So itistrue!
Well, that explains Hazel’s nervous energy and her eagerness to point fingers at everyone else. Nothing like a good old-fashioned blackmail scheme to muddy the investigative waters.
Hammie Mae glances at her watch and grimaces as if she were late to her own execution. “I need to get back to work soon. My mother’s dragon mode kicks in if I’m late from break, and trust me, you don’t want to see Matilda Westoff when she’s in full business owner fury. She could kill if she gets angry enough.” She hesitates, then leans forward once again. “Look, I know I’m probably overstepping, but be careful with this investigation stuff, okay? Heath had a way of making enemies, and whoever killed him clearly isn’t playing around.”
“I’ll be careful,” I promise, touched by her concern. And a part of feels it wassisterlyconcern.
She nods, shifting Matilda back to her shoulder to burp her. “You really are lucky, you know. Having Jasper, I mean. A partner who’s there for you and the baby...” She trails off wistfully. “That’s something special.”
“It is,” I agree, feeling suddenly guilty for my good fortune when she’s clearly struggling to do everything alone.
“We should get together for a playdate sometime.” Hammie Mae brightens at the thought. “The girls should know each other growing up. Heck, I bet they’ll be as close as cousins!”
She laughs and my mouth opens, but not a sound comes out.
She shrugs. “Plus, I could use some mom friends who understand what it’s like to function on two hours of sleep and still have to be a productive human being to boot.”
“I’d love that,” I say, and I mean it wholeheartedly—especially now.
She stands to leave with Matilda securely in her arms, then pauses. “Oh, and Bizzy? Your friend with the fake mustache might want to try for a more convincing disguise next time. My security team’s been watching her since you arrived.” She flashes a mischievous grin. “The only reason they haven’t escorted her out is because I told them to stand down.This time.”
With a wink, she’s gone, weaving back through the tables toward the main floor of the shop.
I sit there, nursing my cooling cocoa and processing everything I’ve just learned while my brain tries to sort through the implications. Heath was putting pressure on multiple people—Hammie Mae about her land, Buffy about some unknown secret, and Hazel about her fake paranormal evidence. The man was basically running a blackmail operation disguised as ghost hunting.
And Hammie Mae’s casual comment about us potentially being sisters...was that just a throwaway joke, or does she suspect something, too? In a town where family secrets seem to multiply like rabbits, nothing would surprise me anymore.
I glance down at Ella’s sleeping face, so peaceful and unaware of the complicated web of family secrets, potential murder motives, andchocolate-covered chaos she’s been born into. She and Matilda really could be cousins—family—without anyone knowing it.
“Come on, sweet pea,” I whisper, carefully adjusting her blanket and preparing to navigate our way back through the chocolate wonderland. “Let’s go rescue Georgie before she ends up with another community service sentence. We’ve got a lot to think about.”
And a killer to catch—possibly one with ties closer to home than I ever imagined.
CHAPTER 19
Ipush the stroller back toward the gift shop area right here in the chocolate barn at Westoff Farms, while my mind spins faster than a Halloween pinwheel in a hurricane.
Could Hammie Mae really be my half-sister? And if so, does her mother know more about Heath’s murder than she’s letting on? Because apparently, discovering potential siblings and solving murders is just my average afternoon now.
The sound of raised voices pulls me from my existential family crisis. I round the corner by a towering display of Halloween gift baskets and freeze in horror at the scene before me—a scene that could only be described as Chocolate Apocalypse: The Georgie Edition.
Georgie, with her fake mustache now tilted at a severe angle, is standing precariously atop a step ladder that definitely wasn’t designed for senior citizens in orthopedic shoes. She’s reaching for something on the highest shelf of the chocolate display, while my mother stands below, holding what appears to be Georgie’s hat filled with assorted chocolates.
Oh, good grief. It looks as if my mother has finally caved and is completely sucked into whatever scheme Georgie is cooking up now. A daredevil scheme no less.
“Just a little more to the left,” Mom whispers, looking nervously over her shoulder as if they’re planning a heist instead of committingwhat amounts to chocolate larceny. “The limited edition Haunted Mansion chocolate set is right there!”
“I can almost reach it,” Georgie grunts, stretching her arm so far, I’m afraid she’ll dislocate something vital—or at minimum, require physical therapy. “These babies are going for eighty bucks a pop on eBay. That’s highway robbery, if you ask me.”
“Georgie,” I hiss, hurrying forward, trying to stave off a natural disaster. “What are you doing?”
“Paying my respects to fine craftsmanship,” she snips back without looking down. “This isn’t stealing. It’s chocolate appreciation.”
“From a display markedDo Not Touch?” I point to the sign directly below her, written in what I’d consider extremely clear lettering—the kind that usually prevents lawsuits and insurance claims.
“Signs are more like suggestions,” Georgie says, as her fingers close around a small chocolate haunted house. “Besides, they should thank me for testing their security systems.And I got it!”
Her cry of triumph turns to one of alarm as the ladder wobbles beneath her like a drunken sailor. In slow motion—the kind you see in disaster movies right before everything goes spectacularly wrong—I watch as Georgie, the ladder, and the entire display sway in unison. For one hopeful moment, it seems like everything might stabilize.
