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Vampyra’s expression shifts just slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Your first husband,” I say, watching her face. “The heart attack. The inheritance. And the fact that Clawdia knew all about it.” I’m hoping she’ll fill in the lethal blanks.

Vampyra goes very still, but not a thought sails through her mind.

“Your husband died twelve years ago,” I continue. “They say he had a heart attack in his sleep. It was very sudden and very convenient. And you inherited a substantial estate.”

“That’s public record,” Vampyra says, but her voice is tight. “I’ve never tried to hide any of that.”

Something flickers through her thoughts, and it isn’t fear. Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, the doctor told me. There was nothing anyone could have done. Twelve years later, and I still hear that sentence in my sleep.

“You spent four years working at a funeral home,” I say just above a whisper. “You have an unusually intimate working knowledge of which chemicals don’t show up on standard toxicology screens.” I take a step closer.

No, Duchess gives a sharp meow. Step back, Bizzy, back! Not forward. The woman is a deranged killer. She can’t be trusted within arm’s reach.

“Clawdia knew about that too, didn’t she?” I ask the woman. “She knew all of your darkest secrets, and she was going to expose them.”

Vampyra stares at me for a long moment, and then she laughs again. This time it sounds almost hysterical.

“You really did your homework on me.”

“So, she was blackmailing you.”

Her eyes close for a moment. “It wasn’t blackmail. It was worse.” Vampyra’s hands clench into fists. “She was threatening to tell everyone. To ruin me completely. Not just my career. She wanted to tank my entire life. She said she had enough dirt on me to make the police reopen the investigation into my husband’s death.”

“Could she have?” I ask. “Had the case reopened?”

Vampyra gives a tired shake of her head. “They could dig Jenson up and investigate his death every year until I’m dead, and they’d still come back with the same answer. He had a heart condition. No one knew about it until the autopsy.”

“But Clawdia didn’t care about the answer.”

“No.” Her mouth tightens. “She cared about the spectacle. She knew all she had to do was stir up enough suspicion to get someone asking questions again.” Her gaze drifts toward the festival. “Horror Hostess Questioned in Husband’s Death. That’s the headline, Bizzy. Once my name was sitting next to his death, it wouldn’t matter what the investigation found. Clawdia didn’t need to prove I killed Jenson. She just needed to make sure everyone wondered if I did.”

I wish I’d done it, Vampyra muses to herself, and her thoughts bleed through loud and clear. I wish I’d had the courage to send Clawdia to the grave.

“But you didn’t kill her,” I say with an uncalled-for level of defeat.

“No.” Vampyra’s voice is seething with rage. “I didn’t. I wanted to. How I wanted to. But I didn’t have the guts.”

Whew, Duchess pants as she relaxes in my arms.

Sherlock gives a quick little bark. That means she can give me all the head scratches she wants. And if she’s got some bacon on her, I’ll take that too.

But Vampyra doesn’t relax. In fact, she starts pacing with angry energy radiating off her. “Do you know how much I hated that woman? How many years I spent watching her take credit for my work, steal my opportunities, destroy everything I built?” She’s gesturing wildly now. The feathers and glittering stones adhered to her costume gleam in the moonlight. “She made sure I’d never recover. She sabotaged every sponsorship deal. She told producers I was difficult to work with. She actually spread rumors that I was unstable.”

“And then she threatened to accuse you of murder,” I add.

“Yes!” Vampyra spins to face me. “So yes, I had a motive. I certainly had the means to pull it off. Ghoulia isn’t the only one who knows her way around poisons. I did a whole panel on them at a convention last year. Which I assume you already know.” She crosses her arms. “But I didn’t kill her. Someone beat me to it.”

“You told me you set your drink down that night. But you drank it while I watched. You lied to me.”

Vampyra’s expression tightens. “Of course I did. Clawdia was poisoned ten feet from me. I wasn’t about to volunteer myself for the suspect list.”

“Except your drink wasn’t the one that mattered.”

“I didn’t know that then.”

Whoever evicted that witch from the planet deserves a medal, she thinks bitterly.