Killer Cupcakes (MURDER IN THE MIX Book 14)

by Addison Moore

  Lainey chuckles. “Mom sure knows how to pick ’em.”

  “She used to.” I sigh as I think of my father. Joseph Lemon was a saint. If only he could see the way we all turned out. I’m not sure what he’d think of my love life. Married to one man, in love with two. It’s not a love story by a long shot. It’s a tragedy.

  Speaking of Noah, he had to work so late last night, he was just coming home as I was leaving for the bakery this morning. I guess that’s the reality of his job. If I were married to Everett, there might be a little more stability, but then he’s around his fair share of nutcases. I suppose both jobs have an element of danger.

  I pull into the Ashford County Courthouse parking lot and spot Everett seated in his car. He gets out and slips his hands into his pockets. He’s still wearing his suit and looks like he could be on a billboard in Times Square. He’s so heart-wrenchingly gorgeous, he makes my stomach squeeze tight.

  “Geez, Lottie”—Lainey chirps—“are you sure you want to break up with that big bad wolf?”

  “Technically, I didn’t break up with him. We’re still together in a twisted sort of way.”

  Keelie scoffs while shaking her head in disbelief. “You really are something, Lot. I wish I could fast forward time and see how this whole thing works out for you.”

  “Works out?” I muse as I kill the engine and the headlights. “Newsflash, I don’t think this works out for anyone.”

  We hop out of the car and I run over and offer Everett a firm embrace, and he lands a sweet kiss to my cheek, leaving both Keelie and Lainey fanning themselves.

  “What’s the big secret?” I ask, looking around at the desolate parking lot. “Where are we off to?”

  “Hop into the car, girls.” Everett’s lips curve with the slightest hint of a smile. “We’re headed to a second location.”

  Everett drives us two blocks south, and we gasp as he slows down just shy of a huge silver sign that reads Ashford County Cemetery.

  “Oh no”—Lainey squirms—“you can just turn this car around. I don’t do graveyards.”

  Keelie whimpers, “Neither do I, but something tells me we will tonight.”

  Lainey yelps as Everett pulls the car into a brimming parking lot. “Teaches us a lesson for following Lottie anywhere. I’m texting Forest to pick us up.”

  “Don’t do that,” I say as Everett parks and we get out of the car. “The fun is just about to begin,” I say, pointing over to a large crowd congregating through the enormous wrought iron gates. There’s a small sign staked into the ground that reads graveyard tours six p.m. to midnight, twenty-five dollars apiece, adults only.

  “Twenty-five dollars?” Lainey balks. “I’m a librarian by trade, not a lady of the night. I’m not exactly working for tips in the stacks.”

  “Ooh”—Keelie butts her shoulder to my sister’s—“working for tips in the stacks sounds steamy. Maybe you should write a book about it? I bet your mother and Naomi would feature it in their book clubs.”

  I shrug over at her. “I’d buy a copy.”

  Everett wraps an arm around my waist. “Lemon, with me, you could live it.”

  Both Keelie and Lainey sigh in unison.

  We head over to the gargantuan line, and once we’re up at bat, Everett graciously purchases all of our tickets. Of course, he’s met with much protest, but he has a way of tuning that out.

  The cemetery itself is laden with ground fog as eerie music blasts from the speakers overhead, filled with the sound of creaking doors, peppered with screams and howls. The air holds the scent of something sugary and sweet, and just past the ticket booth I spot a stand selling hot fresh churros.

  My phone bleats, and I suck in a quick breath. “It’s Noah.”

  Hey, Lot, almost done. You mind if I pick up a pizza from Mangias?

  I moan at the sight. “He’s not going to be happy that we’re investigating.”

  Lainey averts her eyes. “Has he met you?”

  “Funny,” I say, trying to figure out how to respond to his text. I look up at Everett. “What do I say?”

  “Tell him to absolutely pick up the pizza and to go ahead and start without you. Tell him you’re on a hot date with a hot judge and you won’t have time for cold pizza.”

  The peanut gallery titters away.

  “You’re a comedian,” I say as I start typing away.

