Page 6 of A Whisker in the Night

I shake my head as they dash off to make every one of their chocolate fantasies come true. Some things never change. And on that note, I’ll have to alert the staff that there will be a cleanup needed at the chocolate fountain in about two minutes.

In fact, I take off into the crowd to do just that with both Fish and Sherlock by my side.

I walk in circles and nearly get steamrolled by a crowd of preschoolers as the egg hunt gets underway for the afternoon.

Almost an hour drifts by and I pause to look out at the grounds as the rolling green lawns gleam like a jewel under the powder blue sky. The crowds are thicker than ever and with no sign of dissipating soon.

I’m about to head to the inn when something catches my eye near the border of the woods.

It’s that black and white kitten darting back and forth, looking anxious as can be.

“I think that’s Hamish’s cat,” I say, nodding in that direction and both Fish and Sherlock look that way. “I think the poor thing is lost. Come on, let’s go.”

Fish and Sherlock are ten steps ahead of me as I make my way across the grounds. The festivities seem distant now, the laughter and chatter fading with each step toward the tree line.

We continue to head that way, and just as we come upon the cute kitten, she darts into the woods and we follow along.

“Don’t be afraid,” I call out. “We’ll help you get back to your owner.”

The little cat stops short of what looks like a scarecrow face down in the dirt just beyond the first row of trees. Except the festival doesn’t have any scarecrows.

My heart plummets into my stomach as I get closer and dread builds with every step.

That’s no scarecrow.

It’s the cat’s owner. And if that crimson gash on the back of his head is a telltale sign—he’s not breathing.

Just a foot away from him, I spot a gold foil-wrapped bunny with the same crimson stain on it and I gasp.

Looks like I was right after all. It wasn’t a matter ofif—it was a matter ofwhen. And when just happened.

Hamish Westoff is dead.

Chapter 4

Ascream rips from my throat before I can stop it, echoing through the woods and most likely scaring off every bunny—chocolate or otherwise—within a five-mile radius.

The tiny black and white cat at my feet belts out a sharp yowl right alongside me and both Fish and Sherlock quickly herd her away from the scene.

I’m taking her to the cottage, Fish yowls.She doesn’t need to be near this.

I see help headed this way,Sherlock barks.It looks like you’ll be safe, Bizzy. And I’ll make sure to keep the cats safe from any killers.

He helps Fish and the tiny cute kitty scamper out of the area just as Jasper and Leo appear by my side.

In fact, they appear so quickly it’s as if they’ve come to recognize my Bizzy-found-another-body scream.

“Bizzy.” Jasper pulls me into his arms in an instant. My poor husband is out of breath and has a clear look of panic on his face. “Are you okay? Is the baby?—”

“We’re both fine,” I assure him even though my heart is doing jumping jacks in my chest. “But he’s far from fine.”

I point to Hamish lying still on the ground, then to the gold-foiled nefarious—albeit adorable—weapon nearby.

Leo crouches down beside Hamish and quickly checks for a pulse. “He’s gone.” Leo shakes his head as he jumps back to his feet. “I’d better call it in.” He steps away with his phone already poised to do just that.

The air grows frigid in the shade of the massive pines and eucalyptus trees despite the fact it’s been a balmy afternoon.

I glance back at poor Hamish, face down with his limbs splayed out, then to that bunny once again. It’s only then I note the dark, flat bottom.

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