Chapter 13
Interrogating your prime suspect next to a skeleton bride while her victim’s hologram provides snarky commentary from beyond the grave—just another night in my increasingly surreal life as a theme park owner turned amateur detective.
The scent of corn dogs and funnel cake mingles with the artificial fog rolling from the crypt keeper display, where an ornate black casket showcases a skeleton bride in a tattered wedding dress, complete with a rhinestone tiara and a moldy bouquet.
The sounds of excited chatter drift from the makeshift stage where tourists line up for photos with Dilly’s hologram, her ethereal voice cutting through the autumn air with comments sharp enough to slice pumpkin pie.
Nadine stands near the casket, supervising the crowd, flour still dusting her sleeves despite the evening’s festivities just hitting the pause button.
This is either the perfect place for a confession or the worst place to corner a killer, Fish observes from her tote, eyeing the Gothic props with professional interest. At least if she tries to murder us, we’re already in a cemetery.
I vote we stick close to the skeleton bride, Chip adds. She looks like she could take someone in a fight. Very intimidating cheekbones.
“Nadine!” I call out, approaching with my investigation squad trailing behind me. It seems not only do the guests get a break from the mayhem, but so does the talent.
Georgie has somehow positioned herself near enough to the fog machine that she looks like she’s walking through her own personal weather system, while Ree clutches a notebook in her hand with the determination of a reporter chasing a Pulitzer.
Nadine looks up from directing a stagehand who’s wrestling with what appears to be a fog machine having an existential crisis.
Her braided crown has held up remarkably well for someone who just hosted a virtual séance, and her vintage apron—tonight featuring dancing pumpkins instead of skeletons—gives her the appearance of someone’s beloved grandmother rather than a potential killer.
“Josie! What a wonderful turnout tonight.” Her smile could power the mansion’s spotlights, but there’s something behind her warm brown eyes that doesn’t quite match the cheerful facade.
“I do hope you enjoyed our little presentation. Dilly always said the show must go on, even if she has to do it as a ghost.”
From the stage, hologram Dilly’s voice drifts over. “Some people just can’t let sleeping secrets lie, can they, Martha? Maybe stick to photographing your grandchildren instead of dead people.”
Poor Martha looks mortified and scurries away from the photo line.
“She’s certainly still got her charm,” I observe, nodding toward the hologram.
Nadine’s laugh has an edge that could slice a carrot. “Oh, that’s our Dilly. Death hasn’t improved her personality one bit. Still insulting people from beyond the grave with the same enthusiasm she showed in life.”
Harsh, Chip mutters. Even I’m nicer about dead mice than that.
“I have to say, the hologram idea was brilliant,” Georgie gushes, the fog swirling dramatically around her face. “Very innovative. Did you two plan this together?”
“Oh, heavens no,” Nadine replies quickly.
“This was entirely my idea. Dilly never would have approved. She hated sharing the spotlight, even with technology. But I thought it would be a fitting tribute to let her have one last symposium, even if she had to be dead to appreciate the irony. The film crew helped me put this together. They were able to simulate her voice with some new software, and they have some artificial intelligence system hooked up that helps provide the answers it thinks that Dilly would give.”
Ree scribbles frantically in her notebook. “It must be difficult, carrying on without your business partner. You two seemed so close.”
“Close?” Nadine’s eyebrows climb toward her hairline.
“Well, I suppose thirty years of partnership creates a certain intimacy. Though lately...” She trails off, shaking her head with what appears to be genuine sadness.
“I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, especially when the dead is still making public appearances. ”
“But?” I prompt, because that was definitely a but hanging in the air.
Nadine glances around to make sure we’re not being overheard, then leans closer. The scent of cinnamon and peppermint that usually surrounds her has been joined by something sharper—stress, maybe, or genuine concern.
“Well, if I’m being honest, Dilly had been acting strange lately.
Secretive. Making phone calls she didn’t want me to hear, having meetings she claimed were ‘personal business.’ I started to worry she was having health problems or family issues—you know how private she could be about personal matters. ”
Interesting, Fish notes. She’s painting herself as the concerned friend.
