Chapter 20
The grand finale is living up to its name. The sky is exploding in synchronized bursts—red, white, and blue cascading everywhere, painting the entire beach in patriotic glory while approximately three thousand people record it on their phones instead of actually watching it.
The air smells like gunpowder and ocean salt and the last stubborn traces of grilled hot dogs, and somewhere a sound system is blasting the national anthem while kids wave sparklers that are definitely a fire hazard.
Mackenzie, Jasper, and I make our way back to our friends and family and what appears to be everyone I’ve ever met in my entire life.
Mom is holding Ben’s hand and looking pleased with her life.
Georgie is eating someone’s abandoned lobster tail and has zero shame about it.
Huxley has little Mack sitting on his shoulders, the toddler clapping at every explosion.
Emmie and Leo are standing close together with Elliot asleep on Leo’s shoulder—somehow that sweet boy is sleeping through apocalypse-level noise, which is either impressive or concerning.
And Macy and Jordy are making out near the tide line, barely coming up for air between firework bursts.
Romance is alive and well in Cider Cove. Also, slightly nauseating.
The finale ends with one last massive explosion that turns the entire sky white, then cascades into a waterfall of every color imaginable. The crowd roars. Applause, cheering, whistling, car horns honking from the parking lot.
Cider Cove celebrates its freedom while I stand here covered in sand and wondering if my insurance covers attempted murder by renovation contractor.
The beach starts emptying immediately as families pack up blankets, haul coolers, and carry sleeping children. Vendors are closing down their carts. The staff begins to extinguish the tiki torches one by one, and the twinkle lights are still glowing but half of them are flickering out.
This balmy summer night is winding down. The party is over and it’s time to go home.
Macy and Jordy finally detach from each other’s faces and head our way. Macy’s lipstick is smeared and Jordy’s shirt is untucked and they both look extremely pleased with themselves.
“Nice takedown, sis,” Macy says, grinning. “You’re such a drama mama.”
“Taking down a killer during the fireworks show,” Jordy adds. “Classic, Bizzy.”
“I try to keep things interesting,” I say with a laugh. “Anyway, we need to take off.” Macy winks, and I immediately regret having eyes. “It’s time to make some fireworks of our own.”
Everyone groans in unison.
“What? I’ve got an entire crate of candles to burn through,” she continues, completely unbothered by our collective disdain. “Those would be the stink bombs,” Jordy says with a laugh. “Hey, Bizzy—you could kill your next victim with them.”
More groans. A little laughter, and that’s mostly from Georgie.
“Limited time offer,” Macy tells me. “I’ll give them to you for half price. We can call it the murder weapon special.”
“I’ll pass.”
“Your loss.” She snaps her fingers and a white Samoyed appears, wagging her tail. “Come on, Candy. Let’s go home.”
They take off down the beach with Candy trotting happily beside them, and I’m left wondering how my sister turned a viral disaster into a successful product line.
Leave it to Macy to monetize humiliation.
Bizzy, look, the fancy bimbos are leaving, Fish meows, while looking in the direction of the big white tent.
Does this mean we can eat the buffet now? Sherlock asks with a bark. Because, let’s be honest, the buffet was untouched and that’s a lot of food to go to waste.
I look over and gasp. What the? The buffet’s been dismantled!
This day has been a BETRAYAL, Biscuit Gravy groans, genuinely mournful.
Georgie waves my way and that oversized purse of hers sure looks stretched to capacity.
You ate seventeen hot dogs, Fish points out.
Sixteen, Sherlock fires back. I’m not a glutton.
Kennedy and Blaire appear through the thinning crowd, heading toward me. Kennedy looks nervous, while Blaire has her phone out as if she’s planning her next social media post.
“Bizzy, Mackenzie—” Kennedy starts, then stops to take a breath. “Thank you. For solving this. For everything.”
The gratitude on her face is genuine, and I feel something soften in my chest despite my best efforts.
“I know I looked guilty,” she continues. “I know I gave you reasons to suspect me. The fake degree, the blackmail, all of it.”
“You were honest,” I say. “That counted for something.”
“I’m going to come clean,” she says quietly. “To my clients. To everyone. Start over the right way this time.”
“That takes guts,” Mackenzie says. “And I know you have them.”
Kennedy smiles, small but real. “Yeah, well. Turns out, almost getting framed for murder is a pretty good wake-up call.”
Biscuit Gravy hops over and sits at her feet with his tail wagging, looking up at her with those big golden eyes. Kennedy’s expression softens. She crouches down and lets him lick her hand.
“He’s so sweet,” she says.
“He’s a little food-obsessed,” I correct. “But yeah, he’s sweet.”
