A Killer Tail, Page 2

  I take a moment to glower at her, and she quickly laughs it off.

  “So I’m not the only one who said it, huh?” Emmie bites down over her bottom lip to keep from cackling to death.

  “Don’t worry.” Leo gives a slight wink. “I won’t be making any arrests tonight.” He gives Emmie the side-eye. “That is, unless someone deliberately misbehaves.”

  Mackenzie retches. “Gag. Excuse me while I go sharpen a carving knife. It’s nice to know I’ll get a free pass tonight.” A dark smile expands as she looks to Leo and Emmie. “I’m thinking a double homicide might shake things up a bit.”

  Mackenzie used to date Leo. She was head over heels and he unceremoniously dumped her once the lusty scales fell from his eyes. And then, just as quickly, he fell under the lusty spell of my bestie. But so help him if he unceremoniously dumps Emmie that way. If he thinks Mackenzie’s wrath has been unbearable, he won’t want to try me. That might just put me in the mood to try out my newly minted status as a killer.

  Duly noted. He nods my way.

  It’s so easy to forget Leo can tap into my private musings. But I’ll admit, it’s comforting having someone else like me around. Last month, a woman who shares our transmundane status visited us from Honey Hollow. Unlike Leo and me, Lottie Lemon’s supernatural talent is to see the dead. I don’t think I’d trade my ability for hers any day of the week. But Lottie seemed to be okay with her ghostly quirk. I guess she’d have to be since there’s no way to turn these extracurricular powers off.

  Lottie and I grew to be great fast friends. In fact, Jasper and I are already planning on visiting Lottie and her friends in Vermont sometime this summer.

  The lights in the room go out and it’s pitch-black inside as a series of oohs circle the room.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” a deep voice vibrates over the speakers. “Danger lingers in the air. A game is ready to be played. One unfortunate soul in this room will not get out alive. Murder is nigh. It is time for this deadly party to begin.”

  And just like that, the lights snap back on like a punishment.

  Chapter 2

  I’ve always loved a good mystery.

  I’ve certainly always loved a good bookstore. And yet, something about being immersed in both at the moment gives me the distinct feeling of foreboding.

  Jasper and I take in the crowd milling around inside of Killer Books as we await the instructions for the murder mystery about to take place.

  “Are you getting a bad feeling about this?” he whispers.

  I nod in lieu of a response. “I take it you are, too. Why do you think that is?”

  “Most likely because we’re both natural born investigators and we know a murder is on the horizon.”

  I bite down on a playful smile. “You just called me a natural born investigator.”

  “That’s better than a natural born killer, don’t you think?”

  “Ha-ha, very funny.”

  A laugh rumbles through his chest. “I think I’m going to check out the room. At least that way I’ll have a false sense of security that we’re safe.”

  I’m about to swat him for insinuating we’re in any danger, but Jasper’s off and running, utilizing those gray peepers of his to spy out any potential killers.

  Wyatt Sanders heads my way with a man and a woman flanking him on either side.

  “Audience or actor?” he asks with a smile. It’s only then I note he’s holding a black top hat in his hands, and inside of it I can see several neatly folded pieces of paper.

  “Oh, um, actor,” I say. “What’s the fun of a murder mystery if you can’t participate, right?”

  Wyatt offers a quiet laugh. “You’re a good sport, Bizzy. I like that. In fact, I’d like to introduce you to the manager here at Killer Books, Thomas Dean. Thomas, this is Bizzy Baker. She runs the Country Cottage Inn.” He ticks his head toward the tall man currently slouching with a humble smile, an elongated forehead, and a receding hairline. He doesn’t look that much older than me, somewhere in his late twenties to early thirties, I’d guess. We exchange polite hellos and Wyatt continues. “If you have any questions while the mystery is playing out, Thomas is considered home base. We ask that you don’t acknowledge the audience. It tends to break the spell.”

  “I wouldn’t want to do that.” I smile over at Thomas. “If I have any questions, I’ll be sure to hunt you down.”