“What kind of meetings?” Ree asks, pen poised.
“I have no idea, and that’s what worried me.
In thirty years of partnership, we never kept secrets from each other.
But these past few weeks, she was different.
Nervous, almost. Like she was afraid of something.
” Nadine’s voice carries what sounds like genuine worry.
“I keep wondering if someone was threatening her, or if she’d gotten herself into some kind of trouble. ”
From the stage, Dilly’s hologram pipes up again, “Death becomes me better than life became some people. At least I’m consistent now.”
A tourist giggles nervously and snaps another photo.
“You must be devastated,” I say carefully. “Losing someone you worked with for so long.”
“Devastated doesn’t begin to cover it,” Nadine replies, and the emotion sounds completely genuine. “Dilly could be difficult, but she was my dearest friend. We built something beautiful together, and now I have to figure out how to carry on without her.”
She’s getting warmed up now, Chip mewls. This is about to get good.
“Speaking of surprises,” Nadine continues, as she nods my way, “have you talked to Savvy Sparrow yet? I certainly hope the sheriff’s department has. That sweet Southern belle act of hers hides some serious claws.”
“Oh?” Georgie leans forward, nearly walking into a concentrated cloud of fog from the machine.
“Years ago, Dilly absolutely destroyed Savvy’s mother’s bakery on national television.
Called it ‘amateur hour with delusions of sugar sweet grandeur’ and suggested they stick to church bake sales.
The poor woman never recovered—lost a ton of business, her confidence, everything.
Savvy’s been carrying that grudge ever since. ”
“But that was years ago,” I point out.
“Some wounds never heal, especially when they involve family.” Nadine’s expression turns knowing. “Just this morning, I heard Savvy on the phone with someone, talking about ‘finally getting even’ and ‘making sure some people get what they deserve.’ Sounded pretty threatening to me.”
Ree scribbles so fast her pen might catch fire. “Did you tell the sheriff’s department?”
A part of me bristles at the thought of Savvy being the killer. I really do like the woman. But do I like her enough to let her get away with murder? That remains to be seen.
“Of course, I did! But that handsome Detective Drake seems more interested in protecting certain people than investigating them.” Nadine’s tone turns pointed. “Speaking of which, has anyone mentioned Delora’s little situation?”
Here we go, Fish mutters. She’s about to drop the bomb.
“What situation?” I ask, though I have a sinking feeling I already know.
Nadine glances around again, then leans in so close I can smell the peppermint on her breath. “Well, I probably shouldn’t say anything, but since it might be relevant to the investigation... Delora Drake had an affair with Dilly’s husband about fifteen years ago.”
The collective gasp from my squad could probably be heard in the next county. And to be honest, I may have been the only one gasping.
“No way,” Georgie breathes, her fog-riddled hair bobbing with dramatic emphasis.
“Oh yes.” Nadine nods grimly. “Lasted about six months. Dilly found out, of course. She always did have excellent radar for that sort of thing. But instead of making a scene, she just... filed the information away. Used it whenever she needed leverage with Delora.”
“Blackmail?” Ree squeaks.
“Not exactly blackmail. More like... insurance. Whenever Delora got too uppity about event planning or tried to take control, Dilly would make little comments about ‘old indiscretions’ and ‘things that might interest the country club set’. Kept Delora in line beautifully.”
From the stage, Dilly’s hologram delivers a cackle with what sounds suspiciously like perfect timing. “Some people think they can bury their mistakes, but the truth has a way of rising from the grave.”
A tourist nervously asks if the ghost is talking to her specifically.
“But recently,” Nadine continues. “Dilly had been hinting that she might be ready to share some old stories at this symposium. Said it was time for certain people to face the consequences of their actions. Delora was absolutely frantic. She kept cornering Dilly, begging her to reconsider.”
And there’s the motive, Fish observes. Delora couldn’t let her dirty laundry get aired in front of half the baking community.
