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You’re going to regret this when she gets bigger, Fish warns.

I’m thinking of regretting it now.

“Miss Kitty,” Jasper says finally. “The YouTube one with the pink pigtails?”

“That’s her. Bubbly personality, acts like a human cupcake, squeals a lot.”

“I know the type.” He shifts slightly so I’m tucked more comfortably against him, and his arm comes around my shoulders. “You think she did it?”

“I think she and Clawdia were working on something together. Vampyra said Kitty looked stressed and Clawdia looked smug, which could mean anything, but it’s worth asking about.” I pause for a moment. “There’s something else. That night, right after she collapsed, I caught a thought from somewhere in the crowd. They said, ‘I’m glad she’s dead. And I’m glad I was the one who did the lethal deed.’”

Jasper goes still. “You got a confession.”

“A confession we can’t trace. I couldn’t make out if it was coming from a man or a woman, and there were hundreds of people on that lawn.” My gaze drifts to the fire. “One thing is for sure. Whoever killed her was right there watching her die. And they were certainly happy about it.”

Ella abandons the pets and crawls over to us, dragging Sherlock’s tail behind her. Sherlock doesn’t seem to mind. He just follows along behind her with his tongue hanging out, looking more than happy to be included.

She has my tail, he announces proudly. I think that means I’m her favorite.

I think that means she’s exhausted and she’s trying to crawl into bed, Fish says.

Nonetheless, the greatest honor has been bestowed upon me. Sherlock lifts his furry chin with pride.

Also, I saw her eat a dust bunny a few minutes ago, Fish mewls. I’d adjust that honor accordingly.

“Oh geez,” I say, pulling Ella toward me and looking in her mouth for evidence of said dust bunny, but it’s either too late or she’s already returned it where it belongs.

Jasper scoops Ella up and settles her between us, and she immediately grabs a piece of broccoli from one of the containers and shoves it in her mouth. Half of it ends up on her face, but she seems happy about it.

“We got the toxicology report back,” Jasper says, and his voice shifts into detective mode. “The poison was fast-acting, sophisticated. Whoever used it knew exactly what they were doing. This wasn’t some amateur Googling ‘how to poison someone’ at three in the morning. They knew once it was administered, the stuff was going to work.”

“What about the drink itself? Someone had to mix it. Carry it out on stage. I bet we saw the killer.”

“Believe me, I talked to each member of the catering staff.” Jasper blows out a breath. “Thirty catering staff worked the event and serviced that stage, and every one of them was in the same hooded costume. Not only that, but they all wore food-service gloves. According to the bar, eleven people touched those cocktails between the mixing station and the stage. Not a single soul remembers who took the glass out to Clawdia. Nobody saw a face. It’s like we’re dealing with ghosts.”

“So there was one glass with poison⁠—”

“And it may as well have walked itself onto the stage, for all I can prove.”

“So not amateur hour.”

“Definitely not.” He kisses my temple, and I feel him relax slightly.

I think about that while Ella destroys another piece of broccoli and Sherlock stares at her with intense focus in case she drops any.

If the tiny hooman drops food, I’m ready, Sherlock says. Except for broccoli. Even I have standards. I’d rather eat a dust bunny.

That might explain why you’re always eating dust bunnies, Fish mutters. And because of that, now Ella is eating them, too. You really should knock that off.

I nod his way as if to emphasize the point.

It’s called doing my share to keep this place tidy, he counters. Also, loyalty. I’m being loyal to the household.

You’re being a garbage disposal.

“I think we should talk to Kitty Cadaver,” I say.

“We?” Jasper looks more than amused. “As in you?”