Cat Scratch Cleaver

bit more until her bosom looks as if it’s about to spring right out of her blouse and sock me in the face. “And then I’m going to murder your wedding.”
Sherlock lets out a far more caustic bark this time.
“Shut up,” she snaps. “That’s right, Bizzy. I’m gunning for your relationship. Jasper felt something for me once, and I’ll make sure he feels it for me again. And this time? I won’t have to resort to calling in government forces to put you in a holding tank for freaks like you. Once he sees my sleuthing prowess, he’ll be practically falling over himself to repair what we once had. I’ll be the whole package. Once you and I are on equal footing, the decision to come back to me will be a no-brainer.”
He’s never going back to you. Sherlock Bones lets out a series of riotous barks. Never in a million years. Not for all the bacon in the world. You’re a crazy mixed-up witch. And not a thing will ever change Jasper’s mind. I’ll bite his ankles off if he even thinks of looking in your direction.
“Whoa,” a deep voice strums from behind, and I turn to find Jasper headed this way. The look of worry on his face quickly morphs into an easy grin. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite fiancée.” He pulls me in and lands an easy kiss to my lips before giving Sherlock a pat to the head. “It’s okay, boy.”
“Sherlock, Fish, and I brought you treats,” I say, picking up the pink box.
“How about we head into my office and enjoy ourselves?” His lids hood low as he steals another kiss from my lips. “If there’s time, we might make our way to dessert, too.”
A laugh bubbles out of me as we head into his office. No sooner does he shut the door than I fill him in on Camila’s latest scheme to reprise their relationship.
“You’re kidding.” He closes his eyes a moment. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. I’m not going anywhere, Bizzy. It’s just you for me, forever.” He dots my lips with a kiss and Fish mewls with delight.
“I think she approves,” I say, glancing down at my sweet cat.
Sherlock barks before curling up beneath the desk.
Jasper nods. “I think he approves, too.”
We get back to the serious task of enjoying a few sweet treats by way of kisses.
But in the back of my mind, I can’t help but think I don’t approve of Camila sticking her nose into my relationship or my investigation.
She has to go, on both fronts.
Camila might have a leg up on Heather Kent, but I’ll get to the bottom of this homicide investigation without whatever knowledge she might be holding back.
I don’t need Camila Ryder.
And thankfully, neither does Jasper.

Chapter 7
The Country Cottage Inn is bustling this morning with guests checking out as they leave their seaside vacations and head back to real life, while others speed their way to the reception desk with a spring in their step in anticipation of their upcoming stay.
Grady Pennington and Nessa Crosby, my two most faithful employees who work the registration desk with me, are taking care of the guests, while I keep an eye on Peter Olsen and the handful of people from his crew as they scout the entry just outside of the inn for an upcoming scene.
It’s blazing saddles hot out today. If the inn weren’t a part of yet another homicide investigation, if the guests weren’t coming and going at an accelerated clip, I would put on my bikini and hit the sand myself. There’s nothing like summer out on the cove. The sky is powder blue, and the air is perfumed with the flowers in bloom.
Fish and Sherlock trot over with their furry faces pointed up in my direction. They’ve been happily threading their way through the film crew, getting all of the attention they hoped for, and hopefully picking up on a bit of gossip that might help move Heather Kent’s investigation along.
Bizzy—Fish makes a sound that mimics a sneeze—the two women by the refreshment table mentioned the poor girl that died.
Sherlock barks. They said something about a wedding.
I make a beeline in that direction. It’s so hot out, I had the groundskeeper, Jordy Crosby, set it up for the guests and crew alike. Jordy is my bestie’s brother and my ex-husband of less than twenty-four hours, no thanks to some dicey whiskey and an even dicier trip to Vegas.
I spot Jordy near the tall three-tiered fountain set out to the right of the inn. Jordy has dark hair and stunning icy blue eyes. He’s the town’s go-to womanizer, which perfectly explains why Camila Ryder is standing a bit too close, running her claws through his hair and laughing at whatever he’s telling her. But I can see right through Camila’s wily scheme. She’s just using Jordy as an excuse to be at the inn. I bet she’s looking to snag that fictitious part in the movie I told her about at the sheriff’s department. Not only that, but I can practically see her imaginary P.I. cap trying to fit over that inflated ego.
An incredulous huff thumps through my chest.
As if Jasper would ever be foolish enough to fall for her ridiculous sleuthing scheme.
My feet quicken me in the direction of the refreshment table as I spot both Faith Grayson and Kiki Woodley locked in what looks like an earnest conversation.
I pour myself a glass of ice-cold lemonade and resist the urge to dive into one of those s’mores bars that the café set out as a complimentary treat. They look softened by the heat and the chocolate is glistening. I’ll be honest, that only makes me want them more. There’s nothing like a warm chocolate treat no matter what the weather. But instead, I sip my lemonade, casually inching my way closer to the women beside me.
The word reception catches in the air and I decide to run with it.
“Hello,