Page 82 of Fish and Chip

“Hey, handsome,” I say.

“Hey, beautiful.” He pulls me close, and I realize how much I needed this. Just him, solid and warm and here, smelling of leather and something woodsy that makes my brain go pleasantly fuzzy.

“How’s Felicity?”

“Cooperating fully. My lead tonight was Emily’s court file. In fact, I was on my way to find Felicity when I saw her take off from the party. Her lawyer’s already making the case for self-defense. With Belladonna’s history of protecting her son and the evidence that she attacked first, Felicity is looking at nothing at best and minimal charges at worst.”

“What about the orange thread? The one caught on her ring? Felicity wasn’t wearing a stitch of orange.”

“Lab ran it. It matched the party bunting. Belladonna snagged her ring on one of the flags sometime during the evening.”

I let that sink in. All week I’d been guarding that thread in my mental evidence locker, front and center, and the whole time it was a red herring. Felicity taught an entire workshop on those. I should have taken notes.

The knot that’s been living in my chest all week finally unties itself. “I’m glad Felicity is going to be okay. She deserves all the best.”

“She does.” He kisses the top of my head as Henrietta bounces between us. “You did good work.”

A slow song starts playing, something jazzy and slightly spooky that somehow works for both Halloween and a midnight wedding in a cemetery.

“Dance with me,” Dexter says.

“I’m wearing a purple catsuit and a decapitated doll named Henrietta. This is your last chance to pick literally anyone else.”

“I’d pick you every time. Josie, catsuit, doll head—I want all of it. There is only ever you.” He pulls me onto the dance floor anyway, because apparently he’s decided I’m worth the public spectacle.

“That was dangerously charming. Do it again and I’m keeping you.”

“That’s the plan,” he says into my hair.

I bite down on a smile. Somewhere in the park, Delora feels a shiver go up her spine, and she’s not sure why.

We sway together, and I rest my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and trying not to think about whatever disasters are already queuing up for next month like eager season-pass holders.

“So how does this chapter end?” Dexter asks against my temple. “You’re the expert.”

“Depends. Cozy mysteries usually close with the heroine getting everything she wants.”

“And what does she want?”

“I’ll show you.” And I do.

Oh, for the love of—they’re kissing, Fish announces somewhere nearby.

Again! Chip adds, slightly muffled. He found the cream puff. Don’t they ever get tired of swapping spit?

That’s love, sugar, Cupcake sighs. They’ll mash their mouths together for ten minutes but turn their noses up at a perfectly respectable sniff of the behind.

Dogs really will romanticize anything, Salem says. And apparently so will hoomans.

Delora arrives as the song ends and takes a moment to glare at the two of us entwined around one another.

“Mother.” Dexter is the first to acknowledge her.

“How was the werewolf?” I ask without missing a beat.

Delora glowers at me. “He was wonderful!” Her entire countenance brightens. “The whole week was wonderful! Well, minus the murder. And the arrest. And the body. But otherwise, wonderful!”

Only in my world does a recap require that many disclaimers.