Hoppy Holiday Homicide

Chapter Six

I found Mags at the latke stall, pushing potato pancakes dipped in applesauce into her mouth almost faster than she could chew them.

“Oh, I didn’t know you’d be coming back so soon,” she mumbled with one hand covering her mouth politely. “Otherwise, I would have saved you some.” Her face turned red with embarrassment. “I’m a nervous eater, you see. These things didn’t stand a chance.”

I laughed and shook my head, happy to see her at least a little more relaxed than she’d been a few minutes back. “No judgment here. We have to get back to help Officer Bouchard, anyway.”

Mags tossed her trash into a nearby canister and wiped her mouth with the side of her hand. “Are you sure we have to go back there? I don’t know if this kind of thing happens often here, but I’m not used to dead bodies turning up back home in Georgia.” She said this with more of a Southern twang than usual, no doubt longing for the safety of good ol’ reliable Larkhaven.

“Well, it’s kind of my job as a P.I.,” I explained with a shrug. “Although it's not always murder. Sometimes I deal with other kinds of crooks, too.”

“But can’t we just enjoy the Holiday Spectacular? You’ve told me so much about it, and I’ve been looking forward to this part of our visit. Plus, you might not be scared that there’s a murderer on the loose, but I sure am. Maybe we can make a quick circuit and then get the heck out of here.”

I looped my arm through my cousin’s and marched back with her toward the ice sculpture garden. “We just need to do this one quick thing to help out Officer Bouchard, and then we’ll get back to the festivities, I promise.”

“Where’s my lobster roll?” Octo-Cat whined, then growled, then sighed in defeat. “Unhook me from this hideous torture device, and I’ll go grab one for myself, seeing as you’re proving to be rather useless today.”

Paisley growled from deep within her throat. “Don’t talk to Mommy that way. She’s busy being a superhero, and it's our job to be her sidekicks.”

Octo-Cat tensed on the end of his leash. He definitely thought of himself as the Sherlock to my Watson, so Paisley’s suggestion that I was the one in charge was sure to rankle.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” he said with a sneer, “she’s pretending we’re not even here. So, why do we owe her anything when there’s really no way to help?”

Now it was Paisley who whined as her prick ears fell back against her neck while her tail went between her legs. “Just because it's not easy doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing to do.”

“Oh, dear sweet dogling, you have so much to learn. For starters, the best life should always be easy and also filled with sunspots and Evian and my long overdue lobster roll.”

Hard as it was to not jump into that particular conversation, I kept my eyes glued straight ahead and my feet focused on returning to the crime scene as quickly as possible.

Mags seemed to wilt more and more the closer we drew to the garden.

“Sorry for dragging you into this,” I offered with an apologetic smile. “But it will be over soon. He just needs the area secured until backup can arrive.”

We reached the sculpture of a crystalline rose that marked the start of the spiral viewing trail. I left Mags there and headed toward the exit.

“Wait! Where are you going?” she called after me, trembling uncertainty returning to her voice.

“I’ll just be over there, keeping an eye on the exit. If you take a few steps out onto the street, you’ll even be able to see me,” I explained calmly. “Text if you need anything, even if it's just to chat and pass the time. We’ll be finished up here before you know it, and then we can let the police handle the rest. Okay?”

Mags nodded, but a row of worry lines stretched across her normally smooth forehead. “Great. But now that I’ve had time to think about it, I’d really rather just find Nan and go home as soon as we’re able. I don’t feel so safe anymore.”

As much as I loved the Holiday Spectacular, I loved my cousin so much more and wanted her to leave Blueberry Bay with happy memories instead of horrible ones. I’d do whatever it took to salvage our holiday.

“That’s okay,” I said with what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “We’ll make our own fun. How do fresh-baked cookies and a Hallmark Channel Christmas movie sound for tonight?”

Mags smiled bravely and bobbed her head. “Sounds like a plan, Ms. Pet Whisperer P.I.”

I chuckled as I walked away to take my place at the garden exit. First, though, I dipped into the center to let Officer Bouchard know Mags and I were on duty. Once I’d returned to the end of that red ribbon trail, I pulled out my phone and opened a group text with my mom and dad.

There’s been a murder in the ice sculpture garden.

Officer Bouchard is securing the scene while Mags and I make sure no one wanders in.

After that, we’re going to head home.

Mags is feeling a bit scared by everything.

Can you guys see that Nan gets home okay?

I asked in a series of fast texts.

Both my parents texted back immediately.

“Are you serious?” Mom’s read.

“Are you safe?” Dad asked.

“I’m fine,” I replied, “but I also don’t think we’ll be able to finish our judging duties before heading home.”

“Poor Mags,” Mom lamented with a frowny face emoji. “This is not the best introduction to our quiet corner of the world.”

Although I didn’t say it, I actually thought it was the perfect way to show my new cousin how life had been for us lately. Ever since I first met that snarky talking tabby a year and half ago, my entire life had been one danger, one investigation after the next.

Thanks to us, crime didn’t pay around these parts, but apparently it also didn’t rest. Not even for the holidays.

An incoming call lit up my screen. This one was from Nan. “What’s this I hear about you and Mags leaving early?” she demanded, though her voice remained cheerful.

“Well, the murders kind of cramp the style of our Holiday Spectacular,” I explained in a whisper, making sure none of the people further down the block heard.

“Well, that’s really too bad. Could you do me a quick favor and ask Mags if I can get her anything from the artist’s corner? I’m sure she’d at least like a souvenir or two. Right?”

I heard a deep voice speaking faintly on the other end but couldn’t make out the words. “Who’s there with you, Nan?”

“Just my friend, Mr. Milton,” she answered dismissively. “Now, can you ask Mags about those souvenirs for me, please?”

“Sure, I’ll check with her in a little bit. Right now, we’re guarding the crime scene, and there are two different entrances. It’s not a very good time to—”

“You’re at the ice sculpture garden. Aren’t you? That place isn’t very big. Just run over and ask her so that I know.”

I sighed but still followed her instructions. There was little point in arguing with Nan when she wanted something—especially something quick and relatively easy like this.

Clutching my phone tightly in one hand and Octo-Cat beneath my other arm, I power walked over to the front entrance of the garden with Paisley following close at my heels. I was just rounding the corner when I caught sight of Mags.

Her eyes were wide, and her fair features looked even paler than usual as a hooded figure dragged her into the back of a cargo van, slammed the door, and sped away…