Murder in the Mix (Books 4-6)

Home > Mystery > Murder in the Mix (Books 4-6) > Page 7
Murder in the Mix (Books 4-6) Page 7

by Moore, Addison


  “Well, you’re proving to be a darn good detective. I think if you put your mind to it you could pull it off in spades.”

  My heart wrenches at the thought. In truth, this time of year always makes me a little melancholy at the fact there’s a family out there that rejected me. I know I shouldn’t look at it that way, but I can’t help it. There’s a very real little girl who lives inside of me that insists on feeling a bit sorry for herself at the holidays.

  “Speaking of detectives”—I’m quick to change the subject—“how are we going to get any info on Tanner’s bodacious beauty?”

  A thunderous applause erupts behind us as a flurry of Bazingas’ finest all congregate around a table of teenage boys and break out into a cheery yet significantly altered version of “Happy Birthday,” and when they’re through, the entire crew shakes their bazingas.

  Everett pulls my hand to his lips. “I’m having a brainstorm, Cupcake.”

  “I bet you are.”

  “Hey”—he dips his nose to my fingers—“you smell amazing. Like sugar and—”

  “Cinnamon,” I finish for him. “And you would too if you were baking up enough gingerbread boys and girls to conduct a hostile takeover of the living.”

  A shadow darkens the table, and we look up to see Noah Corbin Fox, stone-faced and yet vexingly handsome.

  “What’s going on?” He glowers at his former stepbrother a moment.

  I pull my hand back like pulling it from a fire. “He was just sniffing my cookies!”

  Noah’s eyes light with fire sort of the way Dutch’s do on a permanent basis.

  The waitress comes by and sets another plate setting down next to Everett, and Noah takes a seat, those angry slits he sees the world through firmly focused on me.

  “Pardon me.” Everett catches the waitress’ attention before she has a chance to bounce away. “It’s her birthday,” he says, pointing my way, and I can’t help but shoot him a dirty look. I bet he’d like for me to get bazingaed while he surveys the flesh buffet as if it were a choice dessert. So what if Bella is serenading us? I still don’t see how I’m going to get her to out herself as a murderer—especially not in a crowd of her co-workers—especially not in a bikini top that hardly covers her bazingas.

  Sugar scowls at me before taking our orders—one order of hot wings for Everett and two dittos from Noah and me.

  “Great,” I say once she takes off. “Now she’s going to spit in all of our dinners.” I glower at Noah. “Enjoying a quick dinner break? Or should I say quickie?”

  His affect smooths out, and he’s got that hot five o’clock shadow going on and those dimples are effortlessly digging in on their own free will. My God, this man never fails to slay me with his comeliness.

  “I think we all know why we’re here.”

  Everett nods to Noah. “Cupcake and I are enjoying a date night. Ivy meeting you here?”

  Noah glances my way. “Very funny. And no. We thought it would be less suspicious if I came alone.” His brows dip into a hard V. “Date night, really?”

  “Yes, really,” I say. “And you can thank us once all of those bodacious beauties come shaking their bazingas at me. I bet Bella will be one of them.”

  “So you know her name.” Noah tips his head my way in a congratulatory manner. “I can appreciate the fact that you keep trying to interject yourself into a homicide investigation that you feel you have a personal connection with. I don’t like it, but I can appreciate it.” His features darken—also a vexingly sexy look on the man who has threatened to frost my cookies in the very near future. And, my God, how my cookies are eager for that frosting. “But what I don’t appreciate is the fact the two of you have once again found yourselves in a social orbit that consistently has a bad element to it.”

  I suck in a quick breath. “What? Believe you me, honey. Those women who work the strip clubs aren’t doing it as an easy and effective way to meet impressive men. They’re doing it because, more often than not, they have another mouth to feed, a much smaller one that was aggressively purged from their own body, i.e., children. And these girls here?” I blank a moment. “Okay, so some of them are hoping to meet impressive detectives and judges, but mostly their tips are out of this world. I should know. I earned a decent wage when I worked the tables at the Honey Pot Diner. And if they’re earning triple what I was—well, if this baking gig doesn’t pan out, I might just don a bikini myself. So as you can see, I’m not really a big fan of this chauvinistic conversation.”

