Page 31 of A Whisker in the Night (Country Cottage Mysteries #29)

M y search for Virtuoso high heels brings up more than just their eye-popping price tag.

It turns out, those ten-thousand-dollar status symbols leave a distinctive V-pattern in their wake—a not-so-subtle homage to their name. I zoom back in on the crime scene photo, and there it is—a larger faint V impression followed by a sharp, tiny V from the heel. And here I wondered if a rat could have left them. I suppose in a way they did. A murderous rat.

“Oh wow.” I shake my head at the sight.

The baby kicks so hard I nearly drop my phone. Either they’re trying to help with the investigation or objecting to the shoe prices. Most likely both.

A flash of hot pink catches my eye. It’s Verity herself power-walking toward the dirt parking lot as if she’s trying to outpace her conscience.

She’s leaving, Fish says with a sharp meow.

You don’t think Verity did this, do you? Jellybean sounds more alarmed than I’ve ever heard her. I mean, she’s awful, but is she a killer?

“I don't know,” I pant, already waddling in pursuit. “But I’m about to find out.”

I’m about to set in that direction when Sherlock Bones bounds our way.

Where are you headed? Sherlock asks with his tail wagging. The floats are still coming! Mayor Woods says the grand finale will have everyone talking for days!

“I don’t doubt that,” I say, still moving toward my hot pink target.

We’re off to catch a killer, Fish yowls after him. You go and enjoy your float. We’re doing just fine on our own.

Don’t go, Sherlock, Jellybean meows. We might need protection. Hamish always said Verity was a loose cannon and couldn’t be trusted.

The baby gives another kick as I pick up speed—which, let’s be honest, is more of a determined waddle at this point.

“Going somewhere?” I call out and Verity freezes mid-stride.

She turns my way and a tense smile curves her lips. “Oh, Bizzy, it’s just you.” She gives a little laugh. “I’m afraid I’ve seen enough for the day. But you might want to find a seat. You look awfully winded.”

“I’m fine,” I reassure her as I finally catch up, sounding as winded as can be. “I love your shoes.” I frown at the lie. I can’t love footwear that costs more than my car. “Funny thing about those Virtuoso heels,” I say, as she kicks one up to inspect it, “they leave quite an impression. Especially in soft dirt... like in the woods where Hamish died.”

Verity inches back.

You didn’t even warm her up! Fish leaps with glee. Way to go for the jugular, Bizzy. You’ve got this.

Sherlock growls. She doesn’t have this. And she certainly doesn’t have a weapon to defend herself with.

That’s where we come in, Jellybean counters.

I like the way she thinks.

The smile on Verity’s face doesn’t waver. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, but too bad because I’m on a roll.

Not only that, but I’m craving one, too. Oh, all right, I’m craving a warm, fresh-baked cornbread muffin slathered with honey butter. I blame Hammie Mae for that.

“The farm was doing terribly under your management,” I continue. “Hamish didn’t have any money. He was trying to shake Matilda down for alimony. You said so yourself.”

Verity gasps and inches back once more.

“Yet somehow you can afford shoes that cost more than most cars,” I point out. Okay, so maybe just my car. “You had been stealing from the farm, hadn’t you? And I bet you’ve been dipping into the funds at the restaurant, too.”

Her lips wiggle for a moment as if they don’t have a clue whether to smile or frown.

“Bizzy, what’s gotten into you?” she says with her tone suddenly as sugar-sweet as her perfume. “Are you feeling well? I thought I had told you all about my success with the Bartender’s Dream.”

“I didn’t forget. But I did hear a rumor that it was more like a nightmare.” And had Verity not appeared so quickly, I would have researched that rumor, too.

The baby kicks in rhythm with my accusations.

Verity belts out a growl. “Oh, that ridiculous lawsuit? Bizzy, those were just a few units that caught fire. I’m going to counter-sue. I’m sure it was faulty electrical in their own homes that caused the infernos and had nothing to do with my units.” She glowers at the sky. I should never have brought that up to her. Leave it to those stupid machines to turn my life into a nightmare.

I glance down at her pricey shoes.

“I bet if I do a little digging, I’ll find out those machines never made any money. You found another way to make some extra cash. Hamish found out you were cooking the books, didn’t he? That’s why the business at the farm was tanking. Hamish wasn’t running it into the ground, you were. After all, those designer clothes weren’t going to pay for themselves.”

Her hot pink lips round out in horror. “You can’t prove anything,” she says, glaring my way. Besides, she muses to herself, I’ll be out of the country before this woman can waddle her way to her thirst trap of a husband and rat me out.

Knew it. I’m also well aware that my husband is a thirst trap.

I nod to the furry among us as if to say we’ve got her.

Verity tries to step around me, but being the owner of a bulging belly has its advantages—namely, being able to block an entire path with minimal effort.

