Chapter 8
“ B izzy Baker ,” Mackenzie announces as she strides over, her voice carrying the same authoritative tone she most likely uses to make grown men cry during budget meetings.
So much for a family-friendly photo shoot with our children. Nothing says autumn memories like a passive-aggressive lecture before breakfast. Oh heck, this is Mackenzie we’re talking about. She won’t be passive in the least.
“I see you’ve successfully avoided finding any new bodies since last night’s festivities,” she continues. “A personal record.”
“Good morning to you, too, Mackenzie,” I shoot back with forced cheerfulness that could power a small carnival— mine . “Don’t worry, I’ve implemented a strict one corpse per festival policy. It’s right there in the fine print next to the cotton candy regulations.”
“How fiscally responsible of you,” Emmie teases.
Mackenzie’s eyes narrow. “This isn’t funny. Does either of you have any idea what last night’s murder is doing to our tourism numbers? The B that’s morbid luck,” he counters, adjusting his son’s scarecrow hat.
“Speaking of which, Jasper mentioned you two are heading back to the scene of the crime.” He glances at the haunted house in the distance.
“You sure that’s a good idea? You’re a mom now, Bizzy.
Leave the investigating to the professionals. ”
I glance over at Jasper, who’s packing Ella back into her stroller. “I’m just tying up a few loose ends. Besides, it’s broad daylight, and I’ll have an armed detective with me.”
Huxley shakes his head but doesn’t argue further. That’s the thing about having a family of strong personalities and even stronger opinions—you learn to pick your battles. Either that or he’s afraid I’ll turn him into the next corpse if he disagrees with me.
As the photo shoot winds down and everyone begins dispersing, Jasper and I make our way toward the path that leads behind the haunted house.
Ella is contentedly snoozing in her stroller, and by the looks of it, the excitement of the morning has finally worn her out—a small miracle that I’m not going to question.
“The team did a thorough sweep last night,” Jasper says as we approach the area, now cleared of police tape but still eerily quiet. “But sometimes things get missed in the dark.”
“That knife bothers me,” I admit, keeping my voice low even though there’s no one around to hear us except possibly ghosts, and I’m not ready to deal with supernatural eavesdropping on top of everything else.
“Heath assured us that the knives he brought along were fakes, and the one used to kill him was clearly the same ornate style. ”
Jasper nods. “The lab is processing it now. The initial report says it’s some kind of antique collector’s piece. Maybe it was the real knife that inspired him to make the fake ones? The one in his chest was definitely real.”
I nod, because that makes a twisted kind of sense. “Someone must have swapped a real knife for one of his fake ones. And I doubt Heath realized it before it was too late.”
I scan the ground where the body was found. The morning dew has settled on the grass, making everything glisten in the weak sunlight trying to break through the clouds.
I’m about to take another step forward when something dark snags my attention. It’s a small black rectangle partially hidden beneath a fallen leaf as if it were evidence playing hide-and-seek.
“Jasper,” I whisper, pointing at the thing. “What’s that?”
He crouches down, carefully brushing away the leaf to reveal a cell phone, its screen cracked but still intact.
“I bet it’s Heath’s,” he says, pulling an evidence bag from his pocket. “He didn’t have one on his person when the coroner took him away. It could have fallen during the struggle.”
Jasper seals the phone, and I can’t help but wonder what secrets it might hold—and which of our Halloween revelers might have wanted those secrets to stay buried.
A crowd near the entry catches my eye, and it looks to be Hammie Mae, Buffy, and Hazel along with a few men hoisting camera equipment. I watch as they chat for a second and part ways, leaving Hazel and a few of the men behind as Hammie Mae and Buffy head for the parking lot.
“I’d better get to the office,” Jasper says, dropping a kiss to both Ella and me. “You girls stay out of trouble,” he says and I nod.
“Will do,” I say as he heads for the car and I make my way to the inn.
Trouble has a way of finding me at the Country Cottage Inn, or maybe I’m just particularly good at finding it .
Either way, trouble seems to have me on speed dial.
If only I knew how to change my number.