Chapter 8

The next morning I saunter into the bakery where the smell of freshly baked goodies swirls around me like a warm hug.

It's my day off, but after the whirlwind of last night, I need a little pick-me-up to process everything. And what better way to do that than with a few dozen crullers? Okay, so I'll go easy and stick to just one—dozen.

Since no one claimed Watson's doppelg?nger, the fuzzy little tot spent the night at my place. And instead of sleeping, these two cute clowns decided the night would be better spent chasing one another's tails and chewing up the trashy romance novels right off my bookshelf. Now I'm not only down a good night's sleep, but I have no indecent reading material to land me in La-La Land.

I find a seat near the giant smiling pumpkin taped to the window. And within seconds, Lily greets me with a chocolate cupcake with a mountain of icing molded on top of it to make it look like a pretty pink brain.

"Special spooky delivery for our resident sleuth." She wrinkles her nose as she leans in. "Thanks for finding the body. I won the office pool between you and Lottie."

"I aim to please," I grunt, pulling the cupcake closer. "Brains for breakfast? Now that's what I call starting the day off right." At this point, I could use all the brains I can get.

I take a moment to admire the intricate details that make it look almost too real to eat.

Almost.

Let's not get carried away. A sugar infusion is a sugar infusion. I'm pretty much a the-more-the-merrier type of girl when it comes to sweet treats.

But my attention is quickly diverted as a chorus of barks starts up as both Watson and his look-alike bounce around at my feet.

And upon hearing those barks, Lottie and Suze hightail it this way posthaste.

"Oh my word!" Lottie quickly scoops up Watson's twin. "Did our little cutie reproduce overnight?"

"He's not that talented yet," I say. "We picked this guy up at the Tavern of Terror last night. With all the melee, I think he got separated from his owner. I left my number with Naomi, and she's making posters, but so far no one has stepped up to claim him." I pause for a moment. "By the way, did you know that Naomi Turner's head functions as a removable device?"

Lottie thumps out a laugh. "Her twin might be my bestie, but I'd swear that Naomi has been running around with her head chopped off for years. What's this cutie pie's name?"

"He doesn't have one," I say. "Or at least not that I know of. We should probably give him one for the time being."

"Ooh, I've always wanted to name a dog," Lily says, scratching the pup behind the ears.

"I've got one," Suze says. "Sherlock. You know, to go with Watson."

I shake my head. "As much as I love the idea, I don't want Watson to feel like he's second best. Everyone knows Sherlock steals the spotlight."

"Okay then." Suze squints at the puppy and it looks as if she's silently casting a pox on the poor pooch. And knowing Suze, she might be. "How about Trouble? Seems fitting, considering the fact he's a man."

Lily chuckles. "Or Chase, because, let's face it, men are about as predictable as a dog chasing its own tail."

"Eh." Suze shrugs. "Or we can call him Drooly. Always loyal, always drooling, just like the men Lottie attracts."

Suze should know. One of the men Lottie has attracted is Suze's son, Noah. And I've witnessed his lovesick ways more than a few times when it comes to my boss. The man really does drool.

I shake my head at the thought. "Maybe we shouldn't insult our furry friends by comparing them to the male species."

Suze snorts. "Oh, come on, Effie. You know as well as I do that men are just like dogs. They bark, they beg, and at the end of the day, they're all chasing after the same hourglass-shaped bone."

Lottie laughs as if she knows it's true. And she should since it's mostly true in her case.

"How about Chip?" Lottie offers. "You know, like a chip off the old block?"

"I don't know. I'd be hard-pressed not to believe they weren't related, but Watson isn't his father."

"True," Lottie says. "But it sure is spooky how much they look alike."

"Spooky!" I practically shout. "That's a perfect name. And not only that, but I think I'll call the breeder I got Watson from and see if she's missing a puppy. I bet that's a spooky feeling."

"Spooky it is," Lily declares just as a mob floods the bakery. "Welcome to the family, little guy. Come on, Suze. Let's hit the registers before we have a cupcake revolt on our hands. And don't worry, Effie. As soon as the crowd dies down, I'll sling a plate of crullers your way."

"You know my love language," I say as they take off.

Lottie falls into the seat across from me and leans in. "All right, spill it, Effie," she says, giving little Spooky a hearty scratch. "Noah says there was a homicide at the Tavern of Terror last night and that you found the body! What exactly went down last night?"

