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She doesn’t need to see the kitchen, you big oaf, Fish cuts in. There are plenty of treats for us at the front desk. And since we’re cats, we get to sit on the counter. Follow me, Duchess. I’ll show you the ropes and the treats.

You can sit on the counter? Duchess sounds scandalized. Is that really allowed?

Allowed is a strong word, Fish says. But Bizzy doesn’t stop us, which is basically permission.

She’s not wrong. I learned long ago to choose my battles wisely. And I’ve yet to win a battle.

I’m pushing Ella’s stroller through the expansive foyer of the inn, juggling coffee in my free hand, and trying very hard not to think about the fact that less than twelve hours ago I watched a woman die at my feet.

It’s not working.

The morning after a murder should feel different somehow. Heavier. But the Country Cottage Inn is humming along as if nothing happened. Guests are milling around the lobby in various states of horror diva cosplay—wigs, velvet, dramatic makeup that’s pretty impressive for nine in the morning. The stone fireplace is crackling. Black-and-orange garland is draped over the mantel. Ceramic pumpkins are scattered on every surface. And the life-size skeleton in the corner wearing a top hat is already being used for selfies.

The inn itself is a tall and stately structure with a stone façade, blue shutters, and ivy covering every free surface. Inside, it’s cavernous, with wooden floors distressed in gray and white, a grand staircase leading up to the seventy-plus rooms, with rich, dark wood and intricate carvings on every door and counter.

There’s a formal dining room, a massive event room on the south side, and at the moment there are approximately three dozen Scream Queens fans treating my lobby like it’s Comic-Con for goths.

Ella squeals from her stroller and points at the skeleton.

“That’s right, baby girl. Spooky.”

She claps her hands and laughs like skeletons are the funniest thing she’s ever seen, and they might be.

He’s so confident, Duchess sighs, watching Sherlock bound ahead toward the front desk.

He’s so oblivious, Fish mutters.

I’m about to hit the reception area and stop cold once I see the mild offense.

Nessa Crosby and Grady Pennington are making out by the fireplace in the grand room like a couple of teenagers hiding out from the school principal.

I clear my throat.

They jump apart, both flushed and grinning, and not looking the least bit remorseful.

“Morning, Bizzy,” Nessa says, not even slightly embarrassed. She’s got dark hair, bright blue eyes, and she happens to be Emmie’s cousin. She’s also been working here since college and is one of my best employees when she’s not using the lobby as a spot to seduce her boyfriend.

Grady is all dark hair and Irish charm, and he just grins wider at my presence. “We were just inspecting the fireplace, Biz. Making sure it’s safe for the guests.” They spring back to the reception counter as if launched by a rubber band.

“Safe for the guests,” I mutter. Unlike the not-safe-for-work behavior the two of them have been perfecting as of late.

I should really have a talk with them, but a part of me is afraid I’d only encourage their lusty behavior. Heaven knows they’ve been prone to disappearing into an empty room upstairs every now and again. At this rate, I’m going to have to start charging them by the hour.

“Get back to work,” I say with a halfhearted laugh. “And good morning.”

I push Ella’s stroller toward the front desk where a tray of chocolate spiderweb cupcakes is already waiting with orange, green, and purple frosting, each with an adorable black spiderweb piped on the top of it.

“Ooh, thank you, Emmie,” I mutter before snapping one up.

Fish hops up onto the counter. It looks like it’s spider season.

Sherlock gives a soft woof that sounds a lot like a chuckle. Those aren’t real spiders, Fish.

I know, that’s why I approve.

“You and me both, sister,” I say with a nod. I’m more than fine calling the town Spider Cove once a year, but I sure don’t do spiders.

The front door swings open, and Jordy walks in with his toolbox, a flannel shirt, jeans, a baseball cap, and that permanent smile of his plastered to his handsome face.