A Frightening Fangs-giving

by Addison Moore

  Oxycontin?

  Flint is lucky he’s still alive. So I guess Hunter wasn’t handing off strychnine to Flint the day of the murder. But it was definitely something that could be equally as lethal for the councilman himself.

  Hunter gives the kittens back. “Let me know if you have a hard time finding a home for these guys. If so, I’ll be there with bells on to pick them up.” He ticks his head toward the gazebo. “I came for the free donuts. Oh, and if you see Macy, tell her we’re on for tonight. She invited me to Thanksgiving dinner. I’ll catch you later, Bizzy.”

  It would figure that Macy wouldn’t let a little murderous detail, such as the fact he might just be the killer, get in the way of inviting him to dinner.

  I turn back toward the shop and find the very councilman I was hoping to question staring inside the window of Suds and Illuminations.

  Sherlock lets out a growl. That’s the killer, isn’t it, Bizzy?

  “I think so,” I pant as I head that way.

  “Flint Butler,” I say as I come upon him, and he turns and offers one of his signature cheesy grins my way. “Bizzy Baker Wilder.” The detective’s wife. The smile melts right off his face with the thought. “I was just peering inside.” He nods to the shop. “It’s just hard to believe she’s really gone.”

  “I know.” I shrug, scowling up at him regardless of whether or not I mean to. “It feels strange, doesn’t it? To have someone just up and disappear out of your life?” Come on, Flint. Throw me a bone.

  Fish watches him as if he were a giant mouse and she was ready to pounce.

  Don’t bother beating around the bush, Bizzy, she growls. Ask what happened to the girl. Tell him you were related. Tell him anything.

  She might be onto something.

  “Funny story!” I say without putting too much thought into it. “I was just wishing my aunt who lives in Connecticut a happy Thanksgiving this morning. The subject of Ember came up and she felt terrible. She asked if Ember was married and I told her that she actually had a very newly elected yet prominent councilman as her boyfriend. She asked if you were handsome and, of course, I said yes.”

  His chest puffs with pride. “Why, thank you for that.”

  “But once I mentioned your name, she said she knew you. She said she was one of the volunteers during your run for alderman. She lived right there in your district. Small world. She said you left shortly afterwards, though.” I bite down on my lower lip. “She said you always had a pretty girl on your arm, Lauren Chrissy or something.”

  His eyes spring wide. Lauren Comfort. “I did.” He shrugs. Who the hell cares now? Lauren is married to that idiot I paid to make sure he kept her from even remembering me—another intern, who as fate would have it, went to her high school. Ember can’t hold that over my head anymore. It’s finally done. I’m not going to hold onto it anymore. It was a mistake, and it’s over. “But before I could so much as take her to dinner, she took off with the kicker from the local high school football team. Such is life.” She doesn’t need to know about what happened in the backseat of my car. In fact, I never want to think about it again either.

  “That’s it?” I ask with a touch of disappointment in my voice.

  What’s it? Fish hisses.

  Did he confess? Pumpkin does her best to growl, and it sounds ridiculously adorable.

  “No,” I mutter.

  “No?” Flint wrinkles his nose as he squints over at me. “No, what?”

  “No end in sight to finding Ember’s killer.” I don’t mind one bit that I just said it out loud.

  “That’s too bad.” He ticks his head to the side. “I just saw her father, too. He’s a good guy.” He just had no idea how to raise a daughter without turning her into a monster. Ember Sweet was proof that money doesn’t solve everything.

  “So he’s back from Africa? That’s great, I’m sure Marigold is thrilled.”

  “Africa?” He chuckles. “I’m pretty sure Warner hasn’t left the country in the last few years. He’s got an entire myriad of medical conditions. Actually, that’s how Ember met her previous boyfriend. Turns out, he was the pharmacist her father used back then. That’s when Ember was still helping care for her father.” The day she met him was the last normal day of his life. The same as it was for me, not too much after that.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “He’s at a private care facility out in Tuck’s Harbor. He’s been there for some time.”

  “I could swear Marigold told me he was hunting in Africa.”

