“I thought you said he knew everything.”
“Everything but that.”
“The devil is in the details.” She makes a face as she heads to the sofa.
I waste no time landing across from Shep at the kitchen table, batting my lashes at him, because what’s not to flirt with?
“I’ve got something to share with you,” I whisper.
He leans in, pinning those intense baby blues over mine. “What’s this gift I don’t know about?”
My mouth falls open. I don’t know why I expected him to say anything different—my cabin is smaller than a thimble.
“This gift.” I quickly produce the earring from my pocket, and Shep takes a moment to examine it.
His cheek flickers. “Thanks, but I typically don’t go for something this flashy.”
I make a face. “You’re a riot.”
Pixie mewls at my feet, and once I pick her up, she gets right to sniffing at Shep’s sandwich.
He cocks his head to the side. “And why do I get the feeling you’re hiding something else from me, Bowie?”
“Right.” I scoff as if I meant it. “How many secrets can one girl have?”
His lids hood a notch, and suddenly that kiss we shared a few days ago hangs between us like a secret all its own.
“What’s with the earring?” he asks without a single bit of amusement dancing in his eyes.
“I found it when I went to hose the blood off my hands at the manor. I think the killer may have dropped it.”
His brows pinch, because obviously I still haven’t achieved the grim task of amusing him.
“What makes you think that?”
I take in a breath, ready to spill everything about the blood smeared on the side of the manor wall, just as my not so sweet sister flashes through my mind. Come to think of it, I think it’s best to let sleeping Stephs lie. I’d hate to see her dragged into any of this.
“It’s just a hunch,” I say. “Anyway, you can have it. Take it in for evidence or whatever it is you people do with things like this.”
“You people?” He flexes a dry smile before knocking out the rest of his sandwich.
Now that amused him. Pixie looks up at me with her pale green eyes, and I’d bet ten bucks she just nodded in agreement.
“Keep the earring, Bowie. In fact, I’m betting if you dig around the manor tomorrow morning, you might come up with a matching set. There were a lot of people there tonight. A lot of people in costume.”
Steph hops back and takes a seat between us. “So who did it? Who killed the witch?” She snorts my way. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”
Shep takes a breath. “The investigation is still young.” He glances to his phone. “I’d better get to Woodley. I told Nora I was just swinging by to get your formal statement.”
“Ooh.” Stephanie rests her chin on her hand as she leans his way. “Let me guess, you’re going to land your lips to hers and get it from her telepathically?”
An abrupt knock erupts at the door before Shep can answer. I’ll be honest, I’m not opposed to Stephanie’s line of thinking.
I hop up and hold Pixie close. “If it’s Opal with a hatchet, it’s for you, Stephanie.”
I swing open the door to find a tall, scraggly man with dirty blond hair that looks as if an angry ex got ahold of a pair of dull scissors and went at it.
“Mud?” I inch back. “Did Opal send you?”
He inches back. “Why would Opal send me? I’m here for Lola.” He cranes his neck past me. “We’ve got a date.”
Before I know it, my sister zips out the door with her purse in hand and her feet pressed into a pair of high heels that are tall enough to break every ankle in Starry Falls.
“Don’t wait up for me!” she shouts as she spins back my way. “Leave a high heel outside the door if the detective feels the need to conduct an all-night frisking.”
“You’re hilarious,” I say, but they’re already in Mud’s beat-up truck and barreling down the street. Pixie swipes the air in their direction, and I dot a kiss between her fuzzy little ears.
“Believe me, I feel the same way, Pix,” I mutter as I pull her close.
Shep steps out onto the porch next to me. His spiced cologne wraps around me like an old trusty flannel, and it takes everything in me not to snuggle with him.
He leans against the frame of the door, essentially pinning me against the other side, and for a second, I think he’s going to lay another zinger on me. And, dear God, do I ever hope he’s about to do just that.
“What’s the gift?” It comes from him low, and seductive, and I’m this close to spilling everything I know about the transmundane community and their oddball superpowers.
Pixie mewls as she gently presses her paws over his chest one at a time as if she were giving him a massage.
“I told you,” I whisper. “It was the earring.”
He shakes his head. “It wasn’t the earring, Bowie.” His lips purse a moment. “It’s going to be a long night for me. Nora’s bogged down, so I told her I’d take the case—as in it’s my case.” A smile flirts with his lips, but he’s far too stubborn to go along with it.
“You don’t sound as if you’re up for sharing your toys in the sandbox.”
“My sandbox. My toys.” He leans in dangerously close, and I can feel the heat emanating from his skin. “We’ll talk soon. Be safe, Bowie.” He takes a step backward. “Good luck with Lola. I think you’re going to need it.”
“Amen to that.”
Shep takes off with a wave, and I head back to the sofa where King and Lucky are already fast asleep.
Shep wants me to stay out of his investigation—and he wants in on my big secret.
Fat chance to both.
I glance down at my hands and note the blood still underneath my fingernails.
Someone knows what happened to Hazel Newton tonight, and I have a feeling there’s a certain man-eater who might be able to shed a little light on the situation.
Come tomorrow, I’m going to track down that tigress and see if I can get her to roar out a confession.
Chapter 5
The Manor Café sits just inside and to the right of the entry itself.
The floors are comprised of dark stained wood and look as if every cat in Starry Falls has used them as a scratching post. The counters are chipped, and the black and white checkered wallpaper is wilting right off the walls. Worn-out red Naugahyde covers the booths and stools, some of which are held together with duct tape, and there’s an overall 1950s appeal to the place. Most likely because that was the last time it was renovated.
But the best part is the fall decorations that have gone up. Silk maple leaves are strung up around the counters, and spider webs dangle precariously in just about every nook and cranny—and about half of those were put up on purpose. There’s a two-foot long black widow hanging up above the register, and a happy orange pumpkin dots every single table. Tilly put up a few paper ghosts along the windows, and the entire café looks so cheery I’m half-moved to leave it this way all year round.
It’s been a busy morning, busier than usual. And as much as I hate to admit it, the people who have been filtering through here for the past few hours weren’t here for my mouthwatering breakfast options—they’re here to be regaled with tales from the crypt.