Cat Scratch Cleaver

so sorry. We have the air conditioner on, but the doors are wide open for the crew and equipment.”
She glances out those opened doors and shudders. “Don’t ever apologize for anyone. Least of all Peter.” She gives a quick wink as she picks up her bloody project and takes off.
I make my way around the counter to break up Camila’s accost-your-ex-boyfriend party, but I don’t see them standing off to the side anymore. Instead, I spot Jasper talking to Leo and Emmie. Leo and Jasper used to be good friends up until Leo snatched Jasper’s fiancée away. The fiancée in question would be Camila Ryder, the vampy ex that keeps popping up onto the surface of our lives like a stubborn cork.
I’m about to head their way when Georgie and Macy step before me.
My surly sister plucks Fish right out of my arms.
“Come here, you,” she bleats as she gives a caustic look around. “They say pets and small children are chick magnets. I think I’ll check to see if it works the other way around.” Macy dyes her dark hair blonde and wears it in a blunt cut just above her shoulders. Her icy blue eyes are always on the hunt for a male victim to grace her presence with, and this moment is no different. She starts to take off then backtracks. “Oh, and Mom says she’s open for wedding dress shopping this Saturday. They serve mimosas at those kinds of places, right?”
I make a face in lieu of a response and she waves me off.
“I’ll bring my own liquor,” she whispers to Fish just as Bates Barlow comes barreling back in this direction and bypasses us.
Macy fans herself with her fingers in his wake, and I can’t help but avert my eyes.
He’s way overhyped as far as I’m concerned.
Georgie links her arm to mine as her bright pink kaftan brushes up against me.
“So what do you think of Milk of Magnesium, P.I.?” She nods over to the older man in the Hawaiian shirt she was seated with during taping. Normally, the moniker she just gifted him might be an insult, but coming from Georgie, I think it’s a compliment.
“He looks decent. Is he normal?” I shoot her a wry look and she swats me.
“Now what would I want with normal? Darby Atwater is out of his ever-loving mind, and I’ve lost ahold of my good senses because of it. He’s an artist, Bizzy, just like me. In fact, he said he’d come down to Main Street tomorrow and get a look at how my mosaic is coming along.”
Almost a year ago, Mayor Woods invited Georgie to be a part of the Cider Cove beautification project and she’s allowed Georgie to create an expansive mural on the retaining wall that takes up the lower portion of the street. It’s made up almost entirely of sea glass and broken pottery that Georgie herself finds along the coast, right here in Maine.
“Speaking of your mural, how’s it coming along? It looks as if you’re almost finished.”
Georgie’s created a succinct snapshot of life in coastal Maine with pictures of the shoreline and large seagulls soaring above sparkling sandy beaches. She’s even got a gray stone structure that represents the inn, not to mention miniature people and a bright big orange sun.
Georgie grunts, “Mayor Woods wants it wrapped up by September.”
“That’s still a couple of weeks away.” Believe me, I know. My wedding takes place in September, and I’m counting down the days until I become Mrs. Jasper Wilder.” Mrs. Bizzy Baker? Baker Wilder?
“A couple of weeks away?” Georgie squawks. “Oh, it might as well be tomorrow. Where else am I going to find a job that pays by the hour? With the kind of money I’ve made from that beautification project, I could have retired.”
“You still can.” And I don’t want to break it to her, but she essentially is. Prior to the project, she was selling sea glass necklaces at craft boutiques about once or twice a year. If she sold a dozen necklaces, she called it a boon.
“No, I can’t. There’s still a lot of artistic get up and go left in these bones. I’m not ready to hang up my hammer. Besides, I just can’t do it,” she says as Sherlock Bones trots up.
I’ve lost Fish! He lets out a sharp bark. I think someone’s taken that cleaver and they’re about to chop off her tail. Quick! Tell Georgie to fill her pockets with bacon and we’ll go looking for her.
I’m about to translate to Georgie, since outside of Leo and Jasper she’s the only other person who knows about my strange ability to pry into people’s minds, but something she said stops me from doing just that.
“Georgie, why can’t you retire? What happened to all the money you’ve saved from the beautification project?”
She clucks her tongue. “I’m giving it all for the cause. Darby’s opening a night club for the senior sect called Silver Shufflers.”
“Who’s Darby?” So many questions—I’m not sure why I started with that one.
“It’s Mr. Milk of Magnesia, P.I. You really don’t pay attention, do you?” She pulls a piece of bacon out of her pocket and gives it to Sherlock. “Come on, kid. I can tell by that look on your face you’re worried about your furry little girlfriend. Let’s go find her.” She takes off with Sherlock before I properly gag or shake her to keep from giving her retirement fund to the Hawaiian shirt wearing shuffler, or hustler as he’s turning out to be.
I’m about to head on after her when a familiar spiced cologne engulfs me, and I’m pulled into the strong, capable hands of the most handsome man in all of Maine—oh, what the heck. If I’m being honest, the entire universe.
“Let me guess”—I pull Jasper in—“you’re here for Heather Kent?” I bite down over my lip. Just about every male who works at the inn has come around to get a look at the newfound local celebrity.
His