Poison Apple Crisp

by Addison Moore

  “Oh, you’re right.” I squeeze my eyes shut tight a moment. “Would you think I was a bad mother if I told you that half the time I forget that I’m carrying an entire human inside of me?”

  She bucks with a laugh. “Nope. I think I’d forget, too, at least until I started to show.”

  “You’re right. I guess at that point I’ll have my tummy to remind me I’ve got a baby on board. So how do you like being a stepmom? Was that an adjustment?”

  “Not really.” Her thin lips flex up and down. “Amber is so easy going, and she was hungry for a mom. Her own mother met some biker and moved a couple of states away to help run his shop. She was one of those women who was never all that into being a mother to begin with.”

  “Same with my Evie. Her mother more or less used her as a bargaining chip in hopes to land my husband for herself. But in typical Cressida fashion, she played her cards wrong from the beginning.”

  “Excuse me. Linda?” the sharp cry of a socialite chirps from behind, and I close my eyes a minute too long.

  I turn around to see Cressida Bentley herself in all her blonde, glitz and glam glory. With that silver sequin gown she has on, you’d think she was headed to the Oscars.

  “Rachelle”—I take a deep breath—“this is Cressida Bentley, the woman who brought Evie into this world.”

  “Everly—I brought Everly into this world,” Cressida corrects with a touch of annoyance. “I don’t appreciate the way you and Essex insist on getting her name wrong.”

  “It’s the name she prefers,” I point out.

  Cressida’s nostrils flare. “And that, Lauralee Lemonade, is how you spoil a child.” She stalks off in the direction of the trivia table.

  “I believe you spoil a child by giving them carte blanche access to your American Express Black Card!” I call out, but Cressida doesn’t even bother lifting a dicey finger in response. Instead, I spot her wrapping an entire arm around Everett, and he quickly gives her a look that could kill. I spot Cormack there, too, pawing all over Noah like he belongs to her and I can’t help but glower.

  Rachelle leans my way. “Did that woman just call you by two different names?”

  “She did. Both she and her ridiculous best friend love to call me everything under the letter L sun. That is, but my own name, of course.” I make a face. “They’ve been after my men for a very long time.”

  She giggles into her coffee. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Lottie. I’m in awe of your relationship prowess. And don’t you dare step back from this. Don’t let there be any shame in your dating game.”

  A laugh bucks from me. “I guess there hasn’t been yet. But I’m with Everett now. He’s my husband.”

  She shrugs. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but Cokie mentioned Detective Fox—Noah—might be the baby’s father. That must make things tricky with your feelings, to say the least.”

  I bring the coffee to my lips. “Trickier than you ever want to know or experience. Honestly, my head or my heart can’t process any of it right now.”

  “So if Noah ends up being the father, will he move in with you and Everett?”

  “Oh, Everett and I don’t live together. We haven’t come to that point in our relationship yet. But he lives right next door, and Noah lives across the street. So far it’s working out just fine.” I press my lips together as I try to figure out how to segue to the case.

  A sprinkling of glittering pink stars appears next to Rachelle’s head, and soon Ginger blinks to life. And just below her furry little paws is Thirteen, looking perfectly content with the fact he has a pretty little Pom on his back.

  “How’s it going, Lottie?” Ginger gives a few quick barks. “Have you caught the killer?”

  I shake my head just enough.

  Thirteen lets out a yowl as sparks and stars emit from his mouth.

  “Well, move things along,” he insists. “Ask her if she did it. If she denies it, ask her who it could be.” He lets out a tiny meow at the end for emphasis.

  Ginger nips his ear. “Now why would you want her to move things along? The quicker the killer is caught, the quicker I’m sent back to paradise.” She murmurs something into his ear, and Thirteen lifts his head a notch.

  “On second thought, Lottie, ask how she takes her coffee.”

  Ginger chortles. “That’s more like it, big boy. Now give me that tour of your private chambers like you were threatening me with. Quick, before little Lea lops off our heads like she promised.”

