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“She seemed like an inspiring woman.”

“Oh, she was. I went to all the panels before I got started in the field,” Miss Kitty continues, her eyes lighting up with the memory. “I did that for years. I went to every horror hosting convention, every scream queen showcase, every event Clawdia appeared at. I was there.” She laughs, a little embarrassed. “I was such a superfan. I knew her work better than anyone.”

“I bet she appreciated the adoration,” I say.

Another laugh bubbles from her. “You bet she did.” She pauses, and there’s something wistful in her expression. “And all of the original scream queens haven’t changed a bit over the years. In fact, I’ve been going to all of their conventions for years. Vampyra’s poison presentation, Ghoulia’s Victorian death rituals, Morticia’s business of horror hosting. I absorbed everything, took notes and studied the craft as much as I could.”

Something catches her eye deeper in the room, and she shakes her head. That woman has NO fear, she muses to herself. I respect that.

I turn that way and wince. It’s Georgie, and she’s currently trying to stick her entire head through one of the mirror reflections while Mom attempts to physically restrain her.

“Early on, I made so many mistakes.” Miss Kitty cringes as she says it. “One time I filmed an entire sponsorship pitch with a kitten filter on my face. We’re talking whiskers, pink nose, little twitching ears, the whole furry nine yards. Thankfully the company still signed me. They said it was the most in character thing I’d ever done.”

“That’s a great one.” I laugh, and I’m surprised to find out how much I actually like her. She’s funny, self-deprecating, and charming in a way that feels genuine rather than performative. In fact, the whole pink look is growing on me, too.

The redhead looks exhausted, Miss Kitty muses to herself as she watches Mom finally succeed in pulling Georgie away from her own reflection. Babysitting an eighty-year-old must be hard.

“You’re telling me,” I mutter.

“What’s that?” She blinks over at me and I clear my throat.

“Vampyra mentioned you two were working on something together lately,” I say, watching her face carefully. “I mean, not you and Vampyra, but you and Clawdia.”

Her brows knit together, and she looks momentarily confused. “Oh!” She rocks back on her heels. “That’s right. Clawdia and I were working on something together.” I wonder what the heck brought this up? she thinks to herself as she blinks at the ceiling. I wonder what Vampyra’s angle could be? “Anyway,” she continues, “we were collaborating on a few projects. Or at least we were thinking about it.” How does Vampyra know any of this? And what in the world would Vampyra know to tell her?

Clearly, she seems thrown for a loop. But then, Clawdia was poisoned to death just a few days ago and the detectives don’t have any real leads. I bet she doesn’t appreciate one of her comrades pointing a finger at her.

“What kind of projects were they?” I ask, seemingly innocent.

She hesitates a moment, her eyes darting back to Georgie and Mom’s shenanigans. “Just some content stuff. Cross-promotion. Helping each other with reach and engagement. That kind of thing.”

I can’t tell her about the documentary. Not yet. Not until I know if she made copies.

That’s the second time she’s brought that documentary up. What in the world could be wrong with the footage? More cat filters, I suppose.

“I heard Clawdia’s toast the night that she died.” I lift my shoulders a notch. “She roasted everyone pretty hard.”

Miss Kitty laughs again, but this time it sounds strained. “That was just Clawdia. She loved drama. Heck, she lived for it.”

“She seemed to call everyone out on something. She called you out about something, too, didn’t she?”

Her smile tightens. “She had opinions about everyone’s work. And as you witnessed that night, she wasn’t shy about sharing them.” She humiliated me. In front of everyone. Again. Her eyes close for a moment with the thought. But it’s not like I was special in that category.

“Clawdia could be... tough,” she finally says. “She believed in tough love, and she had no problem administering it. She was always pushing people to be better.” She pauses and her lips tremble. “Sometimes it was hard to tell if she was helping or hurting.”

There’s real conflict in her voice, genuine emotion, and I can’t tell if she’s a very good actress or if she’s actually struggling with complicated feelings about her dead mentor. But I’m leaning toward the latter.

“That’s really rough. Even if it was in the name of tough love,” I tell her. “She sounds like she was a tough cookie. Did Clawdia have a lot of enemies because of it?”

“In this industry?” Miss Kitty frowns past me, at Georgie I assume, but I don’t dare take my eyes off my suspect. “Everyone has enemies. It’s practically a requirement.”

“But if you had to guess who her real enemy was, who would it be?”

“Ghoulia Grimm.” She says it without hesitation, and with full conviction.

I lean forward a notch. “Vampyra mentioned her. She said Clawdia stole a sponsorship deal or something?”

“It was way worse than that.” Miss Kitty nods eagerly. “Ghoulia had a show on a streaming platform. Horror hosting with a Victorian poison aesthetic. It was actually really good. Gorgeous production all the way around, clever writing, the whole thing.” She glances over her shoulder before leaning in. “And Ghoulia’s show catapulted its way to the top. Clawdia was so jealous she couldn’t see straight. She went to the platform and told them Ghoulia was difficult to work with. That she was unprofessional and hard to manage. That she’d been faking her credentials—that she didn’t know arsenic from aspirin. Of course, it was complete lies, but the platform believed her. They dropped Ghoulia’s show like a hot potato.”