Page 30 of A Whisker in the Night (Country Cottage Mysteries #29)

H ammie Mae Westoff appears here in the clearing just shy of the Hip Hip Parade taking place down on Main Street this sunny and warm Easter morning.

Hammie Mae is resplendent in a floral maternity dress that looks as if it belongs at a quintessential garden party. Her strawberry blonde locks are curled around her shoulders and her freckles give her that fresh-faced look that only seems to age her backwards.

The baby kicks and I warm my hand over my belly protectively.

After all, Hammie Mae Westoff just admitted to killing her father.

“What are you talking about?” Matilda snaps at her daughter. “You didn’t kill anyone.”

Hammie Mae closes her eyes for a moment too long and both Fish and Jellybean groan at the sight.

I’ll admit, Hammie Mae looks pretty guilty at the moment.

“I confronted Dad in the woods at the festival,” she blurts out with tears already streaming down her face. “I asked him why he destroyed our family, and all he could say was that Mom was bent on destroying him .” She growls in a fit of frustration. “That man never took responsibility for anything!”

Her hands cradle her baby bump protectively. “We argued. He was upset. Just before I left, a tree branch hit the ground right next to us. He said it could have killed us or hurt the baby.” Her voice cracks. “And I—I said I wished it had killed him.”

I gasp at the thought. Those darn eucalyptus trees! It sounds as if they picked a fine time to self-prune.

Oh my goodness. It could have killed both of them—the three of them—and it would have been all my fault.

Matilda reaches for her daughter as fresh tears begin to fall.

“I didn’t mean it,” Hammie Mae cries out. “But I left and he stood there in the woods. The only reason he stayed behind was because I had upset him! Don’t you see? Another branch must have fallen and it did indeed kill him.”

The baby gives a sharp kick as if trying to help me find the right words.

“Hammie Mae”—I say gently—“you didn’t kill your father, not even in the way that you think. He wasn’t killed by a falling branch.” Thank heavens. “The detective, my husband, found the murder weapon. I’m not at liberty to say what it was, but you need to understand—you had nothing to do with your father’s death.”

I shoot a quick look at Matilda once again in hopes of a confession and she straightens as if she’s just been electrocuted.

Fish gives a little jump. I think she’s going to confess!

We’ve got a killer on our hands, Jellybean yowls.

Matilda shakes her head as if she heard. “That leaves Verity. She had that exorbitant life insurance policy out on him—everyone knew about it—and she needed every last dime.”

“She did?” I blink in surprise. I didn’t know about it. “But I thought she was doing well. I mean, she mentioned making a fortune with that fancy drink machine of hers.”

“The Bartender’s Dream?” Matilda laughs as if it was a joke. “More like the Bartender’s Nightmare. The devices have spontaneously combusted so many times there’s a class-action lawsuit against her. She went cheap on the construction of them. The woman is as money-hungry as they come.”

My mouth falls open. How did I not know that? I must be slipping up. I blame the constant fatigue and brain fog. The old me would have researched the machine long before I was standing here.

“She’ll skip town,” Hammie Mae predicts while wiping her eyes. “She killed my father and now she thinks she’s going to get away with it.”

“I don’t think she’s going anywhere.” I shake my head. “She mentioned buying another home, a smaller one right here in town. She said she couldn’t bear to live in that big old house she shared with your dad. It’s too painful.” Wait, did Verity say it was in Cider Cove? I think she may have inferred it. I blame my pregnant brain for not committing the details to memory. “Nonetheless, she has the Celebration Grill to run. She’ll be local regardless.”

Matilda snorts a laugh. “Please. She’s not buying a smaller home. She bought one twice the size. I had lunch with her real estate agent two days ago, who happens to be my friend. She just sold Verity an estate in the Maldives.”

The baby kicks so hard that I gasp. “The Maldives? Why does that sound familiar?”

Hammie Mae shrugs as she holds her belly. “I’m sorry, Bizzy, but I’ve got to get some food in me. I only ate two of the four breakfasts my little one seems to require. I’m starved.” She links arms with her mother. “Come on, Mom. They have cornbread muffins at the bakery and I’m craving one slathered with honey butter.”

“ Ooh ,” I say, suddenly craving one myself. I can’t help it. I’m a sucker for honey butter.

I watch them go, wondering if I just let the killer walk away.

What do you think, Bizzy? Fish mewls. Or more to the point, what did they think? Did they do it?

“Matilda still hasn’t admitted to guilt,” I say. “But she’s still my prime sus—” The word gets cut off in my throat as something catches my eye. “These footprints,” I say, pointing at the slanted cutouts in the soft spring earth below. “Oh my goodness, I just remembered there were footprints at the scene of the crime, two of them.” I glance up and see the slanted footprints match up with Hammie Mae’s boots. “I guess that confirms what she said. She was at the scene of the crime.” I gasp. “Wait a minute… There was another set of footprints there that day.”

I pull out my phone and check the photos I took of the crime scene that day.

“I was right,” I pant. “There were two sets of footprints around the body and leading away from it, too.”

The baby does a complete somersault as I zoom in on the image of that second set of footprints and suck in a quick breath.

If I’m right about these footprints, I know exactly who the killer is.

Looks like someone is about to have a very unhappy Easter—and it’s not the bunny.