  In Ashford with Lainey and Keelie and we happened to bump into Everett. All is well! Be home soon. XOXO

  Everett ushers us into the next line, and we wait in a relatively short queue before a stagecoach pulls up. A burly man in an old tattered suit dusted with cobwebs is holding the reins, and the horses leading the helm look every bit as tired.

  Everett heads up to the driver.

  “We’re looking to hitch a ride with our friend Rachel Kane?”

  The driver hitches his thumb back. “Two coaches away.” He looks right at us. “Have a frighteningly good evening.” He doesn’t crack a smile as the crowd before us hops into his stagecoach and away they go.

  The next stagecoach fills up, and soon there’s just us and an old couple huddled under a blanket.

  I glance to my phone. “Noah is being uncharacteristically quiet. I wonder what happened?”

  “Lottie!” a male voice shouts from behind and we find Noah paying for a ticket and running this way. He wraps his arms around me and lands a steamy kiss to my lips. My hand bumps against the gun concealed under this tweed blazer without meaning to.

  “How in the world did you find me?” I marvel as I pull back, my heart racing as I see a sly grin on my husband’s face.

  “I’m a detective. It’s my job to figure things out.”

  Everett groans, “Lemon, he uses the location services on your phone as a homing beacon. Face it, you have a certifiable stalker on your hands.”

  “I’m not sure I disapprove.”

  The sound of hooves clip-clopping our way manifests into an adorable pair of dappled horses. A woman with her face painted gray, large dark circles under her eyes, and her hair colored in a shock of silver motions us into the glorified wagon. And next to her is a gorgeous glowing cat with ebony fur and matching ebony sparks that seem to swirl within his ghostly frame. It’s my favorite long-deceased black cat, Thirteen.

  The woman motions us aboard once again. “Hop on if you dare. Hold onto your hats and souls—of course, I can always arrange for you to lose both.” She breaks out into a maniacal cackle.

  The carriage itself is open air, and there are hay bales set on either side of the tractor-trailer for us to sit on. Noah sits to my right and Everett to my left, and both Keelie and Lainey sit on the other side of us. The old couple huddled under their blanket takes their seats near the back.

  Thirteen lets out a horrific roar before turning his head completely around unnaturally, and it’s an unnerving sight. “I like this one, Lottie. She’s dead on with her humor.” He chortles away, and I join him.

  The woman turns around and looks at me with those dead eyes of hers. She really is a great actress.

  “Laugh while you can,” she muses. “Soon you’ll have reason to scream.”

  I pull back and whisper to Noah and Everett, “I guess the PR gig was pretty much a dead-end job.”

  We share a quiet laugh as the chariot begins to move out slowly. Rachel regales us with enough tales from the dead to set a crypt keeper’s hair on end.

  We watch as the fog rolls by in long fingerlike protrusions and the gravestones peak through its misty talons. The oaks and the maples that surround us are already bare and their skeletal arms glow white under the pale three-quarter moon. The sky is pregnant with dark clouds but rich with hues of navy and electric blue. It’s an enchanting night, a perfect night for a carriage ride through a cemetery—although I have no idea how we’re going to cage Rachel into giving us info on Pastor Gaines.

  I glance back to check on the older couple and gasp.

  “They’re gone!” I cry out, pointing to the back.
Both Keelie and Lainey glance that way, and in no time flat the two of them are shrieking. I join right in on the fun, forcing Rachel and those poor ponies carting us around to stop cold.

  Rachel spins in her seat. “What the heck is going on back there? We haven’t even gotten to the scary part yet.”

  Thirteen leaps right through her and lands his sparkling self right onto the empty bale of hay that once held the seemingly happy couple.

  “There was this old man and woman”—Lainey’s voice wavers—“and they were sitting right there. And now they’re gone!”

  Noah jumps ship. “They must have fallen off.”

  Everett bolts out the back, and soon Keelie and Lainey follow suit.

  “Great fun.” Thirteen arches his back as he stretches out. “Why don’t you let the men tire themselves out looking for those poor souls and drill our friend Rachel instead?”

