A Frightening Fangs-giving

by Addison Moore

  Hux nods. “I’m sorry to break it to you, Mace, but physical evidence works great in the courtroom.”

  I close my eyes. “I’m guessing the verbal threats you doled out will work pretty well, too.”

  “I didn’t do this.” Her words come out pressured. “I can’t go to prison. I’m too young. I’m too pretty. My God, I’ve wanted to be popular all my life but not in there.”

  “Why did you have to date her exes? One of which wasn’t even an ex yet,” I spit the words out as I tap her with my elbow. “You could have had any single man in all of Maine.”

  Hux stiffens. “You dated her exes?”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” she snips back. “But that’s the way the relationship cookie crumbled. And you know what? I’m not sorry about it either. I really wish I smoked, because right about now I could really use a cigarette.” She stalks off toward the parking lot in a huff.

  Hux nods. “And I could use a drink. Hell, I’m going to need a bottle.”

  “You and me both.” I shudder as Jasper comes back out and wraps his arms around me.

  “Don’t worry, Bizzy.” He drops a kiss to my cheek. “The real killer is out there, and we’re going to find them. It’s just a matter of time.”

  Hux shakes his head at him. “You and I both know the farther we get away from the day of the murder, the harder it will be to track down the killer. Macy is up a creek without a paddle.”

  “She’s up a creek, all right,” I say. “One of her own making.”

  And now it’s up to me to get her back on dry land before she’s found guilty in a court of law for a homicide she had nothing to do with.

  Whoever killed Ember Sweet had better watch out. Their days of freedom are numbered.

  They may have killed Ember, but there’s no way I’m going to let them mess with my sister.

  Chapter 8

  “Wonky capes! Come and get your red-hot wonky capes!”

  It takes a few good seconds for me to accept what my eyes and ears are experiencing. I’ve brought Fish, Sherlock Bones, and the trio of cuties to the Founders’ Day Jamboree out at the Montgomerys’ pumpkin patch.

  I’ve got Sherlock on a leash, Fish strapped to my chest in a papoose, and the triplets in a cat stroller with a mesh enclosure to ensure another scene like the one at the Happy Hour doesn’t replay itself.

  It’s early evening, and since Jasper is working late, I’ve ventured out to the Founders’ Day Jamboree all by my lonesome. I was under strict orders from Macy not to breathe a word of it to Georgie or Juni in fear they’d turn her red-hot date with a potential killer into a circus. But I can see fate and Georgie’s wonky quilts—or capes as it were—had different plans.

  I weave my way through the crowd. The Montgomerys’ pumpkin patch is spread over a vast acreage. Throngs of people have shown up to celebrate. There’s a live band singing covers of popular country songs, and a huge banner is strewn across the entrance that reads Cider Cove, 100 years strong!

  But the star of the show seems to be the happy orange globes that rule the roost here. Everywhere you look there are artful displays of pumpkins in every shape and color. There’s a three-tiered fountain that stands twenty feet tall at least, and instead of water, every tier is brimming with pumpkins. There are scarecrows with happy jack-o’-lantern heads scattered about, and there’s a giant hollowed-out pumpkin carved into a carriage with a small bench inside, allowing people to take their pictures in it. There are even huge glob-like pumpkins, the size of small cars, out on display.

  There are dozens upon dozens of booths that range from wreath making to pumpkin and gourd painting, and every craft under the sun seems to be represented and for sale.

  And then there is the food. We’re talking turkey tacos, deep-fried turkey legs, turkey kabobs, turkey burgers on brioche buns, turkey corn dogs, and last but not least, pumpkin spice funnel cakes. And as if the heady scent of deep-fried everything wasn’t enough, the hint of vanilla and sugar in the air is clawing at my stomach.

  Sherlock barks and jumps. I see Georgie! I smell bacon, Bizzy. I bet it’s coming from her pocket.

  Fish yowls, Pull it together, furball! Bizzy is here on serious business. We’ve got a killer to catch. And he happens to be dating our Aunt Macy. Fish twitches her whiskers my way. I think your sister is his next victim. But in the event it’s too late for her, I say we start hitting the food.

  I make a face. “It’s too late for my sister in many respects. But I think she can hold her own for a little while. Let’s say hi to Georgie.”

