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  “Why would the killer come after me? For asking a couple of questions?”

  “Yes.” He nods with an incredulous look on his face. “That is precisely why. Whoever did this has to be desperately afraid of being caught. And desperate people are capable of doing anything. Committing a second homicide is certainly not off the table. Bizzy, who did you speak with?”

  My mouth opens then closes.

  “Was it Hannah?” His brows hike a notch.

  I bite down hard on my lower lip as Sherlock does his best to swat his paws over at Fish.

  “It was Hannah,” Jasper growls it out with disappointment resonating in his tone.

  “Okay, fine, it was Hannah. But my sister was with me. And, if you must know, Macy is in the process of getting hot and heavy with the owner of The Rat Tat. It’s not my fault Hannah just so happened to be there while we were paying a visit.” I feel smaller than an inch for spilling so many questionable half-truths at his feet.

  He tips his head to the side as if to contest every word that just came from my mouth. As he should.

  “Fine,” I concede with regret. “I went looking for her. But aren’t you in the least bit impressed I knew where to find her?”

  “No,” he flatlines.

  “Well, I don’t care. She told me this bizarre story about how Kaitlynn’s father partook in some criminal activity, and then his buddies both went to prison with him even though they were innocent. And she alluded that one of the men had a daughter who later befriended Kaitlynn. But she wouldn’t say who. So, when I spoke to Jeannie this morning, she all but balked at the—”

  “You spoke to Jeannie this morning?” His brows frame his face in a straight line. “Bizzy, you promised me that you would not take this further.”

  “No, those were your words. And why do you keep insisting that I stay out of this? I thought we already determined that Kaitlynn was my friend.” My voice hikes an octave without meaning to.

  “You admitted to hardly knowing the girl.” His voice is right there, hiking in agitation to meet with mine.

  Fish hops onto Sherlock’s back, and Jasper steps to the side as the two of them begin to snarl and yowl as they wrestle it out.

  “Fish!” I howl at her, but she’s proving unstoppable.

  Both Jasper and I do our best to wrestle them apart but to no avail. Sherlock flips Fish over like a seasoned wrestler and pins my poor kitty to the sand.

  Bizzy! Fish cries out, but if I didn’t know better, it almost sounded as if she were laughing.

  Sherlock lands his mouth over her, and Fish lets out a yodeling cry. I quickly snatch her from his jaw and hold her tight.

  Sherlock looks up my way. Sorry, Bizzy. I couldn’t help myself. She started it.

  I shoot Jasper a look.

  Why is she scowling at me? Jasper’s brows bounce as if he were perplexed. Why is she always angry with me? What doesn’t she get about the fact she’s putting herself in harm’s way? She’s too stubborn for her own good.

  I suck in a quick breath.

  “I know what you’re thinking. I’m not stubborn.” I don’t mind one bit calling him out on it. “And before you start in with all the good reasons you have for me to stay away from the case, know that this is a free country and I can still see and speak to whomever I wish.”

  He narrows his eyes my way. Two can play hardball. “This might be a free country, but there are laws that its citizens need to abide by. I can have you arrested if you meddle in this case any more than you already have.”

  “Oh my God. Are you threatening me?”

  Sherlock whimpers as he lands his paws over his eyes. Bizzy, don’t test him. When he’s firm, he’s firm.

  Jasper leans in, those silver eyes of his flashing like lightning. “No, Bizzy, that’s not a threat. That’s a promise.”

  A breath hitches in my throat as I inch back a notch.

  “How dare you,” I seethe. “I believe we’re done, detective. I don’t take kindly to being spoken to that way.”

  His eyes widen a notch. Being spoken to that way? It’s the law. And more than that, I don’t want anything to happen to her. He looks genuinely stymied.

  At least he’s not overtly trying to be a jerk.

  He frowns my way. “Look, you don’t have to like what I’m saying to you. But you do have to obey the laws. Approach one more suspect, and I’m taking you in.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “On obstruction of justice.”

