Page 21 of Fish and Chip

Spanish moss hangs from every tree like nature’s own creepy curtains, and fog machines churn out a knee-deep haze that drifts across the ground in thick, eerie waves. The entire area has been transformed into a Southern Gothic Halloween dream with wrought-iron lanterns casting restless shadows, fake tombstones scattered strategically around the grounds, and purple and orange uplighting that makes everything look as though it’s been dipped in twilight.

Our fog-machine budget this month could’ve put a kid through college. But it’s worth every penny.

We’re set up right in front of Phantom’s Folly, a water ride that’s basically the Haunted Mansion’s spooky cousin with a Cajun twist. Animatronic ghosts dressed as pirates and ghostly brides pop out of the darkness along the waterway, cackling and moaning while boats drift past scenes of cursed treasure and supernatural shenanigans.

The ride’s entrance is designed to look like a grand old Southern mansion that’s seen better days, complete with shutters hanging at odd angles and spectral figures in the windows.

The scent of chicory coffee and beignets wafts through the air, mixing with the earthy smell of the artificial bayou water and something vaguely cinnamon-spiced that’s probably coming from the buffet.

Speaking of the buffet, Georgie’s eyes nearly pop out of her head when she spots it.

“Would you look at that spread,” she breathes, making a beeline for the food table. And by the looks of it, she’s ready to elbow anyone and everyone out of the way.

Honestly, Savvy’s outdone herself this time. The buffet is Halloween heaven.

On the savory side, there are miniature mummy hot dogs wrapped in crescent dough with mustard eyes, black bean witch’s brew soup served in mini cauldrons, roasted pumpkin hummus with ghost-shaped pita chips, stuffed bell pepper jack-o’-lanterns with their tops cut off to look like actual carved pumpkins, and candied bacon strips dusted with brown sugar and cayenne that Savvy’s labeled Devil’s Fingers.

The sweet treats are even more impressive—candy corn cheesecake bites with graham cracker crusts, chocolate-dipped pretzel broomsticks tied with orange ribbon, monster cake pops decorated to look like Frankenstein and mummies, caramel-drizzled popcorn balls rolled in black and orange sprinkles, and miniature pumpkin whoopie pies with cream cheese filling.

Somewhere between the Devil’s Fingers and the whoopie pies, I almost forget we’re hunting a killer. Almost.

A makeshift stage has been set up near the attraction’s entrance, right next to the weathered dock where the ride boats load and unload. Rows and rows of white ladder-back chairs are arranged in front of the stage, and every single seat is filling up fast.

The crowd is packed with rabid cozy mystery fans—and I use the word rabid affectionately. At least half of them are wearing Fish and Chip merchandise: cat-ear headbands, pumpkin-themed tote bags with the cats’ faces on them, and Huckleberry Hollow Wonderland: Where the Rides Are a Real Killer T-shirts that marketing cooked up last month.

The marketing company would be Fish, Chip, and me. We work for donuts and compliments.

Some readers have gone full costume. I spot a woman dressed as a witch with a black cat stuffed animal on her shoulder, another in a Cabot Cove windbreaker toting a vintage typewriter, which I sincerely hope is a prop and not carry-on luggage, and a Nancy Drew complete with flashlight and titian wig. A rumpled trench coat shuffles past doing an alarmingly committed Columbo, cigar and all. Then there’s the particularly dedicated fan in a literal bookshelf costume with book spines glued down every which way. I’ll admit, it’s quite the look. The temptation to browse the shelves is almost overwhelming.

“This is my kind of crowd,” Ree says, clutching a book of her own like it’s the Holy Grail of homicidal fiction.

Georgie surveys the buffet as if she intends to leave no crumb behind. “If the murder investigation doesn’t pan out, at least we’ll eat well.”

Ree spots her new and questionable bestie near the front row and all but squeals. “Delora!”

The two of them collide in a hug that involves jumping up and down and making sounds only canines should be able to hear. Cupcake’s ears rotate toward them with genuine concern. Within seconds, they’re chattering a mile a minute about the Southern Charm and Deadly Harm books they stayed up past their bedtime reading last night. Bedtime is at eight for both women, in case inquiring minds want to know.

I take a second to appreciate the view. This is the same woman who once looked at me as if I were a stain on her upholstery, and now she’s bouncing like a teenager at a boy band concert.

Cozy mysteries—healing family rifts one fictional corpse at a time. And sometimes one real corpse at a time too.

Okay, so Delora and I aren’t family, but as far as I’m concerned, that’s just a technicality. Based on the trajectory Dexter and I are on—well, one of us might be playing the part of the corpse in an upcoming cozy mystery that involves my park. Why did I bring this up again?

I shake all thought of homicide out of my mind.

“And then when she found the body floating in the molasses tank—” Ree gasps.

And just like that, homicide is front and center again. It’s sort of a theme in my life now.

Am I sure I’m not starring in my own cozy mystery? If I am, I’d love to give the author a good throttling or two. And maybe threaten a homicide of my own. But then again, at least they were kind enough to put a hot detective in my path, and for that I’ll forever be grateful.

“I know! I nearly dropped my book!” Delora clutches Ree’s arm.

Ree nods. “I didn’t see that twist coming at all!”

“Neither did I!” Delora howls. “The way Eulla Bell sets up the red herrings is masterful!”

Georgie watches them with her mouth puckered as if she’s bitten into a lemon. “I read three chapters and fell asleep. Twice.”