“I sure did.” An uneasy feeling comes over me as that conversation I had with Jennifer comes roaring back to the forefront of my mind.
“Anyone ever tell you that you should open a bakery?” He pretends to shoot me with his finger and we share a small laugh. “Pardon me,” he says, stepping past me toward the back door. “I think I’ll have a quick smoke.”
I watch as he steps out, my mind still at unease.
Flip left Lisa all of their shared property. That was just a couple of weeks ago. She couldn’t have sold them that quickly. And it’s the middle of the month—rent isn’t typically due at this time either. That means she got the money some other way, like maybe…
And just like that, I think I’ve got my killer.
Chapter 18
The snow is piled high around my ankles, and I can feel the chill right through my leather boots.
It’s dark out, save for the lights that shine over the evergreens. A plume of smoke billows from the side of the building as it butts to the parking lot, and I make an ill attempt to tiptoe my way over as the snow under my feet crunches out a choir of noises.
A mean wind whistles by, knocking some of the snow from the evergreen boughs, and a giant wad hits me smack in the face, causing me to let out a little yelp as I lose my footing.
No sooner do I wipe the snow from my eyes than Lea speeds my way a million ghostly miles an hour with a bona fide snow pie in her hand—and smack—she lands it right in my face.
My neck jerks as I try to scramble to keep upright.
“Oh no, you don’t, Lottie Lemon,” her voice echoes through the night as Greer, Winslow, and Thirteen appear, sizzling around me, shimmering like stars.
Greer looks in the direction of the smoke blowing to the sky. “What’s going on, Lottie? Is it him?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper as I reach into my backpack and pull out the keys to my van. My eyes flit to Ethel and move her in a prime position in the event I need to snap her up in a hurry. “It looks like I’m about to find out.”
I speed in that direction, slipping and sliding until I stumble out onto the parking lot and nearly crash into Orland himself.
“Whoa there, little lady.” He belts out a cheery laugh. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“Oh.” I jingle my keys between us. “Just getting a few more boxes of cookies from my van.” I take a step back as I struggle to catch my breath. But it’s not the jaunt over that has me panting—it’s the thought that I might actually be looking at the killer.
“Well, let me help you.” He poises his cigarette as if he’s about to toss it to the ground, and I hold up a hand to stop him.
“Please don’t hurry on my account. Go ahead and finish. I’ll wait. It was getting so crowded in there. My social anxiety was about to kick in. If I smoked, I’d bum a cigarette off you myself.”
He gives another chuckle before inhaling another lungful as if trying to hasten things along.
Here goes nothing. “I heard the sheriff’s department is ready to make an arrest in Flip’s murder.” No sooner does the lie spring from my lips than my father walks right through the wall behind Orland and swoops by my side.
My father looks dashing tonight in a white suit, his skin glowing with an aura of blue and purple.
Orland’s eyes expand so wide, the whites of his eyes flash in the night.
“Lottie, what’s going on?” Dad stares down Orland. “You think he did it?”
I nod, never taking my eyes off the man.
Dad shakes his head apprehensively. “Lisa and Flip never divorced. Flip had financial troubles. What better way to make them disappear than to bump Flip and make sure his girlfriend ends up with a pile of loot?”
Lea pulls out her machete and begins slashing near Orland’s feet. “I smell a pancake breakfast afoot,” she howls.
“Lottie”—Greer gives me a shove and I stumble forward—“get to the murderous nitty-gritty.”
I make a face at her as Winslow pulls her back.
Orland staggers forward narrowing the gap between us. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Who is it?”
“Olivia.” I shrug, slightly saddened with how easily I’m spilling half-truths and rumors all at the very same time. “But don’t say anything. I’m pretty sure they don’t want me ruining their investigation. Trust me, it’s true. I have it on good authority.”
He snaps his fingers. “That’s right. You’re friends with that cop.”
“The lead homicide detective.” And how I hate that Noah and I have been relegated to friends on so many levels. “I guess they think she took a hit out on him. It was a real pro job.”
