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“You would look frazzled too if you just had a homicide at your place of business,” I tell her just as two women nearly strangle one another with their scarves and Jordy is quick to stave off the potential double homicide. Macy always was an overachiever.

“Would you look at that?” She swats me with her velvet cape. “Don’t you dare bring your bad luck juju into my sweet, innocent shop.”

Someone shouts a string of expletives followed by a death threat and Jordy dashes in that direction next.

“I’m not sure I’d describe anything that’s happening in this shop as innocent,” I say, picking up a candle that reads Fangs for the Memories.

Macy scoops Ella out of her stroller and quickly slathers her with kisses, leaving bright red kiss prints all over my poor child’s face. It’s not the first time. And sadly, whatever lipstick my sister wears, it’s akin to a tattoo. Jasper was convinced that Ella had the measles for a week.

Ella giggles and reaches for Macy’s fake-fang necklace, and Macy lets her grab it and try the set on.

“So,” Macy says, wiggling the fangs from my baby girl’s mouth, “who are you going to try to pin the murder on next?”

“Well?” Georgie leans forward with her chains clinking like mad. “Inquiring minds want to know. Who are we biting until they confess?”

“Nobody is biting anyone,” I say, plucking the fangs from Ella’s hand before she can reclaim them. “Ella is the only one allowed to teethe on a suspect.”

I look over to see a mob of women taking selfies with Sherlock while he delivers his best fanged smile. The cats have decided to hide out under Ella’s blanket. Possibly a lifesaving maneuver on their part.

“Well, there has to be someone we can question,” Mom says as she gives her cape a dramatic swirl. “I need to know if I should pack heels or garlic. Possibly both.”

“Heels,” Georgie says without hesitation. “Garlic never stopped a killer in Spider Cove. Speed might.” She dangles one of her own heels in the air that adds more than six inches to her height.

I look at all three of them—my sister the candle mogul, my mother the pragmatic vampire hunter, and Georgie the chaos agent in platform boots—and I sigh.

“I need to track down Miss Kitty Cadaver,” I say. “I thought I’d catch her at the Scream Queens Showcase today, but she wasn’t on the lineup. I was sort of hoping I’d bump into her on Main Street.”

Mom pulls a crumpled piece of paper out of her purse, which is approximately the size of a small suitcase and appears to contain her entire life. “Miss Kitty Cadaver? Let me check.”

She unfolds what seems to be the entire festival itinerary and squints at it, holding the paper at arm’s length before giving it to Georgie, who also holds it at arm’s length. Mom refuses to wear reading glasses because she says they make her look old, which means she spends half her life squinting at things and complaining she can’t see.

“She is on the lineup,” Mom says finally, squinting so hard I’m half moved to pull the itinerary back another six feet in an effort to help her. “But her event isn’t at the inn. She’s hosting at...” Georgie takes a full step back with the paper. “Ravenswood Manor up in Rose Glen.”

Georgie, Macy, and I all gasp in unison, inspiring Ella to gasp on our heels.

“Oh, my goodness,” I say.

“Oh, I goodness,” Ella parrots, and we all share a quick laugh.

“A haunted castle?” Georgie’s eyes light up so bright I’m pretty sure I can see her pupils dilate. “We are so GOING!”

It’s true. Everyone knows that Ravenswood Manor is known for its paranormal activity. They’ve been on the news and everything.

“We most certainly are NOT going,” Mom says, folding the itinerary back up.

“We most certainly ARE.”

“Over my dead body,” Mom says.

“Well, if we’re at a haunted castle, that seems statistically more likely than usual,” Macy says.

“Don’t encourage her,” Mom snaps.

“I’m not encouraging anybody.” Macy sniffs. “I’m just respecting the venue.”

“Dead body.” Ella claps and laughs and Mom and I both gasp in unison once again. Oddly, Georgie and Macy coo at my baby girl.

“We need to get out of here,” I say, taking back the pigtailed cutie pie and landing her in the stroller where she belongs. “You’re all a bad influence on her.”