I give a hard blink and hold my breath without meaning to.
“No, no, no,” I whisper as every muscle in my body freezes solid.
Verity zips by me like a hurricane as she speeds out of the back of the room and into the snowy night.
But I don’t waste any time. I pluck out my phone and text Noah to get down here as soon as humanly possible. I’m not going to sit by passively and wait for something nefarious to play out. I know exactly what that furry little beast represents—death—and he or she may as well be wielding a sickle.
Speaking of the dead, a trio of ghosts materializes before me, and their little cat, too. It’s Greer Giles, her boyfriend Winslow, their adopted daughter Lea, who’s about six and as creepy as they come with that machete swinging from her wrist, and their sweet cat Thirteen. All of them met some unfortunate fate, and all of them have been happily haunting my mother’s B&B ever since.
“Do something, Lottie,” Greer snips. Greer is a pretty brunette who was killed a few years back with a gunshot to the heart on Valentine’s Day. Last year, Winslow threw her a party to celebrate her very first death day. She’s still wearing the same white ruched gown she had on that fated night, and that red stain still sits on her chest like a necrotic rose. “Cormack and Cressida have turned this B&B into a shell of its former self. It’s garish and ghastly, and if their bad sense of style and poor decision-making skills keep up, we won’t be able to stick around for long.”
“It’s true, Lottie.” Winslow Decker, her two-hundred-year-old boy toy, nods. “It’s a budding bordello. I’ve never seen so much pink in my life. I say we place a moratorium on the acrid hue, for another year at least.”
“I rather like it,” Little Lea snips. Lea is forever six, has long stringy hair combed over her face, wears a dirty pinafore and scuffed Mary Janes, and has vowed vengeance over those who have slaughtered her family. She’s a spirited spirit who isn’t afraid to use that sharpened weapon in her hand.
Thirteen hops up and sits on top of my belly, and lucky for me, I can’t feel a thing. His black fur gleams and sparkles under the duress of the chandeliers up above. And as his mouth opens, tiny little stars spray from it.
“Don’t worry about a thing, Lottie,” he mewls. “We’ll do our best to frighten those women right off the property.”
“I’m not sure it will do any good,” I whisper his way. “They happen to own the property.”
His furry little head twitches. “Once we’re through with them, they won’t even ask for a refund.”
Here’s hoping.
Both Thirteen and Lea look sharply to their left.
“A mini bear!” Lea shouts.
“A koala,” Thirteen corrects.
“I can’t wait to chop him to bits.” Lea stalks off with her weaponry poised to do just that.
“I’d best warn the creature.” Thirteen sighs as he scampers off after her.
Greer sucks in a quick breath. “Do you know what this means? Oh, great news! There’s going to be a murder. This is perfect.”
Winslow nods. “I’m ashamed to agree. Death is never good PR, and all week Cressida and Cormack have been hounding your mother regarding good PR. The best we can do is cheer the Grim Reaper on while he hunts down one of the blonde biddies.”
“We can’t cheer anyone’s death,” I say as Verity stalks back into the room. “Not even Cormack’s or Cressida’s.”
“Let’s get this party started!” Verity whoops as the music dies down and a hot pink spotlight falls over her, as the rest of the room grows dim.
Bambi Bailey steps in close to her with a plate full of raspberry tarts and Verity snatches one from her.
“Don’t you dare try to step on my harmony,” Verity snips.
“Step on her harmony?” Winslow shakes his head and Greer nods his way.
“It’s probably some new slang way of saying she’s imposing on her spotlight,” she tells him.
I’m guessing Greer is right.
Verity chomps down half the raspberry treat as a crowd begins to gather around the two of them and the din of voices grows quiet as if they were expecting to be entertained, and I’m betting they will be. The tension between those two women is palpable.
Verity pumps a fist into the air. “Welcome one and all to the Love Your Selfie Soiree!” she bellows the words out as the room breaks out into cheers.
A couple of blondes trot her way, breaking their way through the crowd, and I can’t help but frown over at them. It’s Cressida and Cormack, the blonde ditzes themselves.
“It’s the Love Your Selfie fest!” Cormack steps forward as she addresses the crowd. “And don’t forget to tag the Rendezvous Luxury Resort in all of your social media posts! We have the exclusive Razzle Dazzle Day Spa, which features ionic footbaths, seaweed wraps, hot cupping, mud baths, and an espresso bar that stars a male barista we flew in from Italy that also happens to be modeling the latest in Italian silk boxers!”
The crowd breaks out into titters of approval.
“Good grief.” Winslow sighs. “Let’s hope he’s not serving coffee in his skivvies.”
“Oh, he is.” Greer nods as if she were sure it was a fact.
The man in an ill-fitting suit, the same one I saw arguing with Verity when I walked into the room, makes his way to the front. He has dark hair, a wide forehead, an elongated face in general, and his body looks stiff with muscles.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” he bellows and