  Thirteen takes off, and Ginger yips with glee as they leave the room as quick as a comet.

  “Lottie?” Rachelle leans in and blocks my line of vision. “Are you okay? You zoned out there for a minute.”

  “Oh, right.” I blink back to life. “Sorry, I was just thinking about poor Brenda. I wonder why her fiancé didn’t show up tonight?”

  Rachelle glances to the ceiling. “Martin isn’t exactly in mourning. I spoke to him yesterday when he came by the school to pick up some of Brenda’s things. Just a couple cardigans she kept in the room where we met to conduct official business. Brenda was always taking off her sweater and leaving it behind.”

  “That’s too bad, about Martin, I mean. Weren’t they about to get married?”

  She rolls her eyes once again. “Yup. But believe me, not all engagements are equal. And neither are all marriages.” She shrugs. “I didn’t exactly judge Brenda for swooping in and stealing Martin from Cokie.”

  “That’s funny, because Cokie made it sound as if their relationship was casual.”

  Rachelle laughs out loud at that one. “She wishes. But I’ve heard her downplay their relationship myself. I guess the reality hurts to verbalize. Anyway, Brenda sort of insisted on being my friend, and I tried my best to like her. I even overlooked the fact she snatched Martin right out of Cokie’s hands. Believe me when I say, I’ve made some major relationship mistakes myself. I’ve spent more days steeped in regret over it than I did in the relationship.” She gets lost while looking out into the crowd.

  “Hey”—I gently nudge her arm with mine—“don’t beat yourself up over a bad relationship. I’ve had more than my fair share. I was engaged once eons ago, back in college, and he cheated on me—just the same way my high school boyfriend did. And you know what? For years, deep down, I thought it was my fault. I’m sure whatever happened between you and your ex is something you’re going to laugh about years from now with a friend over drinks.”

  Her eyes widen a moment. “Yes, well, I guess the jury is still out on that one.” She takes a careful sip from her coffee.

  “So do you think Martin was about to break it off with Brenda?”

  “Oh no.” She shakes her head. “Brenda wouldn’t have tolerated that. Once Brenda set her mind to something, it was full steam ahead no matter who got run over in the process. And I think Martin knew he was about to get run over.”

  “Rachelle, you don’t think Martin would poison his own fiancée, do you?”

  She presses her lips tightly as she studies my features. “Lottie, Martin wanted out of that relationship. Brenda knew it, too.”

  “So why did he stay?” I take in a quick breath. “She had dirt on him, didn’t she?”

  Rachelle gives a quick nod. “Apparently, it had something to do with money. I’m not entirely sure how that worked.” Her lips twitch. “Did you ever talk to Alyssa?”

  I take in a deep breath as the memory of my time at the Brew Ha Ha flits through my mind.

  “I sure did.”

  A devious smile plays on her lips. “Did you get Alyssa’s big secret out of her?”

  “About her ex-husband?” I grimace as I nod. I don’t dare say another word, seeing that Alyssa all but threatened me to keep my mouth shut.

  Rachelle gives a long blink. “I’m guessing she told you he went missing and she was accused of killing him.”

  “You say it as if it wasn’t true.”

  Her shoulder hikes up a notch. “It’s her B story, the one she tell
s people to get them off her back, and then she threatens them to keep quiet by telling them they’re the only person she’s told.”

  My mouth falls open because that’s exactly what happened to me.

  “So what’s the real story?”

  Rachelle swills the coffee in her hand. “Her husband had an affair with his secretary. Alyssa was furious, so she took her son and moved back to Vermont to live with her mother. Not nearly as glamorous as her version.”

  A dry huff expels from me. “If you can call that glamorous. I feel like a fool for believing her.”

  “Don’t. She loves to tell that version. It makes her feel powerful and in control. Her therapist told her to flip the script, and she’s not only flipped it, she believes it.”

  “I’m shocked to hear she came up with something so colorful.”

  Rachelle ticks her head to the side. “She got it from Brenda.”

  “Brenda?”

