Lorena cocks her head. “You know, I just got the strangest inclination. Why don’t we hire you to bring the desserts for Flo’s big day? I bet Flo would just love to have your sweets at her wake.” She sheds an easy smile. “If anyone knew that girl inside out, it’s me.”
Flo honks out a laugh. “When she’s right, she’s right.”
Donata nods. “The last thing Flo shoved into that lying mouth of hers was one of your waffles. Come on, let’s get a seat.” She threads her arm through Lorena’s, and the two of them head off for blonde waters.
Flo’s mouth hangs open. “What the heck was that little quip about?”
“I don’t know,” I hiss. “Are you a liar?” I’m starting to feel a little duped by the woman myself.
“No,” she bites the air between us. “You better watch how you speak to me, Lottie Lemon. I’m still the one in control. The only thing you’re here to do is solve my murder. Now get up there and stick to what you know—men.” She shrugs. “I kind of admire your knowledge in that arena myself.”
I take a seat up front, and no sooner do I introduce myself than I give a brief accounting of my relationship with both Noah and Everett.
A woman with a bright yellow shawl shakes her head at me. “And so you don’t know who the baby’s father is?”
“Well, not yet,” I start “But I will soon, though. There are only a few months left before I meet my little sugar cookie.”
“This isn’t going to end well,” says another.
“One of them will have their heart ripped out of their rear,” says a third.
Now there’s a visual.
“Aren’t you afraid of the influence you’re having on your daughter?” someone shouts from the back, and Cressida giggles wildly at that one.
Cressida might be Evie’s biological mother, but she hasn’t done much more than add the girl onto a credit card.
“My daughter is just fine,” I tell her.
Cressida waves a slender arm in the air. “I hear little Everly has landed two men herself.”
Evie hates to be called Everly, most likely because it’s the only moniker that leaves Cressida’s lips. It’s a beautiful name, though.
“Is this true?” someone harps from my left, and I find Suze Fox staring me down, bug-eyed with disbelief.
“Yes,” I tell her. “It’s true. This is nothing serious. She’s only sixteen.”
Carlotta raises a hand, and I cringe. “That’s how old I was when I had you, Lot.”
Chrissy Nash shoots her the stink eye, as she should. She was the wife at the other end of that diabolical love triangle.
“Evie isn’t having a baby at sixteen,” I say.
“So she’ll be seventeen when she delivers?” a voice shouts from my right.
“No, no, that’s not what I meant!”
Soon, there are whispers of a pregnant teenager, and just hearing the rumors swirling stirs up a righteous anger in me. I stand with a start, inadvertently knocking back my chair in the process.
“My daughter is not knocked up! I’m the one with child in this equation. And no, I do not recommend having a love triangle.” I consider this for a moment. “Unless, of course, there’s Noah and Everett at stake—then what the hell, have at it.”
The room explodes in a fit of conversations all at once, and my mother runs up.
“Oh, Lottie, that was wonderful!” She gives my cheek a pinch as if I were seven. “The women at the table behind me asked if I had a picture of Noah and Everett to share with them for inspiration, and Suze came through for me. She has that Christmas card you sent out with Noah on one side of you and Everett on the other, both kissing you at the very same time and you holding your belly with a big question mark drawn over it—wondering who the father could be.”
“In my defense, I never sent those out. Lainey and Meg got ahold of them and evidently sent one to Suze.”
Lainey strides up with a sleeping Josie resting in a carrier strapped to her chest.
“Oh, Lainey, she’s an angel,” I coo. “How does she sleep through all this noise?”
“Come to find out, she loves noise. That’s exactly why she can’t sleep at night. It’s too quiet.” She makes a face. “Forest and I let the vacuum run for the past two nights, and believe it or not, we’ve slept more in the last forty-eight hours than we have in the last six months. I’d better get going. I wanted to stop by the library and make sure it was still standing.”
I tip my head her way. “I thought you were taking the week off?”
