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

by Addison Moore

  The Bar Brawl is a brick building with a large neon sign that features two men who look as if they’re about to come to blows. And since this fine establishment is situated in the heart of Leeds, or geographically rather, the crotch of this wicked town, I’m sure a brawl a night is practically a requirement at a place like this.

  Inside, loud country music pulses from the speakers, the scent of liquor and grilled burgers infiltrates our senses, and there are more than a few bodies milling around.

  “It’s standing room only, Lot,” Carlotta quips as she cranes her neck into the bar.

  It’s spacious inside, laid out like a restaurant, but with standing height tables and chairs. Steel furniture and concrete floors give this place a modern feel. There’s a dance floor near the back, and alongside three of the walls there’s a wraparound bar, the longest I’ve ever seen.

  Everett waves from a table to my right, and I light up at the sight of him and wave right back. I managed to squeeze into a little black dress, and for all intents and purposes, this is date night for the two of us, three if you count Noah.

  We’re about to head in that direction when Noah pulls me back.

  “Look, Lot.” He points to the bar to the left and I suck in a quick breath.

  Standing there, belly to the counter, is a trifecta of evil—Rooster, Manny Moretti, and Wiley Fox.

  “So much for a men’s Bible study.” I shake my head at the sight. “No offense, Noah, but I get the feeling Wiley makes it a regular practice to lie to my mother.”

  “No offense taken.” He sighs. “I think you’re right.”

  “Oh, come on, Lot.” Carlotta digs her fists into her hips as she stares their way. “Don’t be so judgmental. I’ve had plenty of religious experiences in places just like this. In fact, I was bringing Cha Cha along with me before she could walk or talk. If you let me watch Little Yippy, I’ll give her a worldly education just like I did my own offspring.”

  I take a breath. “And that’s exactly why you’ll never be left alone with her.”

  A familiar looking dark-haired woman steps from the shadows as she leans toward Rooster and the four of them share a laugh.

  “Oh, sweet peas and carrots.” I stalk on over and pull my sister from their midst. “Are you nuts?” I ask, not bothering to wait for a response as we join Everett, Noah, and Carlotta at the table.

  “What’s the matter?” Charlie breaks free from my hold as she takes a seat next to me. “I just finished a set at Red Satin and wanted to grab a bite. Meg suggested I head here tonight, and I’m starting to see why.”

  “Lemon.” Everett lands a kiss next to my ear. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about dessert,” he says before looking to Noah. “We’re having key lime pie.”

  Noah shoots him a look. “I know. Lottie let me have my fill while I was over. How does it feel to know you’ll be eating my leftover dessert?”

  Carlotta chuckles. “Come on, Foxy. We both know Sexy gets a little bit of satisfaction knowing he’s gobbling down whatcha left behind.”

  Charlie shrugs in Noah’s direction. “You ruined it on your own, Noah. If you hadn’t resorted to secrecy, you would be married to my sister by now.” Her head lolls to the right as she glances at Everett. “My sister hates secrets. She can’t help it. It’s the Sawyer way. We’re practically hardwired to cut people out of our lives who keep things from us.” She flashes a manufactured smile at me. “Ain’t that right, Lot Lot?” she smears my name with sarcasm.

  I don’t appreciate Charlie playing with fire like this, especially when it’s my life that’s threatening to burn to cinder.

  “Speaking of secrets.” I hitch a thumb to the bar. “Everett, did you see Wiley and Rooster over there with none other than Manny Moretti? What do you think the three of them have in common?”

  Everett’s eyes grow in size for a moment and he glances to Noah. “I don’t know, but I’ll head over in a bit and find out.”

  A spray of blue and green stars appears over the table as Pretty Boy materializes into his fluffball glory.

  “Carlotta!” he barks her name as he says it. “I thought I asked you to leave one of those key lime pies out on your bed for me. And you were supposed to turn on the Animal Channel for me as well. Why is it so hard for you to follow simple orders?”

  I nod his way. “I’ve been wondering that myself.” I look to Everett and Noah. “Pretty Boy is here.”

