Page 9 of A Whisker in the Night

She took his death pretty hard at first, but as soon as Fish and Sherlock convinced her that I would find his killer in no time, her devastation turned into steely resolve.

I’m going to claw their eyes right out of their sockets,Jellybean announces rather proudly, adjusting her pink bow with one delicate paw.

It’s clear the murder is still on her mind. After all, it’s been less than twenty-four hours.

Fish gives an approving nod.That’s the feline spirit. Though maybe we should start with something a little less messy. Like their shoelaces.

Don’t even think about it.Sherlock gives a soft woof while pausing to sniff at a basket overflowing with—ironically—jellybeans.Let’s let Jasper handle the investigation. We’ll just supervise from the delicious sidelines.He steals a few jellybeans for himself and makes quick work of them before I can reprimand him.

Don’t listen to the big oaf, Jellybean,Fish mewls with a twitch of her whiskers.It’s going to be Bizzy who solves this case. That’s just the natural order of things around here.

I’d contest the fact, but there’s no point. Up until now, that’s exactly how it’s been. I’m horrified to say that we’ve had an entire string of homicides near and around the inn for the last few years. Personally, I’m shocked people still want to book a room, seeing that their odds of landing toes up in the morgue skyrockets simply by setting foot onto the property.

I’m about to remind Fish that I’m truly leaving this one to the professionals—meaning Jasper—when Grady and Nessa return from their break looking slightly more disheveled than when they left.

These two have been in the honeymoon phase of their relationship for so long, I’m starting to wonder if it’s a permanent condition. Not that I can blame them—young love is sweet, even if it does occasionally involve making out in the supply closet.

Both Grady and Nessa have worked with me for years. Grady is a dark-haired looker of Irish descent, and Nessa is actuallyEmmie’s cousin. Nessa, too, has dark hair and gorgeous features and is as easygoing as the rest of her relatives.

“You’ve got lipstick on your neck,” I whisper to Grady as he passes.

He grins with a look that is completely unabashed. “And it was worth it.”

The front doors swing open and in walks Emmie, my sweet yet waddling bestie, looking like a spring garden come to life in her pink daisy-printed sundress, her belly seemingly bigger than it was yesterday—and honestly, that’s hard to believe.

In her hands is a tray of what looks like pastel candy Easter eggs and I can only hope she’s about to offer them all to me.

She weaves her way through a maze of Easter displays—towering chocolate bunnies wearing pastel bowties, baskets overflowing with bright green grass and foil-wrapped eggs, and what appears to be an entire family of topiary bunnies that someone has adorned with floral wreaths (that someone would be me).

It’s safe to say I’ve gone overboard with the decorating around here. But I can’t help it. I just love any and every holiday.

“Chocolate peanut butter eggs, anyone?” Emmie laughs as she sets the tray onto the marble counter. And thanks to the guests nearby, as well as Grady and Nessa, half the tray disappears in no time.

The baby gives another swift kick to my ribs and I gasp. Clearly someone has inherited their mother’s chocolate radar.

Time for your hourly chocolate fix. Fish observes from her perch near a particularly elaborate Easter basket with polished pink and gold eggs.

At this rate, the baby will come out in the shape of a chocolate bunny, Sherlock adds with a woof.

Ooh, that would be delicious, I muse to myself.

We get lots of babies at the restaurant,Jellybean says.And believe me when I say, they’re not as quiet as chocolate bunnies.

“That’s for sure,” I mutter under my breath.

“These are my latest creations,” Emmie says as she pulls the platter my way. “Easter peanut butter chocolate eggs in every pastel shade imaginable. White chocolate dyed pink, green, blue, and yellow. Go on and have one or six.” She nudges the platter my way once again.

“I don’t need to be told twice,” I say, popping one into my mouth as Grady and Nessa swoop in once again like chocolate-seeking missiles before turning to help a new wave of guests who areoohingandaahingover our Easter wonderland.

I take a bite into one and moan. “Oh my goodness,” I say as the baby does a little wiggle and a jiggle. “I think my baby just did a backflip from sheer joy. Though that might be the sugar rush from the three chocolate bunnies I had for breakfast.”

“Speaking of joy…” Emmie’s eyes light up as she adjusts a tilting Easter lily to my left. “You’ll never guess what Leo’s mother gave me as a little babymoon gift.”

A babymoon would be a respite that a couple takes before the baby is born, and believe you me, Jasper and I are taking this little vacation-like detail quite seriously. Although I’m already feeling too big to actually leave the state of Maine, or Cider Cove at the moment. In fact, I’m feeling the size of the state of Maine or Cider Cove at the moment. I doubt I’ll be anxious to pack a bag come August.

“Don’t keep me in suspense,” I say. “What did you get? A cruise? A trip to Hawaii? A trip to the actual moon?” I tease. “Here’s hoping it’s made of cheese for you.” I give a little wink and she shakes her head.

“A spa gift day for two couples! And she wanted me to let you know that it’s for you and Jasper, too.”

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