Pumpkin Spice Sacrifice

by Addison Moore

  “Looks as if Noah and I will have to hold off on that conversation another day.”

  Keelie wrinkles her nose. “At least he’s got a job.”

  “And what a job it is.”

  Keelie and I head back to Honey Hollow, and all the way there I think about who might have broken into Collette’s home and stolen a few choice items. It wasn’t me, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Bear. I’m betting Mr. Rutherford had a thing or two to hide from the world.

  Maybe it’s best if I pay him a visit.

  Or maybe, just maybe, I should start the next leg of my investigation in the Jungle Room.

  Chapter 8

  A good baker understands that the sharpest weapon in her arsenal is a cookie.

  I texted Everett earlier today and managed to wrangle out of him the time his final case would most likely be finished. No sooner do I show up in the courthouse parking lot than he comes striding out the back entrance, his signature dark inky suit, his briefcase swinging with each step and—GAH! That poltergeist who always manages to catch me off guard floats alongside him as if he were a missing appendage looking to reattach itself.

  “Everett!” I jump out from behind a car and watch as his eyes enlarge the size of golf balls. “I come bearing cookies!” I sing as I trot forward with a cute little pink box chock-full of warm peanut butter crunchies. I happen to know they’re his favorite. I’m about three steps away when my foot catches on a crack in the asphalt, and both my cookies and me launch into Everett in a crash and smash maneuver.

  “Lemon.” He helps stabilize me with his arms, and I look up to see a smile daring to twitch on his lips. “What in the world are you up to?”

  “I’m glad you asked.” I pull a cookie off my chest. “Hungry?”

  Red Satin Gentlemen’s Club in downtown Leeds is every bit as seedy as I remember. Inside it’s dimly lit, the music is bone-shattering loud—in the event they can’t hear it on the space station—the entire place holds the scent of stale fries and beer on tap, and scantily clad women dance lazily on stage while men and women alike hoot and holler for them to take it off. Every time a set ends, the girls make their way down into the audience and offer up personal services with which the dancers earn the big bucks, or at least I hope for their sake. I also visited Girls Unlimited last month in an effort to catch Hunter’s killer—and that is how I inadvertently became a connoisseur of strip clubs. Girls Unlimited is the place where Stella, the woman who did in fact kill Hunter, jiggled her girl parts. Of course, she’s in custody awaiting sentencing, but from what I’ve gleaned she’s getting the proper psychiatric help she needs. Red Satin, however, is the same establishment that houses Martinelle Finances somewhere in an underground lair that I hope to never see again. Although, I’m guessing we’re about to be introduced to a whole new wing.

  Everett takes in an enormous breath as he gives a look around. “This has quickly become routine for us, Lemon.”

  “And as I said in the car, this will be the very last time this place sees the likes of me—and hopefully you.” Crosses fingers and toes.

  A waitress walks by with an empty tray and a look of general despondency. She’s wearing nothing but a set of pink sparkling pasties, a matching bowtie, and a thong, and I jump in her way with a friendly wave. It’s so loud in here you’d think it was their responsibility to provide the boom box music to every gentlemen’s club in Leeds—and God knows they have more than their fair share. And the scent of the fries on her platter is making my stomach growl something awful.

  “We’re looking for the Jungle Room,” I mouth those last two words in the event it’s a secret club, with a secret handshake, that you might actually not qualify to be in if you speak its moniker out loud.

  She sticks her forefinger and her pinky into her mouth and lets out a whistle that pierces right through the music. A bouncer in a muscle tee that looks about three sizes too small and ears that look as if they’ve been pinched and turned by a giant nods our way.

  “That’s our ride,” I hiss at Everett. “Do you think you can take him on if things go wrong?”

  “Things have already gone wrong, Lemon. Very, very wrong.”

  We follow Mr. Muscles down a long, dark hall and are led into a dimly lit room where slower, moodier music blares through the speakers. I filled Everett in on everything on the way over, and he only agreed to go along with my little walk on the wild side in exchange for me helping him shake his father’s ghost.

