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My name is Missy Kingston, and I’m a widow. After my husband’s sudden death, I had a lot of time on my hands—and a lot of life insurance money. I’m also a devoted dog lover, so I decided to take that money and invest it, and my time, in the local animal shelter. I spend my days training dogs to improve their chances of adoption and, of course, loving on them like crazy.
It’s the annual Halloween festival, and the shelter, sponsored by yours truly—is holding a pooch party. What could be better than a festival full of children playing with puppies? Not finding the festival organizer dead in a pile of pumpkins, that’s for sure, but here’s me, in the thick of it.
The puppies need their furever homes, but I learned the murderer might be someone who wants to stop my pooch parties permanently. What’s a widow to do? Take the killer down, that’s what. Because nobody messes with my dogs.
The problem is, unlike me, the killer knows who I am, and I’ve got to tread carefully, so the killer can’t stop me permanently.
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