Murder in the Mix Box Set

by Addison Moore

  He gives a curt nod. “Off the record, I approve.”

  “What?” Noah has never approved of me drilling into one of his cases.

  “That’s right.” He presses those lime green eyes into mine, and I can feel him penetrating all the way to my soul. “And you’ll be doing it with me.”

  Chapter 4

  Honey Hollow is besieged by what appears to be the windstorm of the century. The evergreens across from the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery are all swaying hard to the right, and if the wind picks up any more, it will snap them all in half. A recycling bin must have been knocked over down the street because every now and again errant cans, empty bottles, even an empty gallon of milk or two go whistling by in haste.

  Earlier I witnessed Cascade Montgomery nearly getting knocked flat against the building as she battled her way from her car to the shop she inherited, The Busy Bee Craft Store. Cascade’s cousin, Merilee Simonson, was my landlord. She and her sister were giving me the big heave-ho for no good reason. They took me to small claims court on the same premise, and that’s when I met Everett. It’s also about the time I stumbled upon my first body, Merilee herself.

  I shake all thoughts of that horrible day out of my mind as I get back to stocking fresh baked goodies back onto my shelves. I made batches upon batches of banana muffins because morbidly enough they’ve been selling out like mad. I steal a quick glance out at the bakery itself—the butter yellow walls look practically scrumptious themselves and the mismatched pastel furniture look as delicious as nonpareils.

  Lily wipes her forehead down with her arm as the last of the afternoon rush leaves the store. “You really have to choose wisely next time. This town is going to run out of bananas.”

  “What do you mean choose wisely?” I ask, taking a break from the task at hand.

  “You don’t know?” Lily’s brow hikes into her forehead like a fishhook.

  I give a quick glance out at the café as a majority of the crowd heads for the exit and steps into a waiting van outside our door. I can’t help but twist my lips at the sight. Sure, Honey Hollow has more than its fair share of tourists at any given time of the year, but that bus—it reminds me of the fact that just last month my mother sent over a busload of tourists who had paid a king’s ransom to partake in her haunted B&B tour.

  I suck in a sharp breath as I connect the bloodied dots, ignoring the bell chiming on the front door, most likely indicating yet another onslaught.

  “Tell me that my mother has nothing to do with this,” I hiss so fast it all sounds like one long word.

  Lily opens her mouth, but before she can answer, Carlotta Sawyer—so not the mother in question—pops up to the register.

  “I didn’t have a thing to do with this.” She chortles freely to the woman standing beside her, a windblown Rhonda Gilbert. Rhonda is Honey Hollow’s one and only florist, the proud owner of The Enchanted Flower Shop. She is forever dressing to represent the next upcoming holiday, thus the cozy mint green cardigan with shamrocks the size of my hand sewn over it. I’m thinking Rhonda makes the felt cutouts herself and sews them onto her garments. But nevertheless, she’s always the cheeriest person you’ll meet on Main Street. She wears a tight perm, has large marbled blue-green eyes, a wide smile, far too many teeth, a long giraffe-like neck, and a laugh that can be heard for miles.

  “Hi, Rhonda,” I say, choosing to ignore Carlotta momentarily. “You just reminded me I need to devote an entire pastry shelf toward shamrock-themed treats.”

  Lily clicks her tongue. “That might actually work.”

  “What are you talking about?” I can’t help but emote my frustration. My entire day has been wonky ever since I spotted Britney, Noah’s non ex-wife, leaving his place at the crack of dawn. I couldn’t help but think it was something akin to the walk of shame—but since they’re legally married, I suppose it’s the furthest thing from the truth. The only one ashamed to be in the situation would be me. A few months back, I moved across the street from Noah, because at the time it seemed like a genius idea, and Everett just so happened to purchase the home next door to mine. It was a trifecta of happiness for a time, and now it’s just awkward.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you”—Lily scoffs with exasperation—“those people who came in here and gobbled up all of your banana cake? Your mother is sending them over and suggesting they order Judge Shumaker’s favorite dessert from your bakery.”

  “A dessert of doom tour.” Carlotta giggles as she nestles herself into her white fur-lined winter coat. “How morbid,” she says it sultry as if it were alluring to her.