  Noah’s lids hang low. “I meant in this seedy part of town. In no way would I put down a woman for how she chooses to put bread on the table.”

  “Oh. Right.” My cheeks burn with embarrassment for a moment. Nonetheless, a thought comes to me, and I excuse myself as I head for the restroom. Dutch hops alongside me as if I’ve suddenly decided to take him on an impromptu walk and in a way, I have.

  I spot Sugar finishing up with a table near the entry and speed up just in time to bump into her.

  “Oooh, sorry!” I help right the empty tray in her hand. “Say? Can I ask you a quick question?” I shuttle us to the corridor that leads to the restrooms. “Do you know Bella?”

  She inches back before glancing to the floor. “Bells? She’s here somewhere.”

  “Oh, right. Yeah, I thought I spotted her earlier.” Liar, liar, Cupcake on fire. “I mean, she’s an old friend of mine.” Seriously? And she’s here? I smell a not-so happy reunion if Sugar feels the need to reunite old friends, but something tells me she’s not that interested in either of us. “She’s been acting kind of strange lately. Did she just undergo a bad breakup or something?”

  Sugar’s berry-stained lips crimp as she pulls me deeper into the hall, a good sign of juicy tidbits to come. “You got that right. First, she found out that louse she was seeing was two-timing her with her dad’s girlfriend—and, of course, he swore he’d never do it again. Then the idiot turns up dead. She’s devastated. It’s like the knife was plunged into her chest twice—and at Christmastime no less.”

  More like icicle. Appropriate, considering the fact Tanner was sort of cold-hearted.

  “Her dad’s girlfriend, huh?” The thought churns my stomach. Tanner’s libido truly knew no bounds. “That’s pretty low. No wonder she acts as if she doesn’t even know me.” Ha! Perfect cover!

  “Tell me about it. She’s been walking around here like a zombie for the last few days. You’d think she offed the guy herself.” She takes off as I struggle to catch my breath. My God, Bella Carter could just be the one who did it!

  I head back to the table in time to see a literal cupcake floating toward it as an entire gaggle of scantily clad girls bounce their bazingas my way. The clapping is far too loud, the song is amazingly obnoxious, and both Noah and Everett look as if they need a glass of ice water flung in their faces. But I’m far too mesmerized by the redhead with the oversized eyes. Her face is puffy, and her affect isn’t nearly as cheery as the rest of the crowd. Not only does her nametag give away the fact it’s Bella—the fact I clearly recognize her from the night of the Christmas party cinches the deal. The waitresses shake their bazingas at Noah and Everett before disappearing back to the four corners of the establishment. But I spot Bella heading toward the same corridor I just cornered Sugar in.

  “Enjoy the cupcake, boys,” I say to Noah and Everett before Dutch and I head off on mission number two. Hey? Who knew having a double date with Noah and Everett would bring me such incredible luck? And I don’t mean double date in the traditional sense. Suffice it to say, I feel a little smug to be in a place like this with my own male harem.

  “Excuse me,” I say and Bella turns around, stunningly beautiful with perfect porcelain skin, eyes that glitter like black diamonds. “Uh—” Great. What now? I look down and note I’m holding a napkin. “I think you dropped this.” I hold it out between us, and she makes a face before swiping it from my hand.

  “Thank you.” She sniffles as if she were one misplaced napkin
away from losing it.

  “Whoa, hey.” I sling my arm around her shoulders. “It’s not the end of the world. I used to be a waitress, too. And, believe you me, I know all about wanting to get the job done right.”

  Tears spout from her. “It has nothing to do with work, believe me.” She dabs her eyes with the cloth napkin I just handed over. “In fact, I shouldn’t even be here.”

  “Boy trouble?” I don’t see why we shouldn’t get right down to brass tacks.

  She nods. “As in past tense. Let’s just say it didn’t end well.”

  “Relationships with jerks never do.” My God, I pray she saw Tanner for who he really was.

  “Oh, he wasn’t a jerk. Not until the end anyway. We were going to run off and get married. He bought me a ring and everything.”