  Carlotta sputters and gags. “I tried to leave a pie for you, but Lot Lot fed one to Foxy to get him to calm down. Little Yippy has been giving him the cold shoulder—it hasn’t been pretty. And when I reached for the other pie, Lot said it was for Sexy. Plug your ears, Foxy. Lot and Sexy have a date in the tub later and things are going to get sticky sweet.”

  “Carlotta,” I snip just as Charlie leans my way.

  “Here comes trouble,” she whispers.

  And sure enough, trouble shows up in triplicate as Wiley, Rooster, and Manny head this way.

  Wiley’s mouth is open because I’m sure he knows he’s been caught. Wiley might have many secrets, but the fact he’s more sinner than saint isn’t one of them.

  A grin blooms over Rooster’s face, and he looks like the devil himself. I’m sure that analysis isn’t too far off the mark either. And soon, all three men are crowding around our table.

  “Look at these three beautiful women,” Rooster crows as he shakes his head at us. “Mmm, mmm, mmm,” he growls it out with enough lust to power a steam engine. “You boys are mighty lucky to share Lottie, but dare I say I was the luckiest of them all to have Carlotta and Cha Cha all to myself.”

  Gross.

  I shoot both Charlie and Carlotta a look for being so demented.

  Manny Moretti’s lips flicker as he looks their way. Manny’s dark hair is shellacked back so hard and thick, it looks as if it could break off in chunks if you touch it the wrong way. And his eyes look permanently bruised, as they always do.

  “It’s been a minute since I’ve seen everyone at this table.” Manny’s eyes light up as he looks at my sister. “Of course, Charlie, you are the only woman I see, no offense to your mother or sister. Now that Rooster and I have had the chance to get properly acquainted, I know better than to get on your bad side.”

  “Why? What did she do?” I ask, hoping that someone once and for all would give me a clue as to why Rooster was sent to prison by this mother-daughter perjury duo. I know they lied on the stand because that’s all they told me. And honestly, that should have been the last thing they fessed up to doing.

  Pretty Boy barks and I pick up Everett’s hand in the event Pretty Boy has something else he wants to let into Carlotta about. I’ll admit, it’s entertaining as anything. Yet another reason to keep Pretty Boy around.

  I discovered a while back that if someone is holding my hand or touching my flesh, they can hear the dead, too. I’m sort of a conduit if you will. Noah is sitting on the other side of Charlie, so he’ll just have to miss out.

  “Carlotta.” Pretty Boy hops her way. “Does this have something to do with the robberies?”

  “Robberies?” I shriek, and in less than ten seconds Charlie has slapped Rooster, Wiley, and Manny silly until they’ve all scuttled back to the bar with their tails between their legs.

  “I like you more by the hour,” I tell him. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to shake down Pretty Boy once I get the chance. Carlotta has temporarily kidnapped him, and she’s whispering furtively into his furry round head. Every now and again, Pretty Boy looks my way and nods. His little mouth opens and his eyes grow wide.

  He’s so cute it’s bordering on ridiculous.

  A tall woman with midnight salt and pepper hair appears at the table and quickly passes out a series of menus. She has an ear-to-ear smile and her eyes sparkle as she looks to Everett and Noah—a typical reaction for anyone with working ovaries—and I immediately recognize her as the exact woman we came to see.

  “Good evening, one and all,” she trills. “
My name is Enya Cristóbal, and I’m the manager here at The Bar Brawl. Have any of you dined with us before?” We collectively shake our heads and she laughs. “In that case, welcome. We have a pretty scrumptious menu, but we’re known for our deep dish pizza.”

  “Pizza sounds great,” I say and everyone at the table nods, so we just order a couple of large pizzas, one with pepperoni and one with sausage and mushroom.

  Enya lifts a finger as if she’s about to say something else, when an entire herd of cute little waitresses in short-shorts and skimpy T-shirts gather around a table nearby and begins to clap in unison as they chant Daddy, Daddy, Daddy over and over again.

  Everett chuckles to himself as he nods to Noah. “I’d be careful forcing anyone to call you Daddy. There seem to be some interesting repercussions.”

  “I’ll say.” I look to Enya. “What’s the story with that?”

  Enya laughs. “That’s actually the other thing we’re famous for. We have a drinking competition we run nightly called the Power Hour. If someone drinks sixty shots of beer in one hour, the waitresses will call them Daddy for the rest of the week. A lot of our regulars partake in it, and it’s a great way to encourage customers to come back.”

