Eggnog Trifle Trouble

by Addison Moore

  “I’ll handle it from here.”

  Meg sniffs my way. “Hand me an eggnog trifle, Lot. Who are we kidding? That toxic sludge you’re eating is making me hungry. But I’d be slow to take that as a compliment. I’ve got a stomach made of steel. I’ve seen things, Lot. And it’s never stopped me from having dinner.”

  I quickly oblige her just as a supernatural specter the size of an apple appears before me on the counter in all of his glowing glory.

  “Aww,” Carlotta coos at him, and I give her a subtle shake of the head not to because Meg isn’t apprised of our ability to peer over into the other side. “Well, aren’t you the cutest little fat rat.”

  Meg shoots Carlotta a look.

  “I don’t know, Lot.” My sister shakes her head. “But I’d draw the line at being compared to vermin.”

  “So would I,” Kringle chirps as he studies the contents of my bowl. “My goodness”—he howls with delight—“it’s been a rat’s age since I’ve had a decent serving of sewage soup.” Kringle wastes no time in diving on in, and soon my sewage, for lack of a better term, begins to dissipate at record pace.

  Meg bolts out of her seat. “What in the heck is happening?”

  I shove the bowl to my face so fast I accidentally suck Kringle right into my mouth. And worse yet? I can feel him squirming around in there. He’s hairy and covered in cream and—

  My entire body bucks with horror as I shoot him out of my mouth and right out the window of the bakery.

  And as God as my witness, every single customer runs for the nearest exit, half through the Honey Pot and half through the proper exit.

  Meg makes a face. “Good try, but you can’t scare me.” She thumps her empty Mason jar over the counter. “I’ll take another.”

  Lily slides one her way. “What was that about, Lottie? If you’re going to puke, please leave. I’ll close up. I always do.”

  “Nah.” Carlotta shakes her head. Lot is fine. She just had a case of ghost in the mouth.” She turns to my sister. “That’s what you saw sucking up her sewage soup.”

  “Makes sense.” Meg nods into the insanity, otherwise known as the truth.

  Carlotta looks like the cat who swallowed the canary. “Guess who else had a close encounter of the ghostly kind? This girl.” She hitches a thumb to her chest just as Keelie strides over.

  “What the heck is happening here?” Keelie looks wild-eyed around the empty bakery. “People ran screaming.”

  Lily hushes her by way of a finger to her lips. “Carlotta is just about to tell us a ghost story.”

  “Ooh.” Keelie pulls a gingerbread man from the platter I set out for Carlotta and Meg when they walked in. “What kind of a ghost?”

  Carlotta chuckles. “The tall, dark, and handsome kind that stalks the halls at night.”

  I take in a sharp breath at what this might mean just as Evie waltzes into the bakery.

  “What’s up?” she calls out as she makes her way over. “Why does everyone look as if they’ve just seen Carlotta’s hermetically sealed boobs?”

  “We didn’t,” Keelie says. “A ghost did!”

  “A ghost?” Evie hops into the empty seat at the counter next to Carlotta and snatches up a cookie for herself. “Go ahead. I hope you saved the juiciest details for last.”

  Meg leans in toward Carlotta. “Spill the deets. Was it that creepy dude from the painting you hung up in the living room?”

  “That’s the one.” Carlotta smacks her hand over the table. “He came by the other night and started hitting on me as if he hasn’t seen a woman in years.”

  “Well, duh.” Evie rolls her eyes. “He’s dead. He may not have seen one for centuries.”

  Carlotta frowns over at her. “Well, his moves weren’t dead. We moaned and groaned so loud we could wake the dead.”

  Evie gasps. “That was you? And here I thought that was my parents going at it again. I was ready to stuff my ears with concrete. The next time he comes by, give me a knock on the wall and I’ll put a glass to my ear so I can hear you better.”

  “That’s disgusting,” I quickly interject. “And, Carlotta, please tell her you’re kidding. Evie does not want to live in a house with a ghost.”

