Spooky Spice Cake Curse

by Addison Moore

  Keelie nods. “Right up until they’re bait for the Grim Reaper.” The baby begins to fuss and she drops a kiss to his head. “I’d better go find a place to sit and feed him. I’ll catch up with you both in a bit.”

  She takes off and Carlotta leans my way. “The handsome tail wagger’s name is Duke. And he and I have a hot date later at my place. I’m teaching him how to play strip poker.”

  “Carlotta, he has fur. You’ll be the only one taking off your clothes.”

  “All the more reason for him to appreciate the game. I know how to woo my men, Lot. You should take notes. On second thought, we should co-author a book on how to woo men. You and I qualify as experts in the field. By the way, you get your need to roam from me. You’re welcome.”

  “I’m not roaming anymore. And I’m not writing a book about it. It’s bad enough Evie has taken to dating two boys at a time. I’m a bad influence.”

  “Who said anything about writing? I’m thinking diagrams and flow charts. Or in your case, a few juicy Venn diagrams. Think about it, Lot. We can throw in a paternity kit with every book we sell.”

  “No,” I flatline. “Did you happen to ask who he used to belong to?” I choose to skirt by the fact Carlotta doesn’t have a place. She lives with me, and has ever since Nell’s old house rotted to the core under her stewardship.

  “Why would I ask that?”

  I swat her. “So we could deduce who the victim might be.”

  She rolls her eyes. “What would be the fun in that?”

  “A lot of fun if you’re the victim. And a lot of fun for me since I won’t have a case to solve. The holidays are coming up. I don’t have time for homicidal shenanigans.”

  Noah and Everett come back looking winded from their self-imposed tour of duty.

  “Any luck?” I ask.

  Noah shakes his head. “None. Every time we heard a scream, it was due to the festivities. I’m afraid this is going to be a tough one.”

  Everett takes a breath. “Don’t worry, Lemon. I asked Noah to keep an eye on Evie. I can take you home as soon as you’re ready to leave.”

  “Well, I’m not ready to leave. I want to check out the competition. This place is really hurting my mother’s B&B.”

  The blonde we met earlier, Ichabod’s wife, Cordelia, comes up waving one of my sweet treats in her hand.

  “Oh, this spice cake is to die for. It really does taste just like what my grandma used to bake. So, are you all having a good time?”

  “We sure are,” I’m quick to assure her.

  “Good.” She gives a little wink. “Because the show is just about to begin.”

  I’m about to ask which show that would be just as the sound of thunder blares over the speakers. That spooky mood music that’s been infiltrating the area turns up a notch just as a disembodied voice begins to cackle.

  “It was a night much like this”—that deep disembodied voice begins—“long, long ago when the other famed Ichabod took that ill-fated ride through a different hollow. And tonight—the headless horseman rides again!” More cajoling laughter ensues as a spotlight falls over a clearing just past the house, and sure enough, a dark horse trots out with a headless rider seated on its back. The man’s cape flows freely behind him, black satin with red lining, and in his hands he holds a well-lit jack-o’-lantern.

  The crowd lights up with cheers and screams and it’s all over as quickly as it began.

  The creepy laughter breaks out over the speakers again. “Enjoy this night, this life while you have it. Expect the unexpected. We hope you’ll have the fright of your life. Laugh until you die.” More maniacal cackles ensue, and the sound of thunder rumbles overhead.

  “That thunder sounded real,” Noah says as he looks to the dark purple clouds bubbling up above.

  Cordelia laughs. “Trixie and I have been working overtime to make everything seem as real as possible. That was Ichabod out on that horse. He’s determined to be very hands-on all month. This really is his baby. In fact, he’ll be in the haunted house playing the same headless part in just a bit. You should check it out. It’s not all that scary. The teenagers are having a great time with it.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Yeah, well, teenagers seem to be immune to things like fear and arctic weather.”

  Cordelia belts out a cheery laugh but stops cold as she spots something in the crowd. I follow her gaze to see Ichabod, sans his pumpkin prop, and she’s openly glaring at him.

