Pecan Pie Predicament

by Addison Moore

  I’m about to drill Barry on the ins and outs of having two soulmates when Carlotta spikes up in her seat before I can ask a single heart-shaped question.

  “And there’s my hot date.” She irons out her clothes with her hands. “He’s less soulmate and more cellmate, but I don’t discriminate against the soon-to-be incarcerated.” She nods to the door, and I look over to see Mayor Harry Nash, aka my biological father, bouncing from foot to foot, already dancing to the music. Every last part of me exhales with relief at the sight of him. It’s a known fact Carlotta and Harry have done this role-playing bit in the past, but seeing that they also have an open relationship, Lefty could have just as easily been the real deal.

  She jumps out of her seat to greet him. “Don’t blow our cover, Lot.”

  Mayor Nash has gray stubble for hair with a prominent bald spot in the middle of his scalp, light eyes with a mischievous twinkle in them, and an equally naughty smile. He’s handsome without a doubt, but there is definitely a boyishness about him, and all of the above works in concert to land him in hot water time and time again.

  He makes his way over and offers me a warm embrace before winking over at Carlotta.

  “Chee Chee.” He nods her way. “I see you’ve brought your daughter along. I suppose doing ten years in solitary confinement would warrant a visit or two.”

  “Chee Chee?” I smack my lips over at Carlotta. “Never mind,” I say, looking back at Mayor Nash. “I’m here with Everett. You kids stay safe.” Mayor Nash has no idea about the fact that Carlotta and I can spot a ghost with the best of them. Outside of Carlotta, only Everett and Noah are in on our transmundane secret. There are a few others, but they’re not in town, or in the state for that matter. I’m about to make a beeline back to the table when Maizy’s song comes to a conclusion and the music filtering through the speakers isn’t coming from the live band anymore.

  Maizy steps down and heads for the bar with her cheeks piqued with color, and a laugh caught in her mouth as if she’s just had the best time on a wild rollercoaster. Her blonde hair is teased and curled, but her bangs are still fringing her eyebrows like straight little soldiers standing at attention. And she’s wearing what looks like a blue sequin T-shirt that hardly covers her bottom.

  Barry leans in. “Here she comes, Lottie. Just as drop-dead gorgeous as I remember. I used to think Hannah was drop-dead gorgeous, too—I guess now she is. Get it?” He nudges me with his elbow. “Drop dead?”

  I make a face at his brand of morbid humor. Speaking of dropping dead, Everett has to be worried sick about me by now.

  I glance back to the table to see three surly looking men seated with Everett in addition to the women still flocking to him, but he’s got a clear shot my way and he’s watching me without flinching. Meanwhile, his felony fan club is still going strong.

  Maizy is just about to pass me by, and instinctually I block her path.

  “Maizy Burton?” I do my best to pretend to be startled. “It’s me, Lottie Lemon! We met at the street fair up in Honey Hollow.”

  “Mmm.” Barry gives a wistful shake of the head. “What I wouldn’t give to get another turkey dinner plate from the Honey Pot Diner. The stuffing had breakfast sausage in it, and the mashed potatoes tasted like butter. I’ve never had anything so delicious in all my life, or my afterlife.”

  I nod his way. He’s not kidding. Both of those scrumptious treats were inspired by Grandma Nell’s secret recipe collection. And now that she’s bequeathed to me her coveted recipe book, I hold the key to the secret recipe kingdom.

  Maizy blinks back surprise. “Hey? How about that?” she pants, still winded from her time up on stage. “What brings you out this way?”

  I shrug. “Date night. And now that I know they’ve got deep-fried butter here, you can bet you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.” And I mean more in the literal sense.

  She laughs and that sequin dress shimmers in the light like a thousand starry nights.

  “I was just heading to the bar to wet my whistle before my next set. Care to join me for a minute?”

  “You bet. I was just about to grab something fruity for the baby.” I pat my stomach.

  Barry gives me the once-over. “A kid, huh?”

  Maizy blinks back at my body herself. “Wow, congratulations. I can’t even tell you’re pregnant. How far along are you?”

