Key Lime Pie Perjury: Cozy Mystery (MURDER IN THE MIX Book 34)

by Addison Moore

  “I see.” Evie nods. “They did a double trouble tag team.”

  “One of my best maneuvers,” Carlotta attests.

  Rooster quirks a brow my way before nodding at Noah. “That’s why you boys are the smart ones. Here I thought I was living the dream with two women, but it turns out, sharing a woman is where it’s at. You shag ’em and tag ’em. You twos are good buddies, anybody can see that. And not only can you still enjoy half your free time, you only have half the expense.” He hitches his thumb over at Carlotta. “This one had a Mac attack every hour on the hour. And don’t get me started on her love of boo-rritos. I could hardly afford to keep her in canned beans.”

  Carlotta and Rooster share a laugh at that one.

  Mayor Nash tosses a hand. “That’s funny. I haven’t paid for a single thing since we’ve been together.”

  Lemon nods. “I think this is where we circle back to Carlotta having my credit card. So, Rooster? What exactly did you do to get put away? I understand you did a little time behind bars.”

  He hardens his eyes at Carlotta, and his body begins to twitch with anger. I wouldn’t be surprised if he flipped the table. Heck, I’m almost rooting for him to do it. I’m getting full, and I am definitely over The Rooster Show.

  Rooster twitches his lips as he looks to Charlie and Carlotta. “The bigger question is, what did these two do? I double dog dare any of you to get these sassy Sawyers to talk. They said everything they could that day in court except the truth.” He drills his finger into the table. “But I’m not bitter.” He spills a greasy smile. “I believe what comes around goes around. It seems to me, you girls are about to get your comeuppance soon enough.” That smile of his widens. “And let’s just say, I came to make sure of it myself.” He winks at Carlotta, and she cowers behind Mayor Nash’s shoulder.

  We wrap up dinner, I plunk down a wad of cash, and we make our way back outside to the lot.

  Lemon lets out a wail and Evie screams.

  I’m about to ask what’s got them up in arms, and then I see it—broken glass all over the parking lot, my windshield beat in and smashed to pieces.

  Noah looks my way and shakes his head.

  Looks as if Luke Lazzari had something to say as well.

  This is my warning.

  Time’s up.

  Rooster catches my eye as he struts around the destruction, along with Mayor Nash, and the birth of an idea comes to me.

  Maybe, just maybe, I should take a page out of Carlotta’s playbook.

  That alone should let me know it’s a bad idea.

  But I’m playing with matches—a few more strikes, and this entire nightmare might just blow up in my face.

  Lottie

  “Lemon.”

  A wicked laugh trembles in my chest as I look up at my handsome husband. His hair is mussed, and he still has that lusty gleam in his eyes even though we just completed a marathon of every lusty, thrusty move known to man right here in this bed.

  “Judge Baxter.” I bite down on a full-blown grin before it can take over my face. “I do believe you will be reporting for duty in just a few hours. How does it feel knowing you’ll have full command of your courtroom once again?”

  “Not really as good as it felt to have you take full command of my body.” He gently brushes the hair from my forehead. “That was one hell of a wake-up call. Keep up the good work. I think some cardio is the perfect way to start the day.”

  “I was thinking we take the next act to the shower.”

  “You are rife with good ideas. I’ll start the water.”

  The baby monitor begins to crackle as Lyla Nell lets out a few whimpering cries, and I cringe as I look at Everett.

  “I think you-know-who has just discovered that her mother has abandoned her to the nursery. I’d better go tend to the princess before she wakes up Evie. It’s her first day of summer, and I’m positive she wants to sleep in.”

  “Good thinking.” He leans in and lands a molten kiss onto my lips. “I’ll hit the shower and get dressed for work.” He shakes his head. “Now that’s something I wondered if I’d ever get to do again. Noah is lucky this mess worked out.” He rolls out of bed and heads in the direction of the bathroom.

  “Look at it this way—” I call out. “Thanks to Noah you had a six-month vacation, give or take a few weeks.”

  A laugh thunders through his chest. “I’ll pen him a thank you later,” he says, disappearing down the short hall that leads to the master bath.