He nods knowingly. “It was.” His chest puffs out with pride, and that just about cinches it. “Anyone would know to pick up the casings.” He gives an aggressive nod. “That’s what the pros do. Seen it on TV.”
“Wow, I guess I need to watch more television.”
I know for a fact the public isn’t aware there were no casings left behind—or whether or not there were casings. But Orland here seems to be sure of it.
I glance down at the suit I admired just under an hour ago. “Hey, is that an Italian suit? I think I recognize the cut. My husband has all of his suits shipped from Italy.” I have no idea where Everett gets his suits from, but I figure it’s another segue to the truth.
“Yup.” He snaps his lapel. “Like I said, Lisa spared no expense.” He takes another hit off his cigarette and blows the smoke toward the building.
“My mom told me that money from the will was finally released. Good on Lisa for finally getting what was hers.” Liar, liar, bakery buns on fire.
He gives a jerking nod. “You got that ri—” He pauses a moment to study me, his eyes narrowing to slits as he flicks the cigarette right out of his hand.
“Lottie”—Dad says it sharp like a reprimand—“get back inside right now.”
“Yes, Lottie. Get inside.” Greer steps out with her shoulders back, her hair flowing wildly behind her as the wind picks up and she looks like a woman ready for battle. “I’m bringing down this killer.”
Orland takes a step back. “Look, Lisa wasn’t supposed to say anything,” he says it low like a secret. “Word can’t get out.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. My mother made me promise not to tell anyone. I just figured you knew.”
He takes a moment to scowl at the B&B as if it were Lisa himself. “Of course, I knew.”
My heart drums into my throat, and I can feel all the wrong words begging to stream out of my mouth.
“And you also know that Olivia didn’t really kill Flip. Right?” I wince as I say it because, let’s face it—I’ve either sealed his fate or mine.
His eyes flash like lightning as they press into mine, and in that moment he comes to the full realization he’s just been played.
“I think I’m going to head out for a while. If you see Lisa, tell her I’ll be back.” He takes off, and without hesitating, I run ahead of him and block his path.
“It was either you or Lisa, wasn’t it?” I shake my head in disbelief as the words come from my mouth. I can’t help it. He was obviously about to disappear forever.
In one svelte move, Orland has me by the head in the crook of his arm as he drags me near the bushes by the side of the building.
“Lottie,” Dad cries out as he struggles to push Orland off of me, but he can’t seem to get a grip on him.
“Let me!” Greer jumps on his back, but Orland is unfazed.
He’s determined in his wickedness, and there’s not a thing a spirit in the universe can do about it.
“You stupid, stupid girl.” Orland reaches behind his back and pulls a gun out, and just the sight of it knocks the wind out of me. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone. But I have to thank you for bringing your concerns to me first.”
I catch a glimpse of Winslow whispering something to Greer, Lea, and Thirteen, and the four of them jump right through Orland and me and into the
B&B.
I glance to Dad and he shrugs, but the look of fear he’s feeling for me is very much in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Shut up!” Orland growls as he slips his hand over my mouth and pulls me close to him. “One shot to the heart because I like you. I liked Flip, too, but he was a stingy old man who didn’t care about anyone else’s bottom line but his own. I tried to get him to help Lisa with the store. I tried to ask him for a loan to help me when the bank came knocking. And do you know what he told me?”
I swallow hard as I shake my head, my eyes pinned to the man who could very well be my killer.
“He said tough luck. Tough luck? He’s been hoarding Lisa’s money for years. I help her out and he says tough luck? I showed him tough luck. Lisa doesn’t know a thing about it. And do you want to know how the two of us are going to keep it a secret?”
I’m afraid I do know.
“I’m going to put you down for a nap you will never wake up from.”
Something flies at us like a projectile missile, hitting Orland square in the eyes and his hold on me loosens.
