A Frightening Fangs-giving

eyes are swollen and red, and her back shudders as she spills silent tears.
Jasper follows my gaze. “I’d better head back, Bizzy. Stay safe. Accident or not, I don’t want you getting tangled up in it either way.”
He takes off and Macy leans in. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Me either.”
The blonde we met earlier comes out of the shop and shrieks once she spots Ember.
“Oh my God! Why?” She begins in on a horrible chant of that single word, why, and the crowd quiets down to a hush. Her attention snags our way, and her grief turns to rage in an instant. “You!” She stalks over to Macy. “You said you were going to get even all because of this stupid rivalry the two of you had!”
Macy stiffens. “What? Really? Hardly! I opened my shop first! It’s clear Ember was determined to rip me off in any and every way in an effort to make me miserable!”
The crowd gasps.
Fish belts out a sharp mewl, Run for cover, Sherlock! They’re going to stone her. Or in the least throw donuts at her.
Sherlock whines, I’ll do my best to protect her. Why couldn’t they throw bacon? I’m much better with bacon, but donuts are a close second.
“Macy,” I hiss. “This isn’t the place.”
The blonde woman steps in close. It’s the same one Ember introduced as her business partner, Willow Taylor.
“You killed her! You said I hope you choke on those donuts and now she’s dead!” Her voice hikes to surreal octaves, and yet the band plays on down at the other end of Main Street. “You are a killer, Macy Baker! And I’m going to make sure justice is served just as cold as your murderous heart. You’re not getting away with this.” She stomps off back into the shop as a stunned silence fills the air.
Macy growls, “What are you looking at?” she roars at the crowd before they quickly look away and the alleyway explodes in hushed whispers.
“Macy.” I close my eyes. “Why don’t you get back to Lather and Light? Close the shop for the day and go home. I’ll call you when the dust settles.”
“I’m not going home with my tail between my legs, Bizzy. It’s the kickoff for the Founders’ Day Festival. It’s already shaping up to be the busiest day of the year, and a very good start to the holiday shopping season. I’m a Baker. We don’t throw in the towel—especially not for Ember Sweet. I’m sorry she’s gone, but I sure as heck don’t have to go with her. I’ll talk to you later.” She scowls over at the body. Farwell, my old friend. It didn’t have to end this way between us. And yet I’m not entirely sorry it did. She shudders at the dark thought that just flew through her mind. I wish it didn’t.
She takes off and I hold Fish tightly.
Tell me she didn’t do it, Bizzy, Fish mewls as she taps my chest.
I shake my head. “She didn’t.” I hope.
Sherlock navigates us through the crowd as I try to inch my way closer to the mouth of that back door that leads to Suds and Illuminations. And soon enough, we come upon Marigold once again, sobbing silently to herself.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I say as the woman looks my way.
Her eyes are filled with crimson tracks, and they look backlit from the tears brimming in them.
She shakes her head. “Thank you. I can’t believe this is real. I just spoke with her father. He’s a mess.”
“Can I help you get home? Is he on his way here?”
“No, that’s okay.” She lifts her fingers, dismissing the idea. “He’s on safari in Africa. Big game hunting. He’ll be back soon enough. I have my car down the street. I’ll be able to drive myself home.” She sniffs hard as she looks over at Ember. “She had a good life.” It could have been better if she wasn’t so damn difficult. She lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I’d better go. Ember lost her mother as a child, and I’m her only family here. I suppose I’ll have to start thinking about arrangements and whatnot.”
“If it helps, I manage the inn at the end of the street. If you need help with anything, I’d be glad to offer up my services.”
“Oh, thank you.” She blinks back. “I might take you up on that. Warner most likely won’t be back for days, if that. And Lord knows it was bad enough being in that drafty mansion with just Ember. I don’t want to be there alone. I might check in for a few days if you have a vacancy.”
“I certainly do. I’ll have a room for you as soon as you can get to the inn.”
“Thank you, Bizzy. I’ll go throw a few things into a bag. Let me just make a few more calls.” She steps away a few feet, and I spot Jasper and Leo pointing to something on Ember’s sweater as they begin to photograph it.
“Jasper?” I call out, and he looks my way. I shrug over at him as if to ask what they’re looking at without the use of words.
A fingernail with brown glittery polish, he says. A press-on or something. It’s not Ember’s. He lifts his brows my way. It’s not yours, is it?
I shake my head as I hold up my bare fingernails his way for him to inspect.
But I happen to know exactly who has brown glittery nails—my sister. Here’s hoping all of her acrylics are still intact.
Sherlock barks and I look down.
“Hey, big guy.” I offer him a quick pat on the back. “I know this is hard. Let’s get out of here,” I whisper.
Look, Bizzy. He barks again. To the left, toward that big tree.
I glance that way, and sure enough, I see two men who look as if they’re having a heated exchange. It’s Ember’s boyfriend, the councilman, Flint Butler, and that same man with the dirty blond hair