  Speaking of later… I pluck my phone off the nightstand and glance at it. The mommy and me class is set for today at three in the afternoon.

  Just below that calendar notification are an entire slew of messages from that horrible Beware app I must have blissfully missed last night.

  Nearby incident! Car crash with injuries on Main Street.

  Nearby incident! Water rescue at Honey Lake.

  Nearby incident! Person assaulted in Leeds.

  “Perfect,” I mutter. “Just how I want to start my day off, good and terrified.”

  My eyes flit back to that mommy and me class notification.

  I don’t have the heart to remind Everett about it. If it slips his mind, there will be another class coming up soon. It’s his first day back at the courthouse, and in no way do I want him to feel guilty about it. Everett has the law coursing through his veins. He needs that courthouse as much as he needs the air in his lungs, even though he would never admit it. He would contest the fact by saying he needs the girls and me all that much more. And, of course, I know that’s true, too.

  I pull on my robe and check on Lyla Nell, but miracle of all miracles she’s somehow fallen back to sleep so I slink back to the bedroom. I head for the closet and a dark briefcase sitting next to Everett’s side of the bed catches my eye.

  That’s right. He pulled it out of the car before they towed it to the shop last night. I thought it was odd that it’s just been sitting in the back of his SUV ever since last January. But then, it’s been a dizzying whirlwind, so I can’t fault the fact he forgot about it.

  A thought comes to me. I can leave a little note in his briefcase, and when he gets to his desk, it’ll be the first thing he sees when he opens it. I bet he’d love that.

  I pull a stationery set my mother gave me last Christmas out of the small desk in the corner. The paper is thick and creamy, perfumed with the scent of lavender, and has the flower itself printed on the front and back. I quickly write out, Congratulations on your first day back! Can’t wait to christen your chambers with you, Judge Baxter. I love you more than words can say. Lottie

  I tuck it into a matching envelope and write Mr. Sexy across the front before heading over and lifting his briefcase onto the bed.

  “Geez,” I whisper, and I nearly throw out my shoulder in the endeavor.

  This thing is heavy.

  I quickly unbuckle it, and no sooner does the lid pop open than I suck in a quick breath. My blood runs cold as all of those judgmental eyes printed over the bills look up at me.

  “What in the heck?” I run my finger over the rows and rows of tightly bundled one hundred dollar bills before pulling a stack out and flicking my thumb through it to make sure it’s the real deal. Every inch of this briefcase is filled to the brim. The heavy scent of money pollutes the air, and I drop the stack right into the briefcase where it came from.

  “What’s going on?” I mutter as I quickly dig through each stack, and sure enough, there is more money here than I’ve ever seen in my life—and nothing else, no files, no notes, no explanation of how or why these funds have landed here.

  A thought comes to me. Everett was paying Manny Moretti five grand a week last March to stave off the hit Jimmy Canelli put out on him for moving his niece’s dead body. But that hit went away when I switched the paternity results. Now that Jimmy thinks I’m his daughter, the hit’s been called off. I bet this is left over from that endeavor. But why was it left in the back of Everett’s car? When I asked him about his
briefcase yesterday, he said he forgot about it.

  Everett Baxter would not forget about a briefcase full of money.

  Was he lying to me? But why?

  A hard groan works its way up my throat. Why does Everett ever try to shield the truth from me? To protect me.

  The water switches off, and I quickly shut the briefcase and put it back where I found it, sans the note.

  I make Everett a quick breakfast of eggs and bacon, and enjoy it with him once he’s dressed. He looks regal in his dark inky suit and navy tie. We make small talk until it’s time for him to leave. Lyla Nell wakes up, and the two of us walk Everett out onto the porch as he readies to leave. Carlotta said he could use her minivan until his windows were fixed, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. I try my best not to look at the briefcase in his hand. I don’t want to let on one bit that I’m aware of its contents.

  “Here’s a little something for you,” I say, producing the envelope from behind my back. “But don’t open it until you get to your desk.”