  “Yup. Brenda was obsessively telling everyone about Meadows’ ordeal. You know, the one the book was written about? Anyway”—she tosses her coffee into the trash receptacle next to me—“have they found whoever took that book? I mean, you had security cameras. Cokie mentioned it.”

  “And they yielded nothing but a dark shadow. Whoever did it took off on foot. We may never know why they did it either. But Noah promised me he’d catch them, and when that man makes a promise to me, you can bet it will come true.”

  She pulls her lips back. “What’s the charge for something like that?”

  “Breaking and entering in Vermont is typically frowned upon, but Noah says he’s going to charge them with home invasion—a first-degree burglary, a second-degree felony. Both Noah and Everett are going to throw the book at them so hard they’ll rue the day they ever thought about stepping onto my porch.”

  She looks a bit amused. “We’re talking serious jail time, aren’t we?”

  “Yup.” I study her a moment. “Rachelle, you look like the cat who swallowed the canary. What gives? Wait, do you know who stole that book?”

  She glances out at the crowd and narrows her gaze on one person in particular—a tall redhead who happens to be pawing Noah right there next to Cormack’s grubby little hands.

  “Cokie stole the book?” I ask, bewildered by the nonverbal accusation.

  Rachelle leans in a notch. “I didn’t say it. You did.” She takes off into the crowd and leaves me with my jaw rooted to the floor.

  Why in the world would Cokie steal the book?

  I’m left breathless at the accusation. And I sure as heck didn’t feel as if I was done with our conversation.

  What kind of dirt did Brenda have on Cokie?

  And what kind of dirt did Brenda have on Rachelle for that matter? Or did she?

  Rachelle did mention she tried to bond with her, that she commiserated with her regarding a failed relationship. It sounded as if she actually wanted to be her friend. But honestly, did anyone really want to be Brenda’s friend? She sounds like a miserable human.

  The night winds down, and soon there are only two games still going strong: trivia, with only Everett and Noah left in the ring—not a huge shocker there—and strip Scrabble. Both Luke Lazzari and Wiley have lost their shirts literally, and Carlotta and my mother are both playing in their bras. I am so not okay with this. But apparently, not only are they okay with this, but they both came prepared. My mother is wearing a hot pink number that looks as if it could double as a swimsuit, and Carlotta is wearing a cute peach lace bra that I happen to have a duplicate of. Wait a minute… I think that is mine. Suze is still well dressed in a wrinkled gray turtleneck—

  I suck in a quick breath upon further inspection.

  Oh wow, never mind. No turtleneck in sight. That’s unfortunate. Let’s hope her genetics aren’t all that strong. That is, if I’m cooking a baby Fox in my belly.

  I give both Noah and Everett a pat on the back as the room all but clears out.

  “Okay, guys,” I say. “I’m pretty beat and I’d like to get home. It’s clear one of you will get the prize. How about ending this so we can call it a night?”

  Everett looks straight at Noah with a menacing stare.

  “I’m not throwing in the towel, Lemon. Why don’t you catch some shut-eye in your mother’s room, and I’ll come get you once I wipe the floor with this guy.”

  “Ha!” Noah laughs in Everett’s face. “I’m not backing down, and you’re not winning, Everett. Sorry, Lot. But there are some things I won’t give up on. You’re one of them, and so is winning the title in this game.”

  A loud whoop goes off at the scantily clad Scrabble table, and they all rise as Carlotta flips the game board before sharing a high-five with Luke. I’ll admit, it’s unnerving to see how friendly she can be with such a dangerous man.

  Mayor Nash runs into the room, holding his pants in one arm, his bright blue boxers on display for all to see.

  “What did I miss?” he shouts. “I take one phone call and you call it quits? I thought we were having a great time!”

  Carlotta heads his way and pulls him in by the tie. “I’ve got a six-letter word worth nine points that spells out good time. Let’s head back to the ranch. The good judge has a hot tub we can use to get the party started.”

  Luke grabs his dress shirt. “Did you say hot tub?” He holds out his arms. “They don’t call me the hot tub don for nothing. Am I invited, or am I invited?”

