Fish jumps up onto the white marble counter and yowls. This is just too many bodies you’ve found, Bizzy. And you were caught holding the knife.
I shudder at the thought. I told both Fish and Sherlock what had happened as soon as I took a long, hot shower last night. Suffice it to say, they weren’t too impressed with their grisly bedtime story.
Fish is a long-haired black and white tabby that I found about a year ago and we’ve been closer than sisters ever since. She’s sassy and funny and intuitive, like she is now, for instance. She seems to understand more than enough that the fact I got stuck holding the knife isn’t going to work in my favor.
Grady Pennington and Nessa Crosby, my two trusty employees who help out at the reception counter, step in and wish me a good morning.
“Morning,” I say. “Not sure if there’s anything good about it.”
Nessa gasps, “So it’s true? You found another one?”
Nessa is a dark-haired beauty. And Grady is a dark-haired Irish demigod, or so the young girls say. They both stepped into their roles here at the inn right out of college, and I hope to keep them around a while longer. I’d need a team of people to replace them if they ever left.
Before I can answer, Grady shakes his head. “She didn’t just find the body—she killed the body. My brother filled me in on what happened.” He shakes his head my way. “You’ve got the worst luck.”
They’ve both donned their signature hunter green vests along with their matching brass nametags. Of course, I’m wearing mine as well. The inn doesn’t have a strict dress code, but the vest and the nametags are a must.
“I can’t argue with you there,” I say. “I’m not exactly a horseshoe these days.” I shudder at the thought. “Anyway, we’re expecting a couple of family reunions this weekend, so the influx of new guests will be brisk.”
Nessa snorts. “And I’m guessing you’ll be busy trying to get yourself off the suspect list. Don’t worry, Grady and I can handle it. I’ll probably bring Peanut to work with me if you don’t mind. He doesn’t like it when I’m gone long hours, and I would swear he misses Fish and Sherlock.”
Sherlock lets out a bark and Fish mewls Nessa’s way as well.
She shakes her head as she marvels, “It’s like they know what we’re talking about.”
“Oh, they know,” I say. Peanut is an adorable black and white pooch that Nessa adopted last fall after a tragedy struck his owner. I glance to Fish and Sherlock. “They also know I’m in deep trouble.”
Grady inches back. “You’re not in trouble, Biz. We know you didn’t do it.” He tips his head to the side. “Unless, of course, you did it.”
Nessa ceases all movement as she waits with bated breath for me to admit or deny my innocence.
“I didn’t do it.” I don’t hesitate to say it either. “But that’s not going to stop the people in this town from judging me.”
Nessa waves me off. “The people in this town have been judging you ever since you married Jordy for less than twenty-four hours. Personally, I’d rather be known as a killer.”
Speaking of my wily ex-husband, Jordy Crosby, Nessa’s cousin and my best friend Emmie’s older, questionably wiser, brother, waltzes in with his torn jeans and dirty T-shirt and a tool belt around his hip. Jordy is the head groundskeeper and general handyman at the inn. I much prefer being his boss than his ex-wife. Our short-lived nuptials were due to some bad liquor and an odd trip to Vegas. I guess you could say neither of us hit the jackpot during that trip to Sin City. And just for the record, we didn’t sin, nor did we consummate our marital charade. Thankfully, my brother Hux helped me untangle that legal knot soon after I created it. He was fresh out of law school, and I like to say I gave him something to hone his chops on.
“Hey, Bizzy.” Jordy frowns over at me and still manages to turn the heads of a group of women who just walked in after him. Jordy isn’t just a looker, he’s a womanizer, too. It’s sort of a one-two punch as far as bad relationships go, and Jordy has had an entire string of them.
I head his way as Nessa and Grady get right to work booking the crowd that just walked through the doors.
The inn’s interior is laden with dark mahogany wainscoting. The floors have a gray and white marbled look to them and were redone just before I came aboard about five years ago. I think it gives the place an old-fashioned rustic appeal that’s just perfect for our seaside corner of Maine. Out in the back, the inn butts up to a white sandy cove, and we have our very own café attached to that end of the building where you can sit on the expansive patio and feel as if you’re a part of the action on the beach.
Jordy has dark hair and the same icy blue eyes as Emmie. I’ve never thought of him in a sexual way, partly because he’s Emmie’s brother and partly because he felt like mine, so that whole wedding thing sort of came out of left field.
“Bizzy.” He shakes his head. “You know I consider you family. What the hell is going on? Did you really kill someone?”
I’m quick to hush him. “Would you keep it down? The last thing I want to do