I try to make a run for it, but he kicks my left foot out from under me and sends me flying into the parking lot, face-first.
Orland shouts and screams, and I crawl on my belly before glancing back to find Greer, Winslow, Lea, and Thirteen tossing books and vases and an odd assortment of things from the B&B at him. I guess if they couldn’t affect him, they decided to stick with what they knew they could affect—the very objects they manipulate to haunt the B&B with.
Orland brawls his way past them, and my eyes lock on that gun still in his hand.
“Lottie,” Dad shouts as he struggles to swat it out of his hand.
In a one quick spin, I rotate my body around and slice Orland’s feet out from under him, just as the gun goes off into the sky.
He falls to the ground, hitting the back of his head over the blacktop with a hard thump, and I leap over the gun as we wrestle for it.
In the distance, I can hear the faint call of my name sung in a choir—two baritone voices, both of them male.
“Let go,” Orland grunts as he pushes me onto my back and aims the barrel right between my eyes.
“Okay,” I shout, hoping Noah and Everett will be able to pinpoint me quicker.
I can see Winslow coming up from behind me, something long and steely looking in his hands. Lea snatches it from him, and that’s when I see it’s her infamous machete as she swings it through the air and the gun goes flying across the sky like a metallic Frisbee.
Orland tips his head back as he watches the tiny pistol’s trajectory. “What the hell?”
I steal the moment to summon all my strength and pin him down to the ground in a move that I’m certain my wrestling-loving sister would approve of.
“Good job, Lottie!” Dad shouts for joy, and just as he says it his ghostly frame begins to fade.
“Daddy,” I cry out, causing Orland to lift his head in confusion.
Dad gives a knowing nod. “Don’t worry, Lottie. This was meant to be. And I have a feeling I’m meant to come back.”
“I certainly hope so,” I whisper in defeat as he fades to nothing. And just like that, he’s back in paradise—far, far away from me.
My chest bucks with emotion as I face the death of my father one more time. It’s just as painful as the first.
Footsteps quicken in this direction as the sound of panting comes in clear.
“Freeze!” Noah thunders so loud, his voice roars across all of Honey Hollow.
And in an instant, it’s over.
A flash of what looks like lightning goes off from the left, and I turn to find that wily photographer who singlehandedly ruined my business snapping another picture of me.
Everett pulls me off Orland before spiking a finger at the photographer. “And that’s the shot you print with your redaction,” he bellows it out aggressively, and the guy holds up his hands before heading back to the B&B.
“Lemon.” Everett wraps his arms around me, his heart pounding over mine. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
Before I can answer, the place is swarming with deputies and Ivy Fairbanks is strutting onto the scene.
“I’m fine,” I say as I look up at Everett. “He did it. He admitted.”
“I know.” He buries a kiss over the top of my head. Everett pulls back with a grieved look on his face. “Maybe you should tell it to the lead homicide detective in charge,” he says as he steps back to reveal Noah striding up. “I’ll be inside. I’ll make sure everyone stays calm.” Everett heads back to the B&B and my heart breaks for him.
Noah pulls me in and buries his face in my hair before peppering my face with kisses.
“Lottie Lemon, I don’t know what I would have done if Orland had hurt you. I couldn’t imagine life without you. I—”
My finger presses to his lips as I shake my head. “I’m okay.” I want to ask if we are but don’t.
For now, the only thing that’s over is this murder investigation.
Flip Alexander’s killer has been successfully apprehended thanks to the ghosts from my mother’s B&B.
Noah makes sure I’m not hurt as the medics arrive at the scene and examine me. My mother’s party ends abruptly, and poor Lisa breaks out into hysterics at the thought of Orland being responsible for Flip’s death. But Noah took both her and Jennifer down to Ashford County for questioning regardless.
Everett helps me home, all the way up into my living room, and Waffles lets out a harrowing yowl as he saunters his way over to me.
“Come here, sweetie,” I say as I pick him up and bury a lingering kiss in his fur. “Everett, please get Pancake for me. I think I need to snuggle with my boys tonight.”