  I suck in a quick breath at his audacity. “You should be taken in for obstructing justice. You’re the one who’s dragging his feet. You said you were close to making an arrest, and I’ve yet to see evidence of this.”

  “I don’t owe you evidence.” A smile twitches on his lips, and it only frustrates me all the more.

  “You’re right,” I say, taking a moment to memorize that determined look on his face and it breaks my heart all the more. “And I don’t owe you anything either. It was nice meeting up, Detective Wilder,” the words thump out of me with sorrow. “Maybe we should stay out of one another’s way from here on out since we have such a difficult time seeing eye to eye. Not to mention the fact I don’t look so good in silver bracelets. Enjoy the rest of your time at the inn. If you need anything, I’ll be happy to make certain all of your needs are met—that is, if you don’t arrest me first.” I stalk off toward the café without bothering to look back.

  Perhaps some people are best forgotten.

  Now if I can only forget about those kisses.

  The night wears on, and the population on the beach only seems to grow. Emmie and I can’t keep up with the crowd. And in about an hour we’ll run out of apple walnut cinnamon rolls altogether.

  Melissa and Topher Montgomery, who own and operate the orchard, come our way. Melissa is a sweet brunette with wild curly hair and a wide smile that never leaves her face. And Topher is a tall, gentle giant with the warmest brown eyes you will ever see. His family has owned the orchard for as long as I can remember.

  “Your cinnamon rolls are on the house,” I say as I quickly box up half a dozen. “If it wasn’t for the fresh apples from your orchard, they wouldn’t taste near as good.”

  Melissa laughs. “Our pumpkins promise to be just as delicious.”

  Topher nods. “We’re coming up on our busiest season yet, and we’re looking to kick it off with a party next Saturday.”

  Melissa nods. “We’ll be hosting the Haunted Harvest Festival at the pumpkin patch and we’re expecting quite a crowd. We were hoping we could have the café donate some light appetizers and desserts to have on hand for the opening. We’re asking every restaurant in and out of Cider Cove in hopes we’ll have more than enough to feed the hungry crowds on kickoff day.”

  “Say no more. We would love to do it. It’s our pleasure.”

  “Great.” Topher takes the box from Emmie. “And, in exchange, I’ll have someone bring over a load of pumpkins to decorate the inn with.”

  “That would be wonderful. I just know the guests would love it.”

  No sooner do they take off than Emmie’s eyes widen as she looks at something just over my shoulder. And before I can sneak a peek myself, she pulls me close, in one aggressive move.

  “What is it?” I try to glance back, but she dances me to the left.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.” Her dark hair catches the twinkle lights and glistens in long, glossy waves.

  “Emmie.” I laugh as I wiggle free before turning around, and a hard groan expels from me at the sight. “Dear God. She doesn’t waste any time, does she?”

  There she is, Mayor Mackenzie Man-Eater Woods, cozying up to the questionable detective. Poor Sherlock looks as if he’s bored out of his mind, but Jasper seems to be nodding intently at whatever nonsense she’s telling him.

  Traitor.

  Mack catches my eye and offers me a quick wave, prompting Jasper to turn this way.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” I say, spinning around as I pretend to
busy myself by straightening the counter. “You know what, Emmie? I think I’m going to trot over and see how Georgie is doing. Do you mind?”

  “I don’t mind one bit.” She pulls me in and presses those pale blue eyes into mine. “I’m so sorry, Bizzy.”

  “Don’t be. He just wasn’t the one for me.” My gut wrenches when I say it as if calling me out on the lie.

  Emmie is already privy to everything that went down between Jasper and me a little while ago. As soon as I got back to the booth, I spilled everything to her. I’ve never been one to keep anything from Emmie—aside from that tiny quirk that lends me the ability to pry into other people’s thoughts. There are just some things people shouldn’t be privy to—and I’m talking about reading minds. I know for a fact it would change everything between us, and in no way would I ever want that.

  I drudge my way through the sand, through the crowds, as I make my way to Georgie’s booth and bump into a body, nearly knocking the drinks right out of their hands.