  “Good thinking.” Keelie helps me jump down, and I make my way over to Rachel who’s busy typing into her phone.

  “We’ve got a couple of runners.” She shakes her head. “Happens at least once a night.”

  “That sweet old couple? They could hardly hobble onto the proverbial bus. There’s no way they hopped off while we were in flight.”

  She shrugs as she finishes up her text. “You’d be surprised. Some people are obsessed with crawling around this place after dark.”

  Rachel is a tall woman, strong jawline, bright eyes. Her gray tattered dress sweeps the ground and is noticeably dirty around the hemline, but I suppose it just adds to the wicked charm of it all.

  “Sure is a creepy night,” I say and she finally looks my way.

  “This is usually when I say it’s a good night to die, but it’s almost quitting time and things like this tend to pull me out of character.”

  “I get it. My mother’s fiancé was murdered last weekend and that pulled me right out of character, too.”

  “Murdered?” She perks up as if it were her favorite topic.

  “Oh yes. Someone shot him in the alley behind my bakery. His name was Pastor Stephen Gaines. He just persuaded my mother to put all of her money into his checking account, and now there’s a whole legal nightmare with trying to get it back. They were just about to turn it into a joint account.” My God, I pray that didn’t happen. But I needed something that would ring familiar to her and jar her into disclosing something personal to me.

  “Wow, your mother sure sounds gullible.”

  I can’t help but frown up at her. “She is.” Fine. I’ll call a spade a spade. “Are you saying your mother would never fall for anything so foolish?”

  “Ha!” she squawks so loud an owl flies out of a nearby evergreen, expanding its pale plumage overhead. “My mother wrote the book on cheated widows. She married some freak—a pastor just like your guy…” she stops cold, her pale eyes glowing in this strange light. “Oh my God. Did you say he was a pastor?”

  “Yes.”

  “And his name was Stephen?”

  “Yup.”

  “Stephen Gailmen?”

  “Stephen Gaines.” It’s nice to know he kept his initials intact this time.

  Her eyes flit around as if she half-expected him to pop up from behind an overgrown gravestone.

  “You’re not going to believe this, but I think this man and the nutcase my mother married are one and the same.” She closes her eyes a moment. “So he’s finally dead. I can’t tell you how much joy you’ve just brought upon me. I actually took a hit out on him once—but that was ages ago.”

  “Really?” This morbidly fascinates me. And in a strange way, I admire her for it.

  “Yup. I went down to Leeds, to some seedy strip club, found myself a mob boss, and gave him cold hard cash.”

  “What happened?” Obviously not death.

  “I don’t know. His henchmen took my money and said they’d take care of it. But I never heard a thing.”

  Hey? Maybe this was it? Talk about a delayed reaction.

  A tense knot builds in my stomach. If Rachel’s hit on Pastor Gaines worked, sadly I don’t think I want to push this further. Hasn’t her poor mother been through enough? And was that swindler really worth the trouble a trial would bring?

  Thirteen hops before me. “Now, Lottie. I know what you’re thinking. But I’ve come to garner justice for the dead. You must focus on justice.”

  I quickly glance away from his glowing green eyes.

  For once, justice is the last thing on my mind.

  “So how long ago did you put out that hit?”

  “Like I said, ages. It must have been over a year ago.” She shrugs it off. “It wasn’t me. I can honestly say I’m glad to have been ripped off by the mob.”

  “You should be counting your lucky stars. Was there anything odd about him? Anything you’d want someone to know?”’

  “Not now that he’s dead. But our mothers weren’t his first victims. In fact, he married another woman after my mother. A woman by the name of Julia Wright. She lives in Newport.”

  “Newport? That’s not far away.”

  “Nope. He kept his gig local. I didn’t have the heart to tell my mother he turned up again. I figured he already spent the money and was better off dead. That’s when I put the hit on him. But, in hindsight, I should have gone for the legal jugular. And I was about to, but by the time I arrived to speak with his new wife, he had already bolted from her as well. She, like my mother, was too embarrassed to contact the authorities.”

  “And that’s why he was able to propagate the same shtick in Honey Hollow—with my mother as his next victim. I wonder if I spoke to Julia if I’d glean anything new about him?”