“You bet.” Everett calls for Pancake—he whistles, he even pulls out my secret stash of kitty treats, but Pancake doesn’t come.
“Pancake?” I call out as I join Everett for the search, but Pancake is nowhere to be found.
He’s simply gone.
Chapter 19
All night Everett and I shout our lungs out in and around Country Cottage Road—in and around the thick woods behind the house.
Noah gets home around three in the morning and he joins in the search as well, but it’s no use. Pancake has fully disappeared and taken my heart right along with him.
Everett, Noah, and I finally congregate on my porch. We made it this far, but I can’t bring myself to go inside. That would be giving up, giving in. I’ll never give up. Not as long as there’s breath in my body. My furry baby boy is out there somewhere—alone, in the freezing snow.
“He couldn’t have just evaporated into thin air.” No sooner do I get the words out than Cormack pulls into Noah’s driveway across the street.
Those claw marks I spotted on her neck at my mother’s party come barreling to the forefront of my mind, and I don’t waste any time in bolting across the street and knocking her over before she could ever hope to crawl into Noah’s house.
The sight of the large silver key ring in her hand makes my eyes enlarge just as Everett plucks me off of her.
“She’s got the keys!” I shout in a panic. “Noah, those are your spares! That’s where you keep the key to my house.”
Noah snatches the key ring from her as Cormack struggles to stand upright. Her sweater is crooked and those bright red scratches on the side of her neck are evident again.
“Look!” I say, struggling to point past Everett’s steely arms. “Pancake scratched her,” I groan in disgust. “What in the heck did you do with my cat?”
Cormack’s eyes widen the size of the sky.
Noah grunts, “You did this, didn’t you?”
Everett takes a few steps forward. “Where is he, Cormack? If you want anything to do with me ever again, you will tell me the truth right now.”
“Same here,” Noah says it rough, without an ounce of grace for any frivolous excuse she might be readying to lob our way.
&nb
sp; A very small part of me feels sorry for Cormack. It must hurt to see her two good friends turning on her like this.
Okay, I’m done feeling bad for her now.
“Speak!” I riot and she blinks back as if I struck her.
“Relax, Luella,” she spits it out with venom as if this were all my fault. She shoots a smug look to both Everett and Noah. “That furball is in my room at the bed and breakfast. He’s probably got hair all over my couture collection.”
“Oh my God.” I pull out my phone and shoot a lightning quick text to my mother, asking her to head straight to Cormack’s room.
I try to make a run for my car, but Everett navigates me into his arms.
“Why”—he starts as he shakes his head at Cormack—“just tell us right now. What came over you to think kidnapping someone else’s cat was a good idea?”
“Don’t forget breaking and entering,” I say as I nod to Noah. Cormack can bet her daddy’s bottom dollar that I’m going to throw every law in the book I can at her for this one.
Cormack takes an aggressive step my way, and Noah snatches her as if to restrain her.
“Why?” he barks right at her.
“Because it takes a witch to stop one,” she snarls my way. “Cressida and I know of a woman who dabbles in the dark craft, and all she needs is something of yours that you care about to break the spell you cast on these two.” She hacks out a maniacal laugh. “Just you wait, Lolita. Once the scales fall off, Cressida and I will be walking down the aisle, marrying these two in a proper ceremony with couture dresses and cakes baked by the best bakery in Vermont—the Upper Crust—a place that happens to have a real baker at the helm.”
“The insults never stop.” I give a dark laugh of my own. “I’m pressing charges, Cormack. You are going down. And you don’t get Noah or Everett to break your fall this time.”
Everett drives me to my mother’s, and soon I’m blissfully reunited with my sweet furry prince and I bury my kisses, my tears, in his fluffy fur and I never want to let go again.
Everett drives us home, and soon enough I’m warm in front of a toasty fire with both Pancake and Waffles by my side.
Pancake Panic Page 16