Chapter 17
The Magic and Mascots Parade has just ended, spilling hundreds of costumed guests directly into the Morning Coffee & Chaos wrap-up party, aptly named the Nightmare Before Networking.
The castle at Storybook Hollow looks like a love letter to Halloween tonight, lit up in purple and green spotlights that make the entire hollow look genuinely haunted.
Parade performers still in their elaborate costumes as dancing skeletons, stilt-walking scarecrows, and an entire conga line of zombies weave through the party guests, blurring the line between entertainment and attendees.
Above us, the October sky broods with thick purple clouds that occasionally reveal an orange moon, and it almost feels as if the universe is getting into the spirit.
Pumpkin lanterns zigzag across the courtyard in patterns, creating an amber constellation that would be romantic if it weren’t for the fake fog rolling across everything and making visibility questionable and a liability.
The parade float featuring Fish and Chip’s throne is being wheeled to the side, both cats still in costume and looking deeply offended by the entire situation.
Kids who moments ago were catching candy thrown from floats now descend on Savvy’s dessert table like a pack of raccoons who just discovered a bakery.
The air carries the scent of fall heaven—smoked turkey legs, pumpkin spice churros, candy apples, and enough chocolate to make any dream come true.
“This Is Halloween” plays on, competing with distant screams from the Haunted Mansion, the chatter of hundreds of guests, and the parade performers who are still very much in character as they mingle with the crowd.
Fish sits regally on a bale of hay as the masses take selfies with her.
This dress is a war crime, she yowls from her position on a hay bale, apparently suffering in a pumpkin princess dress complete with a tiny tiara that keeps sliding over one eye.
My wing tastes like plastic sadness, Chip complains, having already eaten half of his bat-wing knight costume.
Stop eating your costume! Fish demands. You’ll need that for tomorrow night.
It’s either eat it or trip on it, Chip mewls. These wings have terrible aerodynamics.
We look ridiculous. Fish shudders.
We look FESTIVE. There’s a difference. Also, I think I’m getting a rash from this fabric.
Speaking of getting a rash from fabric, I adjust my zombie bride costume—my actual wedding dress, strategically ripped and splattered with fake blood. It seemed fitting to give it a proper funeral after everything Clyde put it through.
Ree, Georgie, and I did a quick change into our costumes while Dexter took off to patrol the grounds for a killer and for the next shakedown of my ex, which might be one and the same.
“You look disturbingly good as the undead,” Georgie says with a grin. Her saloon girl costume involves enough sequins and feathers to impress anyone back in 1925. “Very til death do us part, and beyond.”
“Thanks, Georgie. You don’t look so bad yourself. Very prohibition be darned, we’re going to party.”
Ree nods approvingly while dressed as a librarian—which is just her regular outfit with glasses. Even the book tucked under her arms is part of her everyday look.
“The blood splatter really brings out the homicidal intent in your eyes,” she says.
“Thanks. I was going for the murdered-on-my-wedding-day-but-I’m-making-it-work look.”
The Morning Coffee & Chaos Nightmare Before Networking shindig is in full swing, with the entire cast making questionable fashion choices.
Clyde is dressed as his alter ego, Thunder Wolf, as he insists to anyone who will listen, and looks as ridiculous in fake fur and rubber claws as one would imagine.
Cooter is a not-so-scary vampire whose velvet cape is far too long—in fact, I’ve seen him trip four times already.
Willow Lovejoy makes being a wicked witch look like a fashion statement with a fitted black dress, her signature dark lipstick, and a hat that looks encrusted with glittering black diamonds.
But Crystal. Oh my word, Crystal.
She bounces toward us in an inflatable unicorn costume, complete with a rainbow mane and a horn that’s slightly deflating. It’s bulky and impossibly fluffy, and every step sends her careening into someone new.
“Josie!” she shouts, knocking over a tray of Savvy’s chocolate coffin confections. “Your ex is telling everyone you’re investigating him! He says you think he’s guilty because of those latex gloves I was telling you about!”
Hmm. He either overheard us or Dexter got to him first.
Before I can respond, she’s trying to take a selfie with me, nearly impaling me with her deflated horn. “Hashtag Murder Suspect Monday! Wait, is it Monday? Hashtag Murder Suspect Whatever Day!”
Under normal circumstances, I’d raise a brow at the fact she can’t recall the day of the week, but as it stands, spending several days in a row at Huckleberry Hollow Wonderland can do that to a person.
“I think I need a sugar fix,” she says, launching herself at the buffet table.
Savvy’s dessert display deserves its own Instagram account—chocolate coffins with candy corpses, pumpkin cheesecakes shaped like actual pumpkins with frightening accuracy, poison apple tarts that definitely aren’t poisoned (we double-checked just in case), and a chocolate fountain that looks disturbingly like blood.
Everything is infused with enough sugar to fuel all of Huckleberry Hollow straight to Mars—and a part of me wishes it would.
