Emmie leans in. “Let me talk to Camila first. We have less friction in our relationship.” But so help me God, if that woman so much as looks at my man sideways again, she’ll be feeling some major friction, all right—with my fist.
A tiny laugh bubbles in me.
Emmie is the last person to resort to physical violence, but people seem to be a lot more animated in their mind than they come across in real life—and thankfully so.
We spot the abomination of desolation seated in the holy of holies—her desk situated right across from Jasper’s office. I can’t help but frown at her.
Camila’s hot pink lips glow against her perennially tan skin. Her hair surrounds her like a majestic chestnut-colored lion’s mane, and she’s wearing a cute cowl neck sweater dress in the perfect shade of burnt orange just for fall.
She glances up momentarily before getting back to her work.
“What now?” she snips.
“We’re here to turn that frown upside down.” Emmie opens a box of her to die for jack-o’-lantern hand pies and slides it across Camila’s desk. “We were just popping in to see our men”—as in not yours—“and thought we’d bring you a few treats to brighten your mood.”
“Yeah,” I say, quickly scooping up Sprinkles into my arms, aka my secret weapon of cuteness, and positioning her just right so Camila can take a gander at all the adorable fuzzy wonder. “And look who’s here to say hello?” I wave over at her with one of Sprinkles’ paws.
Sherlock nuzzles his way around my knees. Don’t tell her I’m here, Bizzy. The woman is a shrew. Leo himself said so once. And even though I’m not entirely sure what a shrew is, I think he’s right.
My lips twitch because Leo has never been more right.
Fish lets out a tiny mewl. I don’t care what she thinks about me. I’m going to stare her down until she’s too uncomfortable to look at me. If I were her cat, I’d glare at her all day long.
“I don’t care about Blair’s fleabag.” Camila snaps up a hand pie and snarls our way.
Sprinkles huffs, Well, I certainly don’t care for her either. Especially not after the way I saw her treating my Blair. All of that yelling and screaming, I could tell right away she wasn’t a very nice woman.
Thanks to Sprinkles, I know for a fact they argued.
“I’m still the number one suspect,” Camila grunts through a bite. “I may be free for now, but Jasper suggested I lawyer up. That was my staff they found behind her body, and I know for a fact it will have my fingerprints on it.”
Emmie leans in. “What about that blood on your hand?”
Camila gives a sideways glance. “Well, it wasn’t my blood. They’re running tests. But I swear on my grandmother’s grave, if it comes back that it belonged to Blair, I’m going to find whoever is setting me up, and then I’m going to murder them.” Her eyes flash with fire as she sheds a wicked grin, and all three pets whimper on cue. I can’t blame them. I’m half-tempted myself.
“All right, Camila,” I say. “You have to tell me everything you know about what happened last night. If you didn’t kill her, who do you think did?”
“I’m sorry.” She leans back with a semi-amused expression on her face. “Did I miss the part where you flashed your badge my way and told me I was about to undergo an interrogation?”
Emmie scoffs over at her. “I can’t believe you. If there is one woman who can prove your innocence, it’s this one. If I were you, I’d be more than a little grateful she would even bother having a conversation with you after the way you’ve treated her. Everyone knows Bizzy is better at tracking down a killer than every homicide detective and sheriff’s deputy in this building combined.”
Someone clears their throat from behind, and we turn to find both Jasper and Leo shedding wry smiles.
“Oh.” Emmie gasps. “Hand pie?” She’s quick to land a box in each of their hands before smacking Leo on the lips with a kiss. “Now where exactly is this new office of yours? I don’t believe we’ve christened it properly.” She whisks Leo off, and I’m left to wonder why I haven’t christened Jasper’s office just yet myself.
“Detective.” I bite down on a smile as I look up at my handsome husband. “Care for a hand pie?”
“In a bit.” His brows furrow. “What’s going on?” He offers Sherlock a quick pat.
He’s onto you, Bizzy! Sherlock barks. That’s my Jasper. Nothing gets past him.
Fish lets out a tiny hiss. You mean nothing gets past Bizzy. She’s always ten steps ahead of him.
Sprinkles whimpers. I bet that’s why he’s lost his appetite for hand pies.
Camila taps her pen against her notebook in an effort to garner our attention.
“I’m afraid it was me she came to see, Jasper. It seems your little wifey is obsessed with playing the whodunit game.”
I scoff over at her. “Is that what you call your freedom? A game? Good luck to you then.” I look to Jasper with a new resolve as I raise my right hand. “I, Bizzy Baker Wilder, hereby solemnly swear that I will not inject myself into Blair Bates’ homicide investigation. I will not trace a suspect. And should I bump into one in the wild, I will refrain from questioning them in any capacity that might lead me on the path to find the killer.” I turn my head toward Camila. “Contrary to popular opinion, I prefer to leave the investigative side of life to my perfectly capable husband. Now if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got an office to christen.”
Jasper’s lips curve at the thought. “Now that’s something I can get behind.”