  I manage to push the stroller over the hay-strewn dirt until we land at the booth Georgie seems to have procured for herself. And to my amazement, she has a nice size inventory of her wonky quilts on display, all of them in keeping with the theme of seasonal hues and patterns of fall leaves and pumpkins. On the display table next to her, there’s a large turkey made of tumbleweeds, and in a basket in front of it sit tiny bags of candy corn tied off with a black and white checkered ribbon with a sign that reads turkey toes, one dollar each!

  “Bizzy Baker!” Georgie runs out screaming with her arms held wide as a crowd of women step over to inspect her wares. “Fancy meeting you here.” She pulls me into a warm embrace before pulling a handful of bacon out of her pocket and making Sherlock the happiest dog alive.

  Georgie has donned her signature kaftan in a cheery shade of yellow, but it’s not clearly visible because she also happens to be wearing one of her wonky quilts strapped over her shoulder and cinched at the neck by way of an antique looking silver brooch.

  “Well, who have we got here?” She quickly unzips the mesh netting over the stroller and plucks out all three kittens at once.

  Fish groans. Goodness. Here we go. I hope you’re wearing your running shoes.

  “Don’t you dare let them go,” I tell Georgie as I take one of the squirming kittens from her.

  “Hey, Pumpkin. Hey, Cookie.” Georgie plants a kiss to each of their furry heads as their bright blue eyes siren out at us.

  The kitten in my hand mewls, I’m Cookie.

  “This is Cookie.” I wrinkle my nose at Georgie.

  “And I’m kooky.” She gives the tiny peanut a bump with one of her sisters. “So what are you doing here? Let me guess, you’re trolling for turkey on a stick. Well, you came to the right place, kid.”

  “Actually, Macy is here somewhere with a man I was looking to question. Leave it to my sister to date within the suspect pool.” I leave out the part where she’s actually dating two of the suspects at the very same time.

  “A suspect!” She waves a kitten at someone past me. “Ree! Get your preppy hiney back where it belongs. Break’s over, sister. I’ve got places to go and suspects to question.”

  Before I know it, my mother appears with her feathered hair and popped collar looking like a fashion plate in a plaid peacoat and tan suede boots.

  She gives me a quick embrace and takes Cookie from me.

  “All right, kiddo,” she says to the tiny tot. “Are you ready to man the booth?” She looks to Georgie. “I knew you’d take off sooner than later.” She nods my way. “Don’t feel bad for me, I’m getting thirty percent of the profits.”

  Georgie grunts, “You’d get more if you stopped trying to push them off as couch covers. These are works of art meant to be displayed on the backs of beautiful women. In fact”—Georgie snaps her fingers, and before I know it, she’s draped a quilt over my shoulders and clasped it to my neck with a brooch in the shape of a giant turkey—“you’re going to be my walking wonky billboard.”

  “Lovely.” I press out a short-lived smile.

  Mom gets back to the booth and offers to keep the stroller there in the event she needs to house Cookie, but Georgie isn’t giving up the two she’s holding.

  The striped cutie in Georgie’s right hand mewls at me, Tell Georgie if we come upon the killer, I’d like to be tossed his way. I’ve been sharpening my claws all day for this.

  I nod. It
’s true. My furniture can attest to it.

  I quickly translate and Georgie belts out a laugh. “Feed these kittens an extra helping of that fancy food you give them. It’s on me tonight, kiddos.” She nuzzles each one and they mewl with approval.

  Sherlock barks and stops short. There’s Macy up ahead.

  “I see her!” I bump my shoulder to Georgie’s. “She’s getting on the hayride. And she’s with the guy I saw roughing up Ember’s boyfriend. It’s her ex, Hunter.” My adrenaline begins to pump at the sight of him. His dark blond hair is shorn short and he’s wearing a tan coat with a plaid scarf.

  “Oh, they’re taking off,” Georgie howls as she races ahead and her cape sails behind her like a kite. “Stop, thief!” she calls out, and I immediately regret anything and everything that’s about to happen.

  Georgie tosses herself and the kittens into the path of the tractor pulling a flatbed loaded with guests—all looking to have a good time no doubt—and the entire apparatus comes to an abrupt halt, nearly tossing off a half a dozen people.

