Poison Apple Crisp

by Addison Moore

  “I can promise you that won’t happen.” My blood boils in an instant, and I force myself to count to ten. I only get to three. “You’re both so adorable,” I say without the proper enthusiasm. “I know you only want the best for the baby.” And I’m pretty sure that includes bubble wrapping me and locking me away in a closet.

  A spray of stars glimmers before me, and I take up both Noah’s and Everett’s hands.

  “Ginger is here. A ghostly voice of reason,” I say as the tiny pooch comes into her full nearly invisible glory. “Please tell me you’ve gleaned something. I’m afraid I’m on a leash tonight.”

  Ginger groans. “You poor thing. How I hated being tethered to anything. My Emmet was a bit more adventurous during our more amorous moments. He had a penchant for chains and leashes, you know. Nolan was far more conventional during our special time, but I never held it against him.”

  I drop both Noah’s and Everett’s hands cold.

  Noah gives a few hard blinks my way. “What the hell is she talking about?”

  “Never you mind.” I make a face at the promiscuous tell-all tattletale. “Ginger, did you see anything in here regarding the case?”

  “A woman by the name of Alyssa is working near the front where the awful music is coming from. She says she’d quit ten times a day if her father didn’t threaten to disinherit her. She’s helping a few of the donkeys adjust their tails for the big show.”

  “Great.” I’m guessing that show will offer up far more of their bottoms than I care to see, in keeping with the animalistic theme. “I’ll talk to her soon and see what I can gather.”

  Ginger gives a sharp bark. “I’ll be back, Lottie. There’s a Chihuahua tucked in a purse who I think looks rather comely. I think I’ll try to strike up a conversation with him. You never know. This could be the most exciting May-December romance the world has ever seen.”

  May-December? As in she’s December? More like half past dead, but I don’t let that little cadaverous detail put a hitch in her giddy-up. Ginger takes off for furrier pastures, and I look to my handsome suitors.

  “Do you think the dirt Brenda had on Alyssa has something to do with this place?”

  “I don’t know,” Everett says. “But as for date night, I can assure you we’re getting a do-over.”

  Noah chuckles. “Speaking of date night, I’d like to have a date night with you myself, Lot. I ran into Frankie Allen downtown a few days ago, and she mentioned she heard about the baby.”

  “Dr. Frankie Allen?” I ask. “As in your old couples therapist?” Noah initially saw her with his ex-wife, Brittney, but I went with him a few times as well regarding our own relationship. Everett joined us once or twice, too—seeing that he was firmly embedded in the middle of my relationship with Noah. And I believe Dr. Allen referred to him as Essex. But I could be wrong about that. With this baby nibbling on my brain, I may never be right again.

  “That’s the one.” Noah snatches an onion ring off the table. “She said since you and I are still good friends—and considering the fact I might be the father of your child—

  she suggested you and I hang out so that the baby can get used to hearing my voice.”

  Everett slides a basket of fried zucchini between us. “You’re here, Noah. Live it up. Start speaking.”

  Noah shakes his head my way. “I think she’s right, Lot. And I’d like to spend some one-on-one time with you in a far more intimate setting.”

  “He means his bedroom.” Everett doesn’t mind offering up the commentary.

  “He’s not wrong.” Noah sighs. “But I’ll take a pizza dinner once in a while. Without Everett, if you don’t mind.” He shoots him a look. “I want my voice to be heard without your smart-aleck remarks mucking it up.”

  “Dinner once is fine.” Everett shrugs. “Or you can stop by the bakery now and again. It’s quiet enough.”

  “I want to read to the baby,” Noah says with a twinge of excitement in his voice, and it breaks my heart. “I mean it, Lottie. I can’t wait to hold this child.”

  “Noah,” I all but whisper his name.

  “I know.” He closes his eyes. “And I get it. This baby may not be mine. But—it’s not going to matter too much to me. I’m sorry if you find that weird.”

  “Not weird.” Everett points a fry in his direction. “The restraining order might make things weird, though.”

