Chapter 19 #2
“Were you, though?” I pull out my phone.
“Because security cameras caught something interesting. You having breakfast with Duffy. A little smoochy-smoochy. Him stepping away for a call.” I pause for effect as her cheeks turn pink.
“You slipping something into his coffee and giving it a quick stir. You didn’t poison him during the taping. You did it far before.”
She squints my way and glares at me. “I know for a fact there aren’t any cameras in the Storytime Bake Shop!”
You got her, Josie! Cupcake barks.
Not quite, Fish mewls. But we are getting close.
Chip just growls at the witch.
“You’re right,” I tell her. “But you underestimated the fact that there was a camera in the cinnamon roll display case. The baker likes to livestream the pastries. It’s a whole thing.”
She gasps so hard I think she just inhaled a hairball that flew off of Chip.
“You don’t understand.” Willow takes a step back and quickly assesses the surroundings as the crowd grows thick around us. “He was blackmailing me! He wanted half my book proceeds! He said he’d expose our affair, ruin my brand as the wronged wife!”
I nod. “That’s because you were sleeping with him before you ever dumped Cooter. You weren’t a victim. You were a part of the problem. And when Duffy became a problem? You killed him.”
“I need that income!” she roars and a few heads turn our way. “Certainly, you of all people, understand divorce finances. He was a parasite, Josie! A bloodsucking parasite who helped my ex cheat by keeping me distracted! I was a double victim!”
“And the affair?”
“It was started before my divorce. As I said, Duffy helped cover Cooter’s affairs so I wouldn’t notice. When I got successful, when my book took off, suddenly Duffy wanted payment. He said I owed him for his discretion.”
The crowd gasps. Crystal has her phone out, and I can tell she’s practically vibrating with journalism ecstasy as she points her camera our way.
“So, you did poison him,” I state.
“He gave me no choice!” she thunders back.
More gasps. More witnesses. More material for state’s evidence.
Her eyes dart to and fro as she inspects every exit. And without hesitation, she throws her wine in my face—red, of course, because the universe has a sense of humor and I’m wearing a white dress. She tries to dash past me, but I grab her by the cape, and we both tumble into the dessert table.
The crowd screams and scatters like pigeons.
The chocolate fountain tips. An entire row of cakes explodes into the air. And candy coffins scatter like delicious chocolate shrapnel.
This is what I trained for! Fish launches herself at Willow’s ankles with the precision of a tiny tiger.
I’m going for maximum impact! Chip belly-flops onto Willow’s back, all fifteen pounds of him, and she lets out an oof. Also, it’s raining CAKE!
So undignified, but necessary! Cupcake gets tangled in Willow’s cape, creating a poodle-powered restraint system like no other. And mostly just trapping herself.
Willow tries to stand but trips over the attacking pets, going down in a cascade of desserts and lack of dignity.
“EVERYBODY FREEZE!” Dexter shouts as he and Jasper appear with their weapons drawn. The crowd screams and films simultaneously—because priorities.
Crystal is having what can only be described as a scandal-fueled euphoria. “This is Pulitzer material! A live murder confession! LIVE!”
Jasper cuffs Willow while she’s still covered in chocolate, her sparkling hat askew, and with enough frosting in her hair to cover a birthday cake.
“She confessed to everything,” I pant as Dexter helps me to my feet.
“This isn’t over!” she shrieks.
“Actually, it really is,” Dexter says, calmly reading her rights while she rants about betrayal and book sales and how Duffy deserved what he got.
The crowd doesn’t know whether to run or applaud. Someone cranks the music up a notch as “Thriller” blasts through the speakers loud enough to drown out Willow’s protests. The dancing resumes almost immediately, as if her arrest was nothing more than a little spooky dinner theater.
“Don’t worry, folks!” Savvy calls out. “There’s more dessert coming your way! Fresh batch of everything in five minutes!”
The crowd cheers, and just like that, the party is back in full swing.
Dexter comes over and pulls me close. “Are you okay?”
“Never been better,” I pant. “You know what comes next?”
His lips curve into a wicked smile. “I sure do.”
He wraps his arms around me, and despite being covered in chocolate, wine, and what might be maple frosting, he kisses me senseless as if we’re in some sappy rom-com instead of smack dab in the middle of a homicide investigation.
The crowd whoops and hollers. Crystal livestreams it all while providing a running commentary, “OMG, relationship goals! A zombie bride and her hot detective!”
The kiss deepens, his hands get tangled in my hair (there’s no avoiding the frosting), and my hands grip his leather jacket.
Get a room, Fish groans.
This is so romantic! Chip sighs. It’s like Lady and the Tramp, but with less spaghetti and more murder!
“Way to get her done!” Georgie shouts. “Where’s the line to the kissing booth?”
“Someone get the woman a towel!” Ree adds. “And maybe some wine that’s not on her face!”
We break apart to find Delora standing there, her witch hat still perfectly positioned despite the chaos. I suspect magic. Heck, I suspect Delora Drake is a powerful witch, but I don’t dare say that out loud.
“Well, at least this murder is solved.” She frowns at me as she says it. “I trust you’ll conduct future celebrations more privately.”
“Mom.” Dexter winces.
“What?” she balks. “I have opinions.”
Don’t I know it.
I shrug at him. “I think celebrating in private is a darn good idea.”
His lips curve with approval. “I think you’re right.”
“What?” Delora squawks. “Now, let’s not get carried away. I meant separate celebrations. In separate locations. Preferably with chaperones.” She narrows her eyes on me as she says it.
Crystal is already broadcasting her exclusive report to anyone who will listen. “Live from Murder Central, where love prospers and killers don’t! Back to you in the studio! Oh, wait, I AM the studio!”
Somehow, the party rages on. The music grows louder. People are dancing like never before. Murder confessions become just another event in Huckleberry Hollow.
Dexter and I find a quieter corner, although quiet is relative when you’re at what feels like the biggest party of the year.
“How did you know?” he asks with his arms wrapped tight around me.
“The security footage was lucky timing. But also, she was too perfect. Too composed. Innocent people panic. Guilty people perform.” I pull back a notch and examine this alarmingly handsome man. “So, we’re really doing this?”
“Doing what?” He waggles his brows.
“Dating at my murder park?” Yeah, I went there.
“We are definitely doing this.”
“I guess it could be worse,” I point out. “It could involve yoga instructors and spreadsheets.”
We share a dark laugh, and he kisses me again, softer this time, longer. Delora would definitely not approve.
“Well, at least this murder was solved well before Halloween,” I say with a touch of relief at the thought. “We still have a whole week before the big spooky night. Next week’s events should be safe and sane, right? And Thanksgiving after that?”
Dexter hikes a brow.
“What?” I tap his chest. “Lightning doesn’t strike four times in the same place.”
Lightning doesn’t care about your plans, Fish mewls matter-of-factly. It just shows up again when it feels like it—sort of like a killer.
Chip perks up. Perfect. Then I feel very confident the desserts will also show up again.
That is not how cause and effect works, Fish says.
It is if you believe in it hard enough, Chip says, already eyeing the salvageable desserts.
As Willow is led away and the party hums back to life, I take a breath and shake it off.
Apparently, this is my new normal—murder scenes, stolen kisses, and a theme park that refuses to stay out of trouble.
I’d say I’m getting used to it, but that feels like tempting fate.
It could be worse.
It could be boring.