  “Lemon.” His brows twitch as he takes it from me and rewards me with a kiss. “Can’t wait to see what’s in it. Thank you.” He offers Lyla Nell a quick kiss, and she chirps and squeals as she struggles to grab him by the cheeks and he lets her claw at the scruff on his face for a moment as a genuine smile flickers on his lips. “I love you, Lyla Nell. Be a good girl for your mommy.” He lands another kiss to my lips, far steamier than the last. “I love you, Lemon. You can be as bad as you want.” He winks. “But please relegate that behavior to the bedroom. I’ll see you girls for dinner.” He jumps into Carlotta’s van, and I take Lyla Nell’s hand as the two of us wave him off.

  Everett’s windows were destroyed yesterday. It seems like an awfully big coincidence that Noah’s tires were slashed just a few hours earlier than that. I wonder if whoever did that thought it was Everett’s car? And maybe once they realized their error they went after the right car—that being Everett’s SUV.

  I’m stumped. Could the hit be back on? Maybe it’s time to pay Papa Canelli a visit.

  Lyla Nell and I watch the road long after any trace of Everett is gone as that briefcase full of cash rotates through my mind. I don’t know why Everett felt the need to lug that bag of money to the courthouse, unless he’s going to the bank first to deposit it where it belongs.

  Of course, that’s got to be it.

  But in the back of my mind I’m not so sure.

  Lottie

  Nearby incident! Report of armed man making threats in Leeds.

  Nearby incident! Search for missing eighty-year-old woman in Hollyhock.

  Nearby incident! Robbery at gunpoint in Leeds.

  Later in the afternoon Noah picks Lyla Nell and me up in his truck to take us to the B&B for our very first mommy and me class.

  “I can’t stand this horrible app, Noah. It’s like having a police scanner attached to my phone, reminding me of what a potential hazard it is to leave the house.”

  He chuckles. “Welcome to my world, Lot. I have a scanner right here in the truck. I can turn it on if you like.”

  “No, thank you. One mode of torment is more than enough.”

  We’ve donned our comfiest clothes, as per the class instructions, and we can’t wait to do whatever it is they do at our first parental meet and greet.

  Carlotta and Evie had finally rolled out of bed by the time we left, and Evie announced she was headed to Honey Lake with her friends. Carlotta decided she wanted a change of scenery herself and tried to tag along with them, but after a verbal tussle worthy of a couple of verbal ninjas, Evie made sure that good time wasn’t happening. What with the threats she doled out, Cray-Cray may never see the likes of Honey Lake again—thus the reason she’s tagging along with us.

  Noah drives us over to what was once exclusively my mother’s B&B, although now she shares a fifty-fifty split with Cormack Featherby. A few months back, my mother’s wily boyfriend decided he needed a cash infusion for his publishing company, and he convinced her that selling the B&B was the best way to accomplish that asinine idea. And being the fool for love my mother is, she did just that.

  Initially, the B&B went to Cormack and Cressida, but I convinced Cressida to give my mother back her share if I met with her ludicrous demand of doing a paternity reveal on live TV.

  Cormack, however, didn’t budge, and apparently, she’s not budging on a lot of things because the signage out front still reads Rendezvous Luxury Resort and Razzle Dazzle Day Spa. The large mansion-like structure is still painted a splotchy hot pink, and I’m guessing the rest of the travesties are still going on inside as well.

  Sure enough, they are. The first to greet us are a couple of floor-to-ceiling oil paintings, one each of Cormack and my mother. They both look far more ravishing than they do in real life, and they both look as if they paid off the artist to give them the boob job of a lifetime to boot.

  The lobby is teeming with bodies, most of them comprised of couples holding cute little bundles just like the one Noah has resting on his chest.

  Carlotta slaps me on the arm. “Check it out, Lot Lot. Cha Cha’s got ’em in stitches over by the library.”

  I look to my right, and Charlie stands there with the ghosts that take up residence here, along with Pretty Boy, the ghost that’s come back to assist me in Duncan Spear’s murder investigation.

