Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

" D on't worry," Lottie says, chuckling away as the chandeliers continue to shake and sway, right here in the conservatory of her mother's B&B. "They're friendly ghosts, I promise. I should know. I've pretty much met them all. I can arrange a meet and greet for you as well if you want."

"No, thanks. I'll take your word for it. And as for Peter, I spoke to his ex. Apparently, the guy had a laundry list of enemies. And we both know there wasn't a speck of peanut butter in your pumpkin pie. Whoever tainted it was well aware of his peanut allergy. Do you think someone got into the kitchen?"

She shakes her head. "Not unless it was one of us, and I don't think it was. Noah said that he and Cooper looked at the security footage, but since the contest took place under the awning, the cameras didn't catch anything they could use."

"Perfect." I sigh. "Well, I've got another lead and she just so happens to be in this room."

"Ooh, who is it?" She leans in, and judging by the gleam in her eyes she's far too interested.

I make a face. "Fiona Harper," I practically mouth her name.

Lottie sucks in a quick breath. "This is her trunk show!"

"I know. And believe me, I'm grateful you're catering the event. It gives me the perfect excuse to be here."

"It looks as if the stars are aligning." She gives an impish grin. "Let's hope they'll align all the way to a confession before the turkey ever lands on the table this year. The last thing I want you to be thinking about on Thanksgiving is a killer."

Someone breaks out into a wild cackle and we look over to see Naomi and her twin Keelie rummaging through a basket full of push-up bras.

"I think I'll go say hello." Lottie laughs in their direction. "And maybe you should say hello to a certain someone, too." She winks my way before taking off.

I contemplate my strategy as I swipe a cream puff off a platter. But try as I might to direct my thoughts toward the investigation, I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched.

I glance around the room, but all I see are scads of women whooping it up as if all the clothes were free. Still, I can't help but wonder if one of them is hiding a deadly secret—namely the woman who hauled these push-up bras here to begin with. And if I'm not careful, I might just become her next target.

"Attention," Miranda calls out. "It's time for the fun to officially begin! It is my pleasure to introduce you all to Fiona Harper, the proud owner of Elegance and Envy, located right here in Honey Hollow, down on Main Street!"

The room breaks out into cheers, and I even hear a stray bark.

Not surprising. Watson is a big fan of push-up bras himself.

The chaos begins to settle and a hush falls over the room as Fiona Harper steps up to the front, her birdlike frame commanding attention despite her petite stature.

She's got dark hair that's immaculately styled in a tight chignon, and she's wearing a colorful red and yellow dress with a touch of vintage flair, complete with pearls and sensible heels. She looks like she just stepped out of an old Hollywood film, poised and elegant.

"Welcome, ladies," she calls out with her voice crisp and clear. "Thank you all for joining us today at our special Thanks for Giving Trunk Sale ."

The room falls silent as everyone hangs on her every word.

"I'm thrilled to announce that all the proceeds from today's event will be going to the Honey Hollow Hearts Foundation," she continues, and a collective gasp ripples through the crowd. "This foundation does incredible work in our community, and your contributions today will make a significant impact."

Polite applause follows, and Fiona nods graciously before continuing. "I'd also like to highlight a few special pieces we have available today. Over here," she gestures to a table laden with exquisite accessories, "we have a collection of vintage jewelry that includes some truly unique and rare finds. If you're a fan of amethyst or opal, you'll particularly love the selection."

Ooh, I love me some opal. I'll have to check those out.

She moves to the next display, where an assortment of silk scarves and shawls are draped over a velvet-covered table. "And here, you'll find a selection of handcrafted items from local artisans. Each piece is one-of-a-kind and perfect for adding a touch of elegance to your wardrobe—or to give as a Christmas gift."

Finally, Fiona walks over to the center of the room, where that magnificent set of china is displayed. The intricate patterns and delicate porcelain glint under the light, and the crowd leans in to get a better look.

I know better than to get anywhere near that stuff. With my luck, a ghost would knock the entire display over and I'd be left footing the bill.

"This"—Fiona says with a touch of reverence in her voice—"is my pièce de résistance. A priceless set of china passed down through generations. It's here on display today, but it's not for sale. It's a reminder of the timeless beauty and craftsmanship that can be found in these treasured items. The sum total of these pieces is well over fifteen thousand dollars."

The crowd gasps in horror—or most likely delight. I'm the one who's horrified. If I had fifteen grand in fine china, the last place I'd be hauling it is into a room brimming with women and ghosts. But to each his own.

The guests murmur in admiration and their eyes widen at the exquisite pieces. Fiona smiles, clearly pleased with the reaction. "As you browse, remember that every purchase you make today helps support the wonderful work of the Honey Hollow Hearts Foundation. Thank you all for your generosity! Remember, the holidays are upon us and every last dollar you spend goes to a very good cause!"

With that, she steps back, allowing the guests to continue with their shopping spree. Baskets full of push-up bras start percolating like popcorn, there seems to be a run on feather boas, and those colorful scarves are being snapped up one by one as if they were stitched in gold.

Laughter and chatter fill the air as women peruse the vintage jewelry, hand-painted shawls, and other exquisite items on display.

The room is buzzing with so much excitement, I'm tempted to dive in there and play tug-of-war over a push-up bra or two myself. But I've got a bigger fish to fry.

I glance around and spot Aunt Cat and Carlotta near the pricey china, and unfortunately for Fiona's collection, they look as if they're plotting their next move—a heist.

But I'm not their keeper, and I can't babysit that table full of china either. Instead, I watch as Fiona moves from guest to guest, complimenting them as they hold up a garment or two. She's clearly in her element.

And the woman is obviously charitable. I mean, she's not making a dime from today's efforts.

I wonder how that works?

I watch as she schmoozes her way to the dessert table, and I don't waste a single second before boot-scooting in that direction.

Fiona Harper might just have the answers I'm looking for, and I'm about to serve her a slice of interrogation pie.