  Of course, I said yes. Of course, I have no power to make that happen. But Everett doesn’t need to know that just yet.

  I’m sure Noah would be impressed to see how far I’d go to help a friend keep their career intact. Either that or he’d hightail it right back to Cincinnati. I’m guessing it’d be the latter.

  Finally, we’re introduced to a woman named Pink with eyelashes as long as my arm and a fun, flirty cocktail dress that happens to be missing the entire UPPER TORSO! Her hair is short and frizzy, and her white lips glow like the sun against the black light overhead.

  “Singles, couple, or ménage?” she asks just as nonchalantly as if she were taking our order for a burger and fries.

  “Couple,” I say, pulling Everett in hard. My adrenaline has spiked to unsafe levels, and my body can’t stop shaking like a dog at the vet.

  The truth is, I feel the very real need to hide behind Everett’s body. Every time the volume dips in the music, I hear an errant moan and groan, and it sounds like an outright torture chamber we’ve wandered into. Leave it to Collette to get one final parting shot at me—by way of whips and chains.

  The neon lipped, partial cocktail dress wearing young woman tips her head thoughtfully as she looks past us. “I’ve got the Aquatic Room available. Of course, the Cave, the Boardroom, or the House of Horrors is open as well. Which one you feelin’?”

  Boardroom? House of Horrors? I gag as I look to Everett for help. How are we supposed to glean anything about Collette and her kinky ways if we’re locked up in some ridiculous room together? And I have absolutely zero clue what we would do in there.

  Everett’s lids hood over, and a hint of a naughty grin blooms on his lips as if he knew exactly what we could fill our time with. “Lemon?”

  “Down, boy,” I growl before turning back to our new friend, Pink. “You know, my friend, Collette Jenner, she came here all the time and she—”

  “You knew Coco?” She waves me off as if we were suddenly on another level together. “She and Ruthy loved the Passion Room.” She cranes her neck just past us. “It’s taken tonight. How’s her side girl doing? I heard all about what went down at that awards ceremony. Poor girl should have seen that coming.”

  Ruthy? That must be Mr. Rutherford. My fingers touch over my lips, and Everett bumps his shoulder to mine as if to say knock it off.

  “She sure should have,” he says while looking at me. “I’ve been saying the same thing all week.”

  Pink nods, and it feels as if she and Everett just went to another level without me. “You don’t get to be queen without making a few enemies. Once you start throwing parties, everybody thinks they can come. People don’t respect the invite. Like that kid that kept coming around.” She hooks her finger to her upper lip and studies the floor. “He kept trying to get in on the action, and Coco held firm. She had her hard limits, and he was one of them.”

  That kid? My mind does a quick scan of the party, and before I can process it, I blurt out, “Josh!”

  The whites of her eyes enlarge. “Yeah, that’s it! He was a no-fly zone for Cokes. We had security escort him out a few times. I tried to get him into a free-for-all.” She hitches her thumb to some nebulous place behind her where all the moaning seems to be coming from and now we know why. A free-for-all with strangers sounds like a perfectly good way to pick up thirteen different communicable diseases, most of which I’m sure they have no cure for.

  “Security, huh?” I look to Everett, stunned to hear it. “I bet Coco had an entire fleet of regul
ars, though. I mean, she didn’t have any room to take on someone else.” And exactly what in the heck was she doing with these people? Eww and yuck! On second thought, I don’t want to know.

  “She had a small handful. Ruthy and Jen were her go-tos. But I’d surprise her on occasion with a few handpicks I selected myself, and I never disappointed my girl and her crew.”

  “So, you guys know your way around this stuff or do you need an introduction?”

  Everett grunts. “We got this,” he says it so fast I almost believe him.

  “Well, let’s get you going. We’re not gettin’ any younger.” She flicks a finger in the air for us to follow her, and she leads us past several closed doors until she lets us into a room marked House of Horrors. I’m sensing a life theme here. “Go on and get your groove on. There’s a two-way behind you if you want to open it up. Some people like to be watched. I’ll be out front if you need me. Any friend of Coco’s is a friend of mine.”

