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I steal a spring roll from the nearest container. “Is it bad of me to say your mother is a snitch?” I say it with a wink, but we both know I mean it.

“My mom loves you and doesn’t want you dead.” He leans over and gives a far more lingering kiss that’s soft and warm, and I taste cider on his lips. “Neither do I, for the record.”

“Noted.”

“Also, you’re predictable,” he muses. “You always investigate. I always worry. It’s sort of our thing.”

Ella toddles through the living room with a plastic pumpkin pail gripped in both hands, and Sherlock stretches across her route like a furry roadblock with paws.

All right Ella, Sherlock gives an eager bark. I believe I’m due for one of your famous pat downs.

Ella happily pounds both hands against his back, and Sherlock promptly collapses onto the rug in bliss.

Yes. Right there, he whimpers. Perfect technique. This child is gifted.

Gifted at assault, Fish says from her perch along the couch. She’s a toddler with the crushing power of a lobster claw. A moment later, she jumps down and casually positions herself within easy whacking distance. Scoot over. I’m next.

And I want a piece of the Ella pie too, Duchess says, leaping her way to the front of the line. And sure enough, Ella obliges her.

I watch as Duchess endures a round of enthusiastic patting, and a thought occurs to me. Duchess lived with Clawdia. She slept in her hotel room, she sat on her set, and rode Clawdia’s shoulders through every single event. If anyone observed the Countess with her mask off, it was this cute kitty.

“Duchess,” I say, leaning her way. “Did you happen to notice anything different with Clawdia as of late? You know, before the festival?”

Actually, I do remember something. Duchess twitches an ear as she lifts her head my way. Her amber eyes stare off into the fireplace as if she’s looking somewhere far, far away. Clawdia was different as of late. She grew moodier these last few weeks. In fact, she began to weep almost each and every night. It’s odd because months ago she never cried.

“What did she say?” Jasper has his chopsticks frozen midair just waiting with bated breath on what perhaps our most important witness has to offer, so I quickly relay the message.

Her tail curls around Ella’s tiny arm. There was an envelope that came in the mail about six months ago. As soon as she opened and read it, she sat on the floor of her dressing room and wept rivers. Then she made a quick call to her lawyer, and every ounce of her went cold again. Less than a week later, Clawdia was screaming into her phone this time. I heard her say, ‘You will never be my—’ and then she saw me near the door and shut it with her foot.

Never be her what? Sherlock asks as his mouth hangs open in suspense.

I don’t really know. That’s all I got. I wasn’t there for the end of the conversation. Duchess blinks slowly. Honestly, after that I stopped wondering. It seems hoomans scream into phones whenever they want.

I quickly relay every last bit of it to Jasper, who has learned to take feline eyewitness testimony pretty seriously, even if he can’t ever put it in a report.

“So there was an envelope, a lawyer, and about half a sentence.” He frowns at the fire. “Half a sentence isn’t much to go on.”

“Well, it’s more than we had a few minutes ago.”

An envelope, a lawyer, and some serious screaming behind a closed door. None of it fits anything yet. But I have a feeling it will soon enough.

Ella smacks Duchess one more time before moving back to Sherlock, who is absolutely thrilled about the attention and rolls over to give her better access to his belly.

“So,” Jasper says, handing me a mug of cider. “You talked to Vampyra.”

“I did.”

“And?”

I take a sip of cider and lean against his shoulder, which is one of my favorite places to be in the entire world. Have I mentioned how hot this man looks in flannel? “She admitted Clawdia cost her a sponsorship deal. Six figures, to be exact. But I think she’s hiding something bigger. I can feel it.”

“Were you able to read her thoughts?”

“I was. She kept thinking about how Clawdia ruined more than one deal, destroyed everything she built. But she wouldn’t tell me the details.” I pause. “She pointed me toward Miss Kitty Cadaver instead. Said those two were closer than sisters the last few weeks.”

Jasper is quiet for a moment, thinking. He does this thing where he processes information by going completely still, and I’ve learned over the years that interrupting him during this process is a bad idea. So I just sit there and drink my cider and watch Ella attempt to ride Sherlock like a horse.

This is fine, Sherlock gives a choppy bark. I don’t mind at all.