  “I’m so sorry!” I say, looking up, only to be met with a friendly face. “Chris!” I say with a touch of too much excitement. “It’s nice to see you out and about.”

  Chris Davidson looks clean-shaven with a smile spreading over his face as he lifts the beers in his hands my way.

  “It’s nice to see you, too, Bizzy. My friends insisted I come out.” He glances toward the café. “I didn’t think I could do it. But they said it would be good for me to push past the pain. We’re having a small memorial for Kaitlynn tomorrow, right here on the beach at noon. You’re welcome to come. Please invite any of Kaitlynn’s co-workers. It would be an honor to have them.”

  “That’s very kind. Thank you.” I frown past him, knowing full well Detective Wilder might be barreling his way over to arrest me of all people. A thought comes to me. “Hey, Chris? The night Kaitlynn was killed she had a very fancy ring with her. She wasn’t wearing it. She was putting it in her purse.” Okay, so I didn’t exactly see her put it in her purse, but that’s close enough.

  Chris glances around a moment. A ring? Crap. He looks my way.

  “Yes, I know all about it.” He gives a long blink. “That was an engagement ring, or a promise ring, or some sort of commitment jewelry her boyfriend gave her.”

  “Her boyfriend?” I’m not sure I heard him right.

  “I guess there’s no harm in telling you. But I think she and Cameron got back together about a month before she was killed.”

  “Cameron?” I blink back, surprised.

  “I’m pretty sure about it.” He nods. “I think it started off innocent enough—complaining about me, I’m sure. But then, I heard things were heating up between her and someone, and she needed to make a decision. Apparently, she was about to break things off with me that night.”

  “I’m sorry. That must have been hard to hear.”

  He takes a full breath. “Not as hard as you think. We were having trouble.” He winces as he looks out at the sand. “I was seeing someone around the same time, too. Only I wasn’t about to break it off with Kaitlynn. I had just cut things off with the other girl that night. I was going to try to win Kate back. I’d give anything for that to still be possible. She never really loved Cam. She liked the idea of him. What she didn’t like was how I was acting. I guess there are some things that I’ll have to live with—and the guilt I feel about this is smothering.”

  “Chris.” I glance back in the direction his eyes keep shooting off to. “Who is this other woman?” Could it be Hannah?

  He shakes his head. “It’s over. It’s not important. Have a great rest of the night, Bizzy.” He takes off, and I’m breathless at what he’s just revealed.

  Whoever this woman is, she might be the killer. Chris dumped her. He was hoping to get back with Kaitlynn. This mystery woman certainly had the motive to pull off a crime of passion.

  I make my way to Georgie’s booth.

  “Bizzy!” She tosses her hands in the air. “Look at my table!”

  I glance down, and there’s not a single item left gracing its surface.

  “You’ve been pillaged?”

  “No! I sold out! Can you believe it?”

  “Yes, I believe it. Because I believe in you.”

  “Bizzy.” She leans across the way and captures my cheeks in her hands. “You are an angel. Without your encouragement, and the free rent doesn’t hurt either, I was able to accomplish my dreams tonight.”

  A dull laugh pumps through me. “You don’t have free rent, Georgie. You’re three months behind.” And I’m covering for her. “But I’m thrilled all of your dreams were met tonight by selling your priceless works of art. You deserve all the success in the world.”

  She waves me off. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the fact that Mayor Stick-Up-Her-Rear-Woods asked me to work on a beautification project right here on Main Street. You know that retaining wall at the end of the street that keeps the art center from tumbling to the ground? The city is paying to have an artist lay a mosaic over the front of it. And do you know who that artist is?”

  “Macy?” I can’t help but tease her.

  “No—it’s me! Can you believe it? I have to go and celebrate. I hear the Unchained Bistro has brought tapas, and I’m on a hunt for a decent margarita to go with them. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about you,” she says, cinching her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll stop by and pick up a cinnamon roll for dessert. But not if you charge me.” She playfully wags her finger my way. “I’m a starving artist, remember? It’s not good for my brand for me to walk around with money.” She takes off, and a laugh gets locked in my throat. At least something is working out for someone tonight, and I’m glad it’s Georgie.

