Georgie shakes her head. “Everybody does. But never mind the obvious. How are we going to track down this sexy Tiger?”
I make a face at her. “I don’t know.”
Fish yowls as Mackenzie steps into our midst, Don’t let her make another suggestion, Bizzy. She already threatened to turn both Sugar and me into a fur stole.
Sherlock barks at the menacing mayor. Nobody turns my cats into a stole—whatever that is.
“Oh hush.” Mackenzie scowls at him. “It’s bad enough Gwyn and Hux have decided to have you, of all creatures, stand up as the best man. And yes, you’ll be wearing a tux.”
Hear that? Sherlock leaps and barks. I’m going to be in the wedding!
“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.” I give him a quick scratch on the back. “I always knew we made a good team.” I guess Gwyn couldn’t choose between her four sons. And my father’s only son is actually having a wedding of his own. In the grand scheme of all the wedding chaos, it makes perfect sense. In fact, Sherlock Bones in a tux might just be the crowning jewel of that entire night.
Mackenzie glowers my way. “Now what’s this about Tiger Caldwell?”
“You know him?”
Of course, she does. She’s the mayor. She knows just about everyone. Note to self: Utilize my sister-in-law-to-be as a resource to hunt down future suspects. At least she brings something to the family table. I’ll admit, it takes the edge off our impending familial bond.
“I don’t, but your brother does,” she says. “He introduced me to him the night of the killing.”
“Well then”—Macy sheds a greedy grin my way—“it looks as if we’ll have to speak to our sweet brother to arrange an impromptu meet and greet with my shiny new Valentine. With a name like Tiger, I’m sure I won’t be disappointed.”
Sugar lets out a hearty growl. She’ll be disappointed, all right. Bobbie never had a nice thing to say about Tiger.
My entire body perks to attention as I snatch up Sugar.
“I’d better change,” I say as I whisk her away to the dressing room. “Sugar, tell me everything you know about Tiger Caldwell.”
She lifts her tiny pink nose my way. I don’t know much, but I do know that he came by the Buckinghams’ house more often than not. He liked the cuddler, I think.
“Keegan Merritt?”
She nods. That’s right. And he was always whispering to Chip about something concerning money. They never looked happy.
“What about Bobbie? Were they friends?”
No, not friends, but Bobbie mentioned him once or twice to Lacey. Something about a train.
“A train? Interesting. The mystery surrounding him only deepens. I can’t wait to see what he has to say.”
Diane wasn’t sure what Tiger did for a living, but she seemed to think he was loaded. The day of the killing, Lacey mentioned that she thought he might be a bookie. Right after that, she made it clear internally that she wanted in on that action—with her body, of course. And Keegan was seen having a conversation with him after the murder took place.
But it’s the fact I saw Tiger and Chip going at it before the murder took place that lands him as a suspect on my list.
Tiger Caldwell is shrouded in mystery.
And that’s one mystery I’m determined to solve sooner than later.
I might be wearing a disaster of a dress for Huxley’s wedding, but I’m about to ask him to return the favor in advance.
Let’s hope Tiger Caldwell roars out a confession of murderous proportions. Or in the least, points his paw right at the killer.
Either way, whoever killed Chip Buckingham is destined to end up in a government-issued cage.
Chapter 11
“All aboard!” a man in a retro version of a conductor’s uniform, complete with coat and tails, shouts as he swings from the platform of the goliath steam engine with one hand.
It’s less than six hours after Macy and I shook our brother down to arrange a meeting with Tiger Caldwell, and here we are doing our best impression of the steampunk era with dresses Macy rented for us all—and that includes Georgie, Juni, and Mackenzie as well.
Jasper gives my hand a squeeze. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Bizzy. You’re quite the asset to any investigation. I don’t think I could have scored tickets to the hottest club in Bangor.”
“It was all Hux,” I say, slapping my brother on the back.
Not only does Tiger run a successful portfolio management company, but he’s the owner of this steampunk party train and a regular at the party scene himself.
Both Huxley and Jasper are wearing their requisite dark suits along with the top hats Macy rented for them. In fact, most of the men present are sporting coats and tails and odd-looking ties. A few of them even have monocles. But the women are the true showstoppers with their bustles and their endless ruffles. Each of our dresses is made of thick brocade in a rainbow of black, silver, and deep purple. My own dress is a heavenly shade of deep purple that cinches at the waist and flares into a river of fabric that pools by my ankles.
Hux leans my way, a serious demeanor taking over his face. His dark hair is slicked back, and his eyes shine bright as the sky in this dim light.
“Play nice with Tiger. He’s not only my buddy—he manages my portfolio. Don’t tick him off. My fiscal future is in the bounds.”
Mackenzie grunts my way, “Do not screw this up, Baker. I have my eye on a house that overlooks the water, and it’s not exactly free.”
Macy gags. “You’re buying a house together?” She looks to Hux. “So you’re like serious about this whole thing?” she asks, flicking a finger between the two of them.
“Yes.” Huxley’s eyes bug out for a moment. “We’re getting married. This is not a drill.”
“Oh.” Macy’s jaw goes rigid. “So that whole humiliating Bizzy thing is real.” A laugh trembles through her. “Again, I’m thankful
