6. Hattie

"She's dead," I pant at the horrific sight.

The waves crash over the shoreline with a heavy slap, muting the sound of music and laughter coming from the Sunset Soiree.

The sky is black, and this end of the beach is hardly illuminated by the barrage of twinkle lights emitting from behind.

The sand begins to thump and hum just as Cricket and Rookie zoom right past me.

"Be careful," I shout. "Stay away from the water. This puddle in front of me, it might be dangerous."

The two of them circle back and stop shy of the puddle as they quickly inspect it.

Hattie, there's a woman lying in it,Cricket yowls.

"I know," I moan as I say it. "That's Jane. This doesn't look good, I'd better call for help."

I'll get Killion, Rookie barks before darting off back into the crowd.

Hattie, what happened?Cricket yowls once again as she leaps into my arms.

"I don't know, I was just—" Before I can finish, the sound of two women shouting comes from behind and I turn to see both Peggy and Clarabelle staggering through the sand wearing sundresses and matching pearls.

"There she is," Peggy says, cutting the words up into make-believe syllables like only a Georgia peach can. "Hattie Holiday, we have been looking everywhere for you. Have you been hiding from us?"

Clarabelle chuffs. "Honey, you're going to have to try harder than this. In case you're forgetting, Peggy and I are second and third top female sleuths around these parts. You would be first."

Peggy scoffs at her bestie. "And who exactly would be second?"

"It's obviously not you," Clarabelle bites the air with her words as she begins to get snippy. "You didn't even see a body in this direction. I told you it was Hattie and not a dolphin prancing through the waves."

"And I told you I don't have my glasses on," Peggy snips right back.

"Speaking of bodies," I say as I point to the deceased among us, and both Peggy and Clarabelle belt out a bloodcurdling scream.

"You found another one!" Peggy begins to clap as her horror quickly morphs to something just this side of—joy? "Oh Hattie, I knew you could do it." She smacks Clarabelle on the arm. "And you said she was losing her touch."

"I said she was putting the homicides to bed," Clarabelle corrects. "You said she was losing her touch."

Peggy backs up an inch. "Oh, I thought you said she was putting the homicide detective to bed. And just to clarify, I said nice touch. You really should crank up the volume on that hearing aid of yours."

"I don't wear one," Clarabelle flatlines.

"Then that's your problem," Peggy says.

"Ladies." I make a face. "We've got company," I say, pointing back at the body. "And she's no longer with us. I don't think we should be arguing about putting anyone to bed." I'll admit, a naughty visual flitted through my mind when Peggy said that bit about putting Killion to bed.

"Oh right." Peggy wrinkles her nose at the sight and I turn to look at it as well. Hey? Maybe that poor woman was killed by way of a homicidal maniac? Peggy thinks to herself. I bet that means Hattie and that gun-wielding hunk of hers will finally start to heat things up behind closed doors. A good murder mystery really gets them going. They're twisted that way.

My mouth falls open as I turn her way. "Peggy Ebersol, I'll have you know Killion and I are plenty heated behind closed doors. We certainly don't need a dead body to get us going."

Peggy's mouth falls open as well as she points my way and struggles to catch her breath.

"She did it again, didn't she?" Clarabelle shouts. "Hattie Holiday, you just read Peggy's mind!"

Cricket gasps. These two really are onto you. You've done it now.

And how.

"No, no, I can't really read anyone's—" I shake my head because I can't seem to lie to these two. Instead, my attention is hijacked by shouting and barking coming from my left. I look that way and, sure enough, it's Killion and Rookie speeding this way and not a moment too late.

Clarabelle steps my way, but I crane my neck past her, waving Killion and Rookie over in hopes to bring them here that much faster.

"Don't you think we're going to let this body distract us from having you give us the lowdown on your creepy, ultra-cool ability to read my mind as if it were your favorite book." Clarabelle does her best to garner my attention. I'm your favorite book, aren't I?

"You're both my favorite books," the words speed out of me as I turn her way. "Now let's not mention anything about this to Killion. He sort of thinks he's my favorite book. And, of course, the animals—they're really my favorite books. They're sort of open books since my party trick seems to work with them as well."

"Ah-ha." Clarabelle claps and hops from foot to foot. "You did it again, Hattie Holiday. That party trick of yours is popping off tonight like fireworks on the Fourth of July!"

Killion appears like a flash of lightning with Rookie barking wildly by his side, and soon I'm wrapped tight in Killion's arms as his momentum carries us closer to the puddle of doom.

"What's happening?" he pants. "What party trick?" He looks to Peggy and Clarabelle and I shoot them a look that promises the working end of a homicide investigation if they don't keep quiet.

The two of them raise their arms as they start to hightail it back to the party.

"Don't shoot," Peggy says as she traipses in the direction of the melee. And don't think you're getting away with this either, Hattie Read My Mind Holiday.

"What she said," Clarabelle shouts as the two of them drift off in a hurry. We'll talk!

A hard groan comes from me and Cricket twitches in my arms.

They did it, she chitters with a laugh. They cracked the telesensual code, didn't they? You're really slipping, Hattie. I think you should come clean. If they could figure that out, there's no telling where their genius will take them next. And believe me, I'd rather follow them than him.

She hisses at Killion before leaping out of my arms. Rookie barks at her and a quick chase ensues, despite the fact Jolly Beary seems to be holding on for dear life while strapped to Rookie's back.

"Hattie? What's going on?" Killion spins me slightly, just enough to see exactly what's going on. His eyes flit from the body to that orange cable sitting immersed in the heart of that puddle and he plucks me away from the scene a good three feet. "Geez," he says as he pulls out his phone and calls the fire department, the sheriff's department, and the coroner seemingly all at once. "What happened?" he asks, wrapping his arms around me once again.

"I just walked this way and found her like that. I was going to check to see if I could help, but I saw the cable and I didn't dare take a step in that direction."

"Thank God." He pulls me in hard and lands a kiss to my forehead.

A swarm of bodies heads this way, emergency responders and club members alike, and it takes about three minutes of shouting at the top of his lungs for Killion to get the crowd to keep at a safe distance.

The fire department quickly cuts the power supply to the rogue cable before roping the area off with caution tape, and suddenly I breathe a little easier.

"Hattie Holiday?" a woman's voice screeches from behind and I cringe because I know exactly who it is.

This day just keeps getting worse for all of us.