Page 60 of Fish and Chip: Nine Lives One Murder
My eyebrows shoot up. “That’s a conveniently murder-sized window.”
“Exactly. And places her unaccounted for during the medical examiner’s estimated time of death between 8:45 and 9:15.”
The silver-haired hooman with excessive editor style moved like a seasoned predator,Fish offers.Her smiles were measured. Her gaze calculated. Her shoes? Entirely impractical for fleeing a crime scene, but fashionable enough to distract from guilt.
She smelled like expensive perfume and secrets,Chip mewls. Less helpful, but noted.
“Moving on to Patty Sherwood,” Dexter continues. “Small-town politician with big ambitions, warned you away from digging into the park’s history, and according to your conversation with her, has a direct connection to the park’s past that she tried to downplay.”
“Specifically, she claimed to have worked the ticket counter, but Wallis’s comment about her overactive imagination makes me wonder what’s fact and what’s fiction.” I jot this down, drawing a small stick figure with pink boots.
“Now for Wallis,” Dexter continues. “Publisher. Business partner. Southern charm so thick you could bottle it and use it to glaze ham. And according to your expert sleuthing, possible heir to the Merryweather fortune.”
“Which means motive times two,” I say. “Financial and familial. If Ned was threatening to expose Wallis’s connection to the park or dissolve their travel site, that’s a hit to his money, ego, and carefully curated mysterious charm.”
“He says the front desk to his hotel can confirm his alibi,” Dexter points out. “I’ll make sure that’s true.”
The Southern hooman is playing the long game,Fish notes with grudging respect.Like when you let the mouse run so you can chase it again later. Pure sport. Also shady.
I tap my pen on the napkin. “Three suspects. Three motives. Three alibis madeof Swiss cheese.”
Dexter’s expression grows thoughtful. “The key is finding out what Ned discovered about the park. Based on the evidence, he was looking into something specific—something worth killing over.”
This investigative collaboration is surprisingly effective,Fish points out, settling into a more comfortable position to observe us.Although the detective could use a better system. Maybe color-coded suspect tabs. With glitter.
I’m just hoping this parade thing has food,Chip interjects with a rather hungry yowl.All this crime-solving works up an appetite. Murder is hungry business.Justice should be served—with a side of fries.
Dexter glances up from his notes. “Speaking of the park, I understand there’s a parade coming up. Sunday, right?”
“Yep. The Great Gourd Gala Parade. Worst name ever. It sounds like a pumpkin-themed funeral. I’m hoping to rectify that.”
“Got a replacement?”
“Several. But I’ve rejected them all.” I pull out my notebook, revealing my earlier list of rejected parade names.
Dexter scans the list, his lips twitching. “Impressive collection of rejected options. What about something that ties into your new marketing genius?”
Did he just call me a genius?
“You mean the cats?”
Fish sits taller.I accept this branding opportunity.
The Great Food Parade!Chip says.With fish-shaped snacks! Fish confetti! Treat fountains!With treat stations every ten feet! And fish-shaped confetti, too!
“Feline Fall Festival was a contender,” I say. “But it sounds like a cat-splosion. I’d hate for people to think cats were going to rain from the sky.”
“What about Wonderland Walkabout?” Dexter offers.
“Too Crocodile Dundee.”
“Fairy Tale Fall Frolic?”
“Too many F’s. Feels like a tongue-twister with marketing mayhem. Besides, with all the broken things this place has to offer, we hear enough F words as it is.”
After ten more rejects and one near miss, Dexter holds up a finger. “How about Magic and Mascots.”
I blink. “That... might actually be perfect.”
