Waffles at the Wake

by Addison Moore

  The pole is a long acrylic tube filled with glitter and looks harmless for the most part, but on a night like tonight, it may as well be a loaded gun.

  “Carlotta, no!” I shout as I instinctively thread my fingers together and hold my hands low.

  She uses me like a springboard, and within seconds rockets herself to the top of the pole. Before I know what’s happened, both Everett and Noah hop on stage and pull me to safety. Carlotta does a wild spin before shooting off that pole with centripetal force and diving straight into the crowd at the foot of the stage. Both Mayor Nash and Wiley catch her before hoisting her into the air victoriously as the crowd goes wild. And before we know it, it’s raining green right over the both of us.

  I manage to catch a couple of loose bills midair as Everett and Noah navigate me out of the club and into the frozen night.

  I tell them all about Flo’s baby daddy dilemma and Rocky’s theory on Donata being the killer.

  Noah nods. “Okay. It all makes a little more sense. Now, we just need to have Flo give us the details on that bloodbath in the making. And no matter what, we need to figure out how to get that body back to the morgue.”

  Everett’s cheek flinches. “Lemon and I have a big trial wrapping up in the morning. Don’t make any moves just yet.”

  Noah flexes a smile my way. “And tomorrow at four-thirty we’ve got a doctor’s appointment.”

  An open-mouthed smile takes over my face.

  “I almost forgot about that.” My hands warm my belly. “At least we all have something good to look forward to. And it buys us a little more time to figure out how to move that body.”

  Because we all know there is no good way to do it.

  I give a glance to the snowy world around us. “On the bright side, I’ve got sixty bucks I’m looking to burn.” I hold up the loot in my hand. “Who’s up for a pizza at Mangias? I’m buying.”

  We quickly take off for far more delicious Italian pastures.

  Florenza Canelli owes me some answers before she gets the funeral of her dreams. And I’m going to make sure she gives them to me before a single waffle is whipped up for her wake.

  According to Rocky, Flo really knew how to enrage people while she was still living.

  She’s not doing so badly in the afterlife either.

  Chapter 14

  The Ashford Courthouse is buzzing this morning, mostly with reporters and photographers just outside its doors. When I asked Everett what the hullabaloo was about, he let me know it was common when big cases were coming to a close. He said all of those people were anxious to know the verdict that the jury would come up with.

  “Don’t worry, Lemon.” Everett steals a kiss just as we’re about to part ways inside the halls of justice. He bears those daring blue eyes to mine. “You are a brilliant woman, and I have no doubt you will come to the right conclusion.”

  Soon enough, we find ourselves back in his courtroom with me and the rest of the jury on our feet as we watch Everett enter the room with all the glory he deserves.

  “You may be seated.” He nods our way. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, all of the evidence in the People of the State of Vermont v. Allison Gray has been presented. At this time, I’m going to advise you to the law pertaining to this situation. To substantiate the case against Ms. Gray, the prosecution must prove to you without a reasonable doubt that the defendant’s actions were premeditated. If each of you finds that the defendant acted in a premeditated manner, then you should be able to find the defendant guilty. But if this was not proven without a reasonable doubt, you must find the defendant not guilty. You must consider all of the evidence to be sure of the facts. We will now hear the final arguments of both the prosecution and the defense.” Everett nods to Mr. Wolfe. “Are you ready to close?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Mr. Wolfe makes his way before the jury box, and Annie gives a shimmy of delight. “That person, the defendant, Allison Gray, killed Carter Cameron in cold blood, and then lied to protect herself before confessing to the act. But she continued to manipulate that fact to work in her favor. What you, the jury, needs to do is exactly what the judge has commanded—look at the evidence, understand the law, and apply it to what’s been presented to you in the case. And under the guise of those facts, the State is asking you to come back with a guilty verdict in the first degree of murder. Allison Gray went to Carter Cameron’s home that day, not to end or mend a relationship, but to end his life. She was obsessive, and manipulative, and she’s spent the time since her arrest doing her best to manipulate the media and to manipulate you. Based on the evidence presented, deliver the only verdict you can—guilty of murder in the first degree.”

