Murder in the Mix Box Set
Page 35
Carlotta swats him on the arm. “Died four years ago in a freak accident back in grad school. Tell her what you did, Book Smart.”
He averts his glowing eyes. “It was the weekend before the big game, and I tried to dump manure into the rival’s fountain. The dump truck I hauled it in on wouldn’t release, so I went back to make sure the latch was lifted. Long story short, the lift gate malfunctioned and I suffocated in a big pile of dookie.”
I wince. “That’s terrible. And I’m so sorry.”
Carlotta leans in. “You know what they say, dookie happens.”
I shake my head at her in a weak attempt to stave off the bad jokes before returning my attention to the spook before us.
“You’re obviously here on a mission, Max. You have to tell me who in this room you think you were called for.”
He blows a breath through his lips. “I don’t know. I dated Greer, but she’s already dead.” We look in her direction as her argument with Winslow seems to be heating up. Greer picks up a bud vase filled with a single yellow rose and hurls it across the room, narrowly missing a temple or two in the process. The room stills for a moment and collectively the girls expel a unanimous oooh and wiggle their fingers as if the B&B were haunted, and it is.
Max shrugs. “Greer says Cormack chose the venue because they wanted to freak everyone out. It turns out, a good haunting is all the rage these days.” His brows do a little waggle as he looks Cormack’s way.
“You knew her?”
“Are you kidding? She was my first.”
“Your first what?”
Carlotta doles out a smack my way this time. “His first kitten. What do you think?”
“Oh, oh.” I glance to my right and spot both Noah and Everett speaking to the kitten in question. “Cormack really gets around. Is there anyone else in the room that lit your flame?”
He shrugs as he takes in the sorority-esque scene. “There’s Vivian. She was easy. Then there’s Nessa.” His voice drops an octave as he chortles out her name. “There’s nothing easy about Vanessa St. James, let me tell you.”
Carlotta nods into the crowd. “What about the guest of honor?”
“Landon?” He crimps a pitiful smile. “She’s a special girl. I’ll always hold a place in my heart for her.”
“And that’s all I needed to hear.” I make a beeline toward Everett and land smack-dab between him and Noah just as two men walk through the door.
“Here he is,” Cormack grumbles. “The guy who sliced and diced my sister’s heart to pieces.”
“Which one?” I ask, anxious to pin him with all my venom. I know what it feels like to be cheated on, and it’s no thrill ride. I have a very low tolerance for wayward men. The one on the right in khakis and a powder blue dress shirt beams a smile at the girls all flocking his way. His hair is sandy blond and wiry, and the dark-haired guy next to him is wearing a suit, looks like your typical Ken doll who seems to be working the room with his eyebrows alone.
“The guy with the suit,” she whispers. “The one next to him is his good friend, Ryan Holland. He’s engaged to Blythe. Bluebloods, both of them. He’s in the same law firm as Clayton. They’re both hoping to go into politics soon enough, and they will. You might just be looking at a future president. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if they ran on the same ticket. I think that’s why Clay was hitting up Viv. Viv’s old money, good breeding, no scandals. I guess he didn’t think the Featherbys were good enough for his pristine career. I’m so angry at the way he treated my sister, the way he’s still treating my sister, I could just kill him.” She trots off, and I ponder this for a moment. Maybe it’s Clayton I need to protect? But then, if Cormack does him in, that would mean she would be far away from Honey Hollow for the next thirty years to life.
The two of them appear before us, and, before you know it, Cormack is screaming with faux delight as she offers them each a firm embrace.
“So glad you both could make it. It wouldn’t have been possible without you!” She stabs Clayton in the stomach with her finger. “This is Lona Lemon. She baked the desserts.”
“Nice to meet you.” I hold out a hand to Clayton just as he tucks both of his into his pockets and nods my way. Fine. I bring my hand back to my side and nod to Ryan as well.
Landon swoops over and scuttles the three of them away just as the most handsome judge I’ve ever laid eyes on leans my way.