  Wyatt shakes his head. “You won’t have to. Thomas will be next to the register the entire time, so you’ll know exactly where to find him.”

  Thomas lifts his hand as if he were taking an oath. “Yes, sir. I’m not leaving my post.” Nope. I’ll be watching it all unfold right before my eyes. Sort of a fantasy come true.

  Fantasy come true? I narrow my eyes over at him, trying to decipher what he could have meant.

  “And this is Molly.” Wyatt nods to the short brunette with blunt bangs that frame her pretty green eyes and eager smile. She’s dressed in a pencil skirt and a black leather bustier—of which her ample bosom is spilling out of—and her lips are painted a bright shade of strawberry. “My girlfriend.”

  Her lips part as she shoots him a curt look. Took you long enough to get the words out, buddy. Why do I get the feeling he didn’t want to say them? Knew it. He’s thinking of dumping me. I should have known it was over when he stopped falling asleep to the sound of my voice over the phone. How I miss staying up, just listening to him breathe. Now I’m lucky to get a text or two these days. It looks like I’m going to have to teach him a lesson. I’ll be sure to make it memorable this time.

  I blink back. “It’s so nice to meet you.” I hold my hand out, and she shakes it.

  I’ve seen people get worked up, and I find it’s best to derail their thoughts before they start ringing the bell on that crazy train they’re riding.

  “Nice to meet you, too.” She makes a face my way. Is she looking at Wyatt? I bet she’s interested. I’ll have to keep an eye on this one. I can tell she’s—

  “Engaged,” I say without pause. “In fact, I just got engaged.” I flash my dazzling ring her way. It’s an emerald cut diamond encrusted with smaller stones that drip over the band on either side. “I’m sorry. As soon as my fiancé popped the question, I haven’t been able to stop telling people about it. I guess you can say I’m super psyched to make it official.”

  “Oh.” Molly looks momentarily confused. “Well, I’m really happy for you.” She turns her attention to Wyatt once again, and this time she doesn’t bother to hide her disappointment in him. “I suppose my ring is coming soon, huh?” Like he’s ever going to propose. I’ll end it with him before he has a chance to throw me away. Nobody treats me like garbage.

  Thomas frowns her way. Dear God, why does Wyatt put up with her? Sometimes I wonder about his sanity.

  Wyatt gives the top hat a quick shake before holding it out my way.

  “Go ahead.” He nods. “Pick your part, Bizzy.”

  I dip my hand in and stir the papers around a bit before my fingers snag on a ragged edge and I fish out a neatly folded note.

  I quickly unfurl it. Character name—Corella Tinder. Occupation—pole dancer. Role—the killer.

  A breath hitches in my throat as I look to the three of them.

  “Thank you,” I say. “What do I do?”

  Thomas peers at my paper a moment. “You’ll simply introduce yourself to the other characters when it’s time for introductions. There’s a back story on the other side.”

  Wyatt and Molly excuse themselves and head over to a group of women behind me.

  But Thomas leans in with a devious smile curling on his lips. “Congratulations. People would kill for your part. Pardon the pun.”

  “Who do I kill?”

  “Wyatt is the victim.” He shrugs as if he thought it was cheesy. “I’ll sound a bell about thirty minutes in. That’s usually enough time for all of the actors to introduce themselves and their roles to play out—including the death. Remember, your occupation is
a pole dancer. You can’t expose the fact you’re the killer or even hint at it. If I were you, I wouldn’t breathe it until the end when it’s time for the big reveal. Let it be a genuine surprise. Once Wyatt fakes his death, the audience will take a moment and write down who they think the killer is. When you hear the bell go off, head to the back shelf. There’s a butcher knife sitting on a row of books just under the sign that reads cozy mysteries.” He points to the back of the room, and I spot the sign easily. There’s a picture of a cat holding a magnifying glass over it as well.

  “And then what?” I ask, breathless. It’s almost as if a part of me has waited all of my life for this role. Little does Thomas know how hard I’ve been training.

