to riot if they don’t get candy in the next thirty seconds. I know that look. I’ve worn that look once a night since I set foot in this place.

A brass band strikes up somewhere down the street, blasting a jazzy Halloween tune that sounds like a haunted parade took a wrong turn through Mardi Gras, and the crowd loses its collective mind.

“Here we go!” Ree clutches her magnifying glass like it’s a weapon or possibly a security blanket. That thing might offer her more protection than Henrietta ever could.

The parade starts with the high school marching band, kids in skeleton costumes playing their instruments while trying not to trip over their own femurs. It’s chaotic and slightly off-key and absolutely perfect.

Next comes a float featuring a massive witch’s cauldron billowing dry ice, surrounded by dancers dressed as various potion ingredients. I spot someone dressed as eye of newt. Someone else is a bat wing. It’s weird in the best possible way, and I say that as a woman currently dressed as feline fantasy with a doll-head necklace, so I know weird.

Somewhere to my left, a grown man in a sexy lobster costume waves a foam claw at the passing floats. This is Maine. We don’t do anything halfway, including crustaceans. And if you must know, it was Georgie who dubbed the lobster sexy. I said he looked delicious. To be fair, they both mean the same thing to Georgie.

Then the classic monsters float rolls by. Frankenstein’s monster, Dracula, Wolfman, and the Mummy, all waving and throwing candy to the screaming masses.

“I could use a wolfman,” Georgie muses. “Preferably one with commitment issues and excellent fur.”

“You say that about every mythical creature,” Ree points out.

“And I stand by it.”

“You said it about the Mummy last year,” I remind her.

“Bandages come off, Josie. That’s called potential.”

More floats pass. A haunted pirate ship complete with skeleton crew doing a choreographed sword fight, a mechanical dragon breathing actual fire (we do like to tempt fate around here), along with a steampunk carousel with horses that actually gallop in place.

And then.

The Boo Crew Authors float arrives in style.

The whole thing is designed like a giant open storybook. It has the words “Cozy Mystery Queens” spelled out in glittering purple letters across the cover, and perched on top like royalty surveying their kingdom are over a dozen women—three of whom I’ve spent the last week investigating for murder.

Eulla Bell is dressed as a Gone with the Wind–era Southern belle vampire. Emerald green velvet gown plunging low enough to make Scarlett O’Hara blush, complete with a dramatic cape that looks suspiciously like it started life as a set of drapes, and her honey-blonde hair twisted into an elaborate updo held together by what appears to be sheer Southern willpower. Her fangs look like the real deal. The woman has been a Southern belle vampire all week—purple hoopskirt, red satin, and now this—which means she’s either deeply committed to a theme or she’s been telling us who she is since day one and we’ve all been too polite to check her for a pulse. She’s holding her sweet kitty Salem, who’s wearing a matching velvet cape and radiating pure feline disdain for this entire spectacle.

Look at that poor thing, Fish says. Trapped in velvet—and trapped on a float. That is a cat well acquainted with suffering.

I bet she knows where they keep the treats, Chip says.

Fish ticks her head. That is not what I meant, but probably also true.

Felicity has gone sweet instead of sexy. White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, complete with oversized pocket watch, white ears, and a tiny top hat perched on her mousy gray-brown hair. Speaking of women working a theme, she’s making her way through Wonderland one character at a time—Alice at the panel and the rabbit tonight. At this rate, the Mad Hatter had better watch his back.

She’s waving shyly at the crowd like she’d rather be literally anywhere else, including possibly a grave. Considering the week we’ve had, I wish she’d pick a different backup location. And she checks that oversized pocket watch, which is either fabulous method acting or she’s late for something. On a float. That she can’t leave.

And Gertie? She’s dressed as a mermaid. Full iridescent green and blue scales that catch the parade lights, long red wig flowing loose with starfish clips, and she’s holding a trident that’s definitely plastic but looks impressive. The tail portion of her costume has been modified so she can actually walk, and she’s waving to the crowd with a siren’s smile that suggests she knows exactly how to lure sailors to their doom. Sailors, readers, and possibly detectives. The woman has range.

The crowd goes absolutely wild. Screaming, jumping, and phones out capturing every second.