A Frightening Fangs-giving

this isn’t the time for that.
“She can’t stand the fact that I married her father. She called me arm-candy for a solid year.” She averts her eyes. “Ember was a spoiled little brat, and she never bothered to hide the fact. She cared more about her father’s money than she did him.”
“I take it he’s a wealthy man.”
“Generational wealth, mostly from oil.” She nods. “It’s a crime for one man to have so much money. But then, he’s got Ember and me to spend it all. And believe me when I say, we were giving it all we’ve got.”
We share a small laugh.
“What about Willow?” I shrug her way. “What do you think of her?” Maybe I could wrangle the truth from Marigold. I just know Willow was holding out on us last night about something.
She gives a quick glance over her shoulder. “Willow Taylor, if that is her real name, had some issues with her past. I don’t know all the details, but Ember mentioned something once about owning her. She said when they met, Willow confessed to moving from Vermont because she was wanted on some petty theft charges. I guess her grandmother lives out this way. But she met up with Ember—and boy, did that poor girl pick the wrong person to unload her life on. Ember loved to have dirt on people. Manipulating their destinies was her favorite game. She already had all the money she could want.” Mostly. “She wanted the power.”
“Petty theft, huh?” I make a face. “I would think that would give Ember enough leverage to make her do anything she wanted. Including opening a candle shop with whatever funds she had.” And not going to nursing school.
“That’s right.” Marigold blows out a breath as she looks toward the kitchen. “Ember Sweet wasn’t so sweet after all. But it’s no surprise to her father or me. She was just a product of the environment she was raised in. I used to think there was hope for her. But it’s too late for that.” Maybe with time, she would have softened. But that’s not a risk any of the people she was actively threatening were willing to take.
My eyes widen. People wanted Ember Sweet dead. Lots of people. That means I need to interrogate those very people again and again until something begins to make sense.
A thought comes to me.
“Marigold, my sister feels really bad about everything.” Or at least she should. “Especially because of the way she was acting that day. She wants to hold a candlelight vigil outside of her shop, and I told her I’d help get people to come. It’s looking like it’s going to take place next Friday.” Because that date just so happens to work for me. Here’s hoping I can get Macy to attend, let alone admit to people that she came up with the idea. Macy would no sooner hold a vigil for the girl than she would cook a turkey. But if she doesn’t do her part to track down the killer, she’ll be the one who’s stuffed—right into a prison cell. “Willow said I should try to track down one of her exes. Hunter something?”
“Hunter Knox.” She cringes. “Ember made quick work of him. Let’s just say he’s a prime example of what happened when you crossed her.” Her body indulges in a mean shiver. “He used to be a well-respected pharmacist, but I think he’s working at the docks now. I’m not exactly sure. I haven’t seen him in a while.” Marigold’s order number is called, and she holds the ticket my way. “It’s time to relax with some pumpkin spice pancakes. And I put in for a half dozen of those donuts on the side. Boy, are they delicious.”
“They are. Enjoy.”
“I will.” She takes off to collect her tray. I’ll especially enjoy the donuts knowing that Ember Sweet got her just desserts with exactly this delicious treat. The irony of it all will never escape me.
The irony won’t escape me either.
Jasper orders up his waffles, and I sit with him as we discuss the case.
Ember Sweet wasn’t so sweet after all.
And unfortunately, that just opens the suspect pool right up.
Anybody could have done it, I suppose—with the exception of Macy, of course.
Let’s just hope there’s no more physical evidence linking her to the scene of the crime. Or she might just fry yet, and the killer will have plenty to be thankful for this holiday season.

Chapter 7
The wind blows through Main Street like an icy poltergeist bent on vengeance as Jasper and I enter Lather and Light, my sister’s soap and candle shop.
Instantly, the warm scent from a vanilla candle ignites my senses, and I have the sudden urge to curl up with a good book and read by the fire. Emmie offered to watch the kittens while Jasper and I came down to all but apprehend my cagey sister. And knowing Macy, I’ll need both of my arms and my legs to do it.
The shop is painted a warm shade of coffee, and dotted along the entire store are old oak barrels brimming with my sister’s merchandise. A few rustic looking tables line the middle of the store, leading all the way back to the register, and on each one is an artful display of soaps and candles in every shape and size. Everywhere you look fall décor is lining the shelves and walls. There are enough silk maple leaves in here to outfit every barren tree on Main Street. There’s just something about the orange and red leaves that gives me that warm homey feeling.
A few pumpkins are set out throughout the shop, and there’s an oversized cornucopia on the counter in front of the register with colorful purse-size bottles of hand sanitizer spilling out of it. But that lavender wisteria tree bejeweled in twinkle lights that sits in her bay window is the crowning jewel of this place. Macy has hung miniature pumpkin and turkey ornaments from