Butchered After Bark

has proven harder to get rid of than head lice. “It’s nice to meet you, Blair. If I can help you in any way, please let me know. And who’s your little friend?” I ask, giving the sweetie in her arms a quick scratch between her ears.
“This is my baby girl, Sprinkles,” she says, dropping a kiss to her forehead.
Oh, so today I’m her baby girl? Sprinkles looks up at her owner. I believe she called me a little devil this morning when I was gnawing on her shoe. It’s not my fault it smells of top grain rawhide.
A tiny laugh strums from me.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you both,” I say.
“Likewise.” Blair glances to the counter. “And Emmie, your jack-o’-lantern hand pies are to die for.” She dashes over to a platter brimming with miniature pies in the shape of jack-o’-lanterns and scoops one up. “And the pumpkin pie filling is magical. Have a great night, ladies,” she says as she zips for the door. As soon as Dr. Feel Good gets here, I know I will.
Dr. Feel Good? I avert my eyes at the thought. And as much as I’d like to analyze that one, I don’t have the time.
“Oh, Bizzy”—Emmie winces—“don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad. I’m—bewildered.”
Georgie rattles that haunted doll in my face and I jump.
“All right, Biz. Time for you to check out this circus.” Georgie links her arm through mine. “Let’s find Sherlock Bones. He’s outside paw-trolling the grounds.”
“I guess I should check things out. Technically, this is my circus, and like it or not, tonight these are my zombies.”
“Are you ready, Bizzy?” Emmie takes me by the hand. “It’s time for your biggest frightmare to begin.”
No truer words were ever spoken.
Why do I get the feeling they’re about to prove prophetic as well?

Chapter 2
The month of October has always held a very special place in my heart. Not only is fall one of my favorite seasons, but Halloween ranks right up there with Christmas as far as holidays are concerned.
It’s dark out, and the air is scented with cotton candy and sugary sweet churros, along with mulling spices from the hot apple cider. The sound of scary Halloween music blares from the speakers set out over the meadow, as we’re treated to haunting organ music, only to be interrupted by the intermittent sounds of screams, a creaking doorway, and the ever intimidating ghostly howls.
Throngs of people clog the cobbled walkways as they struggle to get through the gates that lead into what from now on will be known as my biggest frightmare.
Lucky for me, Emmie leads us right up to the front where Jordy, my aforementioned short-lived ex-husband, lets us right into the nexus of the chaos.
“Hey, Bizzy!”
Jordy waves while surrounded by a group of girls dressed in skimpy costumes that show more skin than fabric. Jordy has on a furry hat of some sort and has fur lining his arms. I’m guessing he’s a werewolf. Jordy has been known to be a playboy, and with his dark hair and blue eyes, it seems he’s always swimming in a sea of estrogen. Let’s just say, moon or no moon, he’s no stranger to howling late into the night.
Jordy cinches an easy smile as he looks my way. “Enjoy the honeymoon? On second thought—don’t answer that.”
“Still wish I was there,” I say as Emmie leads Georgie and me into what was once a peaceful meadow and has now fully transformed to resemble the inner circle of Hell.
Hay is strewn haphazardly all over the ground. There are mummies, zombies, and deranged looking men with chainsaws running around, traumatizing groups of teenage girls one at a time.
There are games set up with monsters at the helm, and a couple of trailers have been fashioned together in the back with the words haunted house blinking on and off in a neon sign above it. To the right there are a few carnival rides, a tilt-o-whirl, and the spinner, both of which I’m familiar with because I’ve been going to the Montgomerys’ harvest festival since I was a kid. But I don’t recall any ticketed event that promised to morph itself into my worst frightmare. Emmie explained on the way over it was a new ploy of the Montgomerys to churn out a couple thousand dollars a night, and judging by the thick crowds, they’re getting more than that.
Georgie leans in. “Hold Annabeth while I find Juni.” She thrusts the haunted doll into my arms and Fish squirms at the sight of her. “Boy, is Juni ever going to be glad to see you. We’ve been missing out on all the stakeouts and snooping your investigations bring on. But mostly we miss the dive bars and the strip clubs. How about we blow this monster mess and hit up a banana hammock cantina?”
“No,” I flatline. “I don’t anticipate a homicide in my future.” Or a banana hammock cantina, but I keep the dream-killing commentary to myself. Instead, I shoot Emmie a look. “At least not a homicide I can’t easily solve.”
Georgie honks out a laugh. “That’s my Bizzy. Not only does she have looks that kill, she knows how to get the job done, too. I’d watch your back if I were you, Emmie,” she says as she takes off a like a bullet.
“Wait!” I call after her. “What about Annabelle?”
“Annabeth,” Emmie corrects. “And you’re not really going to kill me, are you?”
“Just a little. For fun,” I smart as I rattle the terrifying doll in her face.
A sharp bark comes from my right. Before I can finish terrorizing my bestie, I spot a cute medium-sized pooch dressed as a clown, complete with a rainbow wig firmly attached to his head.
Bizzy Baker Wilder! Sherlock Bones barks like mad as he dashes my way, and I quickly bend over and give him some long overdue loving as he licks my cheeks, happy to see me—I’m guessing he’s relieved, too. The things Emmie has done to me. Would you