Cat Scratch Cleaver
agree. “It’s no wonder this Leo person has glommed onto you. You’ve bewitched him with your baking skills.”Emmie belts out a laugh. “I won’t lie. Not a day has gone by since we’ve been dating that I haven’t plied him with one of my creations.” I want to add—believe me when I say, Leo Granger knows how to get very, very creative with my sweet treats, but I’m guessing Bizzy wouldn’t find it as amusing as I do. I have no idea what it’s going to take for her to fully accept us. She said she would, but it always feels as if she’s holding something back when we bring him up. I can’t put my finger on it. There’s an elephant in the room, and for the life of me I can’t figure out what it could be.
I make a face.
That elephant just so happens to have the ability to pry into her private thoughts.
If they get serious enough, I’ve already decided to tell Emmie about my secret. She’s going to think I’m a monster for keeping it from her for all these years. That right there is the real reason I almost can’t stomach the thought of going through with it. And on another note, once she discovers that I’ve let her mind ramble freely in front of a man capable of micro-analyzing every little thought, she just might kill me.
I look to Faith and Kiki, desperate to change the subject from Leo Granger and those things he does to my bestie with her innocent desserts.
“Champagne, anyone?” I ask brightly. “It’s free.”
No sooner do I say the magic word than the four of us migrate over and quickly imbibe.
Georgie, Mom, and Gwyneth have split apart an equal distance as they peruse the delicious, creamy gowns among us. Gwyneth is eyeing something white with sequins and the thought of her wearing white to my wedding makes me twitchy.
Macy tops her glass off before linking arms with Emmie.
“Come on, Em.” Macy pulls her out of our circle. “Let’s find something slutty to wear to Bizzy’s big day.”
Faith glances around. “Should I put Camila in something slutty?”
“Heavens no. She’s praying you’ll do just that.” I take another nip off my drink. “I say choose something matronly.”
Kiki chuckles. “Something that she’ll swim in, with a high neck.”
“And puffy sleeves,” I add.
Faith squints toward the back. “I think I see a hoop skirt. Excuse me, ladies.” She takes off and I top off both my glass and Kiki’s.
I look over at her. “How’s the morale on the set?”
She makes a face before knocking back half her drink.
“You know, it’s funny you should ask. Faith and I were just commenting on the way over it’s as if no one really misses her.”
“Oh.” I inch back at the odd statement. “I guess she was just another co-worker then. It’s not like anyone was really close on set.”
She rolls her eyes. “Peter was plenty close to her. Bates was close to her. Just about every grip and soundman was itching to get into her pants. And I have no doubt she would have been willing to give them all a turn. She was loose and didn’t bother to hide it.”
“I sort of gathered that myself,” I say it just above a whisper. “I guess the sheriff’s department can rule out a man,” I tease. “I mean, she seemed to work hard to please them.”
Her chest ripples as she swallows down a laugh. “Maybe, but I think it’s obvious a man did it.”
“You do?”
She takes another sip of her drink and nods. “I heard the killer really went to work with that cleaver. Most women don’t have the upper body strength to pull something like that off.”
“I guess I’d have to agree. I heard it was pretty rough.” Spine severed, ribs broken, not to mention the organ damage. “Whoever did it was pretty angry with her.”
“Peter was angry. Bates argued with her. And she mentioned she has someone watching her.”
“I heard that,” I whisper. “There was even mention of a ghost.”
Her eyes widen with what looks to be delight. “I guess you really do learn something new every day.”
Faith comes back with a wall of a dress that meets all the high neck, puffy sleeve, hoop skirt criteria. And the pièce de résistance? A series of corrugated fans are sewn onto the bustle of the skirt to transform any woman’s hips into what essentially amounts to a landing strip.
“Oh, it’s perfect.”
Faith angles her ear our way. “So what’s the gossip? What did you ladies learn?”
I glance to Kiki before leaning in. “Heather thought she was being stalked by a ghost.”
Faith gags on a river of words. “So that’s what she meant.”
“That’s what she meant by what?” My heart thumps wildly as I step in close.
Faith gives a quick glance around. “The day she was killed she mentioned that she felt a dark presence, that she had a stash of sage at home—that she didn’t feel safe.”
“Wow.” I try to take it in. “It’s almost as if she knew the killer was closing in.”
Oh, she did. Faith curls her lips. I’ve never seen anyone jumping out of their skin the way she was. But then, I’m not saying a word. The last thing I want is to have the sheriff’s department sniffing around any more than they already are. Bizzy is dating—engaged—to the lead detective, after all. Everything we say can be misconstrued twelve ways till Sunday. I’d hate to give the impression that I had anything to do with this mess. She glances to the ceiling.
“Wait a minute,” she says. “I asked Heather about the sage. I thought it was a joke, and she said she had an entire altar of sorts in her bedroom to chase the evil spirits out. She said she saw a spiritus years ago to keep the wickedness away.”
Kiki shrugs. “I guess it didn’t work.”
“I guess it didn’t,” I say.
They ante up at the register, and I continue the hunt for the