  “Pfft.” Evie averts her eyes. “Are you kidding? My sleepover cred would go through the roof. Of course, Dash is spending the night tonight, first night of Christmas break, but I’d like to invite the whole cheer team, too. And just a heads-up, Mom. They think Dad is hot.” She sticks her finger down her throat to punctuate her disapproval. “I’m just saying, they’re probably going to run around in their bikinis. But don’t worry. Now that we have Carlotta’s ghost man, they’ll do their best to seduce him instead.”

  “Good to know.” I glare over at Carlotta a moment. Thanks to her, I’ll have a dozen girls in bikinis all doing their best to impress my husband with their bodies because we both know they’re not going to see any ghosts. Those spooky specters are for our eyes only, and a part of me wonders why I haven’t been treated to this particular otherworldly wonder just yet.

  Lily gives Carlotta a skeptical look. “So what’s this ghost man’s name? How did he die? When did he live?”

  “Hold onto your supernatural horses.” Carlotta holds her hand up. “We’re still at the fun part.” She nods my way. “And that’s why you haven’t seen your daddy popping over these past few days. I’m not like you, Lot. I can only take ’em one at a time.”

  “Good Lord,” I mutter just as the bell chimes and in walks Candy Brighton with an adorable red knit cap and matching red mittens. “Hey, Candy.” I meet her about as far away from Carlotta and her tales from the coital party that I can. “What can I get for you?”

  “I’ve got a Christmas Angels meeting in a few minutes,” she says, doing her best to warm her arms with her hands. “I’m running late, but I thought I’d drop off the check for the Christmas Ball and maybe pick up some dessert for the meeting tonight. Does the amount look right on this?”

  She hands the check my way. “You’re really on top of things.” I glance at the amount and make sure she signed it and she did.

  “It’s perfect. I can put together a party platter of Christmas cookies if you like?” A thought hits me, and my antennae go up. “Are you meeting up at my mother’s B&B again?”

  Her lips purse. “I’m not sure we’ve ever met there.”

  Shoot. That was Suze’s cheapskate club and then her coven.

  “I meant here at the bakery. Pregnant brain.”

  “No.” She laughs. “We’ll be at the Evergreen Manor. Well, most of us will. We’re thinking of revamping the event a little. You know, give the people something new.”

  “Will Chris be there?” I try to sound casual as I pull a box from under the counter. “My husband has some accounting issues, and he mentioned something about Chris Holiday.”

  Her mouth contorts. “Actually, I don’t think he will. He’s only at the big stuff.”

  “Do you know where he works, by chance?”

  She winces. “I think he’s mentioned it before, but it went in one ear and out the other.”

  I slide a box filled with my tasty treats her way. “That’s okay. I’m sure my husband can track him down.”

  “Oh right.” She laughs. “Is that the detective or the judge? I still can’t get it straight. Cormack and Cressida are always buzzing about them.” A glimpse of guilt flashes through her eyes. “Sorry.”

  “Never apologize for those ninnies.”

  She laughs. “Hey, did you hear what’s going on with Cormack?”

  “No, what?” I bet it has to do with the ridiculous secret she was flaunting the other day.

  She gives a quick shake of the head. “I think I’ll let her break it to you.” She slides a rather large bill my way. “I’ll see you next week at the Jingle Hop Ball.”

  “You bet.” I sigh as she takes off. “Wait! I forgot to give you your change!” I call after her, but she’s already up the street. “Shoot.” I head back t
o where Carlotta has the girls all riveted.

  “And then poof!” She slaps her hands together. “The sun came up and he disappeared.”

  Evie’s jaw has become unhinged, which undoubtedly means she approves of what she just heard. It’s not easy to knock her socks off, you know.

  “No way,” Evie bleats.

  “Way,” Carlotta bleats right back.

  Meg nods over to me. “What’s the matter, Lot? You look as if someone just stole your cookie.”

  “I’ve got a suspect to track down and no idea where to find him. And don’t worry,” I say, looking to Evie. “I plan on including Uncle Noah and your dad in on this adventure.”

  “What’s his name, Lottie?” Keelie pulls out her phone and is raring to go.

  “Chris Holiday.”

  “Chris?” Meg looks momentarily perplexed. “The accountant Chris?”

  “Yes!” I snap my fingers her way, thrilled she seems to have a bead on my next stop on the Gloria Abner homicide express.