Willow, the wicked witch, approaches the dessert table and gasps at the offerings. “Why, these deserve their own social media page! I’ll have to schedule another visit just for the food.”
“Don’t forget to schedule a dental appointment, too,” I tease, watching her pile her third chocolate coffin onto a plate. “This sugar content could fund a dentist’s yacht.”
Heaven knows I’ve sent mine on a nice vacation a time or two. He’s always glad to see me and my questionable teeth coming.
Willow laughs, a genuine, warm laugh that makes her seem more human and less lifestyle guru, and far less witchy. “Lucky for me, my brother’s a dentist. In fact, I still help out when his office manager is away. I just did three weeks last month and posted the whole thing to social media.”
“You documented working at a dentist’s office?”
“Oh, it’s great for all that relatability nonsense. You know, giving me that whole
I’m-just-like-you vibe.” She laughs. “I posted about proper flossing techniques, and the darn thing went viral! It turns out, people really want to know about dental hygiene when it’s presented with the right filter.” She gives a solemn nod at the fact.
The witch is demonstrating dental hygiene to strangers? Fish says, more than a little amused. I’m not sure what’s more shocking, the fact she broadcasts it or the fact others find it fascinating.
It’s a niche, Chip says. You pick something weird and commit until people follow you. By the way, I don’t clean my teeth, Chip adds proudly. They’re self-managing.
Fish glances at him. That is not the victory you think it is.
Willow heads back to the dessert buffet just as Cooter stumbles over, his cape tangled around his legs as if the fabric was warring with him.
“Hey, Cooter,” I say, watching him sway like a palm tree in a hurricane. “Having a good time?”
“A little too good if you ask me,” Ree mutters my way like a ventriloquist.
“It’s the best night of my life!” he shouts. “And the worst week of my life.”
Georgie nods. “I’ve been there, buddy. That’s called your forties.”
“Duffy is dead,” Cooter goes on. “Everything is terrible. Want some punch?” He waves his plastic goblet at me, sloshing red liquid everywhere.
“I’m good, thanks.” I steady him with one hand before he topples into the crowd. “How are you holding up? It must be rough, losing your director. I’m so sorry about Duffy. It might help you to talk to someone about it.” Or lay off the spiked punch. That might help, too.
“You know what nobody is talking about?” He’s clearly drunk, swaying slightly and pointing at me with the goblet of fire. “The real story here?”
“Your blood alcohol content?” Georgie offers.
“Funny.” He frowns her way. “No. The fact that Clyde was planning the whole thing.”
My attention sharpens. “What whole thing?”
“I heard him on the phone, the night before, at the hotel bar. He said something about making sure Duffy gets what’s coming. Then he howled. Like, actually howled. In the bar. The bartender asked him to leave.”
I look across the courtyard to where Clyde is attempting to eat a smoked turkey leg through his wolf mask, and failing spectacularly.
He’s surrounded by people but keeps checking his phone with the nervous energy of someone expecting either a bomb or a baby.
Sweat is already soaking through his costume despite the crisp October air.
Thunder Wolf might actually be a killer. Though given his general incompetence, I’m surprised he managed it without accidentally poisoning himself.
The lone wolf smells guilty, Fish observes.
He also smells like fear and cheese, Chip adds.
Why cheese? Fish asks.
Stress eating, Chip is quick to inform. I recognize the signs. That’s my Saturday smell.
I nod. That’s sort of my Saturday smell, too.
“Monster Mash” plays over the speakers, the Halloween classic that the state of Maine apparently can’t get enough of, and Georgie immediately starts dragging Ree toward the dance floor.
“Come on, Red!” she shouts. “How about one murder-free dance before Josie decides that someone else should bite the big one!”
I shoot her a look for going there.
“That’s not reassuring!” Ree protests, but she’s already being spun into the crowd.
Willow and Cooter are actively avoiding each other like opposing magnets, while Crystal is busy livestreaming the networking nightmare, and narrating in her perky voice regarding the fact that the energy here being like, so spooky but also so fun!
My phone buzzes.
Dexter: Almost there. Don’t let anyone die.
Josie: No promises. Although Crystal’s costume might kill someone from secondhand embarrassment.
I spot Delora in the distance, dressed as herself but with a witch hat perched on her perfectly coiffed hair as if she was forced to surrender to festivity.
“I see she went with reality,” I mutter.
Looking around at all the suspects in one place, everyone eating and drinking from the same buffet table, multiple people handling the desserts, I realize this is the perfect opportunity for another murder.
Especially with Savvy’s chocolate fountain sitting there like a potential weapon of delicious destruction.
Across the crowd, Clyde catches me staring his way. His eyes widen with panic behind his goofy wolf mask. He starts pushing through the crowd toward me, knocking over a child dressed as a dinosaur and what appears to be three drunk witches.
He’s either coming to confess or commit another murder.
“Is this how I die?” I ask the universe. “Killed by Thunder Wolf at my own theme park.”
I look down at my zombie bride costume and laugh despite everything.
“At least I’m already dressed for the funeral.”