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

by Addison Moore

  She blinks back as if she felt his precious poochy presence.

  “Well?” Charlie barks herself. “What kind of secrets did he have?”

  Enya frowns. “Let’s just say he liked to share as much of himself as he could. Karen would know. The guy that does the rentals across the lake would know as well. He got caught up in the middle of it all.” She chews on her lip as if maybe she got caught up in the middle of it all as well. “There was one more thing I heard him telling Lorelei. He said something about litigation.”

  “What would he be suing Lorelei about?”

  She shakes her head. “That’s the thing. I heard him say Karen’s name. My guess is he wanted to sue her.”

  I think back on that night, and I distinctly remember Karen wanting to avoid Duncan.

  Interesting.

  Carlotta makes a chirping noise. “What did he do to you, sister? I can tell by the look in your eye he loved ya and left ya. Am I right, or am I right?”

  Enya’s expression darkens for a moment. “You’re close enough. Let’s just say Duncan and I were set to make an amicable transaction, and he didn’t come through with his end of the bargain. Not all of it anyhow—and he humiliated me in the process.” She shudders. “Excuse me, I’d better circulate among the guests.” She nods to Noah and Everett just as another round of shots arrive. “You’re almost there, boys. Keep your eye on the prize.” She takes off, and Noah tips his head up.

  “Who’s your daddy?” he calls out, and Everett growls at him.

  I rap my knuckles over the table. “All right, boys. I’d like to have a little conversation with you now.”

  “Not yet,” Carlotta says as another round is set out for Pretty Boy, and he gets straight to lapping it all up. “Trust me, Lot. You gotta let these boys simmer. They’ve only got twenty shots to go. Be patient. Before you know it, they’ll be sharing war stories from the tempting trenches you call a bedroom.”

  “Don’t you dare,” I say, pointing right at the potential culprits.

  Pretty Boy quickly catches up, and soon every Power Hour player at this table is on their final five shots with just four minutes to spare.

  Noah and Everett stare one another down while Carlotta whoops and hollers as she cheers Pretty Boy on.

  “I don’t know if I can do it, Carlini.” The fuzzy little pooch staggers backward. “My head is feeling funny and my stomach feels hot.”

  Carlotta scoffs. “You listen to me, Pretty Boy. I want me that hat. You suck down the last of these shot glasses and I’ll raid the bakery tonight and let you have your fill while watching elephant wars in my bed.”

  “Elephant wars?” Pretty Boy cocks an ear her way and gets right to lapping up what’s left of his shot glasses.

  A small army of beauties in skimpy T-shirts with The Bar Brawl logo comes this way.

  “We’ve got a winner!” The one with blonde pigtails quickly lands a hat on Carlotta.

  “Did I hat the get?” Pretty Boy lifts his head a notch before moaning and flopping his head smack into the pizza and not moving a long-deceased muscle.

  I reach over and poke a finger at him, but he doesn’t budge. “Oh, good grief, I think we sent him right back to paradise. I hope this doesn’t earn me a demerit in the supernatural department.”

  “At least he didn’t puke,” Charlie points out. “I had a puker once. Took an entire week to get the ectoplasm out of my hair.”

  The pigtailed waitress gives a nervous laugh our way. “All right, gentlemen. Thirty seconds left on the clock, and I still see a couple drinks on the table. Who’s my daddy?” She wiggles her chest, and I think both Noah and Everett just drooled.

  “Pay attention to the task at hand, boys.” I slap my hand over the table, and both Noah and Everett knock back their drinks in haste just as the buzzer goes off.

  Every waitress in this place materializes before us and begins clapping like mad while chanting Daddy, Daddy, Daddy over and over again.

  Noah gives a loose grin my way. “Who’s your Daddy?”

  Charlie nudges me. “Here’s your chance, Lottie. Squeeze ’em and let’s see what comes out.”

  I lean in and look to Noah and Everett. “You’ll never guess what just happened to me. A perfect stranger just offered to give me their briefcase. I said no. I don’t know what’s inside of it or what they wanted me to do with it.”

