Murder in the Mix Box Set

by Addison Moore

  “You must really love Ryan.”

  “I do.” She checks her phone. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with a dress shop downtown. Scarlet Sage is helping outfit everyone for the masquerade next weekend. Will you be there?”

  “I will. I’m catering the event, too. But I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  Blythe wishes me a good afternoon as she takes off, and I sit there for a good long while wondering how I let two prime suspects get away with nothing more than some minor chitchat.

  A couple of male voices escalate from the hall just outside the conservatory, and their conversation carries into the glass room as if it were a microphone picking up on them.

  “You’re damn lucky that nitwit pulled the fire alarm. Where are the receipts?”

  “Cashbox under my desk.”

  “Dump them.”

  “What about the electronic copies?”

  “Trust me, nobody is going to look for those.”

  Their voices begin to dim, and I tiptoe my way to the entry of the conservatory, only to find Clayton and Ryan heading upstairs.

  “Oh my God. They have something to hide.” It bubbles out of me in less than a whisper.

  My phone buzzes, and it’s a text from Noah. Everything working out at the B&B?

  I text right back. All done here. I’m headed to Fallbrook.

  Do not go alone. Do you hear me? Is Everett with you?

  My stomach churns at the thought of Everett getting busted breaking into a law office. That, right there, will end his own legal career.

  No. Meet me at the bakery. We’ll go together.

  It takes less than a second for Noah to text back.

  I’ll go anywhere with you.

  Chapter 54

  Fallbrook has always been heavily associated with Everett for me, so the fact that I’m here with Noah makes me feel as if I’m cheating on Everett with him. My, how the tables have turned. Noah asked Everett to drive Cormack down to the Ashford Sheriff’s Department to turn in that faux threat she received. And I’ve filled Noah in on my conversation with both Landon and Blythe.

  The entire office building of Becker and Becker is empty save for a custodian at the end of the hall vacuuming up a storm.

  Noah nods and takes me by the hand as he leads us to the offices in the back. We come upon the one marked Attorney Ryan Holland, and he pulls a metal pin out of his pocket. Noah lands us on the other side and pulls me close to him in the dim light, his chest palpitating in and out wildly, the way it used to when we shared some of our most intimate moments.

  “Under the desk,” I whisper.

  A quiet laugh bounces