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“I’m going inside. If you want this, then maybe you should come inside, too.” I huffed, then climbed back onto my feet and into the RV.

A moment later a thunk sounded from the bathroom.

“I’ll get it,” Charles announced as he paced across the living space.

As soon as the door clicked open, Pringle tore out of the bathroom in a manic fury.“Tuna, tuna, tuna,” he chanted, jumping up beside me.

“You’ve been a very naughty raccoon.”

He folded his hands in front of him and blinked up at me with large eyes.“What? Me?”

I scowled at him, ripping the can away when he tried to make a grab for it.“Yes, you. I told you to stay put.”

“I did!” he squeaked. “See, I’m right here?”

“Then why did I spot you creeping into that other camper?”

Pringle took a step back.“Wh—?”

“Don’t play stupid with me. I saw you.”

“Okay, fine.” When he sighed, his little shoulders rose and fell in defeat. “Okay, so maybe I was trying to solve the murder for you. Thing is, I want in on Pet Whisperer P.I., and I figured if I cracked this case single-handedly, you’d have no choice but to invite me to partner.”

“Keep dreaming, ringworm,” Octo-Cat snarled before appearing as if out of nowhere. He padded over to us, stretching each leg as he walked, making him look like some kind of bizarre circus act.

“And where were you?” I demanded, folding my arms over my chest, tuna still in hand.

A shudder wracked his striped body.“Hiding from that awful Sharon person.”

“Ah, too bad you think she’s so awful,” I teased with a half-grin. “She brought a can of tuna for you, but seeing as you don’t like her, I’m sure you don’t want anything to do with—”

“Mine!” Octo-Cat cried, then batted the can from my hands and sent it crashing to the floor.

Both animals fell upon it at once, embroiled in a bitter fight for dominance.

“Do I even want to ask?” Charles pulled two bottles of soda from the mini fridge and handed one to me.

“Probably best that you didn’t.” I scooted over to make space for him on the sofa. “Did the police say anything more to you?”

“Not really. Although I was thinking you might want to change.”

“Why?” I asked, a fresh wave of embarrassment washing over me as I remembered about my “juicy” booty.

He glanced down at my lap.“Well, the campground manager was murdered with a poisonous pie, and you’re covered in berry juice. Looks a little suspicious.”

“Oh, I haven’t told you yet. I know who made the pie.” I loved sharing what I’d learned with him. Even though I’d been terrified at the time, now I was quite pleased with myself for gathering this little piece of intel.

He took a swig from his soda and then lowered the bottle.“Who?”

“Sharon,” I revealed, pressing my lips in a tight line to keep from saying more.

He snorted and took another drink of soda.“But you don’t think she’s the one who did it, do you? I mean that’s circumstantial evidence at best.”

“Are you kidding? She totally did it,” I said even though I still wasn’t entirely convinced myself. I felt better having a primary suspect in mind rather than keeping the entire thing open-ended.

“I guess we’ll see.” Charles leaned forward and plucked the can of tuna away from the bickering animals, then went to stash it in the glove compartment where neither of them would be able to get it.

“No fair! No fair!” Pringle cried, jumping up and down in protest.

“Upchuck strikes again,” Octo-Cat declared using his preferred nickname for whenever he was feeling irritated with my boyfriend.

“Where’s that salmon?” I asked whoever was willing and able to answer.

“I left it outside, Charles replied, returning from the front and settling beside me on the sofa once again. “Couldn’t very well bring it in here and stink up the rental.”

“Look, how about this?” I attempted to reason with our furry stowaways. “If you two can be good for the rest of this weekend, I’ll let you share that salmon.”

“I don’t want to share with him,” they each cried in unison, sticking their tongue out at the other.

I shrugged as if none of it mattered to me.“That’s my offer. Take it or go hungry. Frankly, I don’t care what you do.”

“Are you going to change?” Charles prompted, staring pointedly at my messy lap once more.

I sighed, knowing I didn’t have any good options waiting for me in that suitcase. But he was right. Even if not for the incriminating berry stains, the outfit was decidedly filthy, thanks to our brief adventure in the woods.

Back in my room, I found a floor-length dress made of black crushed velvet. It had no back, which meant I couldn’t wear a bra with it, but seeing as it was far less ostentatious than the other option—something that looked like a cast-off from the old film adaptation of Gone with the Wind—I pulled the garment over my head without giving it a second thought.

Of course, floor-length on Nan equated to mid-calf on me, but if anything, that just made it easier to move around in.