  “Five months,” I say as we belly up to the bar right next to Carlotta and Mayor Nash. I do my best not to look at them, hoping they’ll return the favor.

  Maizy puts in an order for a gin and tonic, and I ask for a virgin strawberry daiquiri—with a pickle. It just sounded right, so I went with it.

  “How are you doing?” I wince.

  Maizy rolls her eyes as she pats down her forehead with the back of her hand.

  Barry nods her way. “Looks like she got a workout up on stage. I won’t lie. I thought Maizy and I would have made a good team. I was looking forward to making her sweat myself.”

  My lips part as I look to the perverted poltergeist.

  “While working out.” He pauses a moment. “Fine. Working out between the sheets.”

  Thought so.

  The bartender hands Maizy her gin and tonic, and she holds it up my way.

  “This helps.” She laughs. “Believe me, I don’t want to be here tonight, but I need every red cent just to pay my bills. I missed last month’s rent, so I’m scrambling to get any overtime I can.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it. I’m no stranger to financial upheaval. I took out a few loans when I was a student at Columbia and the rent on my apartment was hard to keep up with. And when I came back to Honey Hollow, I was twice as broke as I was before. I was doing some baking at my grandmother’s restaurant and waiting tables. Those tips kept me alive during that time. And then my landlord wanted to sue me on some superfluous grounds, but I guess you can say that’s when my luck changed because my future husband was the presiding judge in the case.” I leave out the part of my landlord biting the big one and becoming my very first homicide investigation.

  Maizy caws out a quick laugh. “That’s a great story, Lottie! Here’s hoping my Mr. Right comes out of this mess.”

  Barry shakes his head. “He won’t. I met her soulmate in paradise. Nice guy from England, owned a pub where they served apple beer. He claims to have invented the pretzel.”

  Huh. Now there’s some supernatural trivia for you.

  “Here’s hoping.” I shrug over at Maizy. “So what do you think put you in such a financial pickle? I’m a compulsive shopper myself.” Not really, unless, of course, baking supplies are involved. Meg once accused me of getting a high off going to the restaurant supply store. She wasn’t wrong. But trust me when I say, there’s nothing as exhilarating as large tubs of sprinkles in every color and size. And I may have a tiny addiction when it comes to cake pans. Need one in the shape of a sand castle? I’ve got it. Christmas tree? Pumpkin? Dickens’ village? Triple check.

  Maizy’s lips seal themselves shut as she cuts a hard look to the stage. “Let’s just say the booty biz wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it.” She knocks back the rest of her drink, and I can feel the window closing on this good time. Talk about a one-eighty. Her mood went from giddy to brooding in one fell swoop. But then, I guess financial trouble could do that to just about anyone.

  Barry lifts a brow my way. “Maybe shift the focus back to the deceased. Hannah always did have trouble holding onto a nickel herself.”

  “What about Hannah? Rumor had it, she always did have trouble holding onto a nickel.” And apparently her life.

  Maizy laughs at the thought. “You got that right. She may have had a hard body, but she had a soft mind when it came to business. She wasn’t exactly the wizard of Wall Street. Let’s just say she had a way of using what she had to get what she wanted.”

  A husky laugh gurgles from Barry. “You got that right, sister. Boy, do I miss her using what she had—to give me wh
at I wanted.”

  I make a face. “Sounds surprising. I mean, she seemed like a real go-getter. So you’re saying Hannah had financial troubles, too?”

  Maizy shakes her head emphatically. “No way. Hannah was a snake charmer who was able to live pretty high on the hog because of it. She just didn’t manage things like she should have.”

  The rest of the band hops back on stage, and the sound of the drums beating softly catches her attention.

  “Looks like my break is over.” She shrugs my way. “I’d better run.”

  “Oh right.” I tense up a moment as a thousand more questions beg to spill from me at once.

  Barry ticks his head her way. “Maybe get to the point. Ask her if she clobbered Hannah over the head.”

  “Maizy?” I take a step her way. “What do you think happened to Hannah yesterday?”

  Her lips pull into a line. “From the looks of it, someone tainted something she ingested.”

