Page 64 of Fish and Chip: Nine Lives One Murder
The Magic and Mascots parade is minutes from beginning, and the energy buzzing through the park feels almost tangible, like static electricity before a storm.
“Hold still, Chip. Your bowtie is crooked, and I refuse to have the royal court looking like it rolled out of a clearance bin,” I mutter, adjusting the orange and gold satin accessory around my cat’s fluffy neck. He squirms in his brocade vest like a toddler in church clothes.
I look ridiculous. Twenty pounds of feline dignity reduced to acircus poodle. Next, you’ll have me jumping through flaming hoops for tuna treats.
“It’s just for an hour,” I assure him, straightening the jeweled collar that catches the morning sunlight in prismatic bursts. And let’s be real. He would definitely jump through flames for tuna treats. “Then you can go back to your regularly scheduled program of judging everyone while shedding on their clothes.” And begging for food, but that’s a given.
Fish sits beside us like the queen she thinks she is, draped in royal blue velvet with gold trim. A tiny crown sits on her head, balanced precariously on dignity and elastic.
Her jeweled collar—slightly more ornate than Chip’s—completes her transformation from ordinary cat to regal monarch.
The crown is crooked. A queen cannot address her subjects with asymmetrical headwear.
I adjust Fish’s crown with the precision of a museum curator handling a Fabergé egg. “There. Now you’re the picture of royal perfection.”
Thank you. Though the fabric could be of higher quality. Next time let’s shoot for genuine silk and actual gemstones, not these plastic imposters. The people expect extravagance from their queen.
“Duly noted. I’ll call Tiffany’s.”
The VIP viewing area for the Hidden Gems Conference members has been transformed into an autumn wonderland overnight. Hay bales wrapped in gingham ribbons form rustic seating around the perimeter. Arrangements of chrysanthemums in burnished copper pots punctuate the space, while maple leaf garlands drape from post to post.
The refreshment table is a sugar bomb waiting to happen, featuring cookies shaped like pumpkins and cider so spiced it might cure a cold.
“Josie! There you are!” Ree waves, looking ready for fall in a rust-colored cardigan and well-fitted jeans, her red hair featheredto Farrah Fawcett perfection. “The parade marshals are looking for their star attractions.”
Before I can respond, a familiar voice booms from behind a cider stand. “Make way for artistic genius!”
Georgie emerges, and my jaw drops. She’s outdone herself today, sporting what can only be described as a wearable wonder. It’s another wicker hat of what looks like two miniature replicas of Fish and Chip sitting in a miniature parade float decorated with fall foliage and twinkling fairy lights. And as if that wasn’t enough, she’s wearing a red kaftan with what looks to be Fish’s and Chip’s faces printed all over it. I won’t lie. I want one.
“What do you think?” Georgie asks with jazz hands. “Magnificent? Revolutionary? Going to be featured inVogue?”
“I was going to say a safety hazard, but yes, sure.”
Ree surveys the park. “You’ve really turned this place around. The carousel isn’t a deathtrap, the popcorn buckets are selling like TVs on Black Friday, and the employees don’t look like extras in a zombie film.”
“It was a low bar,” I mutter.
“And those cat ears are selling faster than we can stock them,” Georgie confirms while that float on her head rocks back and forth as she nods. “And the petting zoo! From sad goats contemplating their life choices to an actual menagerie. How did you convince all those farms to donate animals?”
“I promised them lifetime passes and their pick of vintage carousel horses if the park ever goes under,” I admit. “It was a low-risk investment on my part, high-reward for them.”
“And the uniforms!” Ree gestures toward a passing employee in a perfectly tailored outfit that matches the colors and theme of Storybook Hollow. “From thrift store rejects to theme park chic. You’re like theProject Runwayof amusement park management.”
“Except with fewer dramatic breakdowns and more cat hair,” I say, brushing an orange tuft from mysleeve as if on cue.
I leave artistic evidence of my presence,Chip mewls.It’s called branding. You’re welcome.
“Josie!” Bizzy skids in, stylish as ever despite the mayhem. “I’m here to witness Fish’s big debut. The royal court is almost in session.”
Fish straightens.Finally, a subject who understands the monarchy.
“Jasper is parking the car,” Bizzy continues. “Sherlock is here, too. He wouldn’t miss Fish’s parade debut for anything.”
Cue Georgie’s matchmaking radar going off. “Speaking of dreamy law enforcement, has Detective Drake handcuffed your heart yet, or is he still reading you your romantic rights?”
I feel heat rising in my cheeks. “Detective Drake and I have a strictly professional relationship centered around solving a murder. And pie. Nothing more.” And some seriously hot eye contact, but I leave that out.
“Mmm-hmm,” Ree hums skeptically. “And that’s why you were spotted at Fairy Tale Feast restaurant Friday night, sharing dessert in the Enchanted Forest section. Very professional. Very heart-shaped.”
