Page 27 of Fish and Chip: Nine Lives One Murder
“I am not,” I lie, feeling the heat in my cheeks intensify.
Georgie gasps. “Did Detective Dreamboat just ask you out?”
“Itisthe detective.” I wrinkle my nose. “He wants me at the station at five. And apparently, he wants the cats, too.”
“The cats?” Ree and Georgie echo in unison.
Fish lifts her chin.Naturally. Our insight is invaluable.
And I bet there will be treats.Chip’s ears begin to twitch.Like DONUTS!
Georgie’s face lights up with delight. “Oh my goodness, he thinks the cats are witnesses! This is the best murder ever!”
“There’s no such thing as a best murder, Georgie,” I sigh, gathering my things. “And the cats aren’t witnesses, they’re...”Witnesses.
Ree taps her murder notebook. “That still gives us the whole day. We’ll investigate. You’ll meet Detective Dreamboat. We’ll crack this case wide open.”
“Please don’t call him Detective Dreamboat.”
But even as I say it, I feel it in my bones. This isn’t just a murder. It’s the beginning of something for me.
Hopefully, not a prison sentence.
CHAPTER 10
Bayou Bend Hollow doesn’t just embrace autumn—it puts it in a headlock, force-feeds it pumpkin pie, and dresses it in a seasonally appropriate scarf. And I’m loving every minute of it as Ree and Georgie lead us to our very first suspect.
The cypress trees in this Gothic little area of the theme park are already dripping in Spanish moss, and now flaunt a second layer of amber and russet leaves which creates a double-decker fall fantasy.
It’s gorgeous. It’s moody. It’s basically the cover art for a murder-themed romance novel—possibly starring me at this rate.
Jack-o’-lanterns line the winding paths with their carved faces ranging from cheerful to mildly disturbing as if the design team couldn’t quite decide between family-friendly and nightmare fuel.
Small floating candles drift on the water of the bayou and create mysterious reflections that dance beneath the surface like submerged fireflies—or possibly the ghosts of tourists who got too close to the alligator display.
The air carries a distinctive blend of scents—cinnamon andcloves from the spiced cider stand mix with woodsmoke from the pit barbecue, all undercut by the earthy, slightly mineral smell of the bayou itself. It’s like someone tried to make a fall-scented candle but couldn’t resist addingauthentic swampto the fragrance profile, which is either charming or a serious marketing miscalculation.
“There she is,” Ree whispers, nodding toward the Haunted House, an antebellum-style mansion with a wraparound porch that looms against the mid-morning sky like something from a Gothic novel where everyone dies tragically but fashionably, of course.
We’re crouched behind a pumpkin display like suburban ninjas, watching Vivian Templeton, editor-in-chief atElite Escapes, give a press conference on the lawn.
Hay bales have been dragged in for the reporters to sit on, most of whom are juggling notebooks, smartphones, and the growing realization they need hazard pay.
How we got from cozy coffee at the Maple Sugar Café to playing amateur spies in a pumpkin patch is a testament to Georgie and Ree’s persistence—and my total lack of a spine when it comes to resisting a good mystery, even when said mystery involves potentially dangerous people who might have strangled someone with a safety chain.
Just twenty minutes ago, we were huddled around Ree’s phone, scrolling through the park’s social media updates like teenagers checking for drama—and drama we found in the shape of dear old Viv.
“Look!” Georgie jabbed a bejeweled finger at the screen. “Vivian Templeton is holding a press conference about the unfortunate incident at ten o’clock at the Haunted House.”
“Unfortunate incident,” Ree scoffed. “That’s PR speak for brutal murder of an insufferable critic.”
“We should go,” Georgie begged while setting off that coaster on her hat so fast I could practically hearthe imaginary people scream. “You know, observe the suspect in her natural habitat.”
“She’s not a jungle cat,” I protested. “And we are not investigators.”
A lot of good that did me.
“Aren’t we though?” Georgie’s eyes sparkled with something far more sinister than glee. “You found the body. You saw the pins. You have motive and opportunity.”