  I lean in. “Have they announced that it’s a homicide investigation?”

  “I don’t need anyone to tell me that.” Her lids drop a notch. “Let’s just say I’ve got more than a feeling.”

  “She did it.” Barry lands a ghostly pat on my back. “Wrap it up and take her in. I can be back in paradise for my next fitness session with Corinne. That’s my soulmate.” He gets moony-eyed just at the mention of her name.

  The sound of an electric guitar cuing up sends Maizy twitching.

  “I’m sorry to ask.” I wrinkle my nose her way. “But who do you think could have done something like that to poor Hannah?”

  She takes a deep breath. “I wouldn’t call her poor Hannah, but if I were looking into the case, I’d go sniffing around Reese Underwood. That woman gave us more problems than you could shake a stick at. The way she was coming at us, you would think one of us stole her man from under her.” Her lips cinch with a knowing smile, and it makes me wonder if one of them did just that. “Gotta run. Get that hunky hubby of yours on the dance floor, girl, and shake your booty. It’s good for both you and the baby.” She takes off for the stage with a wink.

  “I will,” I call out. “As soon as I have my fill of fried butter.”

  “They’ve got fried butter?” Barry looks momentarily affronted.

  “Right there.” I point to the table where Everett is swarmed with friendly, yet slightly felonious faces—most of them of the female persuasion—and Barry floats off like the poltergeist he is.

  I attempt to do the same as I weave my way through the crowd already swaying to the song Maizy is belting out. Try as I might to sidestep to the right and left, I can’t seem to get through the human obstacle course.

  Carlotta and Mayor Nash push their tushes in my direction until they’re bopping right in front of me.

  “The two of you are a match made in Senior Hustle heaven,” I shout up over the music. “But then, Chee Chee is easier to land than a fly with honey.”

  “No sirree.” Mayor Nash shakes his head. “This one is playing hard to get. Apparently, I’ve got some competition, a young bodybuilder by the name of Barry.”

  “That’s right, Hot Shot,” Carlotta grouses to Mayor Nash. “If you want a piece of this eye candy, you’re going to have to step up your game of prisoner pursuit, or I’ll be taking a bite out of some beefcake tonight.”

  I shake my head at my doppelgänger. “At least you’re committed to the cause,” I say. “Good luck, Mayor Nash. The competition is stiffer than you think.” As in a genuine stiff. “I might need some luck, too, in excavating my husband from that tangle of bodies around him.”

  “I say give Sexy his moment of glory and dance with us, Lot Lot.” Carlotta pulls me over, and before I know it, I’m swaying to the beat with the two of them. “Put some boot in your scoot,” Carlotta says, kicking up her heels and imploring me to do the same.

  Mayor Nash chuckles. “Go easy on her, Chee Chee. She’s dancing for two, you know.”

  “You got that right. But more to the point, I’m eating fried butter for two. Or at least I will be. Fried butter or bust,” I say, trying to break free from the happy hopping crowd just as a body steps in front of me. It’s a green-eyed, dark-haired, handsome man who happens to wield a state-issued weapon. “Noah!” I give him a quick embrace as we begin to dance to the energetic song. “How did it go with forensics?”

  He gives a quick glance around before leaning in. “Your pie was explosively delicious. That slice of pecan pie was laced with toxic levels of TNT.”

  “Are you saying my recipe killed her? Or was dynamite somehow involved?”

  Nothing would surprise me anymore.

  “Neither.” Noah lands his lips next to my ear. “TNT is a street term for fentanyl. Someone knew exactly what they were doing. Hannah’s heart stopped after just a few bites. They wanted her dead. There’s no mistake about it. We checked the bakery, and there was no other sign of the toxin. This was an outside job.”

  I pause from all movement just as Everett lands in front of me.

  “Mind if I join in?” He steps in close, and soon the three of us are moving to the beat.

  “How’s old home week going?” I tease, and Everett closes his eyes as a wry laugh vibrates through his chest.

  “It’s pretty great to see so much rehabilitation taking place,” he admits. “It confirms what I’ve always believed, anyone can change their life for the better. And you want to know something? Every single one of those people thanked me for their sentences. Of course, they were pretty thankful they were able to get out on early release, too, but they all said the same thing—they needed it.”