  “Sixty shots?” I balk. “The waitresses might be calling them Daddy, but the coroner calls them dead.”

  Carlotta smacks the table as she lands back in her seat. “Lot’s an expert on death.” She nods my way. “Who’s biting the big one tonight?”

  “Nobody,” I’m quick to tell her.

  “We haven’t had a single fatality thus far.” Enya shrugs. “The Power Hour is typically a guy thing. Usually it’s the manly men that jump right into the game. You’d be surprised the lengths some men would go to have women call them Daddy.”

  A wicked smile tugs at Everett’s lips. “I’ll do it.”

  “I’m in,” Noah doesn’t hesitate.

  “Of course, you’re in, Foxy,” Carlotta says. “You might have to repeat the effort for eighteen years if you want anyone to call you Daddy.”

  I shake my head at him. “Don’t listen to her, Noah. Lyla Nell will come around eventually. Neither of you should be doing this,” I protest, but nobody seems to notice or care.

  “Great,” Enya says. “I’ll put in the order for those pizzas, and I’ll alert the bartender that we have two new contenders.”

  I lift a hand before she takes off. “Just out of curiosity, how much beer is in sixty shots?”

  “About seven and a half.” She looks to Noah and Everett. “If you really want to go all in, you can start the party with three shots of tequila, and we’ll throw in a free hat if you make it all the way to the end of the Power Hour.”

  Everett looks up at her. “Now that you’ve sweetened the deal, I’m going for the hat.”

  Noah glares at Everett as he nods. “I’m in need of a new hat myself.”

  “All right then,” Enya bubbles with excitement as she takes off.

  “The two of you have lost your minds,” I hiss. “I’m sick and tired of these silly competitions you keep finding yourselves in. Noah, you were sick as a dog after that chili pepper eating contest.”

  Everett nods. “And I proved I have a stomach made of steel.”

  “Maybe so,” I tell him. “But if I recall correctly, last fall you both got queasy when you tried to eat an entire Thanksgiving meal in one sitting.”

  Carlotta moans and holds her stomach, “Don’t remind me, Lot. I still can’t look at a turkey or a man named Tom, for that matter.”

  Charlie gives a lock of my hair a hard tug.

  “Oww.” I bat her away, but she pulls me close.

  “Who says getting a little truth serum down their throats is a bad idea?” she whispers.

  I make a face as I glance to Noah and Everett.

  “Fine.” I nod their way. “May your livers survive the endeavor.”

  “My liver can hardly wait,” Noah says as he pulls his keys out of his pocket and hands them to me. “Do you mind driving my truck home?”

  “Not at all.”

  Everett does the same as he waves his keys to Carlotta. “Do you mind?”

  “Come to Mama, Sexy. I’ll make sure to take off your clothes and tuck you in bed, too. Lot, you can do the same for Noah.”

  Charlie sheds an impish smile my way. “Mama, you and I both know Lottie isn’t nearly as good at sharing her men as you are.”

  Again, I take a moment to thank God Carlotta didn’t raise me.

  “An hour of downing booze, really?” Charlie shakes her head at both Noah and Everett. “You’re both a couple of manly men, all right.” She rolls her eyes.

  Pretty Boy barks. “I want to be a manly man. Carlotta, I demand I play this game.”

  “Fine,” Carlotta grunts and orders up another Power Hour. “But I’m not helping you out one bit. I’m driving tonight. It’s all you, Pretty Boy.”

  Charlie snorts. “Something tells me the spook will drink them both under the table.”

  “Here’s hoping,” I mutter. “Don’t be afraid to quit, boys,” I tell them. “There’s no shame in walking out of here with your heads held high.”

  Carlotta sputters, “Maybe so, but there’s less shame in staggering out of here with a shiny new hat and a bevy of beauties calling you Daddy.”

  A couple of waitresses drop off a trio of shots for both Noah and Everett, followed by a ridiculous amount of shots of beer.