  “Who cares. We should be at the nearest bar celebrating—chasing down shots, not chasing his ghost. It’s not like either of us would turn in the killer. Heck, they’re practically the hero in this equation.”

  “I totally agree,” I say it low in hopes Thirteen won’t hear, but judging by the scoffing coming from him, he heard plenty.

  Noah and Everett come back, panting and breathless.

  “We looked everywhere.” Noah places his hands on his knees as he pants violently.

  “They took off.” Everett hops back into the wagon and helps Keelie and Lainey onboard. Noah and I jump in, and Rachel takes the reins once again.

  Soon enough, we arrive right back where we started, and as the carriage comes to a halt, I glance back and scream at the sight before me.

  Seated right back in their proper positions are the old man and woman, the blanket still pulled over the tops of their heads.

  Both Keelie and Lainey let out a howling scream, and I swear I feel both Noah and Everett tense on either side of me.

  The old man lowers the blanket and offers a smile that shows far too many teeth, his face a tad too bony to be comfortable to look at.

  His wife looks equally emaciated. Her hair is styled in stiff, white bristles at least three inches over her head, catching the light like a silver halo.

  “Have a nice night, all.” The old man helps his wife down before he turns to look my way. “Nice cat you have there.” He gives a little wink as they hobble off and are quickly swallowed whole by the fog.

  Rachel chokes as she observes the scene. “What cat?”

  Thirteen hops right down off the haunted chariot and prances on by.

  “It’s nice to have friends in dead places.” He belts out an obligatory meow before sauntering off into the haunted night.

  Ha! Thirteen knew I’d need some one-on-one time with Rachel. Who says the dead are useless?

  Both Keelie and Lainey cry—literal tears—begging to go home and swearing off any future adventures with me that don’t involve half-dressed men. Okay, so Keelie threw in that last part.

  We head to the parking lot, and Keelie and Lainey practically jump for cover in Everett’s car, so I turn to Noah and Everett and quickly spill everything Rachel told me.

  Everett shakes his head as he looks back at the ticket booth wh
ere she’s talking with a fellow coworker. “She doesn’t realize she could have just incriminated herself.”

  Noah stares pensively in that direction as well. “I’ll keep it in mind, Lottie. And I’ll check out Julia Wright, see what I come up with. This sure is turning out to be a strange case.”

  “I agree.” I shudder as the wind whistles past us, moaning like a ghost in a graveyard and I’m sure it is. “Maybe this is one case we should just let die right along with Pastor Gaines.”

  A crackle of lightning goes off in the sky, followed by a ferocious growl of thunder.

  Everett takes a breath. “We’d better get back before the storm hits.” He pulls me in quickly and offers a kiss to the top of my head. “Goodnight, Lemon. Night, Noah.” He takes off, and Noah and I do the same.

  The rain starts in heavy and thick, coming down over the windshield in sheets that make it almost impossible to see.

  “I’m going to pull off the road for a moment.” Noah pulls into the woods to the right of the turnout and kills the engine.

  “I agree. Better safe than sorry. I wouldn’t want to spend my future haunting the Ashford Cemetery or any other cemetery for that matter. I bet it’ll clear up in just a few minutes. How ever will we pass the time?” I bat my lashes at him innocently, and soon enough his mouth is covering mine.

  Noah and I fog up the windows in record time. The rain eventually lets up, and Noah races us back to Honey Hollow, right to his place so we can finish what we started.

  Noah does his best to shield me from the rain with his jacket, and I laugh all the way into his cabin as Toby jumps and barks, happy to see us.

  Noah picks me up into his arms as he shuts the door behind us with his foot.

  He sails us into his bedroom as laughter bubbles from my chest. No sooner does he flip the lights on than a scream works its way up my throat and I do a rather inglorious dismount from his arms.

  Sprawled naked on his bed in breathless anticipation is an all too familiar blonde bimbo—Cormack Featherby. And as soon as she spots me, she pulls the comforter over her body in haste.

  She scoffs. “Excuse us, Landy. This is a private affair.”