  Mayor Nash scowls as the three of them head this way on their way to the exit.

  Carlotta bounces her way over, and her boobs nearly give her a black eye in the process.

  “You two brainiacs still at it?” She shakes her head at Noah and Everett. “I think we all know this isn’t about whose brain is bigger, more like who’s got the bigger—”

  “Heart,” I finish for her. It’s the second time she’s used this euphemism, so I felt better prepared. “They’re both happy to help for a good cause. And by the way, hot tub is two words.”

  She makes a face. “Whatever.” Carlotta steals a drink from my mother just as she steps up. “Don’t wait up for me, Lot. I’ve got a hot tub date with two of the biggest hearts I know.” A devilish laugh pumps from her. “And if that sounded as if it could go more than one way, it’s because it could.” She knocks back the fruity concoction in her hand and gives the empty glass back to my mother. “Tootles.”

  “Tootles!” my mother calls out, thankfully back into her red sparkly dress.

  A thought comes to me. “Mom, were you sitting back there in nothing but your unmentionables?” For some reason, the thought of her being dressed from the waist down satiated me.

  She waves me off. “Oh, Lottie, you’re always such a prude. It was all for a great cause.” She swivels her shoulders. “Besides, Wiley loves my wild side.”

  A hard roll of nausea bounces through me just as Wiley comes upon us looking every bit like Noah aged about twenty years.

  “Darn right.” He gives my mother’s rear a squeeze, and just the sight of it sends another wave of nausea through me, twice as hard as the one before.

  “Lottie?” a tiny child’s voice calls out from behind, and I turn in time to see little Lea herself with her dark hair combed over her face, that bloody hatchet dangling by her side.

  I bend over a notch, since she hardly comes up to my hip.

  “That’s me,” I whisper a bit too cheerily. “What’s going on, kiddo?” I wouldn’t normally speak to a spirit so blatantly in front of people, but the only people who are nearby are my mother and Wiley, and they’re too busy goosing one another to care if I’m carrying on a conversation with thin air.

  “I believe this belongs to you,” Lea says as she pulls something from behind her back and thrusts it my way.

  Shoved in my face is yet another face, a far furrier one—and one that’s been severed at the neck at that.

  GAH! Poor Ginger has lost her head!

  I spin on my heels in fright and I’m about to scream, but my body has
other plans as I upchuck my cookies onto the table right between Noah and Everett.

  Ginger scampers onto the table in front of me, prancing around with her head right back on her body the way God intended.

  “I suppose it’s too late to tell you it was meant as a harmless prank.” Ginger barks out an I’m sorry before disappearing into a ball of dust.

  Suffice it to say, it’s game over for Noah and Everett.

  I’m quickly shuttled home, into a hot shower, then into bed where Everett holds me in his strong, capable arms.

  I fall asleep thinking about that book that was stolen from me.

  It might just be game over for Cokie Hickman, too.

  In fact, you can add the killer onto that game over list. That is, if they’re not one and the same.

  Chapter 13

  It’s another booty-ful too-hot-to-handle day that started off with Hot Hannah and her harem of hussies. And how I hate that so many of my friends and family members have taken to this madness.

  This morning I even spotted my half-sisters, Kelleth and Aspen, indulging in the gluteus maximus madness. Since Margo is still opening the bakery for me, I’ve taken to sitting by the window watching the sultry show while stuffing my face with fried pickles.

  Who knew the pickled treat could pair so well with apple Danish and coffee? Not that I felt guilt-free while noshing on my breakfast. It’s hard to chow down on carbs when everyone you know, and both of your mothers, are out there turning their derrieres into virtual hot buns. And if I keep eating the way I am, I’m going to turn into an entire sheet pan of sticky buns that have been proofing for nine long months.

  The bakery is already pumping by the time I make an appearance.

  Lily hands me an apron as I make my way behind the counter.

  “Why the long face, Lottie? Noah and Everett forget to give you breakfast in bed? No foot rub before you left the house?”