  Lily makes a face. “She actually bills it as—the last thing they ate tour. She’s got a graph with the victims’ names and the items from your bakery they were found with.”

  Rhonda gags as if she might vomit. “That’s abominable! How could Miranda Lemon do something so disturbing?”

  Lily shrugs. “She wants them to feel as if they get their eighty dollars’ worth.”

  “Eighty dollars?” Rhonda’s face goes pale. “A person?”

  “That’s right,” I say, gifting each Carlotta and Rhonda a banana cake muffin. “My mother is making a killing.” I wince at the terrible pun. “Sorry.”

  Rhonda takes a bite out of the muffin in her hand and moans. “So good. Hey”—her marbled eyes brighten as she looks to me—“can you arrange for the next murder in Honey Hollow to take place at The Enchanted Flower Shop?”

  My mouth falls open, and the bell chimes again, only it’s not an entire herd of murder-hungry tourists. It’s Detective Noah Fox.

  Carlotta leans in. “Looks as if things are about to get Foxy.”

  “I can assure you they are not. Lily can you help, Detective Fox. I’m a bit busy.”

  “Ooh”—Carlotta wiggles her fingers with delight. “Rhonda, why don’t you get us some coffee and find a seat? I’d like to have a quick word with my daughter.”

  Noah steps over, those serious eyes of his pin to mine, and I can’t help but note a touch of hurt in them. “Lottie, can I speak to you as well?”

  Carlotta holds up a finger. “I believe I asked first.”

  She quickly steps behind the counter and whisks me just deep enough into the kitchen to secure our privacy. But I’m still watching as Noah collects a banana muffin and a cup of coffee and hightails it to a window seat. He slumps over himself, looking every bit dejected, and shockingly that simply makes every female in the place crane their neck to get a better look at him. There is nothing hotter than a brooding detective, and he knows it. So not fair.

  Carlotta steps in front of me and blocks my view. I don’t know whether to thank her or shove her out of the way. I’m leaning toward the latter, but I gently scoot her to the left a few inches instead.

  “Guess who’s going to get a little supersensual this Saturday?” She shakes her chest as if it were a sexy upcoming event. My God, please tell me this is in no way sexy.

  “Is that a meeting?”

  “Yuppers.” She gives a little hop, and I can’t help but frown at her word choice.

  “My mother taught me to never trust a person who says yuppers. Now, where is this supersensual shindig taking place so I can crash it like a plate glass window with a semi-truck?”

  She makes a face. “No fatalities allowed. If I bring you along, you need to play nice. This isn’t one of your Lottie Lemon mystery shows where you discover a corpse. If the FBI gets a whiff of the transmundane community because of you, there’s bound to be a bounty on your head and it won’t be pretty.”

  “Duly noted. Now, where’s the meeting? What do I bring? What do I wear? I’d bring Pancake and Waffles, but they generally dislike people, and I don’t have a single pointy hat in my wardrobe.”

  She swats me on the arm, that lookalike face of mine looking at me agog. “Good thing because we ain’t witches, honey. Bring yourself. Wear your soul.” She gives a little wink as she starts to trot off.

  “Whoa.” I catch her by the ar
m and reel her back. “Where is this supernatural wonder taking place? And how I do know my privacy will be protected? In this age of insta-everything, my cover could be blown sky-high as soon as I walk through the door.”

  “It won’t.” She slaps my hand away. “I can’t tell you. It’s a secret location. Changes every time, so no need to worry about being infiltrated. I’ll pick you up here at eleven a.m.” She leans in close, wrinkling that twin nose to mine right at me. “Don’t be late!”

  Lily comes in as Carlotta barrels off into the café. “Your boyfriend is here.”

  I groan as I head on out, just dreading the fact Noah wants to speak with me. Not only do I not wish to speak to him, but I certainly do not wish to work on Judge Shumaker’s case with him. That’s why I have—

  “Everett,” I say, stunned as I look up at the stately handsome devil with his lids hanging heavy over those clear blue eyes. I glance past him as Noah’s chest expands the length of two football fields. Why does it suddenly feel as if a fistfight is about to break out?