  He chuckles at the thought. “That’s Marigold for you. The last thing she wants is to face the truth. She married a man old enough to be her grandfather just to line her bank account.”

  “You think she’s ashamed?” I blink back, amused.

  Flint shrugs. “Some people would do anything for money. And if she sticks around for another couple of months, she’ll get a big payout. There won’t be much shame in that.”

  “A big payout? From his death?” I cringe as the words stream from me.

  “You got that right. And now that Ember is gone, I guess she can rest easy.”

  “Rest easy?”

  He glances to the shop. “You know—fighting over the will. Ember always claimed every red cent was going straight to her. Marigold insisted on it to prove she wasn’t a gold digger.” He waves to the crowd before giving me a pat on the arm. “Have a wonderful Thanksgiving, Bizzy,” he says as he takes off.

  “Oh no.” Could I have missed something so blatantly that was sitting right in front of my face?

  The crime scene bounces through my mind. That fingernail Jasper found indeed belonged to my sister. Then there was that half-used cigarette that was discarded not too far from the body. Sassy Slims are still marketed toward women even to this day.

  “Hey, girls?” I give Pumpkin and Spice a quick scratch on the head. “That day you were left in the alley, you said a man left you there?”

  Oh yes, Pumpkin mewls. The woman told him to put us down far away from her. She didn’t want to be anywhere near us.

  “I bet she purchased you.” My mouth falls open. “Was that woman smoking by any chance?”

  Yes. Spice twitches her ear. Her mouth was a smoke stack.

  Pumpkin swats her sister on the nose. She was a fire-breathing dragon.

  A fire-breathing dragon. I look back to the shop.

  A real monster in our midst.

  I have a feeling I know who killed Ember—and who happens to be responsible for Ember Sweet’s ghost.

  Chapter 16

  The parade is going full tilt as a float covered in mums and birdseed passes us by. The float is in the shape of a giant birdfeeder and attached to its every orifice are exotic animatronic birds that bob their heads back and forth as if trying to get their fill. Right behind that, a large balloon of a cute bear holding a picnic basket does its best not to float off into the sky. The wind is beginning to howl, causing a flurry of red and orange leaves to rain down over the crowd like confetti, and the crowd is growing all the more rabid with excitement with every passing moment.

  I’d like nothing more than to watch the parade with the rest of the town folk, but there’s a killer in our midst, and I need to get Jasper and Leo here quickly. I’m about to pull out my phone when I spot a plume of smoke drifting from the entry to Suds and Illuminations.

  There she is. Sherlock lets out a low growl while Fish and the two kittens remaining in my pouch all peer out at the woman before us.

  Fish lets out a guttural roar. Don’t worry, Bizzy. We’ll hold her down while you call Jasper.

  I take a quick breath at the sight of her and slip my phone back into my pocket. The last thing I want to do is spook her.

  Sherlock whines. Why do I get the feeling you’re not calling Jasper? Let go of my leash, Bizzy. I’ll sniff him out myself.

  But I don’t let go. Instead, I stride right up to the suspect in question and shed a forced smile.

  “That’s terrible
for your health.” I try to laugh through the words to make it sound light, but it comes out like a judgmental-laced threat.

  Marigold Sweet gives a frenetic nod as she blows a stream of white smoke from her nostrils. She gives a quick glance to the cigarette in question—slim, with a pink ring around the filter.

  “Don’t I know it.” She tosses it down and extinguishes it with her shoe.

  “I’m sorry, I interrupted you. You didn’t have to do that. That’s a Sassy Slims,” I say as my chest begins to rise and fall from the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through me. “My mother used to smoke those. The smell of the menthol takes me right back to my childhood.” I glance in the shop to see my mother and Georgie each pushing a broom. Juni and Macy are in the back carrying a box out through the rear of the shop. “I remember seeing an unfinished cigarette in the alley the day of the murder.” I shrug over at the stunning brunette before me and watch as the smile melts from her face. “I thought it was strange that it was half-finished. Did you get interrupted that day, like you did now?”