  “Really? A real ring or one of those candy ones you pick up in a gumball machine?” Inquiring minds really do want to know.

  A small laugh chortles from her. “It’s very nice of you to try to make me feel better, but I really should get back out there.” She makes a face at the crowded restaurant.

  “I get it. But just know that no man is worth those tears. I’m sure you’ll find someone else far better suited for you.”

  She shakes her head emphatically, those dark eyes glossy and stained with crimson tracks. “No way. I’ll be steering clear of relationships for a good long while. It was ugly, and let’s just say it brought out an ugly side in me that I really didn’t expect. Not to mention the fact my brother went ballistic as soon as he found out. Things took a very nasty turn.” She shudders, and Dutch barks right at her as she takes off down the hall.

  “Hey?” I bend over and give him a scratch under the chin, and those blazing red eyes heat right into mine. “Is she the killer? Is that why you’re barking?”

  He whimpers and looks unreasonably sad, and for whatever reason it doesn’t instill a whole lot of confidence in me.

  I head back to the table and tell Noah and Everett what I’ve gleaned from both Sugar and Bella.

  Noah nods. “I think we might have found our girl.”

  I glance to Dutch and twist my lips. “I don’t know. A part of me still thinks something isn’t adding up. It can’t really be that easy, right? I mean, she practically confessed to me, a stranger of all people.”

  Everett shrugs. “That’s not unusual. It helps the perpetrator get it off their chest with no real consequences. I’m betting she feels better just by speaking with you.”

  The loyal pooch by my side lets out a series of ear-piercing howls and growls.

  “Dutch!” I call out in fear he’ll not only wake the dead but invoke the curiosity of the living as well.

  “Dutch?” Noah leans in, his eyes tracing my hand as I quickly realize I was absentmindedly stroking the yippy puppy’s back.

  “Dutch?” I look to Everett for help.

  “Yes, dutch,” he says, pulling out his wallet. “As in we all pay for our own meal. I like how you think, Lemon. For a second I thought I’d have to foot his bill, too.”

  I try to throw some money into the pot, and Noah gently pushes it away.

  “My treat, Lot.”

  We head out into the icy December air, and Noah wraps an arm around me. “Thank you, Lottie. I don’t think I could have gotten nearly as much info on my own. Ivy may not like it, but I’m glad you were here.” He lands a heated kiss to my lips, and we linger as Everett clears his throat. “I’ve got to head back to the station.”

  “I know,” I whisper as we hug it out, and I offer another far juicier kiss to his lips.

  “Goodnight,” he says to the both of us before pinning a threatening look to Everett. “You stay away from her cookies.”

  “Will do.” Everett mock salutes him as Noah hops into his truck and takes off.

  Everett and I circle around the parking lot, and my eyes snag on a white Toyota Corolla that looks as if it’s seen better days—specifically on that dent on its front end.

  “Everett!” I sing his name in a panic as I point over to it.

  “Holy smokes.” He heads over and pulls out his phone, taking several pictures of the incriminating dent. “I’ll shoot these to you.” He crouches on his knees as he gives it a closer inspection. “Look here, there’s a streak of dark paint. It looks like this could very well be the car we’ve been looking for.”

  “So, Bella really might be the killer?”

  Dutch howls at the moon as if he were about to morph into a werewolf.

  “Hush, you!” I hiss as Everett straightens.

  “I take it Dutch doesn’t agree?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe he’s just really happy to see it’s a full moon?”

  Everett wraps an arm around my shoulders as we head to his car. “Let’s get this information to Noah so he can button up this case by Christmas. You have a calendar to fill, Cupcake, remember?”

  “You do realize I have no desire to talk about my sex life with you.”

  “Why not? We’re dating.”

  We share a warm laugh as we pile into his car, with Dutch sprawling out over the back seat as we make our way back to Honey Hollow.

  Bella Carter—murderer at large. Something about it doesn’t sit right with me, and it has nothing to do with Dutch’s strange behavior.

  Bella Carter mentioned her brother went ballistic.

  Maybe, just maybe, he went ballistic enough to kill.