  He takes a seat, and Fiona takes his place. Her dark hair is pulled back, she’s wearing an army green suit, no smile, all business.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, yes, Allison Gray killed Carter Cameron. But she did it in self-defense. The reason she purchased a ticket for the movie that evening wasn’t to build an alibi. She purchased it as a way to give herself an out because she knew she was drawn to Carter Cameron and susceptible to his charms. She knew she could easily find herself right back in a relationship where on a whim he would bruise and batter her body, and once again she would be too intimidated, too ashamed to speak out. She chose Carter that day, and he wooed her deeper into the house. She thought maybe this man has changed? She was wrong. She was dead wrong. Not twenty minutes passed before his temper escalated, and in that moment Allison realized she was the one, in fact, who was manipulated into stepping into a slaughter. Carter lured her there that day to kill her.”

  “Objection,” Mr. Wolfe says with his arms folded firmly over his chest.

  “Sustained.” Everett nods to Fiona.

  “And that leaves us here.” She steps our way before stepping directly in front of me. “And now her fate lies in your hands, and you must do the right thing. The only person to blame for Carter Cameron not being with us today is Carter Cameron. He attacked Allison for the very last time that evening and forced her to defend herself by whatever means were available. She didn’t show up with that knife. She didn’t show up with the intention to kill. And you must find her not guilty of something she never intended to do.”

  The bailiff steps forward. “I’ll escort you back to a room where you will carry out your deliberations. Select a representative from among you who will act as the foreman. There are notepads and pencils in a box in the middle of the table, along with a verdict sheet where the foreman will record your findings. From there you will deliver the verdict to the judge.”

  We follow him out in a single file line, and Everett offers me the beginnings of a warm smile as I walk out the door as if he were proud of me. I won’t lie, having Everett’s approval is like being wrapped up in the warmth of the sun. It makes me feel secure and determined to please him all the more. I have no doubt Evie feels that way, and I know that this sweet babe I’m carrying will feel that way, too, regardless of whether or not this is Everett’s biological child. He will be every bit the father to it, just the way Joseph Lemon was a true blue father to me.

  Soon, we step into a small over bright room humming from the florescent lighting up above with a round wooden table set out and enough chairs for each of us. We’re a motley crew comprised of mostly women and each face looks just as wide-eyed as the next.

  Before we can take our seats, just about everyone announces they want nothing to do with the task of being the jury foreman.

  Annie lifts a well-lacquered nail. “I vote Mrs. Baxter here take the position, seeing that she’s sleeping with the judge.” She shoots me a look as if it were the biggest offense.

  Dillard, the accountant who sat by my side the entire length of the trial, nods. “I second that. The sooner we get to the nitty-gritty, the better for everyone.”

  The rest of the room agrees with their selection, and I pluck a piece of paper and a pencil from the box set in front of me, if for no other reason than to look off
icial.

  “Okay then, let’s see where we stand. Is she guilty or not?”

  Both verdicts drift through the room, and my stomach cinches because this could prove to be a very long day.

  Dillard shakes his head. “We don’t know if she went there that day to kill the man. His best friend testified that the guy was afraid of her. She was a stalker. A psycho ex. I’ve been there before. It’s hard to get rid of them and keep yourself standing on the right side of the soil.”

  Annie waves him off. “Do you have selective vision? Didn’t you see those bruises? You don’t get that kind of damage from bumping into a door. That girl was hurt—badly.”

  A brunette from across the table scoffs. “Then why go back for more?”

  “Because she’s sick,” the gentleman next to her counters. “Didn’t you hear the psychologist? She said that was patterned behavior that most abused women exhibit.”

  Shoot. I missed her testimony because of Flo. But not to worry because I happen to agree with what I just heard. Men have cheated on me, and each time I’ve gone back for more. It’s nothing that I’m proud of. But I can see how it could happen.