  He seems to be speaking to a redhead. Although, judging by his body language, it looks as if he’s trying to edge his way out of the conversation. The redhead in question has long hair neatly curled under, and her face is done up with enough lashes and lipstick to warrant the purchase of an entire line of cosmetics just to get the job done. She’s dressed as a flapper from the Roaring Twenties, in a gold and red beaded dress that cuts off just below her bottom. And it seems I’ve found another person who’s immune to this arctic weather.

  “How dare he,” Cordelia mutters under her breath as she takes off, and in less than a moment, Ichabod calls for her as they head for the haunted house, embroiled in an argument.

  The redhead looks our way, and I unintentionally make eye contact with her. She glances to Noah and Everett and her mouth falls open—not an uncommon phenomenon when looking at those two handsome men—and to my surprise, she’s strutting right over.

  “Essex?” She presses a hand to her chest. “Well, as I live and breathe!”

  “Essex?” I spit his name out like an expletive without meaning to.

  Carlotta belts out a laugh and slaps her thigh. “Oh, he’s got ’em everywhere, Lot. Get used to it, kid. If you’re looking for peace, leave Mr. Sexy behind to spread his glorious seed to the four corners of the Earth, and shack up with someone far less renown for doing the freaky, like Foxy here.”

  “Thank you,” Noah says with a frown. “I think.”

  Everett’s lips curl at the woman drooling before him. “Chardonnay Shelby? It’s been a long time. I’d love for you to meet my wife, Lottie Lemon.”

  Something in me pinches with delight when he says my full name. It’s so rare, it’s sort of a sweet treat in and of itself.

  The redhead’s eyes bulge slightly as she sizes me up. “Nice to meet you.” She gives an uncertain smile my way. “Wow, I never thought I’d see the day when Judge Baxter settled down. I guess some leopards really can change their spots.” She takes a moment to glare at the haunted mansion in front of us. “Maybe there’s hope yet.” She takes a quick breath. “Well, I’ll see you all later. I’m a part of this freak show. Essex, I’m on the second level, third room to the right. If you come to my station, I’ll lock us in and we can have a private chitchat.” She bites down on her lip suggestively.

  “What about me?” I balk.

  She glances my way. “Sure, you can come, too.” But that sour expression suggests otherwise. “Ta-ta for now!” She gives a friendly wave of the fingers as she quicksteps her way toward the house.

  “I’ve got to give it to you, Everett.” A dark laugh brews in Noah’s chest. “You’ve got quite a fan club.” He looks my way. “Lot, I think Carlotta’s onto something. Everett’s been around every block twice. You deserve someone a little more wholesome who doesn’t have an ex lurking around every corner.”

  “Big Boss!” A blonde dressed as a genie bops her way over before curling herself around Noah’s body. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here. I’ve got a problem only an officer of the law can solve. Come quick.” She whisks him away, and I take a deep breath at the atrocity that is Cormack Featherby.

  Cormack happens to be the ex of both Noah and Everett. She’s the very woman they were warring over way back in high school. Everett was serious with Cormack when Noah thought he’d make her his own and she’s been their personal curse ever since.

  “So much for wholesome,” I say, linking arms with Everett. “How about we check out that haunted house before we leave?”

  “I’m in.” He hold
s out an arm to Carlotta. “You want to join in on the haunted fun?”

  “No way, no how.” Carlotta holds up her hands. “I prefer the real ghost to the manufactured kind. Real ghosts are far more friendly. Those fools in there are bound to scare the living daylights out of me with their fake blood, fake monsters, and fake ghosts. Besides”—she cranes her neck into the crowd—“there’s a sexy specter out here who I’d much rather hang out with.”

  “Ooh.” I point her way. “If you find him, remember to ask who he’s here for.”

  We part ways as Everett leads us into that haunted mansion with its chandeliers covered with cobwebs, the sound of ghosts bellowing, and screams going off intermittently. That haunted mood music is ten times louder in here. The lighting is dim with a purple cast. A woman dressed as a zombie mermaid with her face painted white with dark black bruises under each eye greets us in the foyer.

