Chapter 25
The funhouse entrance looms before me with its gaping clown mouth frozen in an eternal laugh that feels more menacing than merry while the parade takes place back on Huckleberry Lane.
It’s late afternoon and the crisp autumn air carries the fading scents of caramel corn, smoked turkey legs, anxiety, and maybe a sprinkle of murder.
The carnival music drifting from inside plays at half-speed, transforming what should be cheerful into something from a fever dream from the hot place. And have I mentioned the mechanical clown laughter? Yeah, it’s haunting on a whole other level.
I spot Vivian immediately—her silver hair catching the golden light as she stands alone, staring at the funhouse entrance.
The sight of her dabbing tears with an embroidered handkerchief stops me short.
Her normally impeccable posture has softened, shoulders slightly hunched as if the professional armor she wears has finally cracked.
Fish and Chip shift in my arms, their parade outfits still miraculously intact despite their earlier efforts to stage a feline jailbreak.
Are we approaching the crying hooman? Fish questions, her tone suggesting this is clearly beneath royal dignity. Tears make it harder to accuse someone of murder. It’s very inconvenient.
Maybe she dropped ice cream, Chip offers. I’d cry, too. Actually, I’d lick it off the ground, then cry when you judged me for it.
I approach Vivian cautiously, not wanting to interrupt a dramatic breakdown or risk catching whatever emotional bug she’s got going on. She notices me anyway, quickly tucking the handkerchief into her sleeve and straightening like she’s prepping for a speech.
“Josie,” she says with a nod, then spots the cats. Instantly, she shifts into PR mode. “And the stars of the show! Just look at you two—dressed to impress!”
She reaches out to stroke Fish, who shockingly allows it, even though I can tell it’s a charitable act.
I’ll permit it just this once. I’m not beneath a little feline worship. Especially when I’m the feline in question.
Chip narrows his eyes. Sudden cat affection from the Queen of Frost? Either she’s trying to distract us or she’s about to confess to a crime.
“Are you okay?” I ask, keeping my voice gentle but my Spidey senses on full alert. “You seemed upset.”
Vivian’s manicured hand pauses on Fish’s head. Her gaze returns to the funhouse, and for a moment, I see past the polish to the person underneath.
“You know, I loved him once,” she says, nodding toward the funhouse. “We were engaged, back when we were both starting out. Before Elite Escapes, before his blog. Before he became...” she trails off, then sighs. “I guess love doesn’t die. I’m sorry Ned had to.”
Her words land with the thud of truth, the kind you only get from people who’ve either hit rock bottom or found an excellent therapist.
“Did you have a good reason for him to die?” I finally ask, meeting her eyes directly.
“The pins I saw on your vest at the reception—the Tree and the Haunted Gold Mine pins—they were the same ones found next to his body. Did he have to die because of your bitter rivalry after he left you for your assistant? Or because he was threatening to expose your alleged bribery scheme for positive reviews?”
Vivian blinks twice. Her eyes widen as shock gives way to something that looks dangerously close to laughter.
“Oh, Josie,” she says with unexpected warmth. “You’ve been quite the busy detective, haven’t you?”
She’s not denying it, Chip notes. This is when the killer usually tries to change the subject or offer cookies.
“My pins went missing during the reception,” Vivian explains, holding my gaze steadily. “I assumed they’d fallen off somewhere in the crowd. Are you saying they were found with Ned?”
I nod, studying her reaction.
“That’s so disturbing,” she says slowly. “Someone must have taken them. Perhaps the same someone who killed Ned.”
“And your rivalry?” I press.
“It was professional, not personal,” she counters. “Ned and I buried our romantic hatchet decades ago. In fact...” she hesitates, then seems to make a decision. “We were working together on something.”
Plot twist! Incoming! Fish announces.
“Working together?” I ask with every cell of my body suspicious.
“It was an exposé, but not about me.” Vivian lowers her voice. “About someone else. Someone here at the park.”
Well. That was not on my bingo card.
“You’re looking in the wrong direction, Josie.
I didn’t kill Ned. I had no reason to.” She adjusts her blazer, composure fully restored.
“When you’re investigating a murder, look at who has the most to lose.
Ned had discovered something in this park’s history—something in the old records that someone desperately wanted to keep buried. ”
I open my mouth to respond, but I’m cut off by another conference attendee calling Vivian’s name from across the midway.
“I need to go,” she says, already turning away.
She pauses, then adds, “I will say this about Ned. He mentioned something about being knee-deep in an investigation regarding someone who was at the Hidden Gems Conference. He said they used to work right here at the park, and now that they were back, he had them right where he wanted them.”
She walks away, her heels clicking in perfectly timed defiance, leaving me with two cats and a brain suddenly racing in an entirely new direction.
Well, that was illuminating, Fish comments. I knew she was just another hooman with impeccable taste in cats.
If it’s not the fancy pin lady, then who? Chip stretches luxuriously. Because I have exactly one brain cell left and it’s reserved for dinner planning.
I pull out my phone, my fingers flying across the screen as I search for information that’s been niggling at the back of my mind since Vivian’s parting words. Someone who used to work at the park. Someone who’s back now. Someone with everything to lose.
Then it hits me just as the results load, and I gasp. “Oh my. I know who the killer is and why they needed Ned Hollister silenced forever.”
Because sometimes the most dangerous people aren’t those with obvious motives—they’re the ones with secrets buried so deep, they’d kill to keep them covered.