Page 54 of Fish and Chip: Nine Lives One Murder
Clyde stands with his weight shifted to one hip in that calculated pose he practices in front of mirrors, the one he thinks makes him look like a casual philosopher when in reality it screams,I read three self-help books and now think I’m Aristotle.
His dirty blond hair is artfully tousled, his linen shirt aggressively unbuttoned. He’s wearing loafers without socks and looking morally ambiguous—as one does when having an extramarital affair. And I can smell his cologne and condescension from three feet away.
“Well, well,” he grumbles. “If it isn’t my little wifey playing theme park manager. How adorable.”
I resist the urge to baptize him with my latte. “Clyde. Shouldn’t you be in Bali on a soul retreat or something? I hear Mars is lovely this time of year.”
“The retreat is coming up. But this week I’m podcasting about personal growth. Today’s topic is reinvention.”
“How ironic,” I say, smiling with all the warmth of a frozen waffle.
He drops into the seat across from me, completely uninvited. “I heard some concerning things. About you and some police detective. Why the heck are you taking selfies with the guy? What do you think you’re doing with him?”
I set my pen down. Slowly. “You mean the one investigating a murder I found myself tangled up in while you were busy spiritually aligning with your downward dog?”
“I did some digging on this guy,” Clyde continues, ignoring my question. “This Dexter dude has a reputation for getting a little too involved with people connected to his cases.”
“Your concern is touching, if completely unwarranted and unwanted.” My fingers drum against the table with growing irritation that could register on a seismograph. “Is there a point to this visit, or did you just come to play the jealous ex despite being the one who installed a yoga instructor in our home like she was a piece of exercise equipment?”
“This isn’t jealousy; it’s concern.” He frowns my way with the lie. “That death here on the park grounds? It’s not safe. You’re not qualified to work here, and I’m not allowing it anymore.”
I inch back, more amused than alarmed. “Notallowingit? That’s rich, even for you. I wasn’t aware I needed permission from the man who decided our marriage vows had a yoga exemption clause and a flexibility requirement I couldn’t meet.”
Before Clyde can respond with whatever wisdom he’s gleaned from his latest self-help audiobook, a staff member’s voice rings out across the way. “Fish and Chip are taking a fifteen-minute break! Autographs will resume at two-thirty!”
Almost immediately, my feline companions materialize beside the table like furry ninjas, looking up at Clyde with expressions that range from curious (Chip) to openly hostile (Fish). It’s like watching a nature documentary where the predators have just spottedtheir prey.
Who is this hooman?Fish demands, tail swishing with clear disapproval.He reeks of synthetic cologne and insincerity.
That’s the big oaf Josie left behind,Chip explains, circling the table to get a better view.The one who preferred the bendy woman to our yum-yum provider. He clearly has questionable judgment. Josie prepares premium wet food AND gives ear scratches simultaneously.
He’s not wrong. I do try to accommodate.
“I’m not happy with you here,” I’m quick to tell my smarmy ex. Technically, I’m not happy with him on the planet, but that’s another murder investigation I’d rather not star in.
We could fix that for you,Fish offers with her eyes locked on Clyde’s ankles.I’ve taken down bigger prey with a single swipe.
Let’s drown him in that fountain over there,Chip suggests.We can say he tripped on his pretentious shoes.
Not a bad idea. But honestly, I’m too busy for the inevitable cleanup.
Clyde sneers at the two cute cats. “Oh, look, it’s your little marketing gimmicks. The girls mentioned something about this on our call last night.”
“You spoke to McKenna and Riley?” This actually catches me off guard. Clyde’s idea of parental involvement typically involved sending birthday checks with the wrong age written in the card, or the occasional snark on family group chat.
“Of course. We talk all the time now.” His smug smile suggests this is supposed to wound me. “They’re concerned about your mental stability.”
Like I said, we could take care of him for you,Fish offers, eyeing Clyde’s exposed ankles with predatory focus.One strategically placed claw to the Achilles tendon would solve the immediate problem.
Or we could go with my idea and just push his fancy sockless shoes into the fountain,Chip suggests.Nothing says authority undermined like soggy footwear.
I shake my head slightly at them before addressing Clyde. “The girls are thrilled for me. If anything, the family group chat is proof of that. And for your information, I’m happy here at the park. I’m happy at the inn. In fact, for the first time in a long time, I’m actually happy at all.” I lean forward, dropping my voice. “So, thank you. Your affair was the push I needed to find something better.”
“Thank you?” Clyde’s face flushes with indignation. “This is foolishness you’ve fallen into. Managing a run-down theme park after a murder? Dating a cop you barely know? This isn’t the Josie I married.”
“You’re right about that. The Josie you married would have cared what you think.” I start gathering my papers. “Let me be perfectly clear,” I say with my voice dipped in steel, “I’m not your concern. Not now, not when you were dating the yoga instructor behind my back, and definitely not when you walked out like a discount guru with a tote bag full of mantras.”
“That’s it.” His hand clamps onto my wrist. Hard. “You’re coming home with me. This ends now.”