  Pumpkin lets out a sharp meow. The man who delivered us interrupted her, Bizzy! She blew out a breath and a horrible storm cloud came right out of her nostrils.

  Spice mewls as if she were terrified, And she threw something down and stepped on it like she did just now.

  Marigold frowns, but it looks forced. “I’m sorry, Bizzy, what was that?”

  “The day of the murder, you had a box of kittens delivered to the alley. And when you saw them arrive, you stomped out your cigarette the same way you did just now.”

  “What?” She shakes her head at me while her eyes search my face for clues. How in the world would she know what? “Were you there? I wasn’t having those kittens delivered.” My God, there’s no way she could figure that one out. I used an alias. I paid the man twice what he wanted for them, all in cash.

  Now it’s me shaking my head, trying to figure out why a woman who is allergic to cats would want to have a box full of kittens nearby.

  That day back at the Marblehead Lounge comes to mind.

  “Oh my God”—a dull laugh pumps from me—“the day you touched Fish at the lounge, your eyes immediately teared up. Your face was red and swollen instantly and it looked as if you had been crying.”

  A flood of relief hits her. “That’s right. I’m allergic, remember? There’s no reason on earth why I’d be asking for a box full of trouble.” She makes a face at the kittens. “No offense.”

  “But there is a reason,” I say. “You needed them that day to help manufacture tears because you knew there wouldn’t be any otherwise—not for Ember. In fact, I did see you take a kitten out of the box once the alley was filled with people. You held it to your cheek for just a moment, and soon thereafter it looked as if you were sobbing. But you weren’t sobbing. You weren’t sorry in the least because you did it. You fed Ember donuts that were laced with strychnine—something you must have easily procured.”

  A choking sound comes from her as she begins to dart her gaze at the crowd as if looking for the quickest escape.

  “How dare you accuse me of killing my own stepdaughter.” Her voice shakes as she says it. “Bizzy, you are badly mistaken. You have my word, I would never do that.” Her chest begins to heave with her every breath.

  “But you did do it, and your word is useless. You said Warner was in Africa, and yet Flint said he’s been in Tuck’s Harbor all along, convalescing. He said the poor man only has months to live. Which one of you is telling the truth? I’m sure a few simple phone calls can help me determine that.”

  She blows out a breath as her eyes widen.

  “Don’t you dare go spewing these lies. I’m going to sue you. There’s no proof that I did this to Ember. Why in the world would I want my own stepdaughter dead?”

  “Because in a few months when Warner does pass away, your gravy train comes to an end. You said you were fine with Warner leaving his entire estate to Ember—that was your way of proving you weren’t a gold digger.”

  “I did say that.” She presses her hand to her chest as she takes a step back toward the crowd. “And I’m not a gold digger. Flint told you that, didn’t he? Bizzy, he’s the one that poisoned those donuts. I saw him with Ember those last few minutes. You have to believe me. I can testify against him. We can put him away together. He’s done something horrible in his past. He’s not as innocent as everyone thinks he is.” My God, I have to hook her in. This cannot go sideways for me. She pulls her purse in close.

  “Flint slept with an underage girl during one of his campaigns a few years back,” I tell her. “That’s hardly a reason to speculate he killed Ember. But then, maybe his motive is just as strong as yours. I suppose that’s for a jury to decide. But, nonetheless, you’re going to have to head to the sheriff’s department. If you’re innocent like you say you are, then there won’t be any problem for you. We’ll find a deputy right now, and you can tell them everything you know about Flint.”

  She shakes her head in horror. “No. I don’t want to go near the sheriff’s department.” Not now, not ever. “Not today anyway. It’s Thanksgiving, Bizzy. You’ve probably been up for hours. Your mind is on overdrive, overwhelmed with your responsibilities at the inn. I forgive you for this. I’ll head to the sheriff’s department first thing in the morning if that makes you feel better. Let’s just both enjoy the parade and a good dinner. I won’t take this personally.” She backs up another notch as she says it.

