Pumpkin Spice Sacrifice

by Addison Moore

  Noah’s eyes widen a moment before narrowing to slits. “I’m going to ask you once very kindly to stay away from Mr. Rutherford, and that includes anyone who works at Endeavor PR. Step back and let the professionals handle this.”

  A dark-haired woman tips her head my way, and I freeze.

  “Hey, it’s you again!” Jules King offers a cheery wave my way. “It was great seeing you at nude swim. Can’t wait to work out with you again!” She dissolves into the crowd, and every last inch of me wishes I could dissolve right along with her.

  “Nude swim?” Noah looks both perplexed and vexed by the idea. “Lottie, did you take off your clothes and swim with a bunch of strangers just to get ahead in this investigation?”

  My mouth opens, but not a single intelligible word comes out.

  “Steer clear, Lottie. I mean it.” It comes out stern, just this side of anger. Noah is fuming, and suddenly so am I.

  I dig a finger into his chest. “You’re always telling me what to do.” My voice raises a notch.

  “And you’re never doing it.” His voice raises right along with mine.

  “Don’t expect that to change anytime soon.”

  I take off and find Everett before hauling him out the door.

  Noah doesn’t bother texting me an apology once I leave.

  I guess if he’s not bossing me around, he’s got nothing to say.

  I’m fine with that.

  Mostly.

  Chapter 15

  Fall in Honey Hollow is in full icy swing. By the time we get back into town, the bakery is closing for the day, so Everett and I picked up a pizza at Mangia on the way home. I can’t help but feel as if I’m cheating on Noah by doing so. Pizza was our thing. Sure, we only partook together on the one occasion, but it was supposed to be a repeat effort on our part—which was going to lead to far more steamier repeat efforts in December.

  Everett pulls into his driveway at the same time I do, and coincidentally the same time Noah does across the street. For a moment I think I should just run into my rental, grab Pancake, and hide under the covers, but the far more pragmatic part of me, the part that is half-ravenous for an extra sauce, extra cheese, veggie pizza walks the rest of me next door to Everett’s in plain sight.

  Everett grunts as he stares off in Noah’s direction. “Why is my stepbrother glowering at me?”

  My lips part, but I can’t bring myself to tell him that Noah is most likely fuming about the pizza being our thing.

  “Because he’s hungry and you’re not in the mood to share with him,” I say as we head into his toasty home. Everett has the entire place decorated with gray and black furniture, a coffee table made of stainless steel, and that’s exactly where we set the pizza box down.

  “If you and Noah are having problems, I don’t want to know about them.”

  “Good. Because I’m in no mood to share, myself.”

  “So, did you crack the case? I’d like to head back to work on Monday. I’m not cut out for nature walks and stepping into a bakery in the middle of the afternoon. No offense.”

  “None taken. And I don’t know about cracking the case. It seems the harder I try to crack it, the tougher it gets. Collette led a complicated life that led a lot of people to the brink of madness. I mean, for all practical purposes you could be the killer.”

  He growls as he takes an angry bite of his pizza. Those hooded lids look ready to kill—me for delivering the news.

  “But realistically, it could be just about anyone else as well. It turns out, Jenna Hatfield wasn’t exactly on the best terms with Collette. She wanted Mr. Rutherford to herself. Collette, however, wasn’t about to give up her big boss boy toy, and that’s why she was showboating you whenever she got the chance—in an effort to make him jealous. Hey”—I snap my finger over at him—“I bet that’s why they were arguing that night.”

  “Could be.”

  “Anyway, it was Rutherford who gave her the pills.”

  Everett nearly chokes on his next bite.

  I lift a finger. “But Josh Normandy didn’t think Mr. Rutherford would hurt a fly.”

  Everett chews on the thought, literally. “So what you’re saying is that there could have been two sets of pills or—”

  “Or someone switched them.”

  “Did you confide any of this to Noah?” he says it low and measured as if he knew the truth before he asked the question—and knowing Everett, he did.

  “Why would I? He and Ivy are running a professional investigation. They certainly don’t need me. What would I know? I’m just a baker.”

