Page 55 of Fish and Chip

Gertie’s smile tightens a notch. There it is. A crack in the leopard print. Her fingers drift up to the bone beads at her throat and twirl one in slow circles.

“Exactly like that,” she says. “Blackmail is a particularly terrible crime because it traps people in cycles of fear and poor decision-making. In my books, blackmail victims often become killers not because they’re inherently violent, but because they see murder as the only way out.”

Around my neck, one of Henrietta’s plastic eyes clicks shut, then opens again. Even the cursed doll has questions for the woman on stage.

For the record, Fish reports from the photo op line, the woman just walked fifty strangers through the emotional life cycle of a criminal from memory. I’ve seen guiltier faces, but they were all Chip’s.

The presentation continues. Gertie covers corporate hierarchies, power dynamics, and how resentment builds in office environments. She talks about the psychology of white-collar crime, the rationalization process, and how seemingly minor ethical violations can snowball into major felonies. Resentment. Rationalization. Avalanche of blackmail. I could set this lecture to music and call it Belladonna’s greatest hits.

Ree raises her hand. “Do you interview real criminals for research?”

“I interview former executives who’ve made mistakes,” Gertie says with a mournful smile. “People who took falls, paid their debts, and rebuilt their lives. I spoke to people in the industry. Their stories inform my work in ways police procedurals can’t.”

“Like you, you mean?” Delora asks.

The room goes silent again. Ree slowly lowers her pen. Somebody’s folding chair creaks, and it sounds like an accusation. Then, very quietly, Ree picks her pen back up.

My boyfriend’s mother, ladies and gentlemen. She won’t approve of me holding her son’s hand, but she’ll happily accuse a woman of felonies in front of fifty witnesses.

Gertie’s smile doesn’t waver. “I was a publishing executive, not a criminal. Though I’ll admit the lines can blur in that industry.”

Polite laughter ripples through the crowd, but the tension lingers like humidity that no mister can take credit for. And I notice Gertie’s gaze snags on Delora a beat longer than the joke requires, as if she’s sizing her up for later. I know that look. It’s the same one I give guests who ask if the funnel cakes are technically food.

The panel continues for another twenty minutes. Gertie takes questions about plot structure, clue placement, and how to make financial crimes interesting for readers who zone out during tax season. She’s funny, knowledgeable, and completely in control of the room.

I’m starting to see why Belladonna might have viewed her as a threat. The woman could sell a felony to a jury and get a standing ovation for it.

“All right,” Gertie finally announces, checking her watch, a sleek silver number worth roughly a full quarter of my corn dog revenue. “Let’s take a fifteen-minute break. Help yourselves to refreshments, stretch your legs, and we’ll reconvene for part two, where we’ll discuss how to murder your boss and make it look like an accident.”

More laughter. Note to self: if anything happens to me this week, the woman in the leopard pantsuit taught a seminar on it first, and there are fifty witnesses with excellent notes. Face it, I’m in a park brimming with potential suspects.

The crowd stands, stretching and migrating toward a snack table that’s appeared, loaded with jungle-themed treats. Banana bread, tropical fruit skewers, and something called Monkey Business Brownies, which I will absolutely be sampling in a strictly supervisory capacity. It’s in my job description. And since I wrote the job description, lucky, lucky me.

Update, Chip reports. The elephant ear situation has been handled. No further questions.

Dexter stands, offering me his hand. “Ready to question a suspect?”

“You mean you’re ready to question a suspect and I’m ready to eavesdrop?”

“I mean we’re both going to have a conversation with Gertie Gloomwood, and we’re going to see if her knowledge of embezzlement comes from research or personal experience.”

I take his hand, ignoring the way my pulse jumps at the contact like it’s auditioning for the Jungle River Rapids. “You’re letting me help?”

“I’m accepting that you’re going to help whether I let you or not. This way I can at least supervise.”

“That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Just wait until I tell you about proper evidence handling procedures. That’s real foreplay.”

Savvy fans herself. “Heaven have mercy, you two need to get a room.”

“Or solve a murder,” Georgie adds. “Either way, the tension is killing me faster than any corporate crime.”

“At your age, honey, don’t tempt it,” Savvy says.

“At my age, sugar, it’s the only thing still chasing me.”

Dexter and I exchange a look, half embarrassment, half amusement, and one hundred percent not touching that with a ten-foot vine.