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She was the understudy.

She made Clawdia’s signature cocktail all the time.

She’s alone now, moving away from the bar and holding her purple cocktail while watching the crowd dance into the night.

Perfect.

We should probably get Jasper, Fish says with an aggressively loud meow.

You never want to get Jasper, Sherlock points out with a woof.

It’s true. Fish is usually opposed to involving him at times like this. It does make me wonder if she senses more danger than I do at the moment.

Well, I want him now. Fish slashes her tail in Sherlock’s direction. Do us all a favor and track that man down. Use that giant sniffer on your face for good for once, would you? I have a very bad feeling about that pink witch, and my bad feelings are never wrong.

I think Halloween makes those bad feelings worse, Duchess agrees. We’ll need backup and some candy to get through this.

I start walking toward my glittering pink suspect and don’t dare take my eyes off of her.

She’s not listening to us, Fish observes.

It’s like she’s in a trance! Duchess sighs.

I get like that when there are cookies involved, Sherlock muses.

“Believe me,” I mutter. “I’d much rather have a cookie.”

I weave through the thick of the dancing crowd, dodging vampires, witches, and one mummy who’s already unraveling from the knees down. Music pounds hard enough to rattle my teeth while orange and purple lights flash overhead and a fog machine works overtime to make sure none of us can see where we’re going.

Miss Kitty spots me through the Halloween mayhem and breaks into a smile. She lifts one hand and waves, careful not to spill the cocktail in the other.

“Bizzy!” she says when I reach her. “Happy Halloween! Isn’t this amazing? The turnout is incredible! Oh, and those two furry beasts are just so adorable.” She blows kisses to both Fish and Duchess as I hold them close.

“Thank you. And happy Halloween, Kitty.”

What am I, chopped liver? Sherlock barks, and she looks down and gives him a quick scratch. Wait a minute. Chopped liver sounds delicious!

“Well, you’ve got another one coming along for the haunted ride,” she teases. “You’re just a regular Snow White, aren’t you, Bizzy?” She gasps as she takes me in. “Is that what you are tonight? A vampire Snow White? I wish I had thought of that. But then I’m sort of keeping to a pink theme. I have my career to think about.”

“You thought a lot about Clawdia’s career, too, didn’t you?” I say.

Her smile falters. “What about her career?”

“You were working on the documentary together.”

Her eyes widen a notch. How I hate even the mention of that thing right now.

“Yes, we were.” She nods. “It was supposed to be this amazing project⁠—”

“You’re her daughter.”

Kitty freezes solid as her eyes double in size once again. Her smile quickly dissipates. That purple cocktail she’s holding trembles in her hand.

“You mentioned you went to all the panels,” I continue. “For years. You told me that. Including the panels on poison. The one about which poisons work quickly and quietly. The one about cyanide. You were the one that made Clawdia’s drink. The Queen’s Kiss. The black sugar rim, the orange peel you fixed twice before it sat right. You just did the same thing to that cocktail in your hand. Thirty people in hoods worked that stage, and not one of them fussed over a garnish. Just you.”

“I didn’t—” Kitty shakes her head. “You think I⁠—?”

“I have solid proof.”