Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

T he crisp autumn air fills my lungs as I join the throngs of people participating in the big, dumb idea more locally known as the Turkey Trot.

The streets of Honey Hollow are buzzing with excitement, with families bundled up in cozy scarves and hats, while kids laugh and chase each other as the smell of roasted turkey wafts through the air.

It would be the perfect way to kick off Thanksgiving Day—that is, if my body wasn't determined to kill me.

I wheeze.

I pant.

I get a charley horse before I crest ten feet.

" Clear the way, " someone shouts from behind and my feet drag me to the side just as Carlotta glides past me in roller skates, and she just so happens to be pushing a grocery cart with both Watson and my Aunt Cat inside of it.

So much for watching my pooch so I can do the gobble hobble with the best of them.

Both Carlotta and Aunt Cat yell and scream like a couple of wild turkeys trying to avoid the chopping block as they leave the competition in the dust. Watson is doing his fair share of howling, too. Here's hoping it's not a cry for help. I'm in no shape to chase them down.

And a shopping cart? Now, why didn't Niki and I think of that?

On second thought, it's best we didn't. We all know who would be the dumb dumb on roller skates and who would be living it up while getting the ride of her life.

Speaking of life, I huff and puff as I try my best to get back into the race. I'm about to veer away from the crowd just as a familiar face catches my eye.

Who needs to shake a few calories on the most delicious day of the year when I can shake a few more answers out of my number one suspect?

I jog over to where I see Harmony Honeycutt standing, wrapped in a golden faux fur coat that matches her golden locks, and her face is done up to the holiday nines, complete with blood-red lipstick. The last time I saw something that red, I was staring at Frankie Santoro's chest.

"Effie, you're doing great," she calls out as I trot her way.

"You mean I was doing great," I say, swiping a paper cup full of water off the table in front of me and stepping up beside her. "I'm afraid my body insists I take a break."

"Well, don't be long," she says as her eyes widen with a touch of horror. "You don't want to come in dead last."

"It wouldn't be the first time." I knock back my water and pitch the cup just like I've seen countless others do before me. I'll admit, that alone sort of makes me feel like an athlete.

The crowd around us thins as the majority of the runners have already passed us by, and soon it's just Harmony and me standing on the curb.

"What brings you out this morning?" I ask. "Anxious to see the parade?"

"That and just soaking in the community spirit and spreading some positive energy. It's all about manifesting the best holiday season, right?"

"Right," I say, eyeing her carefully. "Speaking of manifesting, I hear the Ashford Sheriff's Department is getting close to narrowing down Peter's killer."

"Oh, I sure hope so." She shudders. "I may not have cared for him in the end, but that doesn't mean I wanted to see him in a casket either."

I'll bet.

"Our relationship had its ups and downs"—she flicks a wrist as she goes on—"but I assure you, I had no reason to wish him harm."

"Really?" I tilt my head, giving her a pointed look. "Because from where I'm standing, it seems like you had plenty of reasons. Maybe even enough to manifest his downfall."

Harmony lets out a light laugh. "Oh, Effie, you're adorable. If I had the power to manifest someone's death, don't you think I'd be aiming a bit higher than an ex-husband who's already out of my life?"

"Maybe," I say, narrowing my eyes. "But that doesn't explain some of the things I've heard. Like how Peter was going after you for a significant amount of money. Not to mention that there was mention of some previous shady dealings that he was blackmailing you over."

She gasps hard, confirming my suspicions. "How did you know that?"

"So it's true! You admit to poisoning Peter's pumpkin pie. Instead of him sending you to prison, you sent him to the pearly gates!"

She squints over at me before breaking out into a genuine laugh.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. Yes, we had started a speaking tour for a while where we were siphoning some money off the top, but I can assure you it was for legitimate overhead. Peter's so-called blackmail was trying to pin me as a thief. He liked to find the flaw in people and lord it over them for his own personal gain—especially if they were stealing. But I wasn't stealing. The money I took was indeed to help with overhead, and every last penny matched as far as my taxes go. So you see, he didn't have anything on me. And as much as I would like to take credit for Peter's untimely demise, it wasn't me who caused it. My guess is, it was probably someone else he was blackmailing. And this time, they knew exactly how to ward him off for good."

I straighten. "Who else knew about his peanut allergy?"

"Only those closest to him, or those that he worked closely with. He wasn't exactly advertising it." She cranes her neck past me. "Now if you'll excuse me, I think I see those decadent pumpkin spice muffins for sale at the bakery. I just need to get my hands on one or six." She takes off without so much as a wave and glides off into the crowd, leaving me more puzzled than before.

Maybe Harmony isn't as guilty as I first thought. But one thing's for sure—there's more to this story than meets the eye.

So who else could Peter have been blackmailing?

I shake my head as I struggle to come up with an answer.

Something Everett said before the race comes to mind and my spine stiffens.

"Wait one minute." I pull out my phone and do a little more digging.

If I'm right, I know exactly who the killer is. And if indeed they're guilty, I've been digging in the wrong direction.