“Lemon?” Everett holds a military stance with his chin up as he scours the crowd along with me. “You see another one, don’t you?”
“You’re intuitive, Judge Baxter.” Both in and out of the bedroom, but for Noah’s sake, I’ll leave that tidbit out. My heart very much still pines for Noah, and I happen to really dislike that about my heart.
Landon taps the edge of a champagne flute with a knife as she brings the room to order. In the span of seconds, a small army of men in tuxedos land a champagne flute brimming with bubbly in just about everybody’s hand.
“It’s time to officially and ritualistically say goodbye to the past and hello to a vibrant beautiful future!” The room ignites in cheers as Clayton himself does the honors and sets the interior of the hibachi ablaze. Landon sets an envelope over the flames, and the room breaks out into another wild cheer as the paper melts to nothing.
Landon engages in an odd little bump and grind with her ex. “You won’t be getting any more of that now, will you?” She cackles, as do her cohorts. “It’s time to party! I say, let them eat lemon cake!”
“Lemon bars,” I correct to no one in particular as the crowd rushes to the dessert table and dives on in. It’s a mad tangle of flesh, and it does lead one to believe that we’re witnessing cheat day on a keto diet taking place in full force. Landon’s nuptial nixing is clearly the excuse they needed to get a good and decent carb fix. I could swear a collective sigh just expelled from the entire lot of them.
Noah shakes his head. “The desperation to get ahold of one of those bars—the sheer ecstasy on their faces when they bite on in—I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Everett grunts, “I have.” The edges of his lips give a naughty curve, suggesting he’s seen it in his bedroom, and I have no doubt he’s seen it many, many times. Everett gets around, or at least he did.
“Hear that, Lottie?” Noah offers a stern look. “You’re more than likely going to need vaccinations. I’ll take you to the clinic right after, to get you checked out.”
I’m about to kindly decline his inoculating offer when the sound of wheezing erupts near the hibachi.
Vanessa St. James is clutching her throat intermittently, her limbs flailing wildly. She’s staggering and knocking over dishes from the refreshment table as she struggles to stabilize herself. Her face turns pomegranate, then an eerie shade of blue before she falls to the floor, with remnants of my lemon bar smeared across her face.
Her eyes roll to the back of her head as her body ceases to jerk.
Nessa isn’t untouchable anymore.
I think Nessa St. James is dead.
Chapter 39
Dear God, what have we witnessed?
I stagger forward just as the room explodes with screams, and, soon enough, Noah has wrangled his way to the front. He’s on his knees, checking her vitals before turning my way and shaking his head. More screaming ensues as my mother runs over.
“Oh, Lottie, this can’t be happening.”
“Call 911,” I say, panting with fear. “It is.”
Landon tips her head back and howls like a werewolf, and the bizarre act stuns me momentarily.
I pull Everett in close by the shirt. “What is she doing?”
He squints over at her as if trying to assess the situation himself. “I think she’s grieving.”
Soon enough, the room is filled with sobbing as the masses grow increasingly hysterical.
Noah jumps to his feet and holds up his badge, eliciting a round of gasps—with the exception of one girl in the back who thinks this is a fine moment
to declare, damn, he’s sexy.
“I’d like to ask everyone to stay on the premises,” he shouts. “If you could file back into the B&B and make yourselves comfortable in the lobby, the dining, and living rooms until we can get each of your names and statements, it would be much appreciated. This is strictly procedural, and you will be free to go within the hour.” He puts a call into his phone, and I’m willing to bet he’s summoning his partner, Ivy Fairbanks. She’s a tall, luscious redhead who has about zero tolerance for me and vice versa. They work together as the lead detectives at the Ashford Sheriff’s Department.
Everett pulls me in and looks deep into my eyes, the way he does when we’re, well, never mind. It’s the last place I want my thoughts to drift right now, all things considering.
His blue eyes narrow in on mine. “This was a homicide, wasn’t it?”
I give a quick nod. “I’m certain of it.”