  The room glows an ethereal shade of blue. Chains and shackles dangle from the ceiling and walls, and there’s a box of what looks like discards of Halloween costumes. A bevy of cheap wigs and horrifying masks that I will most likely see in my nightmares for years to come spill onto the floor. There’s a rope neatly coiled at our feet like a snake, and to the right there’s some sort of rusted gym equipment that I’m not entirely sure how to utilize.

  Pink seals the door behind her, and I balk at Everett. “That wasn’t hard at all. She practically handfed me all the information I needed,” I squeal. “So, what should we do now?”

  His lids hang heavy, and his lips curve toward the ceiling. Everett reaches up and flicks a handcuff, making it sway like a pendulum.

  “I’d keep it G-rated if I were you. Your father is in the room.” I nod to the glowing specter who looks as if he’s exceptionally ticked off to be here. “Judging by the venom he’s spewing—his entire person is a poison-green color, in the event you were wondering—I’m guessing this kind of a venue wasn’t his thing.”

  “Whoa.” Everett lifts his hands as if it were a stickup. “I forgot about that. Do you think he can hear me?”

  The specter nods over at his son.

  “He says yes.”

  “Good.” Everett turns to look in the direction I just glanced in. “Can you hear me, Father? I don’t want you here.” His voice riots to deafening decibels. “I didn’t need you when you were living, and I sure as hell don’t need you now. Get it? Get out of my life. You didn’t want to be a part of it when you had a chance, so I don’t see why I should give you the privilege now!” His voice booms off the ceiling, and before I can look to see what his father might have to say about it, the door bursts open and in strides Mr. Muscles.

  “Everything okay in here?” He jabs a finger my way as if all that shouting was my fault. It sort of was in a roundabout way, but he doesn’t have to know that.

  “Just fine!” My voice pitches as I jump to Everett’s side. “We’re just as happy as can be. We were just getting to the good stuff, too.” I do my best to shoo him away.

  Mr. Muscles folds those tree trunks he calls arms over his enormous chest and casts a suspicious glance my way. “You look familiar. Do I know you?”

  “No! No, not at all. I just have one of those faces. Everyone thinks they went to high school with me. Honey Hollow High! Are you a graduate?”

  He shakes his head and shuts the door.

  My hand clutches to my chest. “My God, I thought he was going to eat us alive. He thought we were fakes! And worse yet, he remembers me! I bet he saw us that day we crashed into Martinelle Finance.”

  Everett smirks. “Or maybe he spotted you the night you dragged your friends into the club to enjoy the show.”

  I scoff at the thought. “For your information, Everett, I was not enjoying the show. I was—”

  The door swings open once again, and my panic hits an all-time high. The last thing I want is to meet my demise by way of Mr. Muscles, so I do the first thing that comes to mind. I hop up, wrap my legs around Everett’s waist, and crash my mouth to his in hopes he’ll leave us the heck alone so we can skedaddle like God and Everett’s father intended.

  Everett presses in close, not fighting my efforts at all, and his lips feel soft against my own. His hard chest feels like I’m perched against a rock.

  “Lottie?” a frighteningly familiar voice booms, and I jump off Everett and manage to hit my head on a chain dangling from the ceiling, setting them all swinging into one anther like wind chimes.

  A man stands at the door in a suit and a svelte gold tie that gleams in this unnatural light, and it takes a minute for me to see it’s—

  “Noah?” I stride forward and find Ivy behind him in a tight red dress, her hair slicked back into a bun as if she were about to do a boardroom takedown. “Looking for directions?” I growl over at her.

  Her crimson lips spread with a malevolent grin. “None needed. We just left the Passion Room.”

  I gasp at Noah. “We are leaving this place right now, mister. You’re coming with me.”

  He glares at Everett a moment before taking me by the hand. “You’re coming with me.”