  The twelve of us deliberate for close to two hours. We give impassioned pleas for those opposing our opinions to see things from our perspective. We lay out the facts and dissect them one by one. And as foreman—or forewoman—I make sure every person in this room gets a chance to say their peace—and yes, I mean peace as in what brings comfort to their heart, not piece as in piece of the pie.

  Then one by one we go down the line as each of us submits our final verdict and miraculously it’s unanimous.

  “Then that’s it.” I write our decision down on the verdict sheet.

  In less than fifteen minutes, we’re whisked back into the courtroom, and all of the players are there, Mr. Wolfe, Fiona Dagmeyer, Allison Gray, along with a smattering of family and friends in the viewing area, and, of course, the king, Judge Essex Everett Baxter.

  Everett sweeps a glance at each of the jurors. “Will the jury foreperson please stand?”

  I do as I’m told and offer him a quick smile.

  He nods my way. “Have you reached a unanimous decision?”

  “Yes, Ev—Your Honor, we have.”

  The bailiff comes over and takes the paper from me before delivering it to my handsome hubby.

  Everett looks it over and his chest rises and falls before handing it back to the bailiff. His eyes meet up with mine for one hot second, and in the pit of my stomach, I wonder if Everett thinks we’ve made a mistake.

  The bailiff walks the paper back and hands it to me. “Read this out loud, please.”

  I look to the prosecution then the defense and clear my throat.

  “The jury finds the defendant not guilty,” I say it loud and clear just as the room explodes with equal amounts of cheers and groans coming from the viewing gallery.

  Fiona and Allison stand and quickly share a rocking embrace. Allison looks our way and shouts a hearty thank you, repeating the words three times fast, her face filled with relief.

  Everett sounds his gavel. “Thank you to the jury for all of your hard work. You are excused. This case is adjourned.” His gavel sounds again, and this entire nightmare is over.

  I catch a glimpse of the people huddled and sobbing behind the prosecutor’s desk and my heart sinks.

  For some people, this case will never be over.

  Chapter 15

  Dr. Priscilla Barnette is a tall redhead with a white picket fence smile and bright blue eyes. With the trial behind us, Everett and I met up with Noah right here at my OB-GYN’s office for my next prenatal visit. Both Noah and Everett haven’t missed a single appointment so far. They’ve both been so very sweet about everything, so very understanding. And I’m not sure why, but it tears my heart apart just thinking about it.

  Dr. Barnette has already measured my belly and disapproved of the fact I’ve gained another ten pounds—which actually does bring me to a rather shocking running total. But, nevertheless, she’s dimmed the lights and is rolling that mouse of hers over my belly as we look to the screen to witness yet another glorious ultrasound of the baby.

  A spray of pink stars appears to my right, and I gasp a little as I give Flo a quick wave.

  “Good work on giving that girl a free pass,” she says. “That’ll teach any man not to lay a hand on their girl.”

  I make a face. I certainly wasn’t giving Allison Gray a pass, but at the end of the day, I guess I sort of did.

  “And now for the baby...” Dr. Barnette says as the image on the screen comes into focus and a tiny cry emits from my lips.

  “Hello there, little one,” I whimper as both Noah and Everett lean in to get a better look. “Oh, look at those chubby cheeks!” I cry out. “And that little button nose, and those perfectly pursed lips.” Tears come to my eyes, and yet I can’t stop smiling.

  “Amazing.” Everett picks up my hand and kisses it. “Look at that. You can see its face, plain as day.”

  Noah lets out a breath. “Lottie, he or she is beautiful.” He grips his hand over mine as he sniffs hard. “It’s almost unbelievable that you have an entire person tucked in your belly. A beautiful, beautiful soul that I cannot wait to meet.”

  Flo floats over to the screen, and a whimper emits from her as she touches the area depicting the baby’s chubby little cheek.

  “I can’t wait to meet my baby, too, Lottie. In paradise, of course.” A lone tear rolls down her face as bright as a falling star. “We’re going to find the bastard that did this to me—that did this to my baby—and then we’re going to kill them.”