  “Not bad,” Charlie says through the side of her mouth.

  Carlotta nods. “I always knew you’d grow up to be a first-class fibber.”

  And that’s exactly what I’m feeling like.

  Noah and Everett exchange a glance.

  “That’s my case brief, Lot,” Noah slurs the words. “Don’t even thinks about it. I’m protecting your dad and my mother.”

  My dad and his mother? I’m guessing he’s playing fast and loose with the order of things but more or less has the details right.

  Everett’s crimson-laced eyes flit my way. “Don’t touch the briefcase, Lemon. He’s dusting it for prints.”

  Noah stands and accidentally knocks his chair back in the process. “You weren’t supposed to tell her that,” he riots.

  Everett rises from his seat and strides his way—and I can’t tell at all that he’s had too much to drink. Everett really does have a stomach made of steel.

  “Come here.” Everett pulls Noah in. “You’re the one that needs to keep quiet.” He pulls back a fist and tries to give Noah a right hook but misses by a mile.

  On second thought, that little drinking game took down the giant.

  “Are you trying to hit me?” Noah hiccups. “So much for protecting me.”

  “I’m protecting you from the wrong people. I’m the only one who gets to kill you. And lucky for me, I’ve got some experience hiding bodies.”

  Noah’s eyes glow with rage. “Hear that, Lottie? He’s going to kill the child of your father.”

  “I think you mean father of my child,” I correct.

  Everett yanks him in by the shirt. “I’m Lemon’s father, and don’t you forget it.”

  Charlie honks out a laugh. “And you thought we were disgusting?”

  Noah and Everett start throwing punches and soon Wiley and Rooster run over to help break it up, but they end up throwing punches, too. Everett beats Noah senseless, then he gets a few good punches in on Wiley before Rooster gives a rather loud howl—the kind that assures he lives up to his name. Noah gets a few good punches in on Wiley, and one that lands square on Everett’s chin. Everett comes back like a bull that just had his tail smashed with a hammer and goes after Noah like a madman. I’m about to toss a chair at them when Rooster grabs both Noah and Everett by the neck and knocks their heads together so hard a sickening thud echoes through the room and the two of them stagger backward in a daze.

  Security shows up, and we’re all escorted out the door with Noah’s and Everett’s cheap hats in tow that read Daddy’s Home in big bright red letters.

  Wiley and Rooster offer to help get Noah and Everett to the car, but those two drunk skunks are too combative and proud to take any assistance. Instead, they stagger their way to the parking lot while getting in a few more punches on the way there.

  My phone bleats in my hand. It’s another happy message from the Beware app.

  Nearby incident! Brawling men in downtown Leeds. Steer clear of the area.

  “They’re quick, I’ll give ’em that,” I mutter. “All right, enough,” I bellow as I get between the brawling men in question. No sooner does my hand touch Noah’s chest than he starts to drift away, so I pull him back. “What’s going on with the two of you? And what kind of secrets are you keeping from me? Fess up right now and I won’t go dark on you.”

  Noah and Everett exchange stony stares.

  Noah opens his mouth and his chest lurches before he steps behind the truck and loses his lunch. I’d say dinner, but he didn’t have any.

  “Don’t worry, Lemon.” Everett offers me a quick kiss that reeks of liquor. “We only
do things for one reason. Because we care.”

  “Come on, Sexy.” Carlotta catches him by the tie and begins to lead him away. “You’re coming with me. Good luck with the puker, Lot!”

  I wrangle Noah into his truck and try my best to get some intel out of him on the way home, but between intermittently passing out all he does is moan.

  I pull in his driveway just as Carlotta pulls in across the street. Noah gets out of his car and starts walking over to the rental I share with Everett.

  “Noah, you’re going the wrong way,” I say as I try to turn him around, but he opens the rear passenger side door to Everett’s SUV, mumbles something about stealing his wife, and unbuttons and unzips his jeans before proceeding to relieve himself right into the back seat.

  “Noah!” I moan and shout all at the same time. “That’s disgusting.”

  Everett growls at the heresy before stomping his way across the street.