  A row of happy jack-o’-lanterns lights up the way as we follow the flashing lights and cacophony of sounds toward a large red arrow dripping with blood that reads begin your final adventure here.

  “I hate haunted houses,” I say to Everett as I cling onto him for dear life.

  “Don’t worry, Lemon. We can do a quick walkthrough, and then I’ll get you home and give you a massage over every inch of your body.”

  “Every inch?” I bite down on a naughty smile.

  “Every inch. In fact, I’ll cover some inches twice just to make sure you’re good and relaxed.”

  “I’ll take you up on that offer every day of the week and twice on Sunday. Heck, make it three times now that I’ll be taking weekends off.” It’s true. Noah and Everett practically begged me to do it.

  We start our haunted adventure and subject ourselves to every kind of horror—men and women with gory masks, people getting seemingly maimed, men with hatchets chasing us, a curtain of bodies dangling that we need to traverse, and an entire graveyard filled with the undead complete with zombies bursting out of caskets.

  We finally make our way upstairs and see a strange ritual taking place in a darkened room with people pleading for help. We even hit up Chardonnay’s room where we see her in her gold and red beaded gown laughing maniacally while wielding a chainsaw our way. She either doesn’t recognize us in this dim light or she’s too in character to stop screaming at us and threatening to chop our heads off.

  There’s a wild look in her eyes that I didn’t see in them earlier, and it makes me wonder if she’s about to make good on that headless threat, so we get the heck out and move on to the next room where a spacious outdoor landscape is constructed.

  This room is chilled to arctic levels, far colder than any air-conditioning unit could provide. I can see my breath puff from my mouth in plumes. A lavender fog envelops us as soon as we step inside, and it almost feels as if we’re being transported to another world entirely. This glowing fog feels supernatural in nature—sort of like that lavender flash I saw in the sky earlier. The scenery around us looks to be that of a dark forest with a purple sky, and there’s bona fide dirt on the floor. A glowing yellow sign to our right reads beware of the headless horseman.

  “This must be Ichabod’s room,” I whisper as I cower under Everett’s arm.

  The braying of a horse can be heard over the roaring thunder as the lavender sky pulsates with lightning.

  Boy, they really spared no expense. This is quite the Hollywood production.

  “There he is.” Everett motions to a lit jack-o’-lantern nearby on the floor, and we follow it over, where we find a shoe sticking out from a long black curtain that seems to be portioning off the room.

  Everett pulls the curtain back a notch, and we lean in to get a better look at the spooky scene.

  Lying on the floor with a piece of my spice cake in his hand is Ichabod Hearst.

  “Hey, Ichabod. It’s me, Lottie. How’s it going?” I ask as we step in close. This part of the room has a table and chair set up near the wall. There’s a small plate comprised of my desserts sitting on the table, and it’s almost as if we’ve wandered into the break area. “You’re really doing a great job,” I tell him as I shrug up at Everett.

  I take a step toward the front of Ichabod’s body to get a better look at his face, and to my horror it’s not there. In its place is nothing but a bloody puddle, and I groan at the sight.

  “It’s nothing but a headless prop,” I muse at the disgusting sight. “Now that’s just too much,” I say. “And no offense, but they’ve really done a poor job. I mean, look at all that fake blood.” I spot a head not too far away. “And check that out.” I point over to a primal apex with its eyes slightly open and mouth ajar. “That’s supposed to be the rest of him.” I lean in. “Wow, they really captured his likeness.”

  Everett leans down and touches the hand attached to the body.

  “Lemon.” He spikes to his feet and pulls me close. “They didn’t capture his likeness. I think this is him.”

  Ichabod won’t have to worry about faking the fact he’s losing his head for another night.

  Ichabod Hearst is dead.

  Chapter 3

  “He’s dead!” I wail as Everett quickly puts in a call to Noah. “And he’s headless!” My voice echoes through this cavernous room, and soon Noah appears and the lights flick on before Everett can get off the phone.

  I glance down at that poor man’s body, a slice of my spice cake still clutched in his hand. There’s a spray of something red and reflective embedded in his suit. It looks like beads or sequins. A few gold specks flicker in the light as well. And to the left sits a few pieces of straw that lie straggled about.