  His lips twitch as if he were about to shed a grin. “Don’t underestimate yourself.” He lifts his pizza my way as if he were toasting me. “I certainly won’t make that mistake twice.”

  “Noah doesn’t seem to mind doing it. In fact, he’s making quite the habit of it.”

  “He’s not underestimating you, Lemon. It’s quite the opposite. He knows what you’re capable of. He also knows what the bad guys are capable of.”

  “Bad guys?”

  “Yes, Lemon, they’re bad. And you are good. Too good to get in the way of some psychopath killer.” There’s a sternness in his tone, that serious look on his face. “How about we walk across the street and share some pizza and theories with Detective Fox?”

  “No,” I say it so fast and hard the sound reverberates off the walls.

  “You’re stubborn.”

  “Only as much as you are ornery.”

  He presses a genuine smile, and it’s so rare I pause to memorize it.

  It extinguishes itself in a moment. “There’s a killer out there, Lemon.”

  “And I’m going to catch ’em.”

  Everett growls as if the thought angered him on some level. “Or they’ll catch you.”

  “Touché.”

  But they’re not going to catch me. Because I’m pretty certain they feel as if they’ve gotten away with murder.

  And if any more time passes—they just might.

  Just before I dress for bed, and right after I give Pancake a second helping of his Fancy Beast cat food, there’s a light knock at the door.

  A prickle of excitement rides through me as I scoop Pancake up and interrupt his dinner number two. This sweet cat is so cute he could get me to rob a bank if he wanted.

  “Well, who could that be?” I trill as we head to the door. I peer through the murky glass between us, and the porch light seems to be shining down on a familiar dark head of hair. “I bet it’s Noah”—I whisper—“with his tail tucked between his legs and a big fat apology just waiting to stream from his mouth.”

  I swing the door open wide and jump back a little once I see it’s not Noah. It’s not Everett either. It’s tall, lanky Josh Normandy with a phone in his hand.

  “Hope you don’t mind me showing up, but I’ve got something to show you.”

  I shoot a quick glance across the street and spot a figure in the window at Noah’s house and feel a sense of relief.

  “Sure, what is it? Does it have to do with the case?”

  The case. I hate how clinical it sounds. Collette was a person, like her or not, and she’s dead. Murdered in cold blood right there in the open for everyone to see.

  “My aunt lives a couple of houses from Collette’s place. It’s how I met Collette in the first place. And once she told me how exciting it was to work for Endeavor, I took an internship right out of college, and that’s how I ended up at the company.” He glides his thumb over his phone and pulls up a picture before turning the screen so I can see it. “My aunt’s security camera caught this. It’s a still shot from the night she was murdered. There’s footage of you there too with your boyfriend or your brother getting some stuff together. My aunt says he was doing some work at the house and probably wanted to get his tools before they put the place on lockdown.”

  My heart lurches in my throat. “Your aunt would be right. How did you know where I lived?”

  He shakes his head as if it
were a given. “My aunt knows everything. Anyway, this car showed up last that night. First, there was you and your boyfriend, then there was Jenna Hatfield who came out with a bag. My aunt thinks she was cleaning out the unmentionables—something about women having an agreement to do just that in the event of an untimely demise.”

  I twist my lips. “Your aunt really is perceptive.”

  He gives a light laugh. “Yes, well, she’s got a theory on why this last car showed up, too.” He hands me the phone, and I examine it under the porch light. A light gray luxury car I can’t quite place and a dark shadow emerging or getting into it. “That’s Rutherford. That’s his Buick. And see this thing in his hand?” He points to a rectangular object. “That’s a briefcase. A briefcase he didn’t have when he went in.”

  A breath catches in my throat. “So that’s where it went. What’s your aunt’s theory, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “She says a man like Rutherford needs to keep his name out of the news because it could spook his investors.”

  “She’s right again. Does she think he killed her?” I’ve asked everyone else. I don’t see why Josh’s all-knowing aunt should be left out of the morbid fun.

  He glances over his shoulder in the direction of Collette’s home in the not too far distance. “She doesn’t think so. But she doesn’t think whoever did it meant to kill her at the ceremony.”

