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which shows off the budding little pouch in which she’s housing my niece or nephew. Mackenzie announced she was three months pregnant as soon as they came back from their shortened honeymoon. Their little bundle of joy—or if it takes after Mackenzie, bundle of terror—is due to arrive in September. And I can’t wait to cuddle with it.

“I feel great,” she says. “In fact, I’m here to have lunch with my handsome husband. Sorry to hear about the implosion of your marriage, Bizzy. I’m sure Hux will be happy to help you out—for half his typical fee.”

“Half?” I stifle a laugh. “I’m sorry, but if I were to get a divorce, I’m sure my brother would help me out for free.”

“Free?” She laughs at the thought. “Sorry to break it to you, Bizzy, but we’re shopping for a house,” she smarts. “And we have college tuition to think about now. I’d suggest if you want to save a dime, you might want to overlook your husband’s philandering ways and give his mistress the boot.”

A flood of words dams up in my throat and I choke on them.

“Jasper is not cheating on me.” I shoot Georgie a look that phrases those exact words into a question. She’s the one who doesn’t miss an episode of Camila’s Gossip Gal hour, not me.

Before Georgie can so much as give me a wink, Emmie appears in our midst holding out a platter of those fresh baked pistachio pudding wonders of hers.

“Cookies?” She extends the platter and Mackenzie groans at the sight of them.

“Why are they green?” Mackenzie no sooner gets the words out than she lets out an egregious belch. And in one quick move she plucks open Juni’s wonky quilt tote and pukes in it.

“I guess she’s not feeling so great after all,” I say as I turn to Hux. “Just a heads-up, our mother might make you want to puke. She dove into the deep end of the cyber dating pool. You might want to check in on her now and again. She’s acting erratically.”

“Good to know,” he says, patting Mackenzie on the back.

“Bathroom,” Mackenzie says as she zips right past us and into the back of the inn.

“Wait!” Juni calls out, holding her bag out before her. “You forgot your breakfast!” She takes off after Mackenzie, and Hux gives a long blink my way.

“I’d better get in there,” he says. “I knew she wasn’t quite up for bopping around town, but Mack wanted to show the townspeople she’s feeling fine.”

My phone chirps and I pull it out. “It’s a text from Jasper.”

Georgie leans in. “What does it say?”

“It says he won’t be home until late.” My lips move feverishly as I quickly read every word. “Patterson Higgins didn’t die of natural causes.” I take a breath and hold it. “He was murdered.”

“I could have told you that.” Georgie swats me. “What do you think the killer dragged him to the inn for? This is the it place to knock off your enemies. I hope my enemies take note of it.”

I shake my head down at my phone. “He says he needs to speak to Jordy since he was doling out the wine last night.”

Hux clucks his tongue. “Sounds as if Jordy might need to lawyer up. I’ll head in and touch base with him. And I’d better find my wife while I’m at it, or I’m the one that might be needing a divorce attorney. I’ll see you ladies later. Stay out of trouble, Bizzy. Jasper was not giving you a license to investigate this case.”

We watch as he disappears into the inn.

“The heck he wasn’t,” Georgie says, stealing Fish from my arms. “Now which one of you kitties is coming with us to track down a suspect?”

Sherlock barks. What about me?

Georgie rolls her eyes at the sweet cats. “Men. Can’t live with ’em, can’t enjoy bacon without them.” She plucks a handful of salted meat from her pocket and tosses it his way. “So who are we drilling and grilling first, Bizzy? The butcher? The baker? The candlestick maker?”

“The one that got away.”

Hadley Culpepper is the very first suspect on my list. I’m gunning for you, Hadley.

But the real question is, are you gunning for my husband?

Chapter 5

It turns out, Hadley Culpepper has chosen to eschew all social media.

I get it, she wants her privacy after living in the limelight for so many of her younger years—at least she said as much in an old interview I was able to dig up. But it’s made tracking her down nearly impossible. After I drop Clyde off at the vet—and terrify Fish and Sherlock by proxy—I head back to the inn and decide to sort the mail until I can find a way to sink my claws into Hadley—just the way she managed to do my husband last night.

An entire thicket of people step into the foyer of the Country Cottage Inn and my trusty employees get straight to work checking them in while Sherlock gets straight to greeting them. Fish barely lifts an eyelid their way as she lazily whips her tail back and forth by my side.

I quickly scan the crowd in hopes by some miracle Hadley has wandered back to the scene of the crime—and by crime, I mean the attempted abduction of my husband—or at least his mind.

For the life of me I can’t imagine what they were arguing about. In all the while I’ve known that man, I have never seen him that animated. He has never so much as raised a crooked eyebrow at me, let alone his voice. What if he’s got some dark side that only Hadley is privy to? Would I really want to know about that?

My gut churns as I look to the faces of the guests at hand. Most of them are pink from too much sun, but not one of them belongs to her. My eyes snag on one face in particular, and I drop the mail I’m

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