Page 5 of A Whisker in the Night (Country Cottage Mysteries #29)

T he early morning light streams through the inn’s floor-to-ceiling windows, catching on the sparkly Easter eggs dangling from pastel ribbons and making them dance like disco balls.

The marble reception counter where I’m checking out the last of our overnight guests is adorned with a centerpiece of chocolate bunnies wearing tiny bowties, surrounded by candy-filled baskets and artfully arranged spring flowers. There’s even a ceramic bunny family that looks suspiciously like my own family (complete with a pregnant mama bunny, a cat, and a dog).

The Country Cottage Inn isn’t just any coastal Maine establishment—it’s the grande dame of hospitality, rising proudly against the crisp Maine sky with its stately white walls covered in climbing ivy and trimmed with those signature bright blue shutters I insisted on keeping when I took over. With over seventy rooms in the main building and three dozen charming cottages dotted across the rolling grounds like cute little Easter eggs in a basket, we’re practically our own little village here.

Jasper and I happen to call one of those cute little cottages home, as do Emmie and Leo just down the winding path from us, and even Georgie has taken up permanent residence in one of the cottages on the property.

There’s something magical about coastal Maine in any season, but spring might be my favorite—though don’t tell that to the fall foliage. Every morning when I open up these doors, I still can’t believe this place is mine, even if it does occasionally double as a crime scene.

Have I mentioned that the back end of the inn butts up to the sandy cove? Yes, we’ve got beachfront property with unbelievable sunrises and sunsets.

The Country Cottage Inn is a dream come true in every way—with the exception of the rash of homicides. In that respect it’s been a bit of a nightmare.

My little one gives an insistent kick, and I know exactly what they want. More chocolate bunnies.

I eye the display on the counter with a twinge of guilt. You’d think after yesterday’s tragedy I’d be put off by chocolate bunnies for life, but apparently my baby didn’t get the memo—and neither did my appetite.

The fact that one of these innocent bunnies was used to take a man’s life should give me a pregnant pause. But then again, the one used to kill Hamish wasn’t actually edible, so I suppose that makes gobbling up my weight in chocolate more than okay.

A furry parade bounds toward me—Fish, Sherlock, and our newest addition, Jellybean. It turns out, Hamish’s sweet black and white cat is just as adorable as her name suggests.

She took his death pretty hard at first, but as soon as Fish and Sherlock convinced her that I would find his killer in no time, her devastation turned into steely resolve.

I’m going to claw their eyes right out of their sockets, Jellybean announces rather proudly, adjusting her pink bow with one delicate paw.

It’s clear the murder is still on her mind. After all, it’s been less than twenty-four hours.

Fish gives an approving nod. That’s the feline spirit. Though maybe we should start with something a little less messy. Like their shoelaces.

Don’t even think about it. Sherlock gives a soft woof while pausing to sniff at a basket overflowing with—ironically—jellybeans. Let’s let Jasper handle the investigation. We’ll just supervise from the delicious sidelines. He steals a few jellybeans for himself and makes quick work of them before I can reprimand him.

Don’t listen to the big oaf, Jellybean, Fish mewls with a twitch of her whiskers. It’s going to be Bizzy who solves this case. That’s just the natural order of things around here.

I’d contest the fact, but there’s no point. Up until now, that’s exactly how it’s been. I’m horrified to say that we’ve had an entire string of homicides near and around the inn for the last few years. Personally, I’m shocked people still want to book a room, seeing that their odds of landing toes up in the morgue skyrockets simply by setting foot onto the property.

I’m about to remind Fish that I’m truly leaving this one to the professionals—meaning Jasper—when Grady and Nessa return from their break looking slightly more disheveled than when they left.

These two have been in the honeymoon phase of their relationship for so long, I’m starting to wonder if it’s a permanent condition. Not that I can blame them—young love is sweet, even if it does occasionally involve making out in the supply closet.

Both Grady and Nessa have worked with me for years. Grady is a dark-haired looker of Irish descent, and Nessa is actually Emmie’s cousin. Nessa, too, has dark hair and gorgeous features and is as easygoing as the rest of her relatives.

“You’ve got lipstick on your neck,” I whisper to Grady as he passes.

He grins with a look that is completely unabashed. “And it was worth it.”

The front doors swing open and in walks Emmie, my sweet yet waddling bestie, looking like a spring garden come to life in her pink daisy-printed sundress, her belly seemingly bigger than it was yesterday—and honestly, that’s hard to believe.

In her hands is a tray of what looks like pastel candy Easter eggs and I can only hope she’s about to offer them all to me.

She weaves her way through a maze of Easter displays—towering chocolate bunnies wearing pastel bowties, baskets overflowing with bright green grass and foil-wrapped eggs, and what appears to be an entire family of topiary bunnies that someone has adorned with floral wreaths (that someone would be me).

It’s safe to say I’ve gone overboard with the decorating around here. But I can’t help it. I just love any and every holiday.

“Chocolate peanut butter eggs, anyone?” Emmie laughs as she sets the tray onto the marble counter. And thanks to the guests nearby, as well as Grady and Nessa, half the tray disappears in no time.

The baby gives another swift kick to my ribs and I gasp. Clearly someone has inherited their mother’s chocolate radar.

Time for your hourly chocolate fix . Fish observes from her perch near a particularly elaborate Easter basket with polished pink and gold eggs.

At this rate, the baby will come out in the shape of a chocolate bunny , Sherlock adds with a woof.

Ooh, that would be delicious, I muse to myself.