  Noah takes a deep breath. “Don’t start, Everett. I’m working long hours, I’ve got another killer on the loose, and you’re sleeping with the love of my life. I’m this close to using you as a punching bag for all of the above. Don’t push your luck.”

  I hold up a hand in the event Everett wants to toss out a remark, and I don’t doubt he wants to.

  “Guess what, boys? You really can duke it out, and I’ll be glad to watch. At my mother’s trivia night. Sharpen your brains. It’s the only thing I’ll allow you to battle with.”

  “A battle of the wits?” Everett slides the fried pickles my way, and I gladly accept them. “I’ll try to go easy on you, Noah. I’d hate for Lemon to start thinking there’s a chance you might pass on your IQ level to her unborn child.”

  Noah doesn’t look amused. “Out of respect for you, Lottie, I’m going to refrain from saying anything.”

  A dry laugh bucks through Everett’s chest. “Nice cover for when a snappy comeback escapes you.”

  I sigh. “The two of you are going to have to play nice. I mean, what if this is Noah’s baby?” I pose the question to Everett. “I’d hate to deny him the right to read to his unborn child.” A thought hits me. “And what about when the baby is born?” I look to the two of them.

  Noah takes up my hand, a sorrowful smile flickering on his lips. “If the baby is ours, I promise I will never use it as a tool to hurt you or Everett. I’m not going to hurt you in any way, Lottie. I want to get that up front, right away.”

  My chest bucks. “Then the two of you are going to have to figure out a way to get along, because this baby is going to have both of you in its life.”

  The waitress comes by and turns her back to us before landing a tray of fresh fried pickles down once again.

  “At Brew Ha Ha’s, we bend over backward to please you.” She shakes her tail in Noah’s face before taking off.

  “Lord knows we’ve seen that routine before,” I say before diving into the basket of yummy fried pickle goodness.

  “Lemon”—Everett slides a small container of what looks to be ranch dressing my way—“try it with that.”

  I dip my pickle spear before indulging, and once that creamy tart combo hits my taste buds, I let out a low, guttural moan.

  “Now that is next level. How did you know to do that?”

  Noah’s chest pumps with a dry laugh. “I’m guessing he’s dipped his pickle into a few things.”

  Before Everett can toss a barb his way, the sound of a microphone squealing garners our attention.

  A woman with chestnut hair, the requisite donkey ears, and not much else on, claps against the mic, lighting up the room with a steady thump.

  “Attention, ladies and asses,” she calls out into the microphone, and I see now that it’s Alyssa Thompson making the tawdry announcement. “I’d like to invite the ladies in the room to come on up and take part in the entertainment for the evening.”

  “Gotta go.” I don’t hesitate, and I certainly don’t wait for her to finish her spiel. Not because I’m super excited about donning a pair of donkey ears and shaking my tail at the patrons, but because I’m hoping to land me some alone time with the suspect in question.

  “That was fast!” Alyssa’s eyes sweep over me as a handful of other ladies join the endeavor, and a group of waitresses quickly herd us to the back. “You look familiar.” She motions for me to follow her, and I do.

  “Oh, we’ve met,” I say as we make our way to a large room in the rear of the establishment where women are being outfitted with furry ears and tails. A plume of orange dust explodes to my ri
ght, and Ginger sneezes three times straight, blowing the supernatural dust clear across the room.

  “Oh?” Alyssa squints as she takes me in. “We’ve met?”

  “She’s guilty as sin, Lottie,” Ginger barks. “Look at those beady little eyes! I know you don’t like me saying so, but I’m telling you, my mother was never wrong.”

  I wrinkle my nose at the fuzzy wuzzy. I suppose if you accuse everyone of being guilty, you’ll eventually be right.

  “My name is Lottie Lemon.” I nod to Alyssa. “We met at the fundraiser the other night.”

  “That’s right.” She snaps her fingers. “So did they catch the killer?” Her left eye comes shy of winking. “I bet it was Rachelle.” A laugh bumps from her, and I marvel that I didn’t even have to pull that little tidbit from her. “She was Brenda’s sidekick. I’m sorry.” She squeezes her eyes shut a moment. “You probably have no idea who I’m babbling about.”