  I glance back toward the café where I saw the malfeasance taking place, but both Mack and Jasper are nowhere to be seen.

  Great.

  They probably got a room.

  Better yet, they hightailed it to his cottage, and now poor Sherlock will have to witness the unholy coital event. Just the thought of Mack attacking Jasper that way makes my stomach boil with rage.

  I set out in the opposite direction and stumble upon a welcome sight for sore eyes, my mother.

  “Mom!” I wrap my arms around her tight. “I’m so glad you could come.”

  “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it. In fact, I’m glad I didn’t.” She takes a sip from her fruity cocktail. Mom looks impossibly gorgeous tonight in a pair of jeans and a red cable knit sweater with a white blouse underneath with the collar popped circa 1983. Mom has never quite parted with her preppy ways, or her feathered hair, and yet she’s never once looked outdated. She doesn’t look nearly her age. In fact, people have often mistaken her for my sister than they ever have my mother. And it’s always a genuine sentiment. I should know. I’ve confirmed it by way of their thoughts.

  “I’m glad you’re here for sure. Have you seen Macy?”

  “No, I was a bit preoccupied.” She leans in and gives a little wink. “Met a boy.”

  “What?” My mouth falls open with the quasi-salacious news. “Do tell.”

  “His name is Maximus, and get this. He owns a restaurant named after himself down in Seaview.”

  The smile quickly fades from my face. “Maximus?”

  “I know—it’s a wild name. But you’ll never guess what his last name is—Wilder! Isn’t that well, wild?” She laughs and looks the happiest I’ve seen her in months.

  Dear God. That’s Jasper’s brother! This can’t be right. I can’t be dating Jasper while she sees Maximus. That goes against the laws of nature or something.

  And then it occurs to me that I just cut Jasper out of my life rather abruptly tonight, and I’m filled with anguish.

  Great. My mother is going to fall in love and marry his brother, and I’ll be forced to see Jasper and his new bride Mack on every major holiday. I can’t wait for this new, psychotic leg of my life to begin.

  “Anyway”—Mom beams—“he gave me his number.
We’re going out for drinks tomorrow night. Don’t say anything, but he’s just a wee bit younger than me. I may have lied about my age,” she says that last bit through the side of her mouth.

  “You mean he had the audacity to ask?”

  “Heavens no. I always volunteer it because I can almost read their minds. I know they’re wondering.”

  A weak smile comes and goes. Macy won’t be too thrilled, but such is life.

  “I’d better go.” She checks her phone. “I’m volunteering at the Lather and Light booth so Macy can prowl the grounds. I really hope she meets a nice young man soon herself. But it just seems like all the good ones are taken.” She stalks off sipping her drink.

  “I know what Macy would say. All the good ones are taken—by her mother.”

  I pull out my phone as Kaitlynn’s murder begins to take over my thoughts once again.

  Fish appears, bounding down from the café, and together we walk off to the right until we’re past the booths and the thick of the bodies milling around, pressing against one another as if it were a free-for-all.

  “Oh, Fish”—I bend over and scoop her up—“I wish I knew who Chris was sleeping with. I think that might be the key to everything.” I pull out my phone and look at those pictures I took of the contents of Kaitlynn’s purse.

  The library receipt with a slew of business books. The ring that glittered like mad as if it had its own secret to tell, and, boy, did it ever. A trio of receipts lined up stare blankly at me, and I enlarge each one—pizza, one for Thaime for Thai, and one for less than a hundred dollars marked Bowden Development. Bowden—why does that sound familiar? That’s right, the shipping labels at Natural Beauty had the same name.

  A thought comes to me, and I do a quick search of Bowden Development on my phone. Nothing but some general ads for the company and a few reviews here and there. And then I scroll farther.

  “Oh my God.” I glance up at the crowd sweltering in the distance. “I know who the killer is.”