  “Noah, why don’t you take Lyla Nell into the conservatory and find a spot for us?” I say. “I’ll be there in just a minute.” We part ways as Carlotta and I sail over to where Charlie is chattering up a storm while regaling the ghosts in question with what seems to be a story of the ages, considering the fact they’re howling with laughter.

  “Lottie!” Greer chimes as she gives a friendly wave. Greer’s dark tresses float around her every which way, and she’s still every bit the beauty queen she was in this life and in the next.

  Winslow has his ghostly thumbs hooked into the straps of his overalls as he rocks back on his heels contentedly, and even little Lea, the pint-sized terror with her long dark hair combed over her face and that machete swinging like a weapon of destruction in her hand, looks to be enjoying the show.

  Their poltergeist pussycat, Thirteen, sits on Pretty Boy’s back and they both twitch their whiskers my way.

  “Your sister is a ham, Lottie,” Thirteen mewls as his ebony fur gives off a supernatural glow. “It’s a crying shame she hadn’t descended on Honey Hollow sooner.

  “That would be Carlotta’s fault.” I shed a short-lived smile at my genetic carbon copy. “Charlie, what are you thinking having a ghostly powwow right in the open? People are going to think you’re off your rocker.”

  “I am off my rocker, in the event you hadn’t noticed,” she snips right back. “Now if you’ll all excuse me, I have a set coming up at Red Satin in a few hours and I need to limber up for my routine.”

  Greer groans, “I would love to come and watch you do your thing.”

  “Me too,” Winslow is quick to put his perverted two cents in, and Greer shoots him a look that suggests he rethink his afternoon plans.

  Greer shrugs my way. “What can I say, we’re both addicted to the nachos.”

  “Nachos.” Winslow gives a frenetic nod. “That’s it.” He bows slightly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a fresh supply of people to scare. They’ve been swirling with supernatural anticipation ever since they set foot through those doors, and I’d hate to disappoint them.”

  He zooms off, and soon the lights in the lobby are flickering.

  “He’s never been one to waste time. Once that man knows what you need, he’s quick to give it to you.” Greer sighs. “Sometimes I wonder how I ever got so lucky. I’d best go join him.” She looks to Charlie. “I’m so glad you’ve moved to Honey Hollow. I really feel as if I finally have someone I can relate to again—of the female persuasion, of course.”

  “Hey?” I lift my head a notch. “I thought we got along great, Greer.”

  “Oh, we do, Lotti
e, but Charlie and I are like two birds of a supernatural feather. Ta-ta!” She leans close to Charlie. “Good luck with the lawsuit,” she whispers before floating off in a hurry and Carlotta chuckles.

  “See there, Lot?” Carlotta elbows me. “I told you we should have gotten rid of her the second she set foot in town. She’s stealing your friends. The next thing you know, she’ll be stealing your men. Don’t forget she’s already got her fangs poised over Foxy’s neck.”

  Pretty Boy barks over at Charlie. “Are you a biter?”

  Thirteen brays out a laugh. “She might be a biter, but she’ll have to be a fighter of the highest caliber to take one of Lottie Lemon’s men away. Lottie might have a spare, but once she clamps her teeth over someone you’d have better luck getting a pit bull to give up a steak. Come now, Pretty Boy. I believe you mentioned that a suspect just entered the conservatory. Let’s survey the lay of the land until Lottie arrives. The bakery delivered their sweet treats, and they brought along an entire cache of bite-size key lime pies as well. I don’t think anyone will notice if we clear off half a tray.”

  They don’t bother wasting any time floating to their next destination. Instead, they both disappear in a spray of miniature blue and green stars.

  The dead that come back to help me solve a case are typically someone that the deceased had a special affinity for. Their presence used to simply mean that nothing more than a skinned knee was headed someone’s way. For the past few years, they’ve been a pretty sure sign that a murder is afoot. At first, I couldn’t even hear them, but as my powers grew they procured the ability to speak, move objects in the material world, and last year they finally gained the victory prize itself, an all-you-can-eat, calorie-free buffet—as in they can eat whatever they want. I’m not sure why their abilities seem to be tied to mine in some way, but I learned long ago not to ask too many questions—especially since only Carlotta is around to answer them.