  Chapter 9

  Noah and I drive all the way back to Hollow Brook in abject silence, cloaked in anger and perhaps a little petty jealousy thrown in for good measure. Just before he pulls into his own driveway, we look over at Everett’s and note he’s already beaten us home.

  I guess that means Ivy drove herself to Leeds. I’m not sure why, but that makes me feel at least a little bit better.

  Noah sags into his next breath as he looks to me. “You want to come in?”

  “Do you want me to come in?”

  “Yes.” His head inches back a notch. “I would love for you to come in.”

  We get out and head on up his expansive wooden porch. Noah’s rental looks and feels like a rustic log cabin, not at all an unusual design for this area of Vermont.

  He opens the door for me and motions for me to enter first like a true gentleman, and I do so, noting the fact his cologne permeates the place like a warm evening salve. Instantly, I feel better, safer, far less frazzled than I was back in Leeds, that’s for sure. The lights flick on, and I’m treated to a cozy cabin interior with exposed wooden walls comprised of whole logs, blond floors to match. There is a pair of matching gray sofas that sit obediently in front of a fireplace with a television hung up above it that’s at least twice the size of my own, and there’s a small dining room table next to a kitchen that looks modernized with stainless steel appliances and dark stone counters.

  “Nice place,” I say, taking a step toward the kitchen.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Do you cook?” I’m almost amused by the idea.

  Noah lands his arms around me and tries his best to frown, but the smile wins out. That dark hair of his offsets those glowing green eyes, and it’s safe to say Noah has already taken me in more ways than one.

  “Yes, I cook. But only when I happen to remember to go to the grocery store.” His dimples press in, and I melt at the sight. “So that option is unfortunately off the table for now. But I can order a mean pizza. I hear Mangia delivers in thirty minutes or less.”

  “Sounds perfect. I’m starved.”

  He chuckles as his thumb dances across his screen. “You must have worked up quite an appetite tonight. What would you like on your pizza?”

  “Whatever you deem acceptable.”

  He puts the call in for a large pepperoni with extra cheese and shrugs my way as if asking if that was acceptable, and I give a thumbs-up. Noah switches his phone off when he’s done and holds up the black screen for me to see before he lands it on the counter.

  “No interruptions,” he whispers as his warm breath caresses my cheek.

  “No interruptions. I like that.” I can’t help but note our hips are moving. “Are we dancing?” I wrinkle my nose up at him, my body still moving in time with his.

  “I suppose we are.
It’s a funny thing because I don’t dance. I guess this proves you can make me do anything.”

  “Anything?” I cock my head as we share a dull laugh. “So, did you do anything in the Jungle Room with Ivy?” My affect turns to stone on a dime, and if he so much as hints at something down and dirty with Fairbanks, I’m blowing past him and never looking back. Although, I’m guessing he’d like an explanation himself.

  “Yes.” His lids hood as he tucks his hand in the small of my back. “We ran an undercover operation, which you and my former stepbrother could have blown sky high.”

  There’s a hint of something just this side of anger in that heated stare of his, and it’s only setting my thighs on fire all that much more. “And I happened to hold another undercover operation at the Endeavor offices the other day, and do you know what I saw when I got there? Your cookies. Imagine that.”

  I suck in a sharp breath and do my best to disappear, but seeing that I’m alive and well, I don’t go anywhere.

  “Did you happen to find anything out during either of those outings?”

  “Lottie.” He tips his head back an inch. “You know I can’t disclose any details to you. I’m under contract. I took an oath.”

  “An oath, huh? Fine. I’ll let you off the hook. You don’t need to say anything. Just blink once if you gleaned nothing and twice if you did.” I give his ribs a swift pinch, and he bucks into me, his eyes closing slowly and opening. “Dead end?”

  He gives a somber nod. “And you?”

  “Why do I get the feeling I’m being pumped for delicate information, Detective Fox?”

  “Because you, Lottie Lemon, baker by trade, just so happen to make a damn good investigator.”

  “I suppose that’s true, considering the only reason you were in that facility to begin with was the note I took a picture of that night. So, her place was really picked clean?”