She looks up at me, hesitant. “Actually... I was wondering if maybe he’s not already called for, I thought maybe he could come and live with me. I would love to adopt him if you don’t mind.”
I blink. “Adopt Biscuit Gravy?”
A mournful smile comes to my face. “If that’s okay. I mean, I know he’s yours, but I just thought—”
I look at Biscuit Gravy. “What do you think, buddy?”
The nervous bundle of blonde hair feeds me treats and says nice things, Biscuit Gravy barks. Can I go with her?
“He says yes,” I say as I scoop him up and kiss him on the furry forehead before handing him to his new mommy.
Kennedy lights up and her whole face transforms as I place Biscuit Gravy into her arms. “Really?” She laughs with tears sparkling in her eyes. “Oh my goodness, thank you!”
I get to have an adventure with a new hooman! Biscuit Gravy thinks, already settling in. This is officially the best day ever!
They head off together with Kennedy talking to Biscuit Gravy about his new home and asking what kind of treats he likes, and I’m standing here feeling oddly proud of a dog I’ve known for less than a week.
Blaire turns to Mackenzie with a smile that’s all teeth and no warmth. “Good luck with your reputation, Mayor Woods. Those posts are still live.” She lets that sink in. “It should make for an interesting town council meeting. Don’t you think?”
She walks off with her phone already out, and Mackenzie growls in her wake. That woman never quits.
No, she doesn’t. But at least she’s not a killer, so we’re calling it progress.
Mackenzie turns to me, and her expression swings between relief and fury. “Thank you, Bizzy,” she growls as she says it. “Seriously. You cleared my name. Twice.”
I wait for the punchline, but it doesn’t come. I guess she actually means it.
“You helped take her down,” I say. “That counts.”
“I mostly just fell on her.” She grunts as she looks out at the dark water.
“Well, it was strategic falling,” I’m quick to assure her.
Mackenzie almost smiles. Almost.
Jasper leans in. “Did Mackenzie Woods just thank someone?”
“I think hell froze over,” Huxley adds with a laugh.
I’d laugh, too, but I’m too afraid to do it. We did just have two homicides in the last week. I’d hate to make it three—especially if I’m the last victim.
Mackenzie glares at both of them with the fury of a thousand suns.
“Well, I have civic duties to attend to,” she says, snapping right back into her mayoral role.
“And I definitely have some damage control from those posts.” She looks at little Mack, who’s half-asleep on Hux’s shoulders.
“Come on, boys. Let’s go home. Cane,” she shouts like a command and, sure enough, the fuzzy white pooch scurries his way over and trots alongside them as they head toward the parking lot.
I watch them go and think about the fact that Mackenzie Woods just thanked me for something.
The apocalypse must be near. Or maybe it’s happening now? Honestly, it’s hard to tell.
Mom appears with Georgie right behind her, both of them looking wind-blown and satisfied.
“Ben went to get us drinks from the buffet,” Mom says. “He’s been gone fifteen minutes. I think he got lost.”
“Told you,” Georgie says. “He’s got the internal navigation of a drunk pigeon!”
“Another case closed,” I say with a laugh.
“And you managed not to die this time!” Mom beams at me. “Now that’s progress.”
“Mom, I have never died,” I point out.
She nods. “And you better keep that streak going, missy.”
“I’m not thrilled I didn’t get invited to the take-down-a-killer party,” Georgie grumbles.
“Sorry, Georgie.” I wrinkle my nose her way. “But you were busy loading your purse with crab cakes.”
“That’s right, I was.” She gives a solemn nod my way. “Priorities, Bizzy. Priorities.”
Georgie pulls something from her massive purse—one of Macy’s infamous candles in a Mason jar, the label reading Seaside Serenity in curly script—and holds it up triumphantly.
“I’ve been thinking,” she says as she places her hand on the lid. “We should sell these stink bombs at Two Old Broads.” She starts to unscrew the top.
“NO!” Both Mom and I lunge for it like it’s a live grenade.
I grab Georgie’s wrist while Mom wrestles the jar out of her hands with bomb-squad speed and precision.
“Over my dead body,” Mom says, clutching the candle to her chest like it might still detonate. “Georgie, we are NOT opening this candle. Not here. Not ever.”
“It’s not that bad—”
“It smells like spoiled mac and cheese and caramel,” I remind her. “That’s a biological weapon, not a product.”
Georgie pouts. “You two have no vision.”
“We have noses,” Mom corrects, carefully tucking the candle back into Georgie’s purse with the lid still sealed. “And a will to live.” She loops her arm through her bestie’s. “Come on. We should go find Ben before he ends up in Bar Harbor.”
They take off, Georgie still talking, and I’m left standing there wondering how my mother ended up in business with an eighty-something-year-old chaos agent.