We get lots of babies at the restaurant, Jellybean says. And believe me when I say, they’re not as quiet as chocolate bunnies.

“That’s for sure,” I mutter under my breath.

“These are my latest creations,” Emmie says as she pulls the platter my way. “Easter peanut butter chocolate eggs in every pastel shade imaginable. White chocolate dyed pink, green, blue, and yellow. Go on and have one or six.” She nudges the platter my way once again.

“I don’t need to be told twice,” I say, popping one into my mouth as Grady and Nessa swoop in once again like chocolate-seeking missiles before turning to help a new wave of guests who are oohing and aahing over our Easter wonderland.

I take a bite into one and moan. “Oh my goodness,” I say as the baby does a little wiggle and a jiggle. “I think my baby just did a backflip from sheer joy. Though that might be the sugar rush from the three chocolate bunnies I had for breakfast.”

“Speaking of joy…” Emmie’s eyes light up as she adjusts a tilting Easter lily to my left. “You’ll never guess what Leo’s mother gave me as a little babymoon gift.”

A babymoon would be a respite that a couple takes before the baby is born, and believe you me, Jasper and I are taking this little vacation-like detail quite seriously. Although I’m already feeling too big to actually leave the state of Maine, or Cider Cove at the moment. In fact, I’m feeling the size of the state of Maine or Cider Cove at the moment. I doubt I’ll be anxious to pack a bag come August.

“Don’t keep me in suspense,” I say. “What did you get? A cruise? A trip to Hawaii? A trip to the actual moon?” I tease. “Here’s hoping it’s made of cheese for you.” I give a little wink and she shakes her head.

“A spa gift day for two couples! And she wanted me to let you know that it’s for you and Jasper, too.”

I nearly choke on my second chocolate egg. “Oh, that’s so sweet of her! Wow, I can’t wait. When? Where? How long will this bliss last? And how far do we need to drive to get there?”

“Actually, it’s coming to us.” She laughs, absently rubbing her belly. “I get to schedule it. How does tonight at my place sound? That way you can see where I’ve hidden all the loot from my baby shower. And Leo and I have been adding new touches to the nursery every day.”

Tell her you want to see the stuffed bunny collection , Jellybean pipes up. I spotted at least twenty through the window when Fish and Sherlock took me on a tour of the grounds this morning.

I nod at the cute little kitty. “We’ll be inspecting every inch of that place,” I assure her before turning to Emmie. “I’ll let Jasper know. We wouldn’t miss it.”

I can’t help but smile at the thought of Emmie’s over-the-top baby shower that was held right here at the inn just last month. Between the custom-made cake that looked like a sleeping baby made by Emmie herself (slightly creepy, yet delicious), the mountain of designer baby clothes, and enough baby gear to stock a small department store, it’s safe to say her baby shower was a hit. Not to mention she could probably open her own baby boutique at this point.

A group of guests pauses near the giant Easter egg topiary set by the counter, and while they start snapping selfies of it and the pets as if their lives depended on it, I help Emmie wolf down what’s left of her chocolate peanut butter eggs. And oh my word, a new addiction slash craving is born just like that.

“Speaking of mothers and mothers-in-law”—I start—“which grandmother-to-be is claiming squatter’s rights in your guest room?” I ask while sneaking another chocolate egg.

Emmie shoots me a look. “This is exactly why I shouldn’t have upgraded to a three-bedroom cottage. Both our mothers have threatened to move in permanently—and they both live in town!”

I can’t help but laugh. “Better you than me. I’m staying put in my two-bedroom. You’re going to have one serious baby war on your hands in no time,” I tease, adjusting the pink satin bow on a nearby chocolate bunny. My own little one gives another kick, clearly offended that I’m touching the chocolate rather than eating it. “I’m lucky in the mother-in-law department because despite having five children of her own, Jasper’s mother isn’t all that maternal.” I give a contented sigh at the thought. “And well, my mother has her hands full with baby Mack.”

That tiny human is a menace, Fish meows. He tried to smash his beanie onto my head last week until I was forced to run for cover. He was determined to suffocate me. I lost at least six of my nine lives.

It’s true. I’ll have to keep a better eye on my sweet nephew when he’s around Fish. But the joy on that sweet boy’s face was unforgettable. Besides, Fish survived and we even got a few cute pictures of her wearing his beanie while pinned strategically in Mack’s little chubby arms. I’m going to frame them they’re that hilarious.

Baby Mack is the son of my brother, Huxley, and his surprising choice of a bride, Mayor Mackenzie Woods. The fact that my brother married my former nemesis still gives me whiplash. Hux has always been a renegade that way.

But baby Mack has been the light of our lives since he arrived. He’ll be two this fall, and somehow his existence has made me actually like Mackenzie a little more. Mostly.

A commotion erupts at the door and interrupts my thoughts as my sister Macy sweeps in, managing to knock over a display of cellophane-wrapped Easter baskets in her wake.

Her sweet Samoyed, Candy, prances dutifully by her side like the fluffy cloud on a leash she is, complete with bunny ears because she is indeed the queen of every season.

Candy stops short. What’s this I smell? Her bright pink nose twitches, her furry little neck jerks around, and once she spots Jellybean, chaos erupts and the chase is on.

Suddenly, fur zips in every direction at once as barking ensues, yowling pierces our eardrums, and the entire foyer explodes with both laughter and screams from our guests.

But that doesn’t stop Macy from stomping my way looking lean, mean, and dressed for success in a sharp powder blue pantsuit. Speaking of renegade siblings.

“Get ready to meet your maker, Bizzy Baker,” she growls. “Because I’m going to end you.”