Page 68 of Fish and Chip: Nine Lives One Murder
She sticks out a foot proudly. “Aren’t they fabulous? They’re custom Alpine Treks. Worth every penny. I have them in three colors. But the pinkis my favorite.”
“The tread pattern is really unique,” I continue, casually. “Those triangular marks are pretty distinctive.”
“It’s their signature,” she agrees with a wink. “It also lets people know how much I paid for these babies. It doubles as an unspoken flex.”
I nod, steeling myself for what comes next. “You know, I was thinking about what you said at the bar and grill that night—about how the killing was an isolated incident and we shouldn’t worry.”
“Absolutely,” she confirms, popping another kernel into her mouth.
“You seemed very certain of that,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
“I’m just a positive thinker,” she says with a wink.
“No. You’re the killer.”
The popcorn freezes halfway to her mouth. For a split second, her political mask slips, revealing something cold and calculating beneath. Then the smile returns, no warmth, all malice.
“That’s quite an accusation, Josie,” she says with a nervous laugh. “Especially from someone who’s only been park manager for a week.”
“Still longer than your alleged stint at the ticket counter,” I say. “Except, oops—you weren’t a ticket agent. You were a ride operator at The Old Mill Flume in Gold Rush Hollow.”
That lands. Hard.
A look of unease crosses her face. “I—well, yes. I did work here. Ages ago. But not as a ride operator.”
She’s lying,Fish notes.Her left eye twitched. A classic hooman deception tell-all.
Plus, she’s stress-eating my face,Chip adds.Guilt makes hoomans consume carbs. It’s science.
“Twenty-five years ago,” I continue, “there was an accident on that ride. A teenager died when his safety harness failed. Theofficial report called it an unavoidable mechanical failure, but that’s not what really happened, is it?”
The color drains from Patty’s face. “You can’t possibly know about that.”
“But Ned Hollister did,” I say. Also, I just looked it up. “He found the original maintenance records in the park archives—the ones that showed the ride operator was distracted, flirting with a co-worker when the safety checks should have been performed. The records with your signature on them, Patty.”
Her eyes dart left and right, looking for escape routes. “That was ancient history. A stupid teenage mistake.”
“One that would have ended your mayoral campaign if it came out. One that Ned was planning to reveal in his exposé.”
This confrontation needs more dramatic music,Fish muses.Hooman reveals lack production value. I find that with Bizzy’s investigations, too.
And snacks,Chip adds.Although I guess the popcorn counts, even if the bucket IS shaped like my cute, furry face.
Patty’s whole façade crumbles. “You don’t understand! That mistake has haunted me for decades! I finally got my life together and that—that gossiping parasite was going to destroy it!”
“So you killed him,” I say quietly. “You followed him into the funhouse during the reception and strangled him with that safety chain—rather poetic, considering the circumstances.”
“He would have ruined EVERYTHING!” Patty suddenly shrieks, abandoning all pretense. In one swift motion, she hurls the popcorn bucket at my face.
I duck, but buttery kernels rain down on us nonetheless. Fish and Chip leap from my arms as Patty shoves past me, making a break for the exit.
“Yes, I did it! I had to do it!” she shouts as her composure completely shatters. “He was going to destroy my life over an accident!”
Call in the reinforcements!Fish commands.
Right on cue, cats spill from every corner like furry backup dancers—emerging from bushes, trash bins, and snack carts. Patty skids to a halt, surrounded by a semicircle of judgmental feline eyes and knife-sharp claws.
“What the—” she stammers, spinning in confusion.