  “Whoa!” The driver takes off his ball cap and waves it at her in an aggressive manner. “Are you nuts, lady?”

  Georgie moans. “You picked a fine time to flirt with me, mister. Catch me on the flipside.”

  A kind gentleman helps hoist Georgie and me onboard—pets included—and before we know it, we’re seated on either side of Macy and Ember’s ex like a pair of psychotic bookends.

  “Smooth.” Macy nods as the tractor starts up again and the hayride moves along. “Hunter, this is my sister, Bizzy, and her menagerie. Ignore the homeless woman shivering under a blanket. She’s a white witch who has the capability to steal your soul if you look directly into her eyes. Many a good people have suffered because of her. And try not to judge their attire too harshly. The white witch is trying to start up a crooked quilt coven.”

  “Wonky quilt coven,” Georgie corrects. “And I’m more into starting a girl gang. I’ll be the leader, of course. Macy, you can bring in the cute guys, and, Bizzy, you can stand guard at the door.” She leans toward my sister. “We’ll have fun on the inside while she plays the part of the lookout.”

  Macy nods. “That was my childhood in a nutshell.”

  Hunter bucks with a laugh. “Nice to meet you both.” He gives Sherlock a quick pat on the head. “I used to have a dog just like you. Best friend I ever had.” I would still have him, too, if Ember didn’t swear she was allergic to the poor guy. I still can’t believe I chose her over the dog. I’d give anything to have him back. Her, not so much.

  “Nice to meet you,” I say just as Fish pokes her head out at him.

  It’s the killer! Fish yowls. And we’re stuck on this contraption with him. Quick, toss the kittens at him so they can claw his eyes out before he slaughters us all. We haven’t even tried the turkey, Bizzy. Don’t let him ruin our night.

  He leans in and squints over at Fish. “My, what a cute baby you have there.” He chuckles as he gives her a quick scratch between the ears, and I can’t help but like him. He seems nice enough. He’s handsome enough, too, with smooth skin and bright amber-colored eyes. Marigold mentioned he was a pharmacist. Maybe he’s a good match for my sister after all? With the exception of that little killer detail. Leave it to Macy to winnow out the hottie with murderous intentions.

  “Thank you,” I tell him. “I think they’re both keepers.” A thought comes to me. “In fact”—I motion for Georgie to hand over the kittens, and soon I’m juggling them as well—“I stumbled upon these little cuties in the back alley of that new shop in town, Suds and Illuminations?”

  His eyes grow wide. “Small world.” He flicks his fingers as if asking if he could hold one, and I let him take the one in my left hand.

  I’m in the arms of a killer! The tiny thing swats her paws at him full steam ahead. I’m going to die! I’m going to claw his eyes out, and then I’m going to run screaming, all the way home! Her entire body squirms and fidgets.

  “Hey there, little one.” Hunter pulls her in and strokes her until she’s purring with her eyes closed.

  So much for having an attack cat on my hands. But truthfully, I like this version better.

  A sharp mewl comes from the kitten I’m still holding. I want some of that, too, Bizzy, she yelps as she struggles to make her way over.

  “Traitor,” I tease as I hand her to Hunter, and soon they’re both fast asleep in his arms.

  Georgie coos, “This one is a keeper, Macy. He’s a cat whisperer. Men like that don’t come around too often. I wouldn’t let him go if I were you.” She leans toward Hunter. “If you get sick of this one, you come looking for me, hot stuff. I’ve got a bottle cap collection in my bedroom, you wouldn’t believe. You bring the boozy, I’ll be your floozy.”

  “And on that note”—Macy smacks her hand over Georgie’s knee—“Hunter, why don’t you tell us where you were on the night Ember Sweet was murdered? I don’t see why we don’t just cut to the chase.” She glares my way. “You’ve already murdered my date.”

  I sink a little in my seat, but before I can plow through my brain in hopes to figure out a way to rectify this, Georgie moans and groans.

  “Way to ruin the investigation.” Georgie gives my sister a rather aggressive elbow check and nearly knocks her right off of this hostile hayride.

  And now it’s me moaning and groaning. Right about now, I’d like to send the both of them flying into the nearest pasture.