“Running off to the Maldives?” I ask sweetly and watch as her face grows pale. Wait just a minute…” I whisper to myself. “The Maldives ,” I shout so loud you’d think I had been searching for this answer for days. And in a way I have. “You have an offshore account there, don’t you? The name…MH Enterprises—you were trying to frame Matilda!”

Wait—Verity sent the flowers? She suctioned the money from Georgie’s account and maxed out all of her credit cards?

Of course, she did. It was the perfect diversion.

A dark laugh strums from the woman. “Come on, Bizzy. You know Matilda is guilty. Didn’t you see her with that stupid bookend that day at the festival? Do I have to spell it out for you? It was left at the crime scene, for Pete’s sake. Certainly, you can put two and two together. Your sister came into the restaurant a couple of weeks ago and said you’re the best of the best.”

“A couple of weeks ago?” Now it’s my turn to inch back. Hamish hasn’t been dead for a week.

She nods. “She and that hottie she’s dating came in. We got to chatting and I asked them where they were from. Once she said Cider Cove, I laughed and countered with the murder capital of Maine. And that’s when she sang your praises. She insisted you were just as prolific at catching the killers as the killers were at delivering the bodies.”

She knew about you in advance, Fish muses as we both contemplate this.

Verity lifts her chin. As soon as Macy said those words, I knew I needed to divert this wall of hormones away from me. My hacking skills came in handy. Those flowers have been funding my account for months. Send them to someone at the inn and presto—Bizzy is too busy to focus.

“So that’s how it went,” I say, watching her squirm. “You discovered Hamish was onto your embezzling, so you killed him. Then you hacked Georgie’s account to create a distraction in an effort to keep me busy .” A visual of her that day at the festival comes to mind. “You had an oversized purse with you.” A groan escapes me. “You picked up one of those iron bookends because you saw Matilda carting it around. And that’s what you killed Hamish with. Little did you know, the sheriff’s department never released to the public what the murder weapon was. But you knew because you used it. You saw Matilda with a bookend and you grabbed one, too. You thought it was the perfect crime.”

“Yes.” She sighs, dropping her head a moment. “I killed Hamish. I tried my best to frame Matilda, too. I had a knife with me that day, but once I saw Matilda hauling around that ridiculous bookend, I knew what I had to do. I did everything you’ve accused me of. I guess I should have stolen the money from your bank account instead. Then I could have diverted your attention and that of your husband’s. I guess you are as good as they say.” Her smile turns sharp. “But not good enough to stop me. I’ll be in the Mal?—”

“NOT THE BEES AGAIN!” someone cuts her off with a scream and I turn to find Georgie running this way with her hands doing their best to bat a swarm of those tiny yellow and black creatures away, but it’s no use. Judging by that dark storm cloud following her, she’s managed to summon every bee in the Western Hemisphere.

“ Bees! ” Verity lets out a yelp herself. “I’m allergic!”

She runs toward the woods, only to be intercepted by Georgie and that cast of thousands, with each one bearing its own little stinger. Verity screams and runs in a circle while Georgie seemingly chases her, and on their heels run Sherlock, Fish, and Jellybean.

Georgie inadvertently chases Verity right in the direction of the parade.

“Oh no,” I shout as they dart right through the crowd, into the street, and onto a float—and what a float it is!

The massive house on wheels is decorated to look like the Easter Bunny’s vacation home complete with a hot tub filled with plastic eggs. Verity tries to avoid the egg-laden oversized bath, but Georgie’s momentum knocks the woman right into the colorful hot tub, headfirst.

Verity’s legs are left poking up out of the sea of eggs and, well, her skirt has drifted and we’re all treated to a display of a pair of white granny panties.

And Georgie gets pinned against what appears to be the Easter Bunny’s mailbox.

The crowd goes from screams to laughter in one fell swoop.

I shake my head at the sight. It could have been worse. I wouldn’t have pegged Verity for even looking at a pair of oversized granny panties, but then, I suppose she did care about comfort where it counts. And for that I’m grateful.

“Bizzy?” Jasper runs my way. “Thank goodness, you’re safe.” He locks me in a tight embrace before dusting my face with kisses.

“That's her,” I tell him, pointing to the pink pricey shoes trying to stave off the angry bees. “Verity Westoff confessed to everything. She killed Hamish and sent Georgie those flowers, too.”

He ticks his head to the side as he frowns in Verity’s direction.

“That’s why I love you, Bizzy. Only you could solve a murder and catch a hacker at an Easter parade.”

Jasper jumps onto the float and in no time plucks Verity out of her plastic confinement and cuffs her with the real deal.

The baby gives one final kick of triumph and I give my belly a pat.

I guess some people’s Easter eggs are filled with chocolate, and others are filled with justice.

Now to hunt down one more thing—a cornbread muffin slathered with honey butter.