I’m onto him. My detective husband is determined to keep me in crowded, well-lit areas on purpose tonight—probably because he’s learned that Bizzy Baker Wilder plus isolated locations equals trouble with a capital T and a side of homicide.
We wind our way through the festival, stopping occasionally for compliments on our costumes and for Ella to receive her fair share of adoration from cooing festival-goers.
We find Emmie and Leo in the gazebo, which has been transformed into a storybook cottage complete with fake gingerbread trim and candy decorations.
Emmie looks lovely as Red Riding Hood in a red velvet cloak over a blue dirndl-style dress with a lace-up corset, her dark hair loose around her shoulders with a single red ribbon.
Leo’s woodcutter outfit consists of flannel, suspenders, and an impressive (but safely blunted) prop axe that suggests he’s either very prepared or has concerning hobbies. And seeing that we’re knee-deep in a murder investigation that involves blunt objects, I’d say they were playing with fire.
Meanwhile, baby Elliot makes an absurdly cute wolf in a furry gray onesie with an attached tail, pointy ears on the hood, and little felt claws on the mitts.
“Look at you guys!” Emmie rushes over. “Ella makes the most adorable vampire I’ve ever seen! I’ve always suspected the three of you were monsters.”
“And Elliot is the least threatening wolf in fairy-tale history,” I say, bending down to coo at him in his stroller. “I’m pretty sure Red Riding Hood would have just pinched his cheeks instead of running away.”
“That’s the plan,” Leo says with a grin. “Disarm the villagers with cuteness, then go for their turkey legs when they’re not looking.”
We arrange ourselves for photos—the monster family with the fairy-tale family, babies front and center like the main attractions at the world’s most adorable horror show. The photographer, a gangly teenager dressed as a zombie with impressive special effects makeup, directs us through various poses with surprising authority for someone whose brain is supposedly rotting.
“Bride of Frankenstein, tilt your chin up! Woodcutter, axe over the shoulder! Monster, look moremonstrous!”
I catch sight of Hammie Mae across the lawn, bouncing baby Matilda who appears to be dressed as a tiny bee, complete with a striped onesie and antennae headband. Hammie Mae herself is in a beekeeper’s costume, her strawberry blonde curls peeking out from under the netted hat. Our conversation at the chocolate farm has been playing on repeat in my mind, especially her casual comment about us possibly being sisters.
Honestly, I can hardly stand the suspense. If she knows something, then she owes it to me to tell the truth.
I turn my head a notch and spot Hazel weaving through the crowd. Her costume, on the other hand, is pretty elaborate—some kind of steampunk ghost hunter with brass goggles, a corset over a Victorian-style outfit, and what looks like modified paranormal detection equipment strapped to her waist. She stops to speak with Buffy, who’s dressed as a classic librarian-turned-zombie, complete with a book cart prop. And by the looks of it, their conversation appears intense, with Hazel gesturing sharply and Buffy looking increasingly uncomfortable like someone who’s just been told their favorite book is out of print forever.
Fudge, who’s been happily accepting pets from passersby, freezes as he spots Hazel and Buffy. He tugs at my hem with his teeth.
Bizzy,he thinks urgently,did you ever find out about Buffy’s secret? Heath said she had a whole fake identity. That’s why she was so scared of him. He said he found her old driver’s license with a different name and everything!
“What?” I break free from my pose to gawk down at him. This is new information—and potentially significant. If Heath wasblackmailing Buffy about a hidden identity, that’s a powerful motive for murder.
But why in the world would she need a new identity?
I’m about to make an excuse to investigate when the sound of breaking glass cuts through the festival noise. Everyone turns to see Georgie standing amid the shattered remains of what was once the apple bobbing station, her witch’s hat askew, and her flapper costume thoroughly soaked. True to my prediction, she’s taken down not three butfourmen in the aftermath, all of whom are now sprawled in various states of dampness around her like casualties of a very wet war.
“I meant to do that,” Georgie shouts to the gathering crowd. “It’s a performance piece calledThe Witch’s Water Landing! And guess what? I didn’t melt!”
Mom sighs from the sidelines where she was snapping her own pictures of us. “I’d better go help her before she decides skinny-dipping is the logical next step in her performance piece.”
I nod. “It so would be.”
Mom hurries off to manage Georgie’s latest disaster, and I spot Hazel slipping away from Buffy, heading toward the haunted house with purposeful strides. Buffy watches her go with a look of worry etched across her face.
I wonder what that was about.
Jasper’s phone pings before I can say a word. He lifts the screen and I watch as his features smooth out.
“Everything okay?” I ask, bouncing the baby as I lean in.
“It might be better than okay. The phone company just opened Heath Cullen’s phone and handed over all the info I requested.” His lips twitch as he glances at Ella. “I’ll be back in just a few minutes. I’m not missing out on her first Halloween, I just need a second to peek at those files. I’m going to head to the cottage for a second. Try to behave,” he says with a wink, but I can tell he means it.
I’m about to interject, but before I can think of something clever, he’s long gone. And in a whirlwind that suggests coordinated grandparent scheming, Gwyneth and my father scoop up my tiny little vampire and trot off to the midway to try to win her a stuffed vampire of her own. Oddly enough, they’re dressed as vampires, too.
Why do I get the feeling Ella was their inspiration? Either way, she is definitely the leader of their coven. She seems to be their inspiration to do just about anything these days. And I can’t say I blame them. She’s pretty inspiring.
Macy walks by dressed as what I can only guess is a pinup girl with a red dress that shows far too much thigh and a plunging neckline that shows, well, pretty much everything else.