“I am, but as it turns out, I’m addicted to that place. I can’t wait until Josie grows up so we can work side by side and we’ll never be separated from one another again.”
She blows us both a kiss before taking off.
“You’re going to feel the same way, Lottie. You’ll just never want to be apart from this baby.” Mom pats my belly before heading back to her friends.
My arms wrap around my stomach protectively.
Instinctually, I know she’s right. I never want to leave my little sugar cookie alone in this world. But I know that’s not reality. And that’s exactly why I need to do what I can to make this world a safer place for my baby, like stop a turf war by way of solving this homicide.
If only a little pesky thing called jury duty didn’t stand in the way.
If Lainey thinks Allison is innocent, I bet she’s right. Lainey is a great judge of character. Now the entire trial feels like a time-kill until deliberations. Let’s hope things wrap up quickly so I can get on with the rest of my life—a life of fighting crime.
And by doing so, Flo can get on with the rest of her afterlife.
Chapter 12
Everett put the spare onto his car, and I followed him to the tire shop where we dropped it off.
I’m not sure why I thought poking a hole in his tire would ground that car forever, but in the least, we’re taking my minivan to Ashford. Everett offered to drive us to the courthouse, and I was more than glad to let him. It seems my big belly is getting in the way of everything these days, and driving is one of those things.
I don’t mind tooling around town, but add in the snow, the long drive on the highway to Ashford, and the thousands of directions my brain is reeling in, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster I’d rather avoid.
Evie texts. Rumor has it that I’m expecting twins. And rumor also has it that you started that rumor. I knew I loved you. Thanks for putting me back at the top of the Honey Hollow High charts!
“Is that Noah?” Everett glances my way just as we exit the highway for the courthouse.
“No, actually,” I press the phone to my chest, “it’s Evie. Something about a dress.”
Good Lord! If Everett finds out I even hinted to a group of women that Evie was expecting, he’ll toss me out of his life for good.
Everett’s phone bleats in the cup holder next to me. “Would you see if that’s Noah? There were some shady looking characters driving around the neighborhood this afternoon. It makes me wonder if they broke into the garage and slashed my tire.”
“What makes you think someone slashed your tire? I mean, you could have simply rolled over a nail in the road.” My heart wallops against my chest because I happen to have it on good authority someone did just that—me.
“When I changed it out, I saw there was an incision point. If I ran over a nail or glass, the cut wouldn’t be so clean and there might have been evidence of debris.”
Shoot. Everett is far too bright for his britches.
“But don’t worry, Lemon.” He pats me on the knee as we pull into the secured lot behind the courthouse. “Noah tailed them.”
“What?” A ripe panic spikes in me. “Those shady characters could have been the Morettis.”
He glances my way. “I doubt it. They have no idea we have anything to do with Flo. And they certainly don’t know we have her body.”
“Right.” It comes out weak as a whisper.
Only they do have some i
nkling, especially if they’re coming around our neighborhood.
“Hey”—Everett brushes his thumb over my cheek, and there’s so much love brimming from his eyes I could just cry—“don’t worry. Noah and I already talked about beefing up the patrol cars in the neighborhood. You and the baby, Evie, Carlotta—you’re all going to be safe. I would never let anybody hurt you.”
“I know.” A lone tear rolls down my cheek, and Everett quickly comes around and helps me out of the van.
Everett kisses that tear right off of my face, and the wind stings me where his lips were as a punishment. I deserve it. I’ve dragged Everett into something he never wanted to be a part of. And now it’s all going to backfire on me, I can feel it.
Everett holds me a good long while right there outside the courthouse as the storm clouds move in overhead, purple and thick as welts.
Everett would never do anything to hurt me, and here I’ve willingly hurt him.
We head inside, and soon enough, I find myself right back in that jury box.
The entire courtroom rises to their feet once Everett enters the room, and my heart goes boom once I see him. He’s so alarmingly handsome, such a very powerful man. I wish we could forget about the world and lock ourselves in his chambers for the rest of the afternoon. Just seeing Everett in all his judicial glory is enough reason for me to want to be in this jury box forever.
