Cat Scratch Cleaver

her tongue. “I caught me a live one last night at the taping.”
Faith lifts her brows. “It sounds as if you made off better than poor Heather.”
Kiki shudders. How can she be so cold-blooded? A person died. Heather was slaughtered, and Faith’s practically making a joke out of it. I can’t wait to get out of my contract with these people. Maybe I’ll move to New York and find another cold-blooded group to work with. It’s about what I deserve at this point.
I nod to Faith. “Thank you for letting me know that you plan on finishing the film. The inn and the grounds around it are yours for as long as you need them. If you need any rooms or if anyone wants to rent a cottage, I can arrange that.”
The inn has several dozen rooms, and, in addition to them, the expansive grounds are dotted with more than several dozen cottages. I happen to live in one and Jasper happens to live right in front of me in another. I guess it’s time to start thinking of where we’ll live once we make it official. So much is going to change. And poor Heather, nothing will ever change for her again.
Faith nods. “You bet I’ll let you know. I’m sure we’re fine, though. Most everyone on the crew is local.”
I lean in. “So what’s the word with the crew anyway? Who do they think could have done something like this?”
Faith and Kiki exchange a glance.
Kiki clears her throat. “There is a rumor that a certain person who was close to her lost his temper.”
Faith looks irritated by the thought. Wow, Kiki, why don’t you just throw Peter under the bus?
“Peter?” I whisper, inadvertently playing off of Faith’s thoughts.
Faith closes her eyes a moment. “I guess it wasn’t a far leap. Anyway, we’re not sure about anything. We’ve decided it’s best the sheriff’s department conduct their own investigation. We both did our interviews with the detective, and it’s up to them to put this puzzle together.”
I examine their faces. They’re both so stoic, it’s almost strange. Why would anyone cover for something like this?
“I see,” I whisper. “Did Peter do anything yesterday that made you both suspicious?” They don’t need to know that speaking to me is just as good as talking to the homicide detective himself.
“Well”—Kiki glances around as if she were expecting him to be lurking nearby—“He was edgier than usual. I heard him arguing with Heather just before the shoot. About what, I don’t know, but Heather said she had enough.”
Interesting.
Faith casts a quick glance to the counter, in the exact spot where I saw her wiping down those prints last night—or at least that’s what I’m guessing she was doing.
“I saw him just as the room drained last night,” Faith whispers. “You would think he would have been the first down there to see what was going on. He went to the kitchen and said he was thirsty.”
Sherlock comes over wagging his tail. I bet that’s when he washed his hands, Bizzy. I saw him do it. I asked him for bacon and got nada in return. He was too busy soaping up his arms.
Soaping up his arms? Sounds like he was getting ready for surgery. Or perhaps just finished butchering his lead actress to death.
“I bet Peter is laying low today,” I say, mostly to myself before perking up and feigning a weak smile for the two of them. “It’s a trying time, I’m sure. Do you think he’s around the inn?”
Faith shakes her head. “Oh no, he’s long gone. I’d say he went home, but home for Peter has been a warzone as of late.”
Kiki lifts a finger. “I know for a fact he likes to hang out at a place called Slick Willy’s. It’s a bar that pretends to be a restaurant. They’ve got a lounge where creative types like to go after work and complain to one another.”
Faith nods. “That’s right. He reads scripts there. He says it’s the only place his wife doesn’t bug him.”
Poor Jane. Faith shakes her head. If anyone would have told me there would be a body yesterday, I would have guessed it would be Peter’s—and with Jane at the other end of the cleaver.
After what I witnessed last night, that wouldn’t have shocked me either.
The register clears up and the two women head down to order their breakfasts.
Georgie leans my way, bobbing her head and snapping her fingers as if her favorite song just filtered through the speakers.
“Would you believe me if I were to tell you I was about to take Juni to lunch at Slick Willy’s this afternoon?”
“No,” I deadpan.
“Well, you should because that’s exactly where we’re heading.”
“That’s funny. It’s exactly where I’m heading, too.”

Chapter 5
Slick Willy’s is exactly as classy a joint as its name suggests it would be.
The place itself is located about twenty minutes outside of Cider Cove in a scruffy town called Edison. I’d say there are not a lot of attractive things about Edison in general, but I’m guessing the men ogling all of these interestingly dressed women might disagree.
Georgie, Juni, and I just stepped into the small, boxy building that hosts this catastrophe, and I’m still not sure if it’s a bar, restaurant, pool hall, coffee shop, or discothèque. Clearly, Slick Willy’s is in the middle of an identity crisis because by the looks of the mishmash taking place, it’s all of the above.
It’s dark inside, which makes it feel like midnight despite the fact it’s the middle of the afternoon, black wooden floors, no windows, and crimson walls with lots of framed pictures of beautiful women strewn all over.
Raucous country music bleats from the speakers, and it smells like the hot dogs and pizza that those scantily clad waitresses are hauling around on platters. Not exactly a Michelin five-star restaurant, but judging by the name, I wasn’t expecting it to be.
The establishment itself is expansive inside. There’s a left wing and a right, and