  Ginger barks. “But we do! Tell her, Lottie. We met Rachelle—and I know my Brenda.”

  “I think I’ve met Rachelle,” I say. “She’s helping organize the do-over fundraiser at my mother’s B&B. They’ll be doing it in two parts. You’re welcome to come.”

  She shrugs as she reaches into a box behind her and plops a pair of foot-long donkey ears over my head.

  “I might show up.” She plucks a bobby pin from inside her blouse, and I’m terrified as to where it actually came from. “But if I do, it’ll only be for the food. God knows I’ve given enough to that school already.”

  “Monetarily?” I’m curious if money played a factor in Brenda’s death.

  “That, too, but I was thinking more along the lines of my tattered soul. I’d be careful not to get too involved with the inner workings of that place if I were you. It has a way of chewing you up and spitting you out. Although”—she reaches back into the box and fishes out a furry tail before motioning for me to turn around—“I’ve given plenty of cold hard cash to that place, too. Brenda was a master at getting people to open their wallets.”

  “Were the two of you close?” According to Cokie, they were, but I leave that part out.

  Alyssa glances past me as if she was looking right into another day long ago.

  Ginger takes a seat right over my shoulders, and thankfully, she feels lighter than air.

  “That’s the look of a guilty woman, Lottie,” the tiny pooch does her best to whisper, and it’s so stinking adorable I just want to snuggle with her right here, with my new ears, tail, and all.

  “We were friends.” Alyssa sighs as she puts on a pair of ears herself. “Brenda and I used to head up all of the school carnivals together. I used my business license to get the school a discount on decorations, prizes, and whatnot. We got along pretty well in the beginning. But then, her big personality got in the way. And I’m not a person who takes anything from anyone. We had a little falling-out.”

  “What do you mean by big personality?” I ask as one of the waitresses gives the other tail-wagging girls the 411 on how this donkey show is about to go down.

  Alyssa laughs to herself as she pulls a lipstick tube out of her jeans and proceeds to apply a crimson ring over her mouth.

  “Brenda Phillips wasn’t happy unless everything was going exactly how she wanted it to,” she says right before she blows herself a kiss into the mirror. “She put the control in controlling, if you know what I mean. And if someone dared to disagree with her, she’d smile really nice to their face, but you could tell she was about to rain down a whole lot of misery over them.” She blinks back. “Come to think of it, Rachelle crossed her shortly after we met her. The day Brenda and I met Rachelle, that is. Rachelle was new in town, just married, and was excited to join the PTA. You know, she was all gung-ho to be a good stepmother. But Brenda wanted her to become a one-woman cleanup committee. At first Rachelle was up for it, but once she saw that Brenda was giving her all the lackey positions—and lots of them—she had a change of heart. They argued over something silly, and Rachelle actually accused her of being a nasty control freak.”

  “And then what happened?”

  She chortles to herself. “Brenda was humiliated, of course. Rachelle just so happened to have her little outburst right after one of our infamous PTA meetings. But the strange part is, right after that, maybe not even a few days later, Rachelle was suddenly eager to do anything Brenda asked of her. And Brenda, being the vindictive snake she was, had her dress up as a clown and be the only victim in the dunk tank that year at the Halloween carnival. Usually the teachers and a few students would take turns at it. Something about that one-eighty felt so very off to me. Nevertheless, they were inseparable after that. Brenda always needed a right-hand gal, and Rachelle turned up just in time. But I wasn’t privy to why they were suddenly besties.”

  Ginger barks. “Because this woman and Brenda had that falling-out. Ask her about it, Lottie. Ask her.”

  I nod. “Alyssa? Can I ask what kind of falling-out you had with her?”

  Her eyes widen as she looks vacantly past me once again.

  “I’ll tell you because you asked nicely, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t repeat this to anyone.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it.” With the exception of Noah and Everett. And maybe one of my sisters or Keelie. Come to think of it, I might need to process the case out loud to either Lily or Carlotta. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to fill the ghosts at my mother’s B&B in on it as well.

  Wait a minute. If I don’t keep my word, that’ll make me a liar. Oh my goodness, what if I’m loaded with liar DNA? If that’s the case, I bet that bit of genetic material comes straight from Carlotta.