  “Everett?” I call out. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To the bathroom.” He opens up the driver’s side door to Noah’s truck and tips his head back as he does his business.

  Carlotta guffaws as if she had front row seats at a comedy special. “Pull your phone out, Lot, and snap a few pics. This is how you’re really gonna get ’em to open up to you about their dirty dealings. A little blackmail goes a long way.”

  “Apparently, so does a little robbery.” I look her way and her mouth falls open.

  “What’s that?” She cups her ear. “I think I hear Pretty Boy calling me.”

  In a blink that inebriated specter appears as he moans and floats our way. His tiny body lurches as he lets out a belch, and just as I’m about to remark how cute that little hiccupping sound was, a steam of bright green goo shoots out of his mouth and splatters all over Carlotta and me.

  “Ghost vomit!” Carlotta rolls around on the lawn before turning the hose on herself, and I head over and fight her for it.

  A car rolls up, and Evie jumps out with her jaw unhinged.

  “What the heck is happening?” she shrieks. “Mom? Why is your hair full of green slime? Why is Cray-Cray on her knees howling at the moon?” She gasps as she looks across the street then over to Noah in the driveway. “GAH! I’ve seen too much! I knew the universe would unravel if I broke things off with Conner! Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll call him right now and tell him I’ve changed my mind!”

  The universe has unraveled, all right.

  Noah and Everett are keeping their secrets close to the vest.

  And according to Enya Cristóbal, Duncan had more than a few secrets himself.

  Carlotta staggers my way. “I think the best thing to do is shave ourselves bald, Lot.”

  “That seems about right according to the trajectory of this night.” I nod to the urinating drunks. “Should we hose their cars out?”

  “Nah.” She waves them off. “It’s time to let them enjoy the fruits of their labor.”

  I finally get Noah in his house, and Everett in ours, and he passes out cold on the bed.

  So much for dessert.

  This is all the killer’s fault. And as soon as I find out who they are, I’m going to make them pay for ruining my date night—and for ruining Duncan Spears’ life, too.

  A thought comes to me, and I sit upright in bed. A plan formulates in my mind, and my heart begins to race. I think I know exactly how to get Noah and Everett to fess up about those briefcases. I glance over to where Lyla Nell is snoozing and carefully climb out of bed as not to wake her, and just like that, I put my plan into motion.

  Noah

  Head hurts.

  I struggle to roll over, and a horrific groan rips from me. Everything hurts.

  My hand pats the left side of my bed the same way it always does first thing when I wake up. I can’t help it. When Lottie spent the night, that was her side of the bed. But I come up empty, nothing but a fist full of sheets.

  I fling my legs over the side of the bed, and the room takes a spin. The sun is up, it’s far too bright, and far too warm in the room. My jeans are still on, my shirt is off, and my face feels as if it’s gone through a pummeling.

  Last night comes back to me in bits and pieces.

  The endless stream of shots, a bunch of girls calling me Daddy—none of them the right girl—and then Everett’s angry face right before his fist meets with my chin.

  “Great,” I mutter as I pull my phone off the nightstand and glance at the time. “What?” I pull it closer a notch and confirm that’s it’s just about noon. “Perfect.” I check my messages, and there are three from Ivy.

  Let’s talk about the Spears’ case.

  You’re late.

  A no-show today?

  I text back and let her know I’ll be working from home.

  Toby runs in, jumps up, and licks my face so I force myself to let him out the back door while I jump into the shower to clean up. I get dressed, make some coffee, and shoot a text to Lottie.

  Wanna play? My schedule freed up today.

  I wait a few minutes, but she doesn’t answer back. I glance across the street, and it’s hard to tell if she’s home. She parks in the garage half the time. But Bear and his construction crew have shown up today in droves, and he’s got a concrete mixer out front doing its thing. Lot might get her dream house after all. Now all I need to do is figure out how to evict Everett and land myself in that bed next to her.

  Toby scratches at the door, and I let him in again just as my phone jumps in my hand.