  An expletive flies from Noah’s lips.

  “Get her the hell out of here,” he riots. “And block the door until help arrives. I’ll call it in. We don’t need anyone else seeing this.”

  Everett doesn’t hesitate, and soon we land on the other side of the door, barricading it with our bodies as the house lights flicker on throughout the haunted mansion. But that creepy mood music is still going at top volume.

  “Lemon”—Everett gently lifts my chin—“are you okay? Is the baby all right?”

  “Yes.” I squeeze my eyes shut tight a moment, trying to evict the grisly image from my mind. “I’m good. I’m just shocked that no one noticed before we did.”

  Bodies file into the hall, moaning and groaning—every one of them asking questions. I have no doubt Noah shouted his way up the stairs and flashed his badge, alerting those in charge that something truly nefarious was afoot.

  Trixie Pearce, the petite brunette with a clipboard, runs this way.

  “All right, everyone,” she shouts. “I’m sure it’s nothing! Bear with us.” She tries to reach for the doorknob, but Everett slides over and blocks it.

  “I’m sorry,” he says to her. “But I don’t think you should go in. The sheriff’s department is on its way.”

  “The sheriff’s department?” She glances to the ceiling, and I note her glasses are flecked with small dark spots. “What’s happening? Is there something wrong with Ichabod?”

  “Yes,” I tell her. “And I think it’s best if you ask everyone here to leave. There won’t be any more tours given tonight. The show is over.”

  She steps back, stunned as she gives a quick look around and sighs. “Okay—fine.”

  “Your glasses,” I say. “What’s that on them?” My heart thumps as I ask because I’m afraid I might know exactly what it might be.

  She pulls them off and examines them. “I’ve been painting all week. I didn’t even notice it.” Her lips curl my way before she makes an official announcement, and the entire upstairs begins to slowly drain as Trixie does her best to herd the masses toward the stairwell.

  The sheriff’s department arrives in number, and one redheaded detective in particular frowns as she spots me.

  Everett and I move out of the way as the men and women in uniform storm into the room behind us, but the redhead isn’t letting us, or I should say me, off the
hook so easily.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t Lottie Lemon.” She frowns.

  “Ivy.” I force a smile.

  Detective Ivy Fairbanks is Noah’s partner down at the homicide division, and I’ve always suspected this leggy stunner has had a crush on him. Not that I could blame her, Noah is a stunner himself.

  “What’s going on, Lottie?” She narrows her eyes over me. “What is really going on that you’re present at every homicide scene I’ve been assigned to over the last two years?”

  “Don’t go there, Detective Fairbanks,” Everett says it low yet firm.

  She lifts her nose to him. “Judge Baxter.” She nods. “The three of us will speak later.” Her eyes ride over me once again. “I’m afraid there have been one too many coincidences. And I don’t believe in coincidences.” She takes off and I shiver in Everett’s arms.

  “Don’t worry, Lemon.” He lands a kiss to my forehead. “She doesn’t have the right to do a thing to you from a legal perspective.”

  “I suppose you’re right. And as much as I don’t want to admit it, she has every right to be suspicious.”

  The sound of a dog barking grows as it heads in this direction, and I quickly take up Everett's hand in the event it’s our spooky new friend. And sure enough, the ghost of the Great Dane flies right past us and into the room with what’s left of Ichabod Hearst. A harrowing howl goes off from the other side of the wall, and I suspect he’s found his old friend.

  “Poor guy.” I grimace at Everett. “It looks as if he really cared about Ichabod.”

  Everett holds me close a moment. “And I care about you and the baby. Let’s get you out of here.”

  We start to head downstairs just as Cordelia Hamilton shrieks her way over. And by her side is a man dressed as a scarecrow, the very one I saw arguing with Ichabod earlier this evening. He’s holding her by the arm as they take the stairs two by two.

  “Oh, Lottie,” Cordelia cries out. “What’s happening? What’s the emergency? Where’s Ichabod?”