25. Hattie

HATTIE

“ I t’s showtime,” Chevy sings as she pops up out of her seat and pulls out the murder board we keep behind my sofa, here in my tiny cabin tucked away in Moonlit Meadows.

Thoughts continue to swirl around the room despite the break in chatter, and they’re as salacious and selfish as ever.

Chevy is hoping to hit her wine cabinet before she hits the sheets.

Tipper is daydreaming about something that relegates her thoughts to white noise, and I have no doubt my brother is at the receiving end of those naughty thoughts.

Hillary is plotting to upstage everyone at the haunted house by making a grand entrance that involves a snake.

Kick is thinking nonstop about refilling her bowl with more chili, and Bunny is scheming on how to best snag three different men within a very tight time span come Halloween—in other words, in just a few hours.

Peggy is mentally drooling over those rocky road milk chocolate balls—and truthfully, so am I.

Clarabelle is admiring Rookie’s cute, furry face and wondering if she’ll ever meet anyone as handsome as him.

And Peyton—well, Peyton is as grumpy as ever. She’s convincing herself she’s the only one keeping things together at the country club.

And honestly, with the way my week has been going, that’s probably the truth.

“All right, ladies,” Chevy calls out. “The murder club is officially open for business.”

She plucks a dry-erase pen from her pocket—we’ve upgraded to a dry-erase board the size of a wall. She draws a circle in the middle and writes Silas Moon inside of it, then three smaller circles up above with the names Gavin Walters , Trent Parker , and Desmond Leffler .

“What do we know about the victims?” she calls out.

Hillary jumps up with a folder in one hand and a roll of tape in the other. “I don’t know much about them, but I printed up pictures. I’m a visual person and I need to see both the victims and the suspects. Thank you to Chevy for cluing me in on who everyone was.”

She quickly adheres pictures of all four victims next to their names and puts up a picture of Venetta and Stella Woods as well.

I’ll admit, I appreciate the effort.

It feels like a game-changer just putting a face to those names.

“Nice touch,” Kick says, setting her chili on the table. “Where do we start?”

“We start with Venetta,” I say, scooting to the edge of my seat. “She’s got motive, means, and opportunity. Plus, she’s been lurking around town like a bad smell.”

“Venetta has always had a thing for Killion,” Hillary says, rolling her eyes. “Maybe she’s trying to get rid of any competition?”

Tipper shakes her head. “Hattie’s still living, so that theory is out the window.”

“Exactly,” I say, nodding. “She’s been seen with Banister Grimm, but her heart’s still set on Killion. She’s jealous and capable of anything. And Stella mentioned that she heard Silas and Venetta arguing. She specifically heard him say he was disappointed in her and that soon the world would be, too.”

“ Ooh ,” Chevy purrs. “She’s got a secret.”

“I bet it’s a dirty little secret.” Bunny gives a snide smile. Although, let’s face it, Venetta’s dirty little secret probably pales in comparison to some of my own spicy bits of classified info.

I don’t doubt that for a spicy minute. In fact, I bet our book club pick for the month pales in comparison, too.

“And let’s not forget Desmond Leffler,” Chevy says, pointing to his photo on the board. “He was working on a story about Silas. Maybe he dug too deep? Maybe Venetta was afraid that Silas spilled the dirty beans to Desmond?”

“Someone wanted him silenced,” I say. “I’m betting someone wanted all of those men silenced. But could they all have been in on Venetta’s secret?”

Cricket twitches an ear my way. Maybe Venetta gets cranky when she misses a meal, just the way you do, Hattie? Maybe all of those men promised her dinner and then skipped out. That will teach them a lesson to tease a woman with food. Speaking of which, where is my can of Fancy Beast? It’s past my bedtime and someone has made me skip dinner. I think we can see a foreshadowing of the unfortunate events about to unwind.

I jump up and open up a can in the kitchen posthaste.

Once upon a time, I chose to guffaw at her cute little diatribe, thinking I’d get around to feeding her later, only to find my new sofa sliced to smithereens.

You don’t play with a cat who has a cache of razor blades at her disposal and isn’t afraid to use them. And while I’m up, I feed Rookie, too.

Peggy pops a piece of chocolate into her mouth. “I still say it’s all too grim. Can we talk about something a little lighter in topic? Like, I don’t know, men who are still breathing?”

“Would you stop with the breathing men,” Peyton is quick to admonish her. “Hattie’s interests clearly lie elsewhere. Like the morgue.” It’s a shock that the detective she’s seeing hasn’t ended up there yet. Although I suppose there’s still time. I bet he’s her big Halloween sacrifice.

Clarabelle nods, unwrapping a chocolate bar. “And more importantly, can we talk about chocolate?”

“Focus, ladies,” I say, trying to keep the group on track. A thought comes to me. “You know, Killion and I had dinner with Banister Grimm and Venetta the other night, and Banister brought up a good point. He said the key to breaking open the case might have been to speak to Stella Woods. She’s the one who referred to Silas as family you love to hate.” The room gasps at once. “And she said with Silas gone, her work at the chocolate shop has been running a lot smoother because she doesn’t have to run her ideas past Silas anymore. I think she regarded him as a big ball of red tape.”

“Most men are,” Clarabelle chirps and the room breaks out with a momentary laugh.

“And circling back to Venetta,” I say. “The last clue I got is what we opened with—the fact Stella heard Silas and Venetta arguing about what a disappointment she was.”

“Great!” Clarabelle offers up a spontaneous applause. “We’ve caught our killer. Now on to chocolate.”

“Speaking of the chocolate shop”—I say—“we can’t forget about Stella Woods. She’s got access to everything and might know more than she’s letting on.”

Kick raises an eyebrow. “Stella? The manager at Moon’s Chocolate Delights? Why her?”

“She was there the night of the murder,” I explain. “And she’s been acting suspicious. Maybe she wanted Silas dead so she could buy the shop? Plus, she pointed us toward Venetta. Maybe she’s trying to throw us off her scent?”

Chevy nods, tapping at Stella’s photo on the board. “So, we’ve got Venetta and Stella. Any other suspects?”

“Not yet,” I admit. “But we need to keep our eyes and ears open. Someone in this town knows more than they’re letting on.”

The room falls silent for a moment, the weight of the investigation settling in. We might be a ragtag group of amateur sleuths, but we’re determined to get to the bottom of this.

“All right,” Tipper says, lifting her mug of hot cider. “Here’s to finding the truth. Let’s dig in and figure out who’s behind these murders.”

We spend the next hour trying to research everyone on that murder board within an inch of their lives—or past lives. But the evening wraps up without much headway, much to my disappointment.

One thing is for sure. I need to get my haunted act together and solve this mystery before another body turns up—and heaven forbid that body is mine.