Page 76 of Fish and Chip

A fight over desserts, Chip says, watching them go and looking rather impressed. These are my people. I think I’ll join them.

You will do no such thing, Fish tells him, but he’s already scampering off, his little hot dog bun bobbing with every step as he races toward destiny—or dessert—same thing. Fish sighs, hops down from my arms, and follows after him to supervise the carnage, leaving me standing alone in the swirling fog.

I pull out my phone and start searching for Trevor Hershey.

It takes less than two minutes.

And when I find what I’m looking for, I gasp loud enough to wake the dead—but not Belladonna Hershey. Unfortunately for her, she’s never waking up again.

Oh my word.

My brain starts connecting pieces faster than Chip connects with dropped food. The bar from the iron fence. The mark on the right side of Belladonna’s head.

Wait.

I lift my right hand and mime swinging a bar down at someone standing in front of me. To anyone watching, I’m either practicing my golf swing or hexing the fountain. At this point, my reputation can absorb either.

A passing werewolf gives me a polite nod, the way you do for the locals.

If I’m right-handed and I swing at someone facing me, I’d hit the left side of their head.

But Belladonna was struck on the right side.

Which means the person who killed her is left-handed.

I drop my hand, my heart hammering hard enough to rattle Henrietta.

That’s it. I bet that’s Dexter’s lead. That’s why he was being cagey. He was hoping I wouldn’t figure out this angle, that I wouldn’t narrow down the suspects based on something as simple as which hand they favor.

But too bad for him because I just did.

And I’m willing to bet Dexter is on the prowl right now trying to confirm which of our three suspects is left-handed.

Somewhere in the distance, the dessert station erupts in what could be cheers or screams. With Chip involved, the two tend to overlap.

The most damning evidence at a crime scene was never the weapon. It’s what the weapon says about the person holding it.

The fountain’s light catches Henrietta’s plastic eye, and I swear the little creep winks at me.

This time, I wink back.

CHAPTER 20

Halloween night at Huckleberry Hollow Wonderland, and the Boo Crew Tricks, Treats, and Trouble Bash has hit the hour where the party stops simmering and starts boiling over.

Music thumps, fog machines work overtime, and animatronic bats swoop on their invisible wires above a couple hundred cozy mystery fans in costume. I’m weaving through the crowd after chatting with Eulla Bell when Fish, Chip, and Cupcake intercept me near a towering pyramid of glowing jack-o’-lanterns.

They left me approximately forty-five seconds ago. I’ve seen slower boomerangs.

Chip trots at the front of the pack with an entire cat-shaped soft pretzel clamped in his mouth, salt crystals glittering in the jack-o’-lantern glow, tail held high like a flag of victory. He didn’t find a snack. He hit the mother lode.

Finders keepers is the law of the land, Chip mumbles.

Great mews, Fish announces. They didn’t have to go far. The dessert station was practically at the door.

Chip attempts to say something around the pretzel and produces a sound like a muffled kazoo. I’m going to assume it translates to sheer joy.

A hooman dropped it, screamed, and kept runnin’, Cupcake drawls. Easiest heist in history. He didn’t even have to break a sweat, just his diet.