  “The bell will ring again. That’s when you grab the knife and step back to the center of the room and announce you’re the killer. I expect half the audience to get it right. It’s sort of our version of a murder mystery party. It’s fun. We’ve done it a couple of times using different scripts.”

  “Sounds like a good time.”

  “It will be a great time.”

  Thomas takes off, and before long the cast is called to the center of the room.

  Both Emmie and Leo step up beside me, as does Jasper.

  “Who did you get?” I do a little dance as I wait for Emmie to flash her paper my way.

  “My name is Ophelia Drummond, and I’m a successful homemaker.” Emmie frowns as if this didn’t sit well with her. “I want to know how you define successful homemaker.”

  “You bake a mean pie?”

  She waves her paper my way. “More like a mean lemon tart.”

  Leo nods. “And that’s why they’re almost all gone.”

  “What role did you get, Leo?” I ask.

  He flashes his paper my way. “Plumber.”

  Emmie gives a husky laugh. “It’s always the plumber that does it.”

  A crooked grin glides up his face. “I’ll take that as an innuendo.”

  Jasper averts his eyes. “What role did you get, Bizzy?”

  “Pole dancer.” I shrug up at him. “If you’re good, I’ll show you my moves later. How about you?”

  “Would you believe me if I said pole dancer inspector?”

  I shake my head. “Try again.”

  “I’m the arresting officer.” His brows pinch in the middle, giving him that vexingly sexy look that has ten different women sighing in his direction. “I’m beginning to think they’re typecasting this thing.” A naughty smile threatens to ride on his lips.

  “Oh? So you think Emmie is a great homemaker and Leo knows where to put his pipes?”

  He winces. “No, but I do know you have great moves.”

  Thomas gets our attention, and soon enough we’re introducing ourselves as our characters to one another as we slowly build a story world. Wyatt is a land baron who is about to sell out the dirt from beneath a local strip mall and turn it into a landfill, thus sending every character in this murderous play to the unemployment line.

  Mom, Georgie, and Juni each wave to me and offer a thumbs-up once I give my spiel about my new pole dancing gig. The audience laughs when Jasper insists I show up to his private chambers later tonight to demonstrate my lethal moves.

  Little did he know he was giving away a vital clue to the audience, since I will, in fact, prove to be just that, lethal.

  The play runs its course, and before we know it, Wyatt staggers into the room looking deathly pale, the color drained from his face as if there were a real medical reason behind it.

  “Help,” he whispers as if he could hardly get the word out.

  I nudge my elbow into Emmie’s side. “It’s almost as if he’s really in shock.”

  She nods. “You can tell he’s done this before.”

  Wyatt’s hands are clutched over his chest as red fluid curls between his fingers, and he drops to the floor just shy of the middle of the room. The pool of sanguine liquid expands around him quietly, and I can’t help but think that’s going to leave a nasty stain on the carpet.

  Thomas asks the audience to write down their thoughts on who the killer might be, and they quickly oblige before a dark-haired girl with a nametag that reads STORMY runs around collecting the scraps of paper they were provided with.

  A bell rings, just the way Thomas said it would, and the lights go out.

  Wait. Did he say that the lights would go out?

  Oh, never mind. I do my best to stumble to the back of the room by memory and, sure enough, I slap my hand over the sign before I slap my fingers over the butcher knife. It feels wet, warm, and sticky.

  Ugh. I didn’t realize they were going for such good special effects. The bell rings once again and I quickly dart my way through the murmuring crowd with the blade positioned downward—God forbid we have a real accident here tonight, and with me of all people holding the knife. I kick my foot out a bit until I hit something soft, what I’m guessing is Wyatt lying on the floor, and it takes another minute or so for the lights to come back on.

  I hold the knife high in the air as I look down at Wyatt with his vacant stare, his mouth frozen open.

  “I did it!” I shout with a touch of triumph in my voice. “I’m the killer!”

  The room erupts in both cheers and jeers. It looks as if Thomas was right. Half the room seemed to get it right.

  Mackenzie, the infamous Mayor Woods, catches my eye. “That’s our Bizzy,” she shouts. “Always the serial killer, never the victim.”