“All right, Lemon. Let’s split up and garner all the information we can. There’s a good chance the killer is still here.”
“And there’s a good chance they will do their best to evade Noah and Ivy.”
“That’s where we come in.” His cheeks flicker with a smile of their own. “I’ll start with Cormack. You keep an ear out for anything suspicious. Make the ghost work for you.”
“I will,” I assure him as we head our separate ways.
Near the front of the room I spot Rich Dallas having a grade A meltdown, roaring on and on about not being able to look at a dead body, and my mom does her best to shoo him out of the vicinity.
Lainey and Keelie head this way.
Keelie’s eyes are twice their size. “We’ve got another one, don’t we, Lottie?”
“I think so.” I bring my fingers to my lips.
Lainey scoffs. “Both of you are insane. The poor girl obviously choked to death.”
“On a lemon bar?” Keelie shakes her head. “It was probably poisoned. Lottie’s seen it before.”
Someone clasps a hand over my shoulder from behind, and Meg's face pops up next to mine. “That’s right. Lottie here is a virtual magnet for murder. That’s why I came.”
Lainey takes a moment to smack our sister on the hand. “That’s sick! Murder is not entertainment.”
Meg purses her lips a moment. “It is when it’s inevitable.” She pats my back again. “Let me know if you need an all access pass to the seedy greedy parts of Red Satin.”
I glance around as the posh masses hit the exit. “With this crowd, I seriously doubt it. More like an all access pass to the runways of Milan and Paris. These girls live untouchable lives.” That word jars me for a moment. “Hey, that’s what Cormack said about Nessa. She said she has the dirt on everyone, and that she’s practically untouchable.”
Meg lifts a shoulder in a partial shrug. “If she was murdered, someone touched her, all right.”
The room quickly floods with EMTs, firemen, and enough deputy sheriffs to throw a spontaneous charity ball.
The captain of the sheriff’s department, Captain Jack Turner, heads this way, and Keelie is quick to wrap her arms around him.
“Daddy!” she wails against his shoulder. I’ve known Keelie and her family forever. Since Keelie and I declared our undying friendship in preschool, her family has been my family ever since—especially after it was discovered that I was indeed their biological family last winter.
“Don’t worry, princess.” He pats the back of her head before offering an assuring nod our way. “This was just an accident.” He looks particularly grieved when his eyes meet with mine. “It turns out, the victim had a very aggressive peanut allergy, and she simply reacted to something she ate.”
“What?” I squawk so loud half the heads in the room turn my way. “The last thing she ate was my lemon bar.”
Lainey comes over and wraps an arm around me as if to offer up some much-needed comfort. “There was a sushi station here. She probably had peanut sauce or something.”
Cormack crops up like a bad apparition, her face pale, her eyes—well, they look sort of enraged. “There was no peanut sauce. Landon knew about Nessa’s allergy. Everybody knew,” she barks the words right at me as if I had staged this entire elaborate event as a means to off the poor girl.
“Well, I didn’t know, but it doesn’t really matter. The only thing I was instructed to provide was lemon bars, and I can tell you emphatically there was not a nut in the bunch.”
Captain Turner, Jack as I’ve only ever called him, tips his head to the side as if suddenly interested in anything I might have to say.
Noah comes over with his leggy, redheaded vixen-esque partner in anti-crime, Detective Ivy Fairbanks.
Jack nods my way. “Lottie here was just about to tell us what was in those lemon bars.”
“This is ridiculous. It’s just your basic lemon bar recipe. I make a cookie crust, but I like to double the butter to really give it that rich nutty taste that only butter can afford.” I seize for a moment. “I meant nutty in the figurative sense. There are really only a few ingredients we’re looking at here—flour, the aforementioned butter, sugar, salt, eggs, lemons, of course, powdered sugar for sifting on top, and that’s about it.”
Jack glances to the exit. “I think I’m going to find your mother and inspect the kitchen in the event there could have been cross-contamination. I’m afraid we’ll have to inspect the bakery as well.”