  “But that’s where you said he gave her the pills.”

  He shrugs. “And like I also said, I doubt Rutherford did this. Anyway, I want to keep my own nose out of it so I’m not turning this in to the police. I don’t think it’s big evidence. The deed was already done. Goodnight.” He jogs back to his hatchback and speeds off down the street.

  Pancake lets out a mean rawrr, and I glance right at Noah before stepping in and shutting the door.

  “Well, now everything is just as clear as mud,” I say, rocking my favorite ball of fur and nuzzling his face to mine. “Rutherford wanted any proof of his dalliances out of her house before the police got there—so much so that he risked getting caught doing it. I guess he values his position as CEO. Ticking off the board of directors could land him in the unemployment line. And he’s no spring chicken.”

  I plop on the couch with Pancake and turn on the television, hoping that something will start to make sense soon.

  But it doesn’t.

  Collette Jenner isn’t allowed to be Honey Hollow’s first cold case—not when Everett’s career is on the line. And as much as Noah wants me to step back, there’s no way I can stop now—at least not without speaking to Rutherford one more time.

  And then I’ll fill Noah in on everything I know and step back and let the professionals handle this.

  Although, Detective Fairbanks and Detective Fox haven’t solved a single case together yet.

  Maybe I’m the professional after all.

  Chapter 16

  With a chill in the air, a thicket of dark clouds circling Honey Hollow, fall tourist season in full swing, and Thanksgiving just around the corner, the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery is at maximum customer capacity on Friday.

  Lily comes back to the kitchen where I’m frantically reworking my famous pumpkin pie recipe, trying my best to put some fancy spin on it for tomorrow’s contest.

  “You’ve just had another thirty orders for pies today. If this keeps up, you’ll have to bake five hundred pies by Thanksgiving—and that’s pumpkin and pecan.”

  “We’re not open on Thanksgiving. All pie orders are to be picked up by closing next Wednesday night—and don’t tell anyone, but I’ll be here an hour after closing in the event anyone gets stuck in traffic. As for orders”—I think on it for a minute—“keep taking them until next Monday night. I put in an extra-large order last week, and I’m pretty sure I can make whatever needs to be done twice over. I’ve never ordered holiday stock on my own, but Keelie helped me wrangle it together. We’re going to be fine.” I look to the staff and feel a pang of grief for them. “I’m fine with pulling crazy hours, but I feel terrible asking anyone else to do it with me.”

  “I’ll do it.” Lily shrugs. “It’s easy. I’ve seen you do it. You do the hard part and mix the ingredients, make the crust, and I’ll fill the pies and put them in the oven. It’s not rocket science, Lottie.”

  “You’d do that for me?” I must be bordering on delirium if this makes me happy.

  “Yes, I would do that for you. I happen to like my job. It’s easy, it smells like cinnamon all the time, and I eat a free cookie on all my breaks. What more could a girl ask for?”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re content.” I scour the island and wrinkle my nose at the mess I’ve made. “I wish I was. I really want to impress those judges tomorrow.”

  “Please, you’re coming home with the van. We both know it.” She cranes her neck at the customers. “Isn’t your sister dating Tanner Redwood?”

  I growl just at the mention of his name. “Using the term loosely, yes.”

  “He’s been here for an hour pawing all over some girl just out of high school. He’s such a creeper. I have no idea what Lainey sees in him.”

  “Ditto to that.” I hustle my way over to the front and, sure enough, seated under my romantic twinkle lights are Tanner the hair flipper and some pretty young thing who hasn’t crested puberty. I’m about to toss the spatula in my hand as if it were a throwing star when the bell on the door chimes and in walks my mother and sister—and I couldn’t be happier to see them.

  Tanner jumps to his feet and wraps his arms around Lainey in a twirling embrace while his underage paramour makes a break for it, dashing into the windy evening with nothing more than half a sweater and a miniskirt. Doesn’t he realize where he is? Clearly, if he doesn’t fear me, I haven’t done my job right.

