Muffin But Murder (A Merry Muffin Mystery) by Victoria Hamilton Page A

car instead of catching your bus. Then those goons at the door tell me I’m already here!”
    I exchanged a glance with Pish. “I’m so sorry, Melanie. I’d better sort this out,” I said, and headed out of the ballroom to the great hall and toward the front door. I was stopped often on the way, sometimes by well wishers, sometimes by folks actually interested in the castle, but twice by other people who’d had the same experience as Melanie. I was getting more and more annoyed with the boys.
    “Merry, have you seen Binny?” Emerald asked, stopping me with a hand on my arm.
    “No, why?”
    “I’m worried about Juniper,” she said, chewing her lip and looking around. She said something else, but the noise level was worsening in the great hall as folks were posing for photographs with the dummy in the casket. Uncle Mortimer, as Pish had begun calling him, was a popular fellow.
    “I couldn’t hear you,” I hollered. “What did you say?”
    Emerald came closer and cupped her hand near my ear. “I
said
, Juniper was talking to some dude, and he had his hand on her arm, and she looked upset. I wanted to find Binny to get her to ask Juniper what was wrong. Last time
I
tried to talk to that girl, she gave me a look that would freeze Satan in his tracks.”
    “If I see Binny I’ll tell her. Or I’ll tackle the girl myself; where
is
Juniper? I saw her heading this way, but she’s disappeared on me.”
    Emerald turned and searched the boisterous crowd around the casket. “I don’t know. She was talking to that guy, the one just heading back into the ballroom,” she said, pointing to a blue-jeaned figure wearing a cowboy hat.
    I was torn; find Juniper or talk to Gordy and Zeke? “Look, I saw Juniper just a few minutes ago and she
seemed
fine . . . as fine as she ever is, anyway. But I’ll see what I can do,” I said. “Are the girls doing all right?”
    Emerald grinned, her eyes lighting up, the great hall fire giving her face a soft glow. “Lizzie is having the time of her life! But Alcina? Who can be sure what that girl is thinking?”
    We parted ways. When I finally got through the crowd to the front door and exited the castle, there was no one on the front terrace. That was not right; one of the two guys was supposed to be there at all times.
    Pish followed me out a moment later. “Where are they?” he asked.
    My answer was not as eloquent as usual. The explanation soon presented itself, as Zeke and Gordy, in their rented tailcoats, came galloping around the side of the castle and along the flagstone, followed by Becket, who was howling furiously.
    “Get that cat away from me!” Gordy yelped. “It’s got weird eyes. Get it away from me!”
    A couple of girls in sleazy/sexy hooker getups, followed by another girl also disguised in sleaze but with a feathered glittery mask instead of elaborate makeup, trotted around the corner, laughing. As soon as they saw me, they skidded to a halt, their eyes wide behind the masks. The third girl retreated.
    “Who are you two?” I asked pointing at them. “I don’t remember inviting you, whomever
you
are.”
    They backtracked, giggling and hooting, and their laughter was joined by some male rumbling laughter around on the ballroom terrace. Ten to one they were with the football players. Followed by Becket, I stalked over to Gordy and Zeke who were conspicuously checking their clipboards and conferring. “Hand it over,” I said, my palm out.
    Gordy handed me his clipboard, and I checked it in the weak light of the outdoor sconces, running down the list of names. Some had two check marks against them, and one of those was Melanie Pritchard. “If you can tell me how one person can arrive twice, I will let you both off the hook,” I said, pointing to the offending names.
    Zeke shrugged. “How are we supposed to know what these folks look like?”
    “So who were those two girls?” I said, hitching my thumb in the direction of the two gigglers.
    “Uh,