“Sure, that won’t be a problem at all. I’m very careful when I bake, and I’m a stickler for a clean and sanitary environment. You’re more than welcome to send all the deputies you want over. I’ll call Lily and tell her to expect you.” Lily Swanson is the best friend of my self-proclaimed nemesis, Naomi Turner—ironically Captain Jack Turner’s other daughter and Keelie’s twin. Lily helps me run the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery, but prior to that she couldn’t stand me simply for the fact she needed to remain loyal to Naomi’s ridiculous grudge. But she managed to put all differences aside in the name of a paycheck.
Jack takes off, and Keelie follows him. Lainey makes a face as she eyes the exit where Mom is consoling her psychotic fiancé while he pitches an absolute fit of rage.
Lainey holds herself as she observes the verbal onslaught. “Rich is really freaking out.”
“I heard him say he can’t stand the sight of a dead body. Maybe have Mom take him home?” I look to Noah as if asking permission since he gave us strict instructions not to leave the premises.
Noah looks to Ivy, and Ivy shrugs as if she were indifferent, so Lainey takes off and does just that.
Ivy steps in, and her perfectly drawn in cat’s eyes narrow in on me. “Why is it there is always a body count with you?”
I spot Max Finmore kneeling next to Nessa’s body with his back convulsing as if he were weeping.
I take a quick breath. “I think the more important question is, why is it that I always beat the Ashford Homicide Division to the punch when it comes to identifying the killer?” I cinch a smile up at her, and it only makes her scowl harder. I’m about to step away when Noah lands in front of me.
“It’s because you’re the best, Lottie.” A marked sadness blooms in his eyes. “You don’t think this was an accident, do you?” He studies my features a moment as if to assess what I’m thinking.
“I don’t.” I shake my head as I look to Max. “And hopefully I’m about to confirm that.”
“How? Not even forensics will be able to decipher cross-contamination from a poisoning.”
“I can save you a whole lot of trouble. There was no cross-contamination.” I head toward the crowd of deputies and firemen carrying on conversations around Nessa’s body. Her eyes are still opened as she looks to the ceiling, her lips are pulled back with horror, and her right hand is distended as if she were trying to point to the killer him or herself.
“Hey,” I whisper to Max and he rises, floating his way over. We head to the back door of the conservatory that leads to the woods, and I pull him in just shy of the bushes.
“Did someone kill Nessa?” I whisper. “Or was this a true allergy issue?”
He glances to the woods. “Both.” Maximillian Finmore looks like your typical frat brat with a handsome enough face to get him into trouble and a decent body on him as if he might have played sports. “But I don’t think I’d be here if it were some run-of-the-mill accident.”
“Me either. Look, we’re going to need to have a sit-down and you’ll tell me everything you know about Nessa. I live just a few blocks from here on Country Cottage Road. I’m the house in the middle of the street on the side that butts up against the woods. I have a large wraparound porch—the only one on the block that has it. Feel free to pop in anytime you like. I have a feeling you’ll be a vital key to this investigation.”
“Cool. Hey—you wouldn’t happen to have any beers, would you? I’ve been dying for a cold one, pun intended.” He grins, rather proud of his deadly sense of humor.
“No. But I have two Himalayan cats that might sense your presence, so try not to spook them. Their names are Pancake and Waffles, and they’re sweet as can be. I’d hate to come home and find them running along the ceiling because you decided to move some furniture around. They’re very intuitive.”
“Don’t you worry. I like cats.”
The coroner’s van pulls up, and a heavy sigh expels from me. “I guess Nessa didn’t have pets. It looks as if she liked you best.”
Max belts out a hearty laugh. “That’s ironic because she always did call me her little pet.”
“Should I ask why?”
“Lottie?” Noah calls from behind, and I cringe as I turn around. His dimples press in as he expresses his concern for me. Noah has caught me chatting with thin air on enough occasions to realize that it has something to do with this dark secret I’m keeping from him.