  “He’s meeting us for drinks tonight at An Axe to Grind. Or as the local accountants like to call it, Axes and Taxes.”

  Carlotta slaps her hand over the counter. “What the heck. I’m in.”

  “Me too.” Evie nods with a touch too much excitement. “I’ve got an axe to grind or two.” She sneers my way. “It seems someone told my father I was about to shack up with one hundred of my closest boyfriends at the Maple Meadows Lodge next week.”

  Keelie scoffs. “Were they wrong?”

  Evie sinks in her seat. “They weren’t off by much. Anyway, that freed up my night. I’m on break and I’m ready to party. An Axe to Grind, it is. What time are we meeting up, Aunt Meg?”

  “Seven.”

  “Seven.” I say as I nod her way.

  “Seven,” the rest of the room echoes.

  I step off to the side to text Everett.

  Hey, hot stuff. You ready to throw sharp objects with me at a place called An Axe to Grind? I hear it’s a great way to get a physical release after a long day of sentencing the bad guys to a life behind bars.

  He texts right back. Sorry. I’ve got meetings that are bound to run late.

  My heart sinks a notch as the dancing ellipses light up my screen along with his next text.

  But as soon as I’m through, I’ll be there. By the way, I’ve got far better ways to get a release. I’ll give you a hint. You’re involved in that endeavor.

  I can’t help but bite down a smile at the flirty remark, but deep down inside, I’ve got a nagging feeling that something isn’t right.

  Before I can talk myself out of it, I put in a call to Everett’s office, and sure enough, his secretary picks up.

  “Hi, Millicent, it’s me, Lottie. I was just wondering if you could put me through to Everett. His phone seems to be off.”

  “I’m sorry, Lottie, but Everett left hours ago. He said he had to meet up with someone. Maybe his phone ran out of batteries?”

  “I’m sure that’s what it is.” My heart sinks as we say goodbye and I hang up.

  Only I’m not so sure that’s what it is.

  What’s happening with Everett and me? Is a life confined to one woman something he’s just not wired for? But why sneak around? Why not cut me loose if that’s what his intention is? My insides feel as if they’re about to burst with grief at the thought of Everett running around on me.

  I know that’s not what’s happening here. I’m sure there’s a good explanation. And as soon as I see him tonight, I’m going to demand he gives it to me.

  But for now, I have to keep my head in the investigative game.

  Chris Holiday has some accounting to do this evening, and he’s going to do it with me.

  And accounting for murder.

  Chapter 12

  This December night glows lavender under the supervision of a baby-faced moon.

  Noah drove me down to An Axe to Grind for what he’s dubbed as an official date night. I wasn’t going to fight him on the semantics of it. Especially since I don’t mind one bit grabbing a bite with Noah or grinding an axe or two with a suspect while he’s with me.

  If there is any debauchery to be had, you can find the lion’s share of it in this blip on the map located just under Honey Hollow, a dicey town called Leeds. An Axe to Grind happens to be located just down the street from the gentlemen’s club where Meg works as a dance choreographer, which explains why Meg is heavily in the know on where to have drinks in this debauchery-rich district.

  The establishment looks swanky, with a mirrored entry cluttered with people clamoring to get inside and a large neon sign above a bullseye with an axe through it. But right now, neither the throngs of people bustling to get into the place nor the flashy sign is holding my attention. Instead, both Noah and I stare in horror at the forest green minivan parked in the street with a line snaking around it—exclusively comprised of men with greasy grins on their faces.

  The van has that old familiar sign slapped to the side of it that reads A Whole Lotta Touchin’ Massages. Inquire within. You won’t need a loan for a few cheap moans.

  “Noah”—I hiss just as the van begins to sway back and forth like a rocking horse—“arrest her. Shoot out the tires or something. Better yet, shoot Carlotta in the foot or something to disable this debacle from taking place ever again.”

  He steps over to the rear window, gives an aggressive knock, and the van stops gyrating.

  The side door slides open and Carlotta pokes her head out. Her hair is mussed and her skin looks piqued with color.