  The blonde in pigtails beams a cherry red smile their way. “Shots are delivered ten at a time. If you finish all sixty in one hour, you get a twenty percent discount on the liquor. The time doesn’t start until you pick up your first shot, and hot tip—most winners downed the first five shots back-to-back and tapered off toward the end. My friends and I just can’t wait to call you both Daddy. Are you boys ready to get started?”

  Noah and Everett each pick up a shot of tequila and hoist it her way.

  “Ready and willing,” Everett says, and the waitress bites her lip as she winks his way.

  “Get on your mark, get set—here comes Daddy!” She waves her arm as the two of them knock back the brown liquor and take in a quick breath through their teeth.

  Noah and Everett plow their way right past the tequila just as Enya comes back with her warm, friendly smile.

  “Everyone doing okay?” She laughs as she says it, most likely because she’s familiar with the outcome of this inebriated situation.

  “Never been better,” Everett says, toasting her before knocking back his first shot of beer and Noah gives a thumbs-up.

  The pizzas arrive, and both Carlotta and Charlie dive right in.

  Pretty Boy’s liquor arrives, and the waitress starts Carlotta’s timer while the ghostly pooch next to her gets right to work.

  “Enya”—I lean her way before she does a disappearing act—“didn’t we meet at the Evergreen Manor out in Honey Hollow last week?”

  Pretty Boy barks. “Lottie, you can’t just nosedive into it. Enya has a warm spirit but tends to clam up when confronted. Daphne once accused her of stealing her mother’s prized tea doilies. She didn’t do it. I found they were delectable to chew on and hid them behind the couch. Daphne would have taken my head off if she found out about it. Duncan didn’t care in the least. Daphne always said he let me get away with murder.”

  I take in a quick breath. Pretty Boy knew Enya!

  Enya’s mouth opens and closes as if she’s doing her best impression of a marionette.

  “Hey, yes, I remember you. Didn’t poor Duncan fall over you before he”—she winces—“succumbed to the circumstances?”

  “That would be me. Did you know him well?”

  She lifts her chin as she glances out at the boisterous crowd for a moment.

  Noah and Everett finish their first ten shots, and another ten quickly take their place.

  “I guess you can say I knew him well enough.” She shrugs. “I was good friends with his wife, but they’ve long since divorced and I haven’t talke
d to Daphne in a million years.”

  Noah lifts his drink her way. “Enya, you must know Lorelei.” He squints my way. “Didn’t Lorelei mention something about her at that mommy and me class?”

  A throaty laugh escapes Carlotta. “Looks like we’ve got a tipsy Foxy on our hands.”

  Everett grunts, “Don’t worry, Lemon. I won’t blow your cover.”

  My eyes widen with horror.

  On the bright side, I might just get the truth about those briefcases out of them yet.

  Enya cocks her head at Noah. “Just what did Lorelei Mulligan have to say about me?”

  And judging by the look on her face, she doesn’t think much of Lorelei.

  “Oh, actually.” I lift a finger. “I was the one talking to Lorelei. I just started her class, and she was letting me know that the historical society is having another regency ball coming up next Saturday at the B&B this time.”

  “The redemption ball.” She nods. “I’m on the committee. I know Lorelei through the deceased mostly. She does reconcile his books. The last time I was in his shop, she was there. Poor Duncan looked exasperated and said he had enough of her shenanigans.”

  “That’s funny, she didn’t mention any of that to me.”

  Enya laughs. “Lorelei would be the last person to say a single deprecatory remark about herself. She was humiliated about a year ago when her husband walked out on her. Left her holding the bag for a ranch a few hours away. It was called the Flat Iron, I think. From what I heard, Lorelei sold the place, and my guess is she’s living high on the hog. She and Karen are pretty much a staple in every social club from Fallbrook to Honey Hollow.”

  I snap my fingers. “I think she mentioned you were dating Duncan. Is that true?”

  Her mouth opens and closes as she gives a sideways glance to the bar. “I guess there’s a little truth in every rumor. Duncan was a secretive man. And he sure liked the ladies. I saw that his latest squeeze was caught up in the madness that took him down. That doesn’t surprise me. I just knew one of these days a woman was going to go rabid with jealousy. You can’t do what he was doing and not expect some repercussions.”

  Pretty Boy floats up and barks right in her face. “What was he doing?”