Page 50 of A Whisker in the Night

She nods. “She and that hottie she’s dating came in. We got to chatting and I asked them where they were from. Once she said Cider Cove, I laughed and countered with the murder capital of Maine. And that’s when she sang your praises. She insisted you were just as prolific at catching the killers as the killers were at delivering the bodies.”

She knew about you in advance,Fish muses as we both contemplate this.

Verity lifts her chin.As soon as Macy said those words, I knew I needed to divert this wall of hormones away from me. My hacking skills came in handy. Those flowers have been funding my account for months. Send them to someone at the inn and presto—Bizzy is toobusyto focus.

“So that’s how it went,” I say, watching her squirm. “You discovered Hamish was onto your embezzling, so you killed him. Then you hacked Georgie’s account to create a distraction in an effort to keep mebusy.” A visual of her that day at the festival comes to mind. “You had an oversized purse with you.” A groan escapes me. “You picked up one of those iron bookends because you saw Matilda carting it around. And that’s what you killed Hamish with. Little did you know, the sheriff’s department never released to the public what the murder weapon was. But you knew because you used it. You saw Matilda with a bookend and you grabbed one, too. You thought it was the perfect crime.”

“Yes.” She sighs, dropping her head a moment. “I killed Hamish. I tried my best to frame Matilda, too. I had a knife with me that day, but once I saw Matilda hauling around that ridiculous bookend, I knew what I had to do. I did everything you’ve accused me of. I guess I should have stolen the money fromyourbank account instead. Then I could have diverted your attention and that of your husband’s. I guess you are asgood as they say.” Her smile turns sharp. “But not good enough to stop me. I’ll be in the Mal?—”

“NOT THE BEES AGAIN!” someone cuts her off with a scream and I turn to find Georgie running this way with her hands doing their best to bat a swarm of those tiny yellow and black creatures away, but it’s no use. Judging by that dark storm cloud following her, she’s managed to summon every bee in the Western Hemisphere.

“Bees!” Verity lets out a yelp herself. “I’m allergic!”

She runs toward the woods, only to be intercepted by Georgie and that cast of thousands, with each one bearing its own little stinger. Verity screams and runs in a circle while Georgie seemingly chases her, and on their heels run Sherlock, Fish, and Jellybean.

Georgie inadvertently chases Verity right in the direction of the parade.

“Oh no,” I shout as they dart right through the crowd, into the street, and onto a float—and what a float it is!

The massive house on wheels is decorated to look like the Easter Bunny’s vacation home complete with a hot tub filled with plastic eggs. Verity tries to avoid the egg-laden oversized bath, but Georgie’s momentum knocks the woman right into the colorful hot tub, headfirst.

Verity’s legs are left poking up out of the sea of eggs and, well, her skirt has drifted and we’re all treated to a display of a pair of white granny panties.

And Georgie gets pinned against what appears to be the Easter Bunny’s mailbox.

The crowd goes from screams to laughter in one fell swoop.

I shake my head at the sight. It could have been worse. I wouldn’t have pegged Verity for even looking at a pair of oversized granny panties, but then, I suppose she did care about comfort where it counts. And for that I’m grateful.

“Bizzy?” Jasper runs my way. “Thank goodness, you’re safe.” He locks me in a tight embrace before dusting my face with kisses.

“That's her,” I tell him, pointing to the pink pricey shoes trying to stave off the angry bees. “Verity Westoff confessed to everything. She killed Hamish and sent Georgie those flowers, too.”

He ticks his head to the side as he frowns in Verity’s direction.

“That’s why I love you, Bizzy. Only you could solve a murderandcatch a hacker at an Easter parade.”

Jasper jumps onto the float and in no time plucks Verity out of her plastic confinement and cuffs her with the real deal.

The baby gives one final kick of triumph and I give my belly a pat.

I guess some people’s Easter eggs are filled with chocolate, and others are filled with justice.

Now to hunt down one more thing—a cornbread muffin slathered with honey butter.

Chapter 32

Easter Sunday at the Country Cottage Inn is a feast for the senses.

The rolling green lawn sparkles with morning dew along with hundreds of pastel-colored eggs, while the spring breeze carries the scent of fresh-cut grass and, of course, chocolate.

It’s as if all of Cider Cove—scratch that—all ofMainehas shown up to run wild on the lawns at the inn. The marching band showed up, too, and they’re playing a cheerful ditty to keep the kids and adults alike moving and grooving while trying to load their baskets to the hilt.

After this morning’s rather infamous parade, which the locals are already calling “The Great Easter Bee-trayal,” this egg hunt feels downright peaceful. And that’s an irony in and of itself considering a cast of thousands has shown up.

The egg hunt is well underway, and I can’t get enough of all the adorable toddlers waddling around in their Sunday best. Miniature suits with shorts for the boys and an entire palette of pastel dresses for the beautiful little girls. Each of them is armed with a basket and a parent on their heels recording the entire event for posterity.

Emmie and I have claimed prime viewing spots just shy of the lawn as we cuddle with two cute furry babies. She’s holding Fish while I hold Jellybean. I figure it’s good practice for when our far less furrier babies arrive.

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