  “You’re a real hero, Everett,” I tell him as I raise my voice above the music a notch. “You have good instincts and you give sound judgments, as evidenced by the fact you sided with me all those years ago when I landed in your courtroom.”

  Noah shakes his head. “You know, had the Simonson sisters never sued you, Lot, we’d be here alone.”

  He has a point. I did meet Noah later that day, and after a rather bumpy introduction we hit it off.

  I nod his way. “And if we never met, you would have had to solve all of those homicide cases without me.”

  Everett slits a glance to his old stepbrother. “If that were the case, you’d be slinging hash at some diner back in Hollyhock. With your shoddy record of tracking down killers, you would have been forced into early retirement.”

  “You’re probably right,” Noah grunts. “But I was already living in Honey Hollow at the time. I’d like to think I’d be slinging hash at the Honey Pot.” He sheds a dimpled grin my way. “Face it, Lottie. We were inevitable.”

  Everett wraps his arms around my waist and swings me around. “We were inevitable, Lemon.” His lips twitch with a hint of a devilish smile.

  Nell did say both Noah and Everett were my soulmates. And if Barry is right, no matter what, we would have found each other eventually. There would be no stopping us. I bite down over a smile as I look to the two of them. And oddly, it truly does feel as if there is definitely no stopping us.

  We dance the night away as Everett’s happy harem of reformed women join us on the dance floor, and it’s safe to say Judge Baxter is a big hit at the Slammer Jammer.

  Before we head out, Everett orders up a fresh side of fried butter to go, and I nosh on that slice of deep-fried heaven all the way back to Honey Hollow.

  Everett and I get cozy in Noah’s bed while poor Noah takes the couch, and neither of us has it in us to get frisky in the heart of Noah’s bedroom.

  “We can’t stay at Noah’s forever. I have never felt so out of control in my life, Lemon,” Everett whispers with a frustrated edge to his voice. “I can get us in a hotel in Ashford until we find a rental.”

  “It’s too far from the bakery. I’d have to get up at two in the morning,” I whisper back. “And Evie would hate us for making her leave so early for school. Honey Hollow High is just a hop and a skip away from where we are now.”

  I can feel
Everett’s chest rise and fall as I give him a little scratch over it.

  “Don’t worry.” His voice vibrates through me. “I’m going to fix this for us—sooner than later.”

  “Thank you.” I peck his lips with a quick kiss. “And I think I just figured out a way to fix our other problem.” My hand dips a notch down his chest to give him an inclination of what that might be. “Send me your court schedule, Judge Baxter. I’m going to pay you a visit in your private chambers.”

  “You are a brilliant, brilliant woman.”

  Everett and I try our best to fall asleep as we lie wrapped in one another’s arms. There are so many unknowns about our future, it’s certainly enough to keep the both of us awake for a long time to come.

  And there is certainly an unknown regarding who filled my pecan pie with TNT and stopped Hannah Beckham’s beating heart.

  But I plan on knowing that information intimately as soon as I get to the bottom of this.

  You don’t mess with my pies and get away with it.

  Hannah Beckham’s killer is about to learn that lesson the hard way.

  Chapter 6

  Two words: fried butter.

  That little sugar cookie brewing in my belly is demanding lots and lots of that creamy, buttery goodness, and you can bet your buttered bottom I’m about to deliver. It’s becoming quickly apparent that I can’t deny this little butterball inside of me a single deep-fried thing.

  It’s a blustery afternoon, the winds are swirling outside the window of the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery as if a cyclone were brewing, and it feels as if all of Honey Hollow is about to be blown right off the map of Vermont.

  The afternoon rush just died down. I’ve spent all morning baking more pecan pies than there are pecans in the universe, and the ghost of Barry Honeycutt has spent all morning eating more pecan pies than seems believable even in the supernatural sphere. Between Barry, my regular customers, not to mention the folks from the Last Thing They Ate tour my mother sent over, I’m down to just two of those pecan wonders left on the shelves.