  She up and disappears in a puff of smoke, and Everett, Noah, and I exchange a glance.

  “Look, look.” Dr. Barnette draws our attention back to the screen just as the baby opens its mouth.

  Another cry comes from me as my sweet little sugar cookie gives a full-fledged yawn.

  The four of us break out into laughter, in tears, and Dr. Barnette assures us she’ll give us each a recording of the ultrasound to play back whenever we like. Soon, the session is over, and the lights are back on.

  “Okay, Lottie”—Dr. Barnette starts—“have you booked your birthing classes?”

  “I sure did, a few weeks back when you suggested them. They start up next month.”

  “Perfect.” She grins to the three of us. “I’m assuming you’ve both signed on as coaches?”

  “That we have,” Noah is quick to say. “And I’m looking forward to it.”

  Everett nods. “As am I.” He looks my way. “You’re going to do great, Lemon.”

  “I hope so.” I shudder at the thought of going through so much pain. “Women have been giving birth since the beginning of time, right?” I look to Dr. Barnette for some encouraging words of comfort.

  “True,” she says. “But for each woman, the first time is the first time. Birth can be a very painful, stressful, bloody event.”

  “Gee, thanks.” I shoot her a look.

  She gives a quick blink. “Lottie, have you seen a live birth?”

  “Well, no. I mean, Keelie and Lainey both had their babies last August. And Noah delivered Keelie’s baby, but by the time I got there, he was already holding him in his hands. And I wasn’t in the room when Lainey actually delivered. I was there for some of it, but then I stepped out to use the restroom and out popped Josie.” I shrug.

  “Well, since you and Essex haven’t been privy to it yet, I suggest you watch some live births. They have an entire slew on the internet, but I have a few I recommend.”

  Yes, Dr. Barnette has earned the right to call Everett by his proper moniker, but even though they’ve been intimate, I don’t hold it against her. She’s just another in a long line of women, and I’ve made peace with that.

  “I’ll shoot you the link, Lottie.”

  “Perfect,” I say, looking to Everett and Noah. “Maybe we can pick up some Wicked Wok and watch after dinner? I can whip up some waffles for des
sert.”

  “Sounds like a winning combination to me,” Everett says as he helps me sit up. “Can’t wait.”

  Noah and Dr. Barnette share a smile that suggests they’re in on something, and I have a hunch they are.

  I already know I won’t like what I see tonight, but ready or not, this baby is going to make its debut in March—and I choose to be ready.

  Now to stuff my face with Chinese food and forget about my troubles for a little while.

  Flo bounces through my mind and that entire debacle concerning her corpse.

  On second thought, my worries are rather hard to forget.

  In keeping with the plan, we quickly load up on buckets of Wicked Wok.

  I may have forcefully yet lovingly made sure Everett ordered twice as much as we usually do, but only because I’m so hungry I almost ate the receipts in my purse on the way home. Teaches me to leave the house without enough fried pickles to last the day. I had a couple of chocolate croissants and a few cheese Danishes in my lunch sack today, and I still was ravenous by the time we hit Country Cottage Road, the cute little street we live on.

  Evie and Carlotta join us for the feast while Pancake and Waffles, my sweet cats, along with Noah’s golden retriever, Toby, watch from the sofa.

  “I’m so glad the case is finally over,” I say to Evie. “Now we can focus on going out and getting our nails done and setting up hair appointments and maybe buying some pretty baubles to go with your dress. When is the Winter Formal again, anyway?”

  “Tomorrow.” She shrugs. “And I’m painting my nails myself and doing my own hair.”

  Carlotta chuckles. “I like how you weren’t so quick to dismiss the baubles kid. How about you and I take Grandpa Bentley’s American Express Black Card and head to the jewelers first thing in the morning? There’s nothing like a little jewel heist to start the day off right. You’ll want to load up on options, you know. I can hold your discards for you. I look particularly good in rubies.”