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Cam felt a wave of relief wash over her. Izzy had shown her acting chops. They had pulled it off. But then Cam noticed the crew approaching the set rummaging for forks to try the pasta dish that Izzy had just been crowing about. Izzy shot Cam a look of panic. Cam jumped in front of the group closing in on the dish and hoisted it in the air.

“Hang on,” she said. “Let me just take this over here and plate this up for each of you so you have your own serving.” She maneuvered in the direction of the kitchen’s other stainless-steel island, and on the way, tripped dramatically, the platter of pasta flying out of her hands. It sailed through the air and landed on the hard cement floor with a crack. Pasta splattered everywhere—including onto the leather jumpsuit of one very aghast Rawley. As Cam recovered her balance and apologized to the disappointed crew, she leaned into Rawley’s ear and offered her own hiss. “You’ll thank me for this later.”

“Sorry, guys,” Cam called loudly to the crew. “No samples of the pasta!”

As the crew grumbled, Cam cleaned up the mess as quickly as she could, and the rest of the shoot went off without a hitch.

Later, after the People team had left and Izzy’s team had packed up, Cam and Izzy went back to Birdie’s so Izzy could collect her things to meet her jet at the airport. After they hauled her Goyard suitcases down the steep steps and out to the waiting car, they went back inside so Izzy could say her goodbyes. Avery was nowhere to be seen, Cam noted with concern.

“Where are you off to for the holidays?” Birdie asked, drawing Izzy in for a hug. “Somewhere with white sand and blue water—and room service and very high thread counts—probably sounds pretty good to you about now after our humble accommodations.”

Izzy joined Birdie in a laugh. “Your sheets are perfect, Birdie,” she said. “You were kind to let me stay. And actually, I think, after I get back to New York, I’m heading to… Peoria.”

“As in Illinois?” Cam asked, confused. She could hardly picture Izzy Jones in a freezing-cold Podunk Midwestern town.

“Yeah,” Izzy said. “My mom lives there now with her mother, who is pretty sick. It sounds super corny, but something about being here and seeing you all… Well, it made me want to spend time with family. I haven’t done too much of that in the last few years. And”—she looked as if she had surprised even herself—“I’ve given my whole team the holiday off.”

Cam gaped. “Even your social media people?” she asked.

“It’s not like I’ll be ’gramming much from Peoria,” Izzy said. “It’s, like, all casseroles with cream-of-something soup and parkas—and not even the cute ones.”

Cam smiled. Izzy might have toned down her diva act, but she was still Izzy Jones.

“I think it all sounds wonderful,” Birdie said. “Of course, I don’t know your family, dear, but I know the way mothers love their daughters—and grandmothers love their granddaughters—and I am certain that they will be absolutely thrilled to see you. Merry Christmas to you all.”

Cam walked Izzy to the car, and before she slid into the buttery cream upholstered back seat, Izzy turned to her host.

“It’s been nice getting to know you, ‘With Cam Parker,’” Izzy said.

“Thanks,” Cam said with a sincerity she couldn’t have imagined when Izzy first turned up in Silver Cove. “Same to you.”

As Izzy opened the door, waving away the driver, who had hopped out of the car to do it for her, she reached into her coat pocket as if to grab her phone, and drew it out in surprise. She was holding the amethyst orb that Ada had rolled into the vent. It seemed the ghost had returned it.

The two women burst out laughing.

Very nice, Ada, Cam thought.

“I’ll be in touch!” Izzy called through the open window.

Of course she will, Cam thought. And at least now Cam wouldn’t dread it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The next evening, Cam double-checked the list on her phone and Avery peeked over her shoulder and laughed.

“Of course Cam Parker would oversee the most organized break-in in the history of burglary,” Avery said.

Having a good look around Merriweather House had been Cam’s idea, born out of her frustration with how things had been stymied on the Ada Quest front, which had more than a little to do with the whirlwind visit from her favorite celebrity.

“It’s important that we have everything!” Cam protested. Flashlights, the cookbook, and most importantly, cooking supplies. Her plan was that, if they didn’t find anything on their own, she was going to summon Ada right there in Merriweather House in the hopes that the ghost could lead them to the papers they were looking for. If they were even there. There was a good chance that Ada’s writings—if they existed to begin with—were long gone. “And besides, we’re not burgling the place; we’re just having a look around. Even if we do find something, it’s not like we’re taking it for ourselves. Technically, we’re not even breaking and entering. Birdie gave us the key.”

“Tell that to the sheriff when he’s handcuffing you!” Birdie cackled. Their grandmother was watching the evening’s preparations with glee, but she had decided not to join them on the mission. “I don’t want to slow you girls down,” she had said. “And someone will need to be your one call from the county clink!”

Francine arrived, dressed in a head-to-toe black ensemble that looked like a cat-burglar costume leftover from To Catch a Thief.

“And Francine gets the prize for most stylish criminal,” Avery said, surveying their friend’s outfit. “I don’t know what my role is here in this heist trio.”

“You’re the brave one,” Cam said, hugging her. “You always have been.”