  Sherlock whimpers, I’m sorry, Bizzy. Maybe Georgie can give him some bacon? Bacon always makes me forget about anything else going on around me.

  He’s not wrong.

  Hunter’s brows knit together as he looks my way.

  “You must be talking about the investigation involving that murder. I knew the deceased. We dated for a time.” Worst year of my life.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” I offer a mournful smile, but mostly I’m mourning the last few minutes. “Macy tells me that Ember wasn’t all that easy to get along with.”

  He gives a wistful shake of the head. “I would tend to agree with that.” And that’s the understatement of the year. “She certainly had a way about her. I’m not sure it was entirely her fault. Ember was given whatever she wanted from the moment she came into this world. Of course, losing her mother at an early age only made her father throw more cash and prizes her way. She was raised by an army of nannies.”

  “That sounds like a very lavish yet sheltered life.”

  Macy huffs, “There’s a reason I called her the bubble-wrapped princess.”

  I make wild eyes at my loose-lipped sister. Obviously, Hunter had feelings for Ember once. I’m sure he doesn’t want to hear people disparaging her now that she’s gone.

  Hunter’s chest bounces with a dry laugh. More like bubble-wrapped brat.

  On second thought…

  “Hunter, can I ask what happened between the two of you?”

  His lips knot up as he looks straight ahead. “Sure. I was working my second year as a licensed pharmacist about the time Ember and I hit it pretty hot and heavy. We met at a fundraiser for a drug company her father owns. And well, let’s just say I couldn’t bend over backward enough for her. Actually, I would liken it to twisting myself into a pretzel. Eventually, I couldn’t do it anymore.” I couldn’t breathe. I wanted out, and she snapped. She stole the med keys, ransacked the pharmacy, and mixed up enough prescriptions to ensure my license was as good as toilet paper. I’ll never be able to undo the damage she’s done to me. Years of education gone down the drain, and yet the college loans live on. Thankfully, Ember isn’t here anymore to take the wrecking ball to my life. If she knew how I felt about Macy, she’d cut off my head, and most likely other parts of my body as well.

  “Oh wow,” I mutter as he nods my way. “I’m sorry about all the twisting.” And the fact he lost everything because of that woman.

  “It’s over now.” She’s dead as a doornail. I saw to that myself.

  My eyes flash his way
.

  He saw to it himself?

  “Hunter?” A dam of words begs to burst from me—all of them accusatory. “Who do you think did this to Ember?” If I’ve ever tried to hone my telesensual powers before on a single mind, it’s now. If Hunter Knox indeed killed Ember, I’m going to use every weapon in my arsenal to pull that information from him.

  He takes a quick breath. “I think the obvious answer is your sister.” He gives a little wink her way, and Macy giggles like a schoolgirl at the thought. “But in all seriousness, I think they should look into Flint Butler, the guy she was seeing. I mean, sure, he’s your standard-issue politician, cheesy smile, loads of promises he can’t keep, but the guy’s got a dark side.”

  I nod. “He was there the day of the murder.”

  “Yes, he was. I saw him myself.” He glowers just past me as if he were seeing Flint in the distance. “I tried to warn him about her. Out of the goodness of my heart, I told the guy to run.”

  Macy leans in. “And what did he say?”

  Hunter shrugs. “Not much. Actually, I take that back. He said a lot. He said Ember had the capability to ruin him if he so much as hinted he wasn’t happy. He didn’t have the cookies to leave her—not in the conventional way. He said he had an alternate plan.”

  Georgie gasps. “An alternate plan? The butler did it!”

  All three cats belt out a meow of agreement, and it sounds like an adorable choir.

  Macy motions for him to continue. “What was the alternate plan?” I’m not dating a killer, am I?

  I frown over at her. For all she knows, she could be dating two potential killers.

  Hunter blows out a breath. “I don’t know. I showed up that day to tell Ember to loosen her claws off my life. We hadn’t been together in months, and she was still causing problems for me with the board. Flint tried to keep me away from her. He said he didn’t want to upset her. Can’t blame him. I’m sure he bore the brunt of her wrath.”

  The tractor takes a turn as we head back in the direction we started, and a tiny bout of panic infiltrates me.