Noah as in Homicide Detective Noah Fox. He's one of Cooper's co-workers.

I sigh as I spin the delicious-looking brain set in front of me. "I'm not sure what happened. The whole night was off—from Naomi's removable primal apex to the fact Cooper was saying all the things I've been wanting to hear."

"Ooh." She wiggles her shoulders as she says it. "I'm glad that's finally headed in the right direction."

"I am, too." I frown at the thought. "And even though he seemed sincere, the night was almost too perfect. Anyway, the universe squashed that like a bug pretty quickly. I met Cooper's sister, a real character who called me a less-than-savory name. She's the one who introduced us to Sal the Sausage. Then shortly after that, we heard screams. Cooper went to see if there was something nefarious happening, outside of the fact we were dining in a haunted house. And that's when I saw that little guy." I nod to Spooky. "I thought Watson was trying to make a getaway, so I chased after him and nearly tripped right over Sal the Sausage. Cooper was on my heels and he's the one that confirmed Sal was dead."

Lottie cringes. "I'm sorry. I know how it feels to stumble upon a body."

I'll say she does. I think she's found close to two dozen—or three.

And I hear the coroner buys body bags in bulk because of it.

"So did you see anything suspicious?" she asks. "Noah says someone shot the guy in close range. The killer could have left behind a clue or two."

I'm about to fill her in on that trail of shiny red sequins that led right to the parking lot, but a customer drops a box of cookies and soon screaming and barking ensue.

She lands Spooky into my lap and takes off to deal with the cookie chaos just as two frazzled-looking battle-axes head this way. And I mean that in the nicest way possible.

Mostly.

Aunt Cat and Carlotta are clad in terry cloth workout gear, fuchsia for Aunt Cat and orange for Carlotta. Their faces glow a shade of hot pink and they both sport sweatbands across their foreheads. And it's as disconcerting of a sight as one might think.

"Looking for a porthole to the eighties?" I ask.

"More like a porthole into murder," Aunt Cat says, handing a simple white envelope my way and my heart sinks to my feet. "We just got back from Leeds."

I'd ask if they ran all the way, but my vocal cords don't seem to work at the moment.

That seemingly innocent envelope is Uncle Jimmy's way of giving me instructions as to who falls next in line on my kill list.

The funny thing is, my last assignment is still running around with breath in his lungs. And if I were Cooper, I'd add that to the roster of my positive attributes—allows me to live another day.

"It's a bit soon for this, don't you think?" I gulp hard, trying to juggle the puppies and the envelope.

Personally, I'm hoping one of these fluffy floofs will gobble it down so I can finally use the excuse, the dog ate my homework.

Aunt Cat shrugs. "If Jimmy wants someone out there wiped off the planet, it's never soon enough."

"Go on," Carlotta says with her eyes agog as if she can hardly stand the suspense. "You never know whose name you're going to see on the inside of one of those business cards from the Grim Reaper. It could be the sheriff, another certain homicide detective, a sexy-looking judge, a manipulative mayor, or even me."

I make a face at her. She just listed both men who are vying for Lottie's heart, along with the mayor who happens to be Carlotta's own plus-one. And, of course, she threw herself in there for good measure.

"I promise it's not you," I say, pulling the contents out of the envelope. The others I'm not too sure about.

"You never know," Carlotta says, swiping a finger through the sugary brain before me. "Jimmy and I were hot and heavy once. And I dated his nemesis, Luke Lazzari, too. I wouldn't be surprised if I got caught in the crosshairs of a turf war."

I unfurl the piece of paper and see a name that sends a chill down my spine.

I flash it at Aunt Cat and Carlotta and they both recoil in horror as well.

"Johnny the Meatball Marino," I hiss lower than a whisper. "That's the dead guy's brother. We can't do that to his mama. Clearly, Uncle Jimmy has no idea what transpired last night."

Aunt Cat grimaces at the thought. "Actually, I told him that just as he was handing the envelope my way."

"Well, what did he say?" I ask, unable to take my next breath.

"He said that should make this next hit one for the record books. And then he told me to pass along two little words—have fun."

"Have fun," I growl and both Watson and Spooky growl along with me.

If I didn't know it before, I'm well aware of it now. Uncle Jimmy doesn't have a beating heart. And soon enough, Johnny the Meatball Marino won't either.

Here's to having fun.

I shove the cupcake straight into my mouth, brains and all.

It's time to let the good times roll—all the way to the morgue.