“You think Delora killed Dilly to keep her quiet?” I ask.
“I think Delora’s the type of woman who’d do anything to protect her reputation,” Nadine replies carefully.
“She’s spent decades building this image of herself as the perfect society matron.
The idea of everyone knowing she’d cheated with her event coordinator’s husband?
That would destroy everything she’s worked for. ”
The skeleton bride grins at us from her casket, her rhinestone tiara catching the purple spotlights. For a dead woman, she looks remarkably amused by our conversation.
“Plus,” Nadine adds with what sounds suspiciously like relish.
“Delora was the one who insisted on using those marble rolling pins for the merchandise display. Said they were authentically weighted and perfect for demonstrating proper technique. Awfully convenient that she knew exactly how heavy they were, don’t you think? ”
She’s really going for the throat now, Chip notes. This woman could sell snow to penguins.
Or rolling pins to a killer, Chip counters.
“That does seem suspicious,” Ree agrees, still scribbling madly.
“Oh, I’m not accusing anyone,” Nadine says quickly, but her expression suggests she absolutely is.
“I’m just saying that both Savvy and Delora had excellent reasons to want Dilly gone, and they both had access to the murder weapon.
Meanwhile, I was the one person who actually benefited from keeping Dilly alive.
She was my business partner, my livelihood, my entire career. ”
“Except for the part where she was cutting you out of future deals,” I point out.
Nadine’s smile falters for just a moment. “Well, yes, there was that. But I would have found a way to work things out with her. We always did. Thirty years of partnership doesn’t end over a few contract disputes.”
From the stage comes more ghostly laughter. “Partnership is such a lovely word for indentured servitude, don’t you think?”
Several tourists look uncomfortable and start drifting away from the photo line.
“I should probably go shut that down,” Nadine says, nodding toward the crowd. “The hologram seems to be getting a bit too much for family entertainment.”
“Of course,” I agree. “Thank you for talking with us. This has been very... illuminating.”
“Anytime, dear. I want whoever did this to Dilly to be caught just as much as you do. More, even.” She pauses, her expression turning almost wistful. “Despite everything, she was my oldest friend. We may have had our differences, but I never would have hurt her.”
As Nadine walks away toward the stage, Georgie immediately pounces. “Oh my goodness, did you hear all that? She just threw both Savvy and Delora under the bus with a steamroller!” Georgie says, stepping away from the fog machine finally.
“And backed up over them for good measure,” Ree adds, reviewing her notes. “The affair, the threatening phone call, the rolling pin details—she had answers for everything.”
Too many answers, Fish observes shrewdly. Like maybe she’s been preparing for this conversation.
Also, she seems awfully cheerful for someone whose best friend just got murdered, Chip adds. Even I’m sadder when my food bowl is empty.
It’s true, Fish says. I’ve watched him weep rivers.
So have I.
I watch Nadine approach the hologram technician, her vintage apron swishing with each step. There’s something about her performance that doesn’t quite ring true—like watching community theater where all the actors are slightly over-enunciating their lines.
“You know what bothers me?” I muse aloud. “She knew exactly what to say about both suspects. Almost like she’d been thinking about it for a while.”
“You think she’s lying?” Georgie asks, the lingering fog still creating ominous swirls around her.
“I think she’s telling us exactly what she wants us to believe,” I reply, watching as Nadine gestures emphatically at the hologram technician. “The question is why.”
From the stage, Dilly’s voice drifts over one last time. “The truth has a way of revealing itself, doesn’t it? Even when people think they’ve buried it six feet under.”
The remaining tourists hurry away, apparently deciding that ghost wisdom isn’t worth the psychological trauma.
And standing in the glow of purple spotlights next to a skeleton bride who’s seen better centuries, I realize that Nadine Halbrook just handed me two solid leads on a silver platter—wrapped up in flour-dusted aprons and genuine concern for her murdered business partner, delivered with the helpful precision of someone who truly wants justice for her oldest friend.
Or so it seems.