  A warm round of laughter breaks out.

  Thomas steps up. “Thank you to all who came out tonight to help us celebrate one year of killer reading. Let’s give a round of applause to our fine actors this evening.”

  An applause breaks out and most of the cast takes a bow, but I can’t help but notice that Wyatt is still lying there with that same vacant look in his eyes and his mouth still frozen in that odd position.

  I bend over his body. “You can get up now,” I say as that adorable golden retriever, Gatsby, comes over and lets out a few wild barks. But Wyatt doesn’t flinch.

  “Jasper,” I pant as he comes in close. “I think something went wrong.”

  Jasper drops to his knees and checks for a pulse before shaking his head my way.

  “Oh dear God,” I gasp, garnering the attention of those around me.

  Wyatt Sanders isn’t going to take a bow tonight. His final curtain has already fallen.

  Wyatt Sanders is dead, and I just confessed to a room full of people that I’m the killer.

  Chapter 3

  A sharp scream comes for the crowd as Wyatt’s girlfriend, Molly, falls to her knees just shy of the body.

  “What’s happening?” she shouts at the top of her lungs. “My God, he’s dead, isn’t he?” She looks to Jasper for confirmation and he gives it with a nod. “Why?”

  The poor thing collapses over him and it’s painful to witness.

  Jasper pulls out his badge and waves it high over his head.

  “Seaview Sheriff’s Department,” he shouts as the crowd gasps and mumbles. “This is officially a crime scene. No one is to leave the building without speaking to a member of the sheriff’s department first. We’re going to have some questions for you. Deputy Leo Granger will secure the exit.”

  Thomas Dean, the manager, bolts over, his face looks ashen, his body visibly shaking.

  “What’s happened? This isn’t how the script goes.” He looks down at Wyatt. This is better than any script we’ve ever used before.

  I inch back to get a better look at the man. That was a horrible thought. Come to think of it, he’s shaking a little too hard. It looks more like bad acting on his part. And then it hits me. I’m still holding the sticky butcher knife.

  “Jasper,” I hiss and I look down at the bloody weapon. “Oh my God.” My body bucks at the horrific sight. My right hand is covered with the sanguine liquid, quickly turning brown as it dries over my skin. “I didn’t do it,” I say as the knife slips from my hand.

  Molly
staggers to her feet. “Yes, you did!” she shouts, and the room quiets to a dull whisper. “You announced it to everyone. You were holding a bloody knife!” She looks to Jasper with eyes bulging. “I demand you arrest her. She’s the killer! My God, you took it too far.”

  A petite woman steps up, examining my face as if she were seeing a confession written across my forehead—although she wouldn’t need it. I shouted it from the rooftops.

  “You’re that woman, aren’t you?” The petite girl covers her mouth. Her glossy chestnut-colored hair reaches the top of her shoulders, flat-ironed with a mirror shine. Her tiny lips are caked a frosted pink. “You own the inn. You’re the woman who keeps finding the bodies.”

  “Oh no.” I shake my head. “I mean, I run the inn. I don’t own it. And I have found a few bodies, but—”

  Molly moans like a wounded animal. “She’s a serial killer!”

  “No.” I shake my head in protest just as a swarm of sheriff’s deputies enter the room.

  Mom runs over, her face white with shock. “Bizzy, let’s get you out of here before they tar and feather you.”

  “I agree,” I say as Macy comes up. “I’ll wash you up at Lather and Light.”

  Jasper blows out a slow breath. “I’m sorry, Bizzy. I’m going to have to ask you to stick around. That blood on your hands could be evidence. We’ll have to swab you and take pictures. In fact, stand right here and don’t move.”

  Jasper shouts for the crowd to congregate in the back of the room just as the coroner walks in.

  “That was fast.” Macy shudders. “It looks as if Jasper has the morgue on speed dial.”

  Mom grunts, “He’ll have to if he plans on marrying this one. You keep this up, Bizzy, and he’ll rethink the wedding.”