“You do all realize,” Charles said loudly to my customers, “that you are consuming cupcakes laced with poison.”
I stood up, almost banging my head on the underside of the counter, and wiped crumbs off my mouth. “Aren’t you going to sure him for slander?” I asked Marius.
“It’s not slander if it’s true!” Charles thundered. “You’re a mean one, Emmie. You’re stealing business from me. Your cats are a menace to Main Street. My sales are down thirty percent because of you. You ruin lives for profit. You are more than capable of killing your husband.”
“You could have easily killed him yourself,” Zoe shot back. “You never liked Emmie’s shop. I bet you killed him to frame her. Murderer!”
Abbott scribbled the accusations furiously on his notepad.
“You give me that!” Charles raged, chasing him out of the shop, almost bowling over Cora, who walked in confused.
“I have a delivery for…” Cora looked around, frowning. “Marius? This is awkward.”
“Thank you. I’ll take that.” Marius accepted the food from Cora and handed her a crisp twenty.
“You’re buying food from next door?” I screeched as he unwrapped the sandwich.
He nodded silently toward the feral-cat committee, who chanted, “Cats and murder go hand in hand, like Christmas in summer or snow in the sand!”
“You need to get a restraining order,” Zoe said as she headed to the door with her boxes for Girl Meets Fig.
“Here’s your mail, Emmie,” Cora said sheepishly.
Muttering “Thanks,” I took the mail back to the kitchen storeroom, away from the nosy customers, the well-meaning seniors, the accusations of murder, and Marius and his stupid handsome face.
“Asshole,” I cursed then ripped open my advent calendar, stuffed the last two days’ worth of chocolate into my mouth, and chewed furiously. Then I tore open the rest of the doors.
I hadn’t slept the night before, just tossed and turned on the couch.
I sank down onto the cold tile floor, trying not to hyperventilate.
I was going to be fine. The shop was going to be fine. Everything would befine.
I peered at something sparkling under the shelf. After tossing aside the half-empty advent calendar, I reached under and scooped with my pen until I dragged out a thin sparkling silver bracelet—simple and elegant with a stunning emerald and ruby.
A clue.
This was what the suspect had been looking for last night. I was sure of it.
6
MARIUS
“You don’t have to come.” Emmie was stubborn as we walked through the dark street toward city hall.
“I wasted all day at your café,” I reminded her. “It would be just my luck that you’d do something incriminating when left to your own devices, then I’d have to hear about it from Aunt Frances, who would expect me to pull miracles.”
“You are impressive,” Emmie said begrudgingly. “You just have a caustic personality.”
“Because I’m dealing with a child who wants to end up back in jail. Now, as your lawyer…” I stepped in front of Emmie. She slid on the icy concrete. I grabbed her before she could knock into me. “I would advise you not to attend this meeting.”
“I’m the social chair of the feral-cat committee,” she said, jaw set. “I don’t miss meetings.”
Why I’d thoughtit would be any different when we stood in the doorway of the small meeting room in city hall, I didn’t know.
Moose hissed from my shoulder as all of the cats in the room sprang onto the furniture, fought over bowls of food, and tried to escape into the hallway.
I rubbed my jaw.