“You may be seated,” Everett says as he takes a seat and he looks our way, pressing out a quick smile just for me.
As much as I dreaded this entire debacle, being a part of Everett’s courtroom has made this a memory I will never forget.
Of course, I much prefer being a part of the jury rather than a defendant, like I was the last time I was in a courtroom with Everett. But I can’t knock that day either since it was the day we first met. Just to think, if those Simonson sisters had never sued me, this would have been my first interaction with Everett. I would have probably married Noah by now. This would most certainly be Noah’s baby. I would be missing out on every facet of how wonderful Everett truly is, and not to mention Evie.
My heart breaks just thinking about it. And yet at the time, being sued by the Simonson sisters felt as if my entire world was crumbling, and here it was falling into place all along. Although Noah might contest that.
Everett nods in our direction. “We’ll proceed with the defense today as we continue the People of the State of Vermont v. Allison Gray. Just to inform you, the defendant has the right not to testify. And the prosecution cannot make a comment if she decides not to take the stand, nor can you hold it against her.”
All of the same players have shown up today. I’m once again ensconced between Dillard and Annie—the latter of which has really vamped up her look with her hair teased to the ceiling, her lips a glossy shade of red that matches her low-cut dress, and her sugary perfume strong enough to penetrate my unborn child’s nostrils. It’s sort of giving me a hankering for cotton candy, too.
Mr. Wolfe and a couple of his interns sit just in front of me. He looks dapper per usual, and I catch Annie winking his way whenever he happens to glance in our direction.
Fiona Dagmeyer is seated at her own table. She looks particularly sharp today with her dark locks loose and free around her shoulders and a navy pantsuit on with gold-rimmed glasses, an almost replica of those on her client. Allison has her strawberry blonde hair combed neatly, no makeup, and she looks pale as a stone. Her plain navy blouse is buttoned up all the way to her neck, and she looks like the quiet kid who sat in the library alone as a kid.
Everett looks over to Fiona. “The defense may call their first witness.”
We’ve already heard from the victim’s best friend and a few co-workers who only had glowing things to say about him. That is, until Fiona pointed out he was poking around with the Elite Entourage. Not only that, but his best friend admitted that the victim, Carter Cameron, wanted to physically shake Allison. I know it was in the context of wanting to break up with her, and the fact he insisted she wouldn’t leave him alone, but I can’t seem to get the violent visual out of my head.
Fiona stands. “The defense calls the Ashford County coroner, Ben Atlas.”
A middle-aged man with a thick head of salt and pepper hair, deep laugh lines, and a trio of lines embedded in his forehead takes the stand. He looks solid both physically and mentally, and nods and agrees with everything the bailiff tells him as he’s quickly sworn in.
“Mr. Atlas.” Fiona pins a short-lived smile to her face. “Did you receive Carter Cameron’s body the day he was taken to the morgue?”
“I did.”
“What did you notice about the body when you examined it?”
The man leans in a notch. “There were puncture wounds inflicted in both the front and back of his torso. He had lost quite a bit of blood, and yet his body was cleaned up pretty well, which is odd. He also had what we call self-defense wounds on his hands, which show that he was actively trying to stave off the attack. Nevertheless, the blade that was used was a two-inch kitchen knife—a larger blade than say your traditional steak knife.”
Fiona nods. “How many wounds did Carter Cameron suffer?”
“Six,” he says without hesitation. “Four to the chest, two of which penetrated his heart, and two in the back. The wounds in the back were inflicted around the rib cage. Most likely caused when he turned in an effort to avoid the attack or run. They were not deep. Those two wounds were certainly not fatal.”
“I see. And when someone generally has those wounds on the back, what does this tell you?”
“It’s generally a sign that whoever was inflicting the wounds wanted to stop the victim.”
“Thank you.” Fiona nods. “I have no further questions.”