  “Lemon.” He nods my way.

  “Can I get a treat for you?”

  “Yes.” He manufactures a pleasant, albeit short-lived smile. And just like that, his lips curve upward with wicked intent. Everett is a testosterone bomb that takes down every estrogen-bearing being in a twelve-block circumference. And right now, it’s no different. I swear on all that is holy, between Noah and Everett, the poor women in the shop are getting a serious case of whiplash.

  Everett takes a step closer to the counter. “I need a date for tonight, and I was hoping you would accompany me.”

  Lily gives an exasperated sigh as she looks my way. “Well, Lottie? Everyone knows you don’t keep a man like Essex waiting.”

  My lips part as I glance to Noah. Judging by the steam coming out of his ears and off his entire person, a volatile sight if ever there was one, it’s obvious he heard.

  “A date?” My heart thumps right up into my throat. Everett and I have pretended to be on plenty of dates, but never anything official since I was technically dating Noah—a very married man. But now that Noah is seemingly enjoying his wife into the late hours of the night, leaving her scrambling for the door at ungodly hours… “Where would you like to take me?”

  No sooner do the words leave my lips than the door bursts open and a tall bodybuilder of a woman with long black tresses and bright blue eyes gives a menacing growl while flexing her arms in front of her chest as if it were an act of war.

  “Meg!” I scream at the top of my lungs as I race on over and land the world’s biggest hug over my sweet—yet slightly scary younger sister. “My God, is it really you?”

  “I’m no deity.” She pulls back and gives me a hearty wink. “It’s just me, Madge the Badge, coming to do a couple of good old-fashioned takedowns in Honey Hollow.” She does a quick survey of the vicinity and stops once she spots Everett. “I know you. You’re Mr. Sexy. Lottie flashed the phone your way during that naked couples’ massage the two of you had last month.” She snickers as if she could still visualize him in the buff. It’s true. Meg and I were Facetiming for a portion of the scantily clad event.

  She thrusts her hand his way. “Meg Lemon,” she says as they engage in a healthy shake. I’m just glad she seems to be going easy on Everett. “Break my sister’s heart and I’ll break both of your arms.”

  Everett pulls back his lips a moment. “Unfortunately, the detective your sister was dating has indeed broken her heart.” He nods toward Noah who’s currently making his way over. Dear God, this cannot end with broken bones in my bakery!

  Meg makes an odd sound, something between a moan and a choo-choo train pulling out of the station, before stomping over to the perp in question.

  “Did you break my baby sister’s heart?” she shouts each word so earth shatteringly loud every customer outside of the ones with a very vested interest in the outcome run out the door.

  Noah’s head inches back a notch. His eyes close a moment before he blinks back to life and looks right at my caustic baby sister.

  “Yes.” He steps over to me. “And I’m very sorry about it, too.” He glares over at Everett. “A date? It’s nice to know you’re subtle.”

  Everett huffs, “I didn’t have anything to do with your wife coming back into town. Don’t get mad at me because you screwed up a good thing.” He looks my way. “The Widow’s Walk is playing at the Ashford Theater. I can pick you up at six.”

  Meg intertwines her arm through mine. “We’ll be there.”

  “We?” I look over at my sweet yet slightly overprotective sister.

  “Yes, we,” she gravels it out like a threat. “I’ll rustle me up an old boyfriend and score some tickets.” She shoots her pale blue eyes up at Everett. “I can get tickets to the most sought-after show on Broadway within a half hour of curtains up.” Her gaze narrows menacingly over his. “I have my sources. They can do many, many things.”

  Everett’s brows peak. “Then I will see you at the theater come seven thirty. I like you,” he muses without so much as a smile. That’s Everett in a nutshell.

  Noah steps in and glares hard at Everett as if he too had his sources—his right fist and his left. “I’ve got news for you, Judge Baxter. You are the only suspect on my list, and I just might need to drag you in for questioning tomorrow night.”

  A breath hitches in my throat. “Don’t you dare,” I snip. “This will be ten paces backwards for us if you entertain the idea twice.”

