DEATH BY JELLY BEANS
Holly Swimsuit Mystery Book 5
BY SUSIE BLACK

Excerpt

I dragged my eyes over to the throne. The Easter Bunny sat slumped over with his chin resting on his chest and his body listing to the right. Good grief. A double-whammy. Not only did he dip into the jellybeans again after being warned not to, but he fell asleep on the job in a booze-infused slumber.

Why should I give a flying fig about the jerk who bowled me over without an apology, let alone helping me up? Yet a stab of unexpected pity pierced my heart. I checked the time. Still a few minutes before my command performance. Maybe rouse the poor guy and give him a chance to concoct another story that Sue Ellen might buy, unless the security cameras have sealed his fate.

I laid my messenger bag on the library table next to the throne and gently shook the rabbit’s left shoulder. Nothing doing. I shook him again. This time a bit harder. I put my lips next to his ear and implored him. “Pedro, wake up.” Zilch. Geesh, how much booze did the guy chug? Or maybe booze isn’t the culprit. Perhaps the guy had a late night before, or he is just one helluva sound sleeper? Oddly, he wasn’t snoring, but I attributed it to his neck bent down and his head dangling over his body.

I shook him again and got nothing for my trouble. His chest wasn’t rising and falling. Good gravy. Was the guy breathing? I passed my hand over the costume’s mouth opening, but one so small I couldn’t tell. I clasped a paw to check for a pulse, but the heavy-gauge costume fabric was too thick to detect one.

I checked my watch. No more time to crap around trying to help this idiot, or I’d be late for my meeting. Despite my efforts to rouse him, the guy hadn’t so much as twitched. Annoyance coupled with dread tied my stomach in knots. I panned the department. No one was around except the rabbit and me.

The Goddess short-changed me in the height department, but compensated by blessing me with a deep voice and a strong set of pipes. I put my lips next to his ear and shouted loud enough to wake the dead. “PEDRO, WAKE UP!”

I grabbed the rabbit by the shoulder and shook him with all my might. The guy didn’t move an inch. I grasped his arm tightly and yanked it hard, trying to right him. Good grief. The bunny was stiff as a board. I might as well try bending a steel beam.

I let go of his shoulder, and the rabbit slid off the throne. He crashed headfirst into the library table. My messenger bag and the jellybean jar bounced off the table and fell onto the cement floor. My messenger bag survived the ordeal, but the jellybean jar broke into a zillion pieces. Jellybeans were scattered all over the place. The bunny bounced twice and flopped unceremoniously face down into a pile of jelly beans.

The concept of shouting loud enough to wake the dead?  Trust me, it’s a pile of hot hooey. I didn’t need an MD after my name to make this diagnosis. Pedro Conejo was as dead as the proverbial doornail. When the first responders arrive, they’ll close the swimwear department for who knows how long. This ought to put a nice crimp into the Easter promotion. And who gets to break the good news to Sue Ellen? None other than yours truly.

She’s not gonna be a happy camper. Naturally, I burst out laughing.