  “I’m sorry, Marigold, but I don’t believe you. You’re lying now like you’ve been lying this entire time. In fact, there was no ghost, was there? You were wreaking havoc at the inn all on your own. You weren’t afraid of staying alone in that drafty old mansion of yours. Warner hasn’t been there in months. You specifically came to the inn to start chaos, to keep this town on edge, to keep the deputies looking everywhere but where they should have been. You destroyed Suds and Illuminations that night after Ember was killed because you most likely had a key. And once you were done there, you went over to my sister’s shop and wrote the word killer on her window to create another diversion. You spilled red bubble bath in through the slit in Willow’s front door, didn’t you? You were set to terrorize because, in a way, you wanted to pin this all on Ember herself, didn’t you?”

  Her breathing picks up as ripe anger takes over her features.

  “Yes,” she bites out the word, and Sherlock barks in response to her confession. “I wanted to blame it on Ember because it was all her fault. If she wasn’t so stubborn, and hard to get along with—threatening to have me thrown off the grounds as soon as her father bit the big one—I wouldn’t have told her to have at the entire estate. I knew I’d get rid of her before that ever happened. And Warner—he grew so sick so fast. It felt as if I only had minutes to get rid of that ridiculous brat. Believe me, I did the world a favor. I did my homework. The strychnine was easy to procure. I have a legion of gardeners. All I had to do was complain of rodents, and soon the grounds were covered with the deadly poison. Ember taunted me right up until the end, but I had the last laugh.”

  The crowd gasps with delight as a giant balloon of a turkey sails this way, the size of a small building with its happy cartoon smile. Its orange and yellow feathered plumes look stunning juxtaposed against the dark umber sky.

  “I’m sorry I had to drag you into this. But you see, I did a little research on Cider Cove—I had to. The shop was going to play a big role in Ember’s dramatic exit. I needed to know exactly what I was up against. And it was you I needed, Bizzy. The town’s most prolific amateur sleuth. I needed you to throw off the sheriff’s department. And when I told you that about Warner, it was my way of testing to see exactly how much you were digging in my direction. I had a lie ready to remedy my faux pas. You played beautifully into my hands”—she pulls a dark metal object out of her purse—“right up until you didn’t. I’m sorry, Bizzy, but you’re going to have to come with me.”

  She wraps her scarf around the gun unti
l it’s no longer visible, but I can see the barrel as sure as I can see her.

  Sherlock gives a hard yank to the leash until it slips right out of my hand. He gives a few snapping barks, right before he jumps onto her side and does his best to knock her off balance.

  Run! Fish yowls, but my feet won’t move.

  “I can’t let her get away,” I pant in a panic.

  She’s going to kill you! Pumpkin screeches at the top of her tiny little lungs.

  She’s going to kill us, Spice counters.

  Marigold pulls me in with Herculean strength and jabs the butt of that gun into my back like a spear.

  “It will be over in less than a second,” she growls.

  The music hikes up ten notches as the marching band ushers that oversized turkey right into our midst.

  “There are children around,” I shout. “You won’t do this.”

  “Test me,” she seethes—and I decide to do just that.

  I twist around and snatch her by the arms, the gun now pointing directly into my face. My arms grip hers and I barrel us through the crowd, landing us right onto the street. Our bodies twist and turn as we bump into anything in our way and we knock over three of the teenagers holding the strings that leash that floating turkey to the ground. The bird starts to lilt and I snatch up one of the ropes and quickly wrap it around Marigold’s body. The crowd gasps as she raises her arms and the scarf drops to the ground, exposing the murderous intentions in her hand.

  A flurry of screams ignites as Sherlock bites and nips at her ankles.

  She’s going to shoot! Fish roars as she leaps out of the pouch and lands right on Marigold’s chest.

  Then, like a couple of kitty ninjas, both Pumpkin and Spice pounce onto her as well. And as if that wasn’t enough, Cookie comes charging over from the sidewalk. In less than a second, she climbs all the way to the top of Marigold’s head and lands her backside over her face. The gun goes flying, and I duck for cover watching as it lands with a thud in the middle of the street. It spins away from us like mad just in time for Leo Granger to land his hand protectively over it.