Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

B efore I can organize my thoughts properly, an airhorn goes off as the Turkey Trot comes to a conclusion and the breathless crowds begin to drift back onto Main Street.

Cooper waves over at me before jogging my way. I'm shocked his legs are still agreeing to bounce up and down after what he's put them through.

Show off.

"Did you feel the burn?" he asks as he steals a kiss, and I can't help but note it's a molten hot kiss for more than one reason. His entire body is glowing red-hot from the run.

"I'm feeling something," I shoot back. "Could be the burn, could be the regret of agreeing to put on my running shoes."

I choose to omit the fact I ran a much shorter distance than he did. You know what they say, a little mystery keeps the romance alive.

He laughs. "You did great, Effie. I'm proud of you. Just think of all the guilt-free pie we've earned with this run."

"Pie has always been my motivator," I agree. "But guilt is something I've never felt while eating it. Cooper, I have to tell you something."

Someone shouts his name and we look over to see that slutty rendition of Mrs. Claus doing her best to wave him down. More like wear him down.

He glances at his watch and then at me. "I hate to cut this short, but I've got to go change into my Santa suit. Duty calls."

I pout his way. "Leaving me already? I thought we were bonding over pie?"

"Trust me, we'll be bonding over pie tonight."

"I guess I'll go get my elf getup on." Peter Honeycutt's killer comes to mind. "But before I forget, there's something I need to tell you."

He leans in, planting a soft kiss on my lips. "We'll talk soon, I promise. Besides," he adds with a playful glint in his eye, "I seem to have a new affinity for elves."

I raise a brow. "You think elves are hot?"

He makes a face. "Only the right elf," he says, winking before jogging off to change.

I shake my head as I watch him go.

Cooper in a Santa suit? This day just keeps getting better.

As the parade begins, I head over to the bakery to slip into the elf costume Naomi dropped off, and it's every bit as ridiculous as I thought it'd be with its jingling bells and pointy hat—lime green potato sack coupled with bright yellow tights—but hey, it's for a good cause. Plus, this way I can always bump off Naomi later to make myself feel better because of it.

The parade kicks off with a marching band playing festive tunes, followed by floats decorated with turkeys, cornucopias, and all things Thanksgiving. As the parade draws to a conclusion and Santa's sleigh is in sight, I join the other elfish volunteers, handing out candy canes to the kids lining the streets while trying to ignore the fact my tights are giving me a wedgie that any middle school tormenter would be proud of.

Just as the float carrying Santa Claus rounds the corner, I spot Cooper in his red suit, complete with a fake white beard and a twinkle in his eye. He catches sight of me and gives a grand wave, causing a ripple of cheers from the crowd.

I can't help but feel a smidge of pride.

Here I am, dressed as an elf, looking about as appealing as a wet rat, and yet it's me he's winking at while Naomi Turner does her best to climb his beard like a pole.

As I make my way through the throngs of parade-goers, handing out candy canes and trying to pretend there aren't a half dozen overzealous children tugging on my elf costume, I spot Fiona Harper standing in the crowd, wearing a turquoise jacket with heavy embroidery and some sequins mixed in. She's as sparkling and colorful as ever, and then a thought comes to me and solidifies what I'm afraid is true.

I hand my candy cane bucket to the kid to my right and make a beeline for the woman.

"Well, well, if it isn't Effie the Elf," Fiona calls out with a little laugh and I'd laugh along, but I'm too busy pulling her to the side away from the crowd so we can have a little not-so-friendly chat.

"Happy Thanksgiving! Enjoying the parade?" I say, albeit a lot less friendlier than I meant to.

"It's festive, I'll give it that." She laughs. "You're going to be a hit at the community center. The kids are just going to love you."

"Oh, that's right, the Honey Hollow Hearts Foundation is feeding the needy."

"Yup. Right after the parade." She nods. "I just snuck over to have a look at all the fun floats. Oh, it just brings me right back to my childhood. That's why I started the foundation, you know. I was once a needy child myself."

"I think we should talk about the foundation. About Peter Honeycutt's involvement specifically."

Her eyebrows arch. "I thought we already covered that topic."

"Not all of it," I say, stepping closer. "You see, there are some things that don't add up. Like how Peter's death wasn't just an accident, but a carefully orchestrated murder."

There. I've let the peanut butter-coated cat out of the pumpkin pie-shaped bag. Let's see her worm her way out of this one.

Fiona's eyes flicker with something—annoyance, most likely. "And you think I had something to do with it?"

"I know you did," I say, keeping my voice steady. "You had everything to gain from his death. Peter started that charity with you. He was a pro at shady business dealings and known to take a little off the top. When he left, you continued the tradition, didn't you?"

She inches back, shaking her head. "You've been watching too many crime dramas, Effie. I had no reason to kill Peter. Yes, he was a thief, but that doesn't reflect on me. I booted him out of my organization."

"Maybe so, but maybe you were just tired of playing second fiddle to his schemes? Maybe you wanted to be the one pulling the strings for a change."

Her lips press into a thin line. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" I challenge. "When we chatted at the B&B, you mentioned there was a lot of overhead at your foundation, and everyone knows that's an easy way to bilk a fortune off a nonprofit. I bet if the sheriff's department opens the books, they'll be surprised just how much went missing."

Her eyes widen to the size of a couple of turkey eggs, and that's when I know I've got her—for the theft at least.

"Peter Honeycutt was blackmailing you, wasn't he?" I continue. "Ever the grifter, he wanted in on the take. I think you were tired of sharing the profits, tired of Peter's constant meddling. You saw an opportunity to take him out and make it look like an accident. He told everyone he was close to about his allergy, including those he worked with. Peanut butter in the pumpkin pie? Clever, but not clever enough."

Okay, so it was pretty darn clever, but still. I need her shaking in her boots. A pat on the back isn't exactly going to garner a confession.

She offers me a cold and calculating stare. "You have no proof."

"I have enough," I say, feeling the weight of the evidence. "Enough to make sure you're held accountable for what you did. You killed Frank Santoro, too, because you were afraid that Peter ratted you out. Peter and Frank were thick as thieves—your words exactly, and now I know why. I bet Frank came sniffing around for a little hush money himself. I know firsthand he was broke and looking for some spare cash from anyone who would give it."

True as gospel. The man went to the Bank of Canelli, and that alone was about to ensure a trip to the pearly gates—only Fiona here beat me to it.

That sequin jacket of hers glints in the sun and darn near blinds me.

Why exactly does she feel the need to dress like a pinata?

A thought comes to me and I clamp my hand over my mouth.

"Oh my goodness," I seethe. "The night you poisoned Peter, you were helping Lottie bring out the pies. You wore orange from head to foot. That's not your MO." I wave to the rainbow's worth of colors she's enrobed herself in. "You did it because you knew you'd be mixing ingredients that night—ingredients you knew Peter was lethally allergic to." I shake my head. "I bet you were clad in red the day you killed Frankie, too." It's just a shot in the dark, but I have a feeling I'm right. "You killed them both."

She lifts her chin abruptly. "Yes, I did it. I killed both Peter and Frank." She jabs a finger in my chest. "And I'm not afraid to kill again," she practically growls the words my way. "But I won't have to." She digs around in her purse before coming up triumphant with her key fob. "I'll be in Canada before you take a bite of pumpkin pie tonight with your family."

Fiona takes off into the crowd like a bullet and I dart right after her.

Nobody tells me when and where I'll eat my pie.