  Tanner presses a heated kiss over Lainey’s lips, and she pulls away with a half-hearted giggle.

  “Lottie”—he points hard my way—“you got good eats. I’ll put in a good word for you with the Parks and Recs holiday committee.” He nods my mother’s way. “Miranda. Lovely seeing you again.” He blows a kiss my sister’s way and jets out the door.

  “Good riddance,” I say under my breath.

  Lainey is quick to wave me off. “Tanner is a sweetheart.”

  I’m about to say something about the girl he was with but think better of it. Tanner is the two-timer. Who cares whether that girl has knowledge of my sister or not. He does. And he still chooses to behave that way.

  “Tanner is something, all right.” I lift a brow her way.

  “How are the pies coming?” she asks as both she and my mother head behind the counter and follow me to the kitchen.

  “I’m baffled. I’m thoroughly confused as to what I should do. A part of me says I should pull out all the stops. But another far more rational part of me knows you shouldn’t mess around with a pumpkin pie until it’s unrecognizable.”

  Mom takes off her coat and replaces it with an apron. “Oh, honey, you and I both know your standard pumpkin pie recipe is miles better than anyone else’s. In fact, it makes a store-bought pie taste as if someone pureed last night’s dinner.”

  “Mother.” Lainey groans. “That’s disgusting.” She looks to me. “But she’s right. And we’re still on for Thanksgiving, right?”

  “Yes, I’m determined to have it at my new home. I’ve already invited the two of you, and you’re both welcome to invite dates.”

  Lainey plucks an oatmeal raisin cookie off the cooling rack. “Who you bringin’?” She gives a playful wink as she takes a bite.

  Mom waves my sister off. “She’s bringing Noah. Lottie has an official plus one these days—a bona fide detective no less. And you better believe I’m telling everyone about it.” She giggles my way. “I’m just tickled to see you so happy. So, who did you decide gets the judge?” Mom shakes her shoulders as if she were throwing her hat into the ring.

  “I don’t get to decide that. In fact, I may not have an official plus one at Thanksg
iving because I might not have an official plus one anymore.” My voice cracks, and both Mom and Lainey ensconce me on either side.

  Lainey pulls me over by the chin. “What happened? That boy is mad about you, and if you try to tell me something else, I may not believe you.”

  Mom gives my hand a quick tug. “I’m sure it’s nothing. I can’t tell you how many misunderstandings your father and I had. But, rest assured, the best is yet to come.” A naughty grin percolates on her lips. My mother and father rarely if ever raised their voices. The image I have in my mind regarding them was a happy, playful couple. How I wish my father were still here to have fun with her, with us all.

  “Trust me, it’s no misunderstanding. He thinks I’m getting in too deep with this investigation, and I think I’ve come across a few valuable tips that might actually help catch whoever is responsible for this.”

  Mom hums like a defunct motor, her entire body gyrating as she struggles to keep a lid on her thoughts. “I’m just going to come out and say it. You need to leave well enough alone. It’s a darn near miracle that the people of Honey Hollow didn’t shun you after something you made landed a woman dead right in front of a live audience.”

  Lainey gasps. “Mother! The woman was poisoned! And the sheriff’s department cleared both the bakery and Lottie of any wrongdoing.”

  “That’s not the point.” Mom picks up a spatula and begins stirring a bowl full of pumpkin pie filling, igniting the air with the scent of cinnamon and spices. “The point is, she nearly lost her business because of this maniac, and if he or she finds out Lottie is meddling, she might lose something far more valuable.” She shakes her curls my way. “We can replace the bakery. We can’t replace you.”

  “You sound an awful lot like Noah.”

  Lainey tips her head to the side and coos as if a kitten just crawled out of a bowl behind me. “He really does care about you, Lot. You are one lucky girl.”

  “I know I am,” I whisper as I look at pie shells waiting to be filled.

  Mom and Lainey help me bake a few pies, and while doing so we discuss who’s bringing what to my Thanksgiving party next week. Lainey suggested we eat at three sharp so we can spend the rest of the evening online shopping, and I wholeheartedly agree.