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Not only is Jordy Macy’s boyfriend and the inn’s handyman, but he’s also my ex-husband from a less-than-twenty-four-hour Vegas marriage we never discuss. Ever.

“Morning, Biz. The big pumpkin delivery is at eleven.”

“Perfect. Also, the skeleton is leaning,” I say with a wince.

“I’m on it.”

No sooner does Jordy head toward the skeleton than the door bursts open again and in comes hurricane Macy.

My sister barrels in wearing a red dress and carrying seventeen shopping bags like she’s fleeing a crime scene at a craft store.

That wouldn’t be the same red dress from last night, would it?

I take a moment to squint her way while Ella squeals and claps for her favorite red tornado. Oh heck, this is Macy we’re talking about. Of course it’s the same red dress from last night. And probably the night before, too. Eww.

“Bizzy!” she barks my name as she zooms on over. “Emergency creative consultation needed immediately! I need your killer instinct.” She dumps everything on the counter. “What do you think of a horror-themed candle line? I’m pivoting. We’re talking Graveyard Mist, Zombie Brain, and things like Sexy Vampire. Of course, I’ll need booth space at every Scream Queens event this week.”

“Of course you will,” I muse with a frown.

Ella quickly does her best to parrot me and claps like mad. She takes Macy’s side on just about any topic. Ella might be young, but she knows which side her growing lip gloss collection is buttered on.

Aside from my sister’s booming cosmetics addiction, Macy owns a soap-and-candle shop called Lather and Light on Main Street. Last summer she went viral for candles the internet dubbed “stink bombs.” Sales have been rough, but apparently she’s got ideas.

“It’s sort of the eleventh hour for Halloween, isn’t it?” I ask. “I mean you should probably be more concerned with Christmas. Not to mention, those are private events⁠—”

She turns to Jordy and puts one hand on his chest. “Jordy, if you help me set up tonight, I’ll make it very worth your while later. I’m talking pull out the handcuffs, the feather duster, and the tub of margarine.”

Margarine? Good grief, I am not asking questions.

And judging by the naughty gleam in her eye, she means every margarine-laced word of it.

Jordy gives a husky laugh in response. “Worth my while, huh? Does that include dinner, or are we talking straight to dessert?”

“Oh honey, I’m a five-course meal,” Macy counters, doing her best to easily one-up Nessa and Grady in the not-safe-for-work department.

And I catch Nessa and Grady giggling at one another. Clearly, my twisted sister has given them ideas. Of the margarine variety, no less.

“I’ll get the folding table,” Jordy says without hesitation.

“You won’t regret this,” she sings after him like the threat it is.

Why is the loud blonde hooman yelling? Duchess asks as she licks her paw and wipes down her ear and eyes.

That’s just Aunt Macy, Sherlock says with a bark. She gives me bacon sometimes. Mostly she tells me to move out of her way or she’ll crush my crooked paws.

My phone buzzes, and I glance down to see it’s a text from my handsome hubby.

Jasper: The medical examiner’s preliminary report points to poison. Fast-acting. Definitely in the drink. The catering angle is pretty much dead so far. We’ll talk.

My stomach drops.

So it’s officially confirmed. Someone murdered Countess Clawdia Noir in front of hundreds of people and walked away last night.

The door opens again, and lo and behold my day gets that much more stressful and simultaneously more adorable.

Mackenzie strides in holding Little Mack’s hand with my brother Huxley trailing behind with a dinosaur backpack.

Little Mack is the son they share. He’s exactly two years older than Ella and twice as smitten with her as she is with him.