Page 46 of A Whisker in the Night

The tiny hooman tried to take our heads off,Jellybean yowls.

“Sorry about that,” I say, wrinkling my nose down at the two of them. “Little Mack is used to pulling at Cane’s fur.” I glance up at the two women. “I see some action up ahead. Want to join along?”

Fish rubs her head against my leg.We’re not leaving your side, Bizzy.

We head over and Fish catches a glimpse of the women up ahead.Ten dollars says someone ends up wearing coffee on their blouse before this is over.

Twenty says it’s intentional,Jellybean adds.Though, with those high heels, Verity might just trip and do the job to herself.

Matilda stands ramrod straight in her powder blue suit that looks elegant and well-tailored, while Verity is working the “secretary who married the boss” angle hard in a hot pink blazer and pencil skirt that’s less appropriate for any office and more Vegas showgirl. And her day-glow pink shoes with tiny gold triangles dotted on the front catch the spring sunlight like warning beacons.

The baby does a somersault that feels suspiciously like a fashion criticism.

Matilda’s thoughts hit me before her perfume does.Once a tramp, always a tramp.She rakes her eyes up and down at her rival.And ten-thousand-dollar shoes? Ironically called Virtuosos, although there’s very little virtue with the one who’s donned them. She wore them in red the day of the festival and now in pink? I guess the rumor is true. She has them in every color. You know what they say, a fool and their money are soon parted.

“Matilda, so good to see you,” Verity’s voice drips with honey-coated arsenic. “That suit is divine. Vintage, isn’t it?”As in old and tired,she muses to herself with a laugh.Just like Matilda herself.

“How kind of you to notice.” Matilda’s smile could freeze a vat of seawater. “I was just admiring your ensemble. So brave of you to wear something so shamefully youthful.”Emphasis on theshame.

The baby kicks, apparently appreciating this master class in passive-aggressive warfare.

“Hello, ladies,” I say as I come upon them with a wave. “Happy Easter.” I give a little shrug, securing my spot right there in the proverbial wrestling ring next to them.

“So nice to see you, Bizzy,” Matilda is quick with the kind words and appears every bit genuine despite the fact her lips hardly moved as she said it. I can tell she’s tense.

“Hi, Bizzy.” Verity winks my way as if it were a nervous twitch. “I was just going to ask Matilda”—she turns to her nemesis—“how is that little book of yours going?” Verity’s smile reminds me of artificial sweetener—a touchtoosweet and twice as toxic. “You do realize that tell-all tome of yours will come off as crass now that my poor husband has gone the way of the world.” Her expression hardens as if to prove her point.

“I don’t control the publishing process.” Matilda wrinkles her nose and looks as if she’s caught a whiff of sour milk.Oh fine, as much as I hate to admit it, she might be right. If it comes across as crass, it could hurt me in the end.

“I hear the advance was quite generous,” Verity continues, adjusting her blazer in a way that makes it clear she knows exactly how much that advance was. “Almost enough to cover a decent wardrobe.” She rides her gaze down Matilda’s suit. “I do hope you’ll take advantage of it.”

The baby kicks again. There’s nothing like a good fashion dig to really twist the knife.

Verity sniffs at Matilda. “I’ll be seeing you.” She turns my way. “I’m sure you’ll catch my husband’s killer soon enough. Your sister let me in on a little secret—you’re the best of the best when it comes to solving a homicide. I’m counting on you, Bizzy.” She winks again as she takes off into the crowd.

Verity clickety-clacks her way down Main Street in her ten-thousand-dollar shoes, probably off to buy them in another color, while Matilda’s thoughts churn like a storm at sea.

She thinks she’s so clever,Matilda seethes internally.I’ll take her down if it’s the last thing I do. Nobody trashes my life and gets away with it.

“I’m sorry, Bizzy.” Matilda blows out a breath as she looks past the thicket of bodies. “The music, the screaming, it’s all a bit much for me right now. I think I need to find some solace.”

“You and me both,” I say. “You lead, I’ll follow. My sanity could use a break from all this madness.” And my craving to solve this crime could use a killer to catch.

She heads toward the clearing in town square, just shy of the gazebo that’s decked out like an Easter Bunny’s dream, complete with pastel bunting and enough artificial flowers to give any bee an identity crisis.

We stop shy of the gazebo and face the woods that skirt the vicinity. The air is cooler here, the sound of the marching band a little more muted, and the crowd is far enough where their collective voices culminate in a hushed roar.

Don’t do it, Bizzy,Jellybean mewls as she and Fish trot by my side.Don’t confront her out here away from people. If she is the killer, she might reprise her role as the Grim Reaper just to keep you quiet.

She might be away from people—Fish gives a sharp meow—but she’s got us!

“Matilda.” I wince a little as I say her name. “That day at the festival, you were walking around with a gold-foiled bunny. It was a bookend. A very heavy bookend.”

The woman blinks my way. “It was lovely, wasn’t it?” She sighs. “It’s one of our biggest sellers at the gift shop—outside of the chocolate bunnies themselves, of course. Were you interested in a few for the inn? I can have them delivered straight to you. They’re quite heavy. I’d hate to see you trying to carry them in your condition.”

“I wasn’t actually thinking about the inn.” I press my lips tight. “I was wondering—after we spoke that afternoon, where did you go? You still had that bookend in your arms when you left.” I’m hoping to jar a thought loose or a confession.

I nod her way as if to prod her.

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