  Noah expels a deep breath, his lips pulling back as if he just received the best news. “Hear that, Everett?” But he doesn’t take his eyes off me. “She said us. Because we’re still happening. Maybe we can speak soon, Lottie. Call me anytime. Come over. I’ll pick up a pizza for us or we can order in.” He looks to Everett, his features turning caustic on a dime. “And that, my friend, would be a real date.”

  Noah takes off, and I watch as he climbs into his truck and barrels down the street.

  I don’t think that would be a date, but it’s too late to correct him.

  I’m pretty sure it would be classified as an affair.

  And if there’s one thing I’m not interested in being, it’s the other woman.

  Chapter 5

  “I’m as mad as a March hare at a tea party when it comes to the theater,” Greer Giles proclaims as she latches herself onto Everett’s arm. “March hare. See what I did there?” She loses herself in a giggle-fit while attempting to climb Mount Baxter.

  “I see,” I whisper, looking right up at Essex Everett Baxter looking every bit the handsome prince against the backdrop of a velvet navy night. The winds have died down just enough for my hair to stop blowing every which way. We’re standing just outside of the Ashford Grand Theater as an entire bevy of glammed up women and men hustle inside to escape the frigid air. Everett has a wool coat over his suit. The moonlight shimmers over his silver tie as if it were water.

  “I see you, too.” His lips twitch. “And if I haven’t mentioned it already—you are stunning, Lemon.”

  “Why thank you.” I do a little curtsy in my simple hip-hugging dress with a long black velour coat that is to date my most prized possession from Honey Hollow’s premier vintage shop, Second Chance. Everett’s spiced cologne hits me in all the right places as I swoon into his watery blue eyes. It’s not a wonder that Everett knows how to slay the girls and leave them with a hop to their step. He’s gorgeous, wealthy, educated, and have I mentioned handsome to a devilish fault? It’s clear that he is indeed the total package.

  Noah flits through my mind. He’s all of those things minus the wealthy. But what he lacks in monetary funds, he makes up for in matrimonial paperwork. On his way to a divorce or not, I heard his wife. She wants to mend fences. Who am I to stand in the way of her God-given right? Noah should have spilled the wedded beans the day we exchanged our life stories—or at least somewhere between our first kiss and way the hay before we hit the mattress. The nerve of that married man.

&nbs
p; Everett frowns, a look that makes him that much more comely. Honestly, there’s not a bad move this guy’s face can make.

  “You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

  “Sorry.” I shudder. “I can’t help it. He’s got me raging on the inside, and I don’t know how to get my frustrations out.”

  Greer purrs as she grazes her blood red fingernails over Everett’s cheek. “I could think of about sixty-nine different ways.”

  Everett gives his scruff a quick scratch.

  “Ha!” I belt out a laugh and swat the slutty little ghoul by his side. “That was Greer you felt,” I inform him. “She’s clinging to your side as if she were your date. If I were you, I’d sleep with a pot over my privates. She is the ghostess with the mostess, if you know what I mean.” I can’t help but glower at her, and she breaks out into a witchy cackle.

  “Pot?” Greer waves me off. “Puhlease. Not only does this man not sleep with a stitch on, but he doesn’t think much of the sheets either.”

  Everett jerks and looks to where my gaze is set.

  “Has she been in my bedroom?”

  “Oh yes,” I’m quick to out her. “And she’s quite happy with the sheetless show. How about we ignore her for the rest of the night?” I ask as I refocus one hundred percent of my attention on the good judge.

  “No way.” Everett looks down at her. “Tell us who killed Judge Shumaker. This is making my life hell, and I want it over with.”

  Greer fans herself as if he just whispered an entire string of raunchy sweet nothings into her ear. “Tell him there are ways to get things out of me.”

  “She says she’s overdue for a dirt nap.” I thread my arm through Everett’s as we head on into the theater. “What’s the play about?” I ask as we feed into the crowd of bodies congregating in the grand foyer lined with a garish felt crimson wallpaper. “The Widow’s Walk?” Sounds dry and boring and like the exact reason I never venture out to the theater. I don’t know—it just seems so pretentious to me, but I wouldn’t dare say that to Everett. I wouldn’t dare hurt his feelings after he was kind enough to extend the invite.