  Chapter 9

  Honey Hollow Covenant Church is a boxy building encased in white bricks and attached firmly to its side is Carlson Hall, the destination for most after-funeral affairs, and this is the second of which occasions I’ve been asked to cater. The first time I was asked it was by poor Collette Jenner’s mother, and this time my own mother reached out on behalf of the church. Of course, I felt it was bad decorum to make an appearance in the actual service, but seeing that my cookies are on order, I’m sticking around for the after-party.

  The hall is bustling with bodies, mostly gorgeous females that one might consider romantic contenders for the deceased, and why does this not surprise me?

  As soon as I arrived, Dutch took off running into the hall, acting as if I never let him off his spiritual leash anymore. Last night he curled his handsome self around Pancake as if he were protecting his new furry friend, and it warmed my heart. Pancake shockingly slept right through the carnage.

  Everett helped me schlep my cookies from the new van he bought me. It’s still my very favorite toy—the van, not Everett. Last month, I was actually competing to win a refrigerated van for the bakery but ended up catching Collette’s killer and restoring Everett’s good name. He felt he owed me, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. As for delving the cooking this afternoon, I could have done it all by my lonesome, but Everett assured me he did not want me mingling with a potential murderer on my own. It’s potentially true. I’m willing to bet money the murderer is here.

  I’m also willing to bet Noah and Ivy will show up at some point, but so far I haven’t spotted them.

  “Lottie!” Mother chirps as she heads on over with none other than her brand new boy toy leashed to her side. And knowing what I do about Brad Rutherford’s kinky preferences, that might as well have been a literal statement.

  “Brace yourself,” I whisper to Everett. “She’s coming in hot.”

  “Oh, Lottie.” Mom lunges at me with a hug. “I know how hard this must be for you. Standing in a room full of people who assume you’re guilty of murder!”

  “Actually, the thought never crossed my mind.” I pull back and look to Mr. Rutherford. “I see the two of you are still running in the same social circles.”

  He belts out a hearty laugh, and sadly half the room is doing just that so it doesn’t seem that out of character. “I promise I’m treating your mother like the queen she is.” He looks to her and waggles his brows. “Her wish is my command.”

  “Gross,” I mutter.

  Everett touches his shoulder to mine. “It’s nice to see y
ou’ve recovered so well.” He nods to my mother’s plus one. “I would be devastated if I learned that my wife were trying to poison me.”

  Ha! Take that, Brad the cad.

  Mr. Rutherford’s chest expands, and my mother is quick to wrap her arms around him as if he were bloating with helium and about to float to the ceiling.

  “Yes, well”—he looks tenderly down at my mother—“Miranda here has been a healing balm.” She coos up at him appreciatively. “Apply twice daily and rub vigorously!”

  The two of them break out into a fit of laughter as they stagger off into the crowd.

  “I’m going to vomit now.” No sooner do I announce my intentions than Lainey traipses up with a Tanner lookalike that sends my adrenaline skyrocketing. The last thing you expect to see at a funeral is the deceased waltzing around dressed to kill in a three-piece suit. That is clearly Everett’s department. And then it hits me. It’s not Tanner at all that I’m staring at.

  “Hook!” I wrap my arms around my old friend and pull back to admire him. Hook is Tanner’s older, wiser, and far more handsome brother. If Lainey really wanted to make Forest insane, she sure snagged the wrong Redwood brother. Hook isn’t really his formal name, but come to think of it, I’ve never known him by anything else, so maybe it is?

  “Lottie Lemon. You look killer.” He gives a sly wink. “Don’t worry. I don’t think you really slaughtered my brother.” He shakes his head as he looks to Everett. “You must be Lottie’s plus one. Hook Redwood.”

  “Everett Baxter.”

  “He’s not my plus one. He’s my plus one’s ex-stepbrother. It’s a long story. What’s new with you? I hear you’re turning the stock market on its ear. You’re not the reason we’re in a downswing, are you?” I tease.

  Hook belts out a laugh, and half the eligible girls in the room turn to look this way. Honestly, half of them are swooning in Everett’s direction, and this doesn’t surprise me one bit.

 

‹ Prev