  It would figure that would be her contribution to the little peanut growing in my belly.

  Alyssa leans in just as the other women sporting donkey ears and tails traipse out of the room in single file.

  “I was once married to a preacher back in Oregon.” She shrugs. “He went missing, and I was pegged as the killer.” She says killer in air quotes. “I was tried and convicted in the court of public opinion, so I left the state and moved to Vermont. I remarried, and now my son and I have a whole different life out here.

  “His stepfather is wonderful. We don’t talk about what happened with his father, but just last spring, the detective I hired sent pictures of him hiding out in Canada. He owed the wrong people money and wanted a new beginning. He didn’t think the men who were threatening him would come after my son or me, and it turns out, he was right.” She leans in and looks me in the eye. A cold chill rides up and down my spine as she does it, and suddenly I’m wondering if I’m safe in this woman’s presence. “Nobody knows that but you and me.” She nods. “My son doesn’t even know all the dirty details. So don’t go feeding the rumor mill, or I’m going to know who spilled the beans. And I don’t take too kindly to people who spill my secrets after I’ve asked them not to. Got it, missy?”

  I give a feverish nod. “I won’t say a word.”

  “Good.” She spins me toward the door, and it’s only then I see it’s just the two of us in the room. I’m all alone in a dark corner with a suspect—in the exact predicament I promised Noah and Everett I wouldn’t find myself in. “Now let’s get out there. We’ve got a room full of jackasses to entertain.”

  We head out as bawdy music blares overhead, and I stand next to one of the girls who was in the back room with me. The entire lot of us has formed what looks to be a kickline, and I follow their lead as I tap-dance alongside them. We wiggle our ears and shake our tails much to the delight of the crowd. And with a loud clap, the women I’m with disperse to the four corners of the establishment, each finding a vacant lap to call their own. So I do what any girl in my lucky position would do. I hightail it over to Noah and Everett—and I mean hightail in the literal sense. But once I arrive, I find a couple of frisky mules already kicking in my pen.

  “All right, girls,” I say, trying to pluck a drooling redhead off of Everett. “Back off. These boys belong to me.” />
  Ginger barks up an earful of vengeance. “You tell them, Lottie. Don’t be afraid to bare your fangs and throw a little growl in there. There’s nothing wrong with letting the other witches know where you stand.” Although, I don’t think she said witches. Thankfully, the music jerked up a notch just in time to leave it ambiguous, so my ears settled on the tamer term.

  The brunette pawing at Noah’s tie gives a bored glance my way.

  “Step off, sweetheart”—she mewls— “this table is full.”

  By the looks of the matching skimpy Brew Ha Ha T-shirts these two bimbos have donned, I can tell they’re genuine waitresses here. And I’m guessing they’re hoping Noah and Everett will get mighty creative with their tips, and perhaps their lips.

  The redhead all but sticks her mouth in Everett’s ear, and I pluck her right off of him and send her flying toward the bar.

  The brunette in Noah’s lap wraps her arms around his neck, and I step forward.

  “You’re next, sweetheart,” I say as I pull her up by the tresses, and she belts out an ear-piercing scream.

  “You don’t touch me!” she riots in my face before grabbing me by the shoulders and launching me right into—

  “Everett!” I pant as he pulls me in tight.

  The woman tries to swipe at my hair, and Noah does his best to hold her back while Everett and I make a speedy exit.

  No sooner do we get outside than Noah is right there with us.

  “Lottie, are you nuts?” Noah’s eyes blaze with fire. “That woman just threatened to press charges. You can’t pick a fight. You’re with child.”

  “Excuse me,” I say, affronted by his word choice. “I am not nuts.” I am with child, but I don’t want to affirm the fact because I stubbornly don’t want him to be right.

  Everett locks eyes with me. “You weren’t exactly acting responsibly.”

  “Why do I get the feeling the two of you are picking a fight with me? I was defending you both from those heated hussies. Or maybe the two of you prefer to spend your time with those heated hussies. I don’t know. You weren’t exactly pushing them away.”