Page 51 of A Whisker in the Night

A toddler races past us and nearly misses taking off Sherlock’s head with their basket.

The indignity,Fish mewls.This goes to show what lengths hoomans will go through to procure some chocolate.

“It isfreechocolate,” I’m quick to point out before relaying the conversation to Emmie. “And quality chocolate at that. Matilda Westoff provided all of the sweet treats for the Women’s League to stuff the plastic eggs with.”

“Freeis my favorite word,” Emmie says with a sigh. “Especially when chocolate is involved. Or jellybeans.”

Jellybean snickers.Like I say, ’tis the season.

I relay it to Emmie and we have a good chuckle.

Jasper and Leo are down at the Seaview Sheriff’s Department helping book Verity Westoff for the murder of her husband. And ten bucks says they’re probably doing their best to ignore her complaints about the jumpsuit she’s just been outfitted with. Sadly, for her, there aren’t any designer duds in prison. In fact, the entire stay is rather a dud.

“I still can’t believe she was the killer,” I tell Emmie, watching a particularly determined five-year-old tackle an egg hidden under a dogwood bush. “To think, a slipup here or a slipup there on my part and she might have gotten away with murder.”

Emmie lets out a wild cackle that makes Fish’s ears flatten.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, stepping back to observe her better in the event she’s having some sort of a hormone-induced meltdown. She is ready to pop. Maybe this is her version of labor? Instead of contractions, Emmie has a laughing fit. Wouldn’t that be great? I much prefer laughter to pain.

“The fact you keep forgetting that Jasper was the one assigned to the case,” she says, wiping the tears from her eyes as she continues to chuckle. “You do realize he, too, would have caught the killer—eventually.”

I bite my lip. “I do have faith he would have—eventually. But Verity was about to leave the country. If we rely on anything to happen eventually, we might end up with a cold case on our hands.” I cringe at howcoldthat sounds indeed. “Maybe we don’t tell Jasper that.”

Emmie crosses her heart and blows me a kiss. “You’re still the best homicide detective I know, Bizzy Baker Wilder.” Now it’s her turn to cringe. “Maybe we don’t tell Jasper that either.”

Fish chitters with a laugh.You’re both lucky Jasper can’t understand a thing Sherlock has to say. He’d rat you out in a New York minute. Or even better—a Maine minute, considering how quickly these kids are snapping up those eggs.

Sherlock gives a soft woof.I happen to agree with Emmie. Jasper would have solved the case—eventually.He lifts his head and surveys the crowd.Now if you ladies don’t mind, I’m going to join Cinnamon, Gatsby, Candy, and Cane on the great egg chase.

He takes off like a bullet toward what appears to be a canine tornado forming near the woods.

“Remember, no chocolate,” I call after him.

No worries,he barks back.Georgie said that the Easter Bunny planted bacon in the bushes for the four-footed among us! Some bunny loves us!

Some bunny loves them indeed.

Speaking of Georgie, I squint into the sea of bodies running to and fro out on the lawn.

Quickly enough, I spot Mom and Georgie helping little Mack hunt for eggs, since Mayor Woods wouldn’t be caught dead jaunting around with a bunch of toddlers.

Mackenzie isn’t exactly maternal in that way, or any way, come to think about it. She’s about as maternal as a cactus. And well, Hux is far more content documenting his son’s every move. He’s paternal that way and in every way.

Emmie elbows me. “Ooh, check this out.” She nods toward the front of the inn where a golden throne has been set up for photos with the Easter Bunny (currently experiencing a lull since all the kids are too busy creating chaos in pursuit of plastic eggs). Sure enough, there aren’t any kids in line, but a handful of adults all wait their turn with the overgrown bunny. And as fate would have it, I recognize the trio currently up at bat.

It’s Macy, Jordy, and Camila all fighting for space next to the big bunny.

Macy and Jordy are attempting to take a romantic Easter photo while Camila tries her best to simultaneously sit on both the Easter Bunny’s lapandJordy’s.

Macy either hasn’t noticed Camila’s current man-hunting expedition or she’s enjoying watching Camila sweat while she indulges in Jordy’s kisses. I’d like to think it’s the latter. In fact, I’m one hundred percent sure it is.

Macy is no fool. She can spot a man-eater a mile away. After all, it takes one to know one.

The baby gives an amused kick just as Matilda and Hammie Mae approach, still wearing their parade finest.

“Bizzy, we wanted to thank you”—Hammie Mae says with a tiny grimace—“for catching the killer.”

“It was my pleasure,” I say as I wince. “I mean—well, you know what I mean. Anyway, I hope you have peace now.”

---