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“I know her, too. She comes into my shop,” Buffy adds. “Buys a lot of Victorian poison history books.”

Everyone stops talking and looks at Buffy.

Fish and Duchess stop nibbling mid-cookie. Even the cats know a clue when they hear one.

“What?” Emmie says.

“Yeah,” Buffy continues, completely casual about this information. “Like, exclusively books on poison. I thought it was just her aesthetic. She has a whole Victorian apothecary thing going on with her show.”

The fact that Ghoulia’s entire brand is built around historical murder methods is both alarming and a relief. I may have finally found my killer.

Another toy flies across the room. This time it’s a stuffed bat, and it hits Emmie in the head.

“Should we separate them?” Emmie asks, gesturing to the babies.

“Probably,” I say.

We don’t.

“I saw Ghoulia and Clawdia arguing the day of the murder,” Mom says, reaching for an apple cider donut. “At the festival. Ghoulia was crying while Clawdia was laughing. It was all very cruel.”

Georgie pauses her ghost video replay. “That’s horrible. Now let’s watch that ghostly smooch in slow motion.”

“Clawdia could be horrible,” Macy says. She’s taking notes now too, presumably for candle marketing purposes. Or not. “Also, Ghoulia bought candles from my booth earlier and asked specifically about cleansing and new beginnings. I thought it was spiritual. But now I’m thinking it might have been guilt-related.”

At this rate, Bizzy’s going to need her own true crime podcast, Mackenzie thinks. ‘Murder at the Inn: A Weekly Series.’

My lips twitch in response because she might be onto something. I grab a pumpkin snickerdoodle and try to look like I’m not actively investigating a murder during book club.

Candy and Cane are still cuddling in the corner, and Sherlock is watching them with a longing usually reserved for people looking at vacation photos they can’t afford. Although to be fair, he’s probably drooling over the pile of pumpkin cookies they seem to have amassed.

Get a room, Fish mutters.

Leave them alone, they’re in love, Duchess says.

Room for one more? Sherlock asks. I can take all the leftover cookies off your paws.

“If you need research on any of the suspects,” Buffy offers, “I have resources. I run a bookstore. I have access to local history, customer purchase records, all of the above.”

I decide not to ask whether that last one is legal. That particular gift horse can keep its mouth shut.

“That’s actually really helpful,” I say.

“Vampyra comes in sometimes, too.” Buffy leans in. “She buys lots of romance novels. And it’s always paranormal romance. Always the steamy ones.” She glances to the ceiling as she pauses to think. “Oh, and Miss Kitty bought a book on documentary filmmaking a few weeks ago. It was very specific and pretty technical. Sort of a dry read.”

I tip my head as I try to digest it. Why do I get the feeling Miss Kitty keeps circling back to that documentary?

Ella throws another toy, and this time it’s a stuffed ghost that lands directly in my cider.

Even the toys are haunted now, Fish muses.

I fish it out and hand it back to my sweet baby girl. She giggles and immediately throws it at Elliot. I go ahead and down the rest of my cider. It’s caramel apple. There’s no way I was going to let that go to waste. I have priorities.

“So... about the book?” Buffy tries one more time, holding up her copy with the kind of hope that suggests she knows this is a lost cause but she’s going to try anyway.

“Oh right, the book,” Mackenzie says.

“The vampire dies at the end,” Macy announces.