  “Foxy, is that you?” she grouses as she squints our way. “I see you’ve got Lot Lot with ya. As soon as I give my client a boot in the patoot, I’ll let the two of you squeeze a little romp in the back. I’ve been needing a break anyway.”

  “We are not romping,” I shrill the words at her like a threat. “And would you knock this off? And what in the heck is going on in there, anyway?” I crane my neck and spot the rear seats are missing, a body lies facedown with his hairy back oiled up, and about six different candles burn all around the poor guy as if some midnight sacrifice were about to take place. “This is a fire hazard, Carlotta. I demand you knock this off before both you and I get sued over it. And believe me, I know you’re fully capable of dragging me into this naughty nightmare with you, one way or another. Abandon ship and meet us inside.”

  “Fine!” she shouts back while hopping out of the van and sliding the door shut once again. “Party’s over!” she bellows to the crowd, and a collective moan circulates around us. “Don’t blame me. Blame the knocked up nun.” She points hard my way. “It’s okay for her to dig her little baking fingers into whatever man’s body she wants, but as soon as I get some honest employment under my belt, I’m dragging us both into a naughty nightmare.”

  “You’re giving nuns a bad name,” a man from the back shouts, somewhat belligerently.

  “Yeah!” a man with a white ball cap calls out. “We want a whole lotta touchin’!”

  “I hear ya, captain,” Carlotta shouts back. “You find me inside and I’ll make sure my fingers find their way up your shirt.”

  “Good Lord,” I say, smacking Noah on the arm. “Make it stop.”

  “Carlotta,” Noah shouts as the inside of the minivan explodes with the flicker of flames.

  Noah opens the van and hoists a rather sleepy man to safety before tossing some snow onto the blaze and quickly putting it out.

  “Show’s over,” Carlotta calls out as she slams shut the door to her van and locks it with a chirp. “Nothing to see here.” She threads her arms though mine and Noah’s, and before we know it, we’re standing inside where it’s warm, the lights are low, a smattering of tables is set out to the left, and a crowd of people is bopping in the center of the room to “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” To the right there’s a room with chain-link fenced cages against the wall, parceling off in sections where people stand throwing axes at a series of bullseyes nailed to the wall.

&nb
sp; “Hey, I think I can get some real aggression out here,” I say, magnetizing that way without a single thought of finding my perp. But as luck, or a certain accountant’s own need to vent his frustrations would have it, I spot Meg, her boyfriend Hook, and Chris Holiday himself tossing sharpened weaponry at the wall.

  Noah, Carlotta, and I mosey on over, and Noah helps us purchase the use of the booth next to theirs.

  “Hey, guys!” I pull Meg and Hook into a dual embrace. Meg’s wearing her all black Goth-inspired getup in leather and lace, and Hook looks handsome in jeans and a sweater. Hook Redwood has dark hair and a dark smile to match. He’s a handsome devil who runs his family’s real estate empire as well as running a loan operation with Noah’s brother, Alex.

  Hook pulls back and grins at Noah and me.

  “It’s your turn tonight, huh?”

  “Very funny.” I smack my lips at my sister’s plus one. “So who’s your friend and how fast can you introduce me?” I glance over to Chris as he hurls one axe after the other, hitting the target more or less in the middle. He’s pretty good at it. And if he’s the killer, he’s a good shot, too.

  “Whoa.” Hook looks mildly affronted. “Noah, are you just going to let her hit on men right in front of you?”

  Carlotta honks out a laugh. “Lot here is looking to break a randy record. Now that she’s knocked up, she’s got a craving to take a bite out of handsome strangers, and all poor Foxy can do is come along for the ride.”

  Hook shakes his head. “Dude, this is exactly what happens if you don’t set some ground rules right from the start.”

  Noah nods. “Do you think it’s too late to instate a no cavorting with judges rule?”

  “Ha!” Meg squawks. “That wedding ring on Lot’s finger all but screams overruled. Sorry, Noah, my sister is a maneater, and you’re just one of the carcasses she spit out for fun.”

  “Oh stop,” I tell her.

  “Stop what, Lot?” Carlotta elbows me. “Stop telling the truth? This ain’t news to Foxy. He’s well aware of the fact you tossed him to the curb. Ain’t that right?”