“Does the prosecution have questions?” Everett looks their way, and Mr. Wolfe stands.
“Yes, Your Honor.” Mr. Wolfe steps forward, and Annie leans my way.
“Take a looks at that tight rear of his,” she whispers.
“What?” I squint her way. “I can’t see his tight rear,” I whisper. “And neither can you.”
“Use your third eye,” she hisses as if she were annoyed with me. And believe me, the feeling is mutual.
“I don’t have a third eye. And if I did, I wouldn’t use it. I’m married.”
The sound of the gavel hitting granite has me spiking to attention.
“Quiet in the jury box.” Everett’s eyes widen a moment in my direction. “There is to be no talking during the court proceedings. Do either of you have a pressing need that I can help you with?” That second sentence comes across far softer than the first. And I know he was speaking specifically to me. It’s pretty much a miracle that I haven’t been running to the bathroom every five minutes or stuffing my face with fried pickles while listening to the proceedings.
“We’re fine,” I assure him.
He points his gavel to Mr. Wolfe. “Proceed.”
Mr. Wolfe starts in on his questions just as a spray of hot pink stars appears next to him and Florenza Canelli materializes in all of her glory.
“Lottie, Lottie!” she howls as she spins in a circle and her hot pink aura spins right along with her in the shape of a tornado. “Great news! I was sitting in the bakery noshing on a stack of your delicious waffles—I must get the recipe…” She swats her hand my way. “And guess who came in to have a little chitchat with you? Lorena and Donata. You weren’t there, so they chatted up Lily. And you’ll never guess what they wanted. Go ahead and guess!” I shake my head her way as I do my best to turn my attention back to the witness, but Flo promptly jumps in front of me. “Okay, fine. I get it. The girls came in to place the official order for the desserts for my big day. Lorena really dug deep and thought that I would have loved to have the shindig at Kenicky’s Steakhouse!” She belts out a hearty whoop. “It’s not for another few weeks, but what can we do? The place is nonstop busy. With Kenicky’s, you get what you get. And Donata mentioned they’ve chosen
the gold leaf casket with the champagne satin lining! I’m going out in style, Lottie. I knew they’d come to their senses. They just needed a minute to get away from Cat and Connie and catch their breath. You know what I mean?” She flashes her inch-long nails my way. “Anyways, Lily asked what kind of desserts they had in mind, and at the time I happened to be noshing on one of those ah-mazing waffles with just the right amount of crunch but soft in the middle just the way I like it, so I plopped it on the counter between them.”
My eyes bug out at the thought. The last thing I need is for the fine residents of Honey Hollow to think my bakery is haunted.
“Don’t worry.” She flicks her wrist my way. “Lily accused one of the bakers of chucking it like a Frisbee, but Lorena—she’s the smart one—she said it was a sign. So waffles it is. Now come on.” She motions for me to get up. “It’s time to get my body back to the morgue. Thank God I’m under a pile of snow, but you never, never know what’s down there with me. And I need my hair to look good for the big day. Donata said they had lined up Prissy Carlina, my old hairdresser, to do me up, but since there was no body, they were going to use a picture from one of my pageants.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m sorry, but I come from a long line of people who believe the only way to hold a funeral is with the deceased lying right there in front of you for all to see. Now the only detail ready to shore up is what to wear.” She rubs her hands together. “I’m thinking something formal, low-cut, sparkly heels.”
“Does the defense have another witness?” Everett poses the question to Fiona as the coroner leaves the stand and I scoff.
I missed the entire line of questioning. My goodness, what if he has something vital to add to the case?
Fiona calls a psychologist who specializes in domestic violence, and as soon as the woman is sworn in, Fiona starts in on her.
“Oh!” Flo blocks my view of the witness once again. “I almost forgot. I eavesdropped on Lorena and Donata while they shared coffee and a couple of Napoleons. Donata said something strange. She said now that I was gone they had their shot and they shouldn’t blow it.”
Waffles at the Wake Page 14