  It’s Lot. Hanging out with our girl down at my makeshift bakery at Honey Lake. She’s a great employee. She’s sold more cakes, cookies, and pies than Lily and your mother combined. I think Lyla Nell puts the cutie in cutie pie.

  A smile flexes on my face, and it hurts like hell thanks to Everett.

  That she does, I text right back. Have a great time.

  My phone pings again. I will. And Noah? You might want to hose off the inside of your truck before you go anywhere. Consider that a friendly warning.

  “My truck?” I shake my head before I text her back. Will do.

  Since I’m not going to work, I head over to my bedroom. It’s go time as far as Jimmy Canelli is concerned. Everett is latent in coming up with any bright ideas. I’ll have to do that on my own.

  I get down on the floor and swing my arm under the bed to grab that case filled with wickedness and come up with nothing but air. I bow my head low and give a quick visual sweep of the area. Every muscle in my body ceases to move.

  The briefcase.

  It’s gone.

  Everett

  My phone buzzes in my pocket as Fiona and I head off to share a cup of coffee.

  It’s a text from Noah, and as soon as I see who it’s from, I choose to ignore it for now by burying my phone deep into my pocket.

  Fiona gives a sharp look my way. “There’s nothing you can say to get me to stop the lawsuit against your wife from happening, Essex. Her sister wants to duke it out in court over that substantial inheritance she garnered when old lady Sawyer kicked the bucket. It’s just too rich. You know I can’t resist a good civil war.”

  “Yes, General Dagmeyer, I am well aware. But could you blame me for trying?”

  The first thing I said to her this morning was not to take on the lawsuit, and she said we could discuss it over coffee when we both had a minute.

  My phone buzzes again, and as certain as I want to be that it’s Noah and that I’m free to thereby ignore it, there’s an outside chance Lemon or Evie needs me so I fish the phone out once again.

  It’s him again. This time I tap my thumb over the screen to see what he wants.

  First message reads, We’ve got trouble. Need to talk. Second message reads, As soon as you are able, I need to speak to you. Call me.

  Call him? I frown at the phone. I don’t talk to anyone on the phone with the exception of Lemon or Evie, and even that is at a minimum.

  I look back at Fiona. “You do realize I’ll make sur
e Lemon gets top-notch representation.”

  She shakes her head. “Won’t happen. I’m already taken.” She gives a sly wink as my phone buzzes again. “Aren’t you Mr. Popular. But then, you always have been. Let me guess. Old girlfriends begging for one more quickie for old times’ sake? Believe me, I’ve thought about giving you a ring myself. Are you almost done playing house with that lemon of yours?”

  A rumble of a laugh bounces through me. “Sorry, Fiona. I’m afraid she’s hooked me for life.”

  My phone pings again.

  If you’re ignoring me, you’re going to be sorry. Time is ticking. I’m about to go rogue.

  A heavy breath expires from me. “All right. Looks as if I’ll have to take a raincheck on that coffee. Do me a favor and throw the case against my wife. You never know, I might go easy on a few of your clients.”

  She straightens with a laugh. “If I believed you, I’d hand my client to the defense on a silver platter. Tell Lemon I said hello.”

  We split ways, and I call Noah as I head back in the direction of my office.

  “What?” I say as he picks up.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you for the last twenty minutes. It’s about time.” He sounds frantic, frazzled.

  “Unlike you, Noah, I have a real job with real responsibilities. What is it? This better be good. I’m missing out on decent coffee because of you.”

  “Too bad. I’m missing something, too. The damn briefcase is gone.”

  My heart thuds against my chest.

  “What?” It comes out pressured this time. “Are you sure? You were three sheets to the wind last night. You probably moved it and don’t remember.”

  “I didn’t move it,” he says. “I couldn’t move myself. Do you have your briefcase?”

  “Yes.” I glance at my phone as if Noah was losing his mind. “It’s in my office. I took it with me when I left the house this morning. By the way, that little gift you left in my back seat was disgusting, but rest assured, your drive to Ashford will be just as fun.”

  He groans, “All right. So you have your briefcase. That means someone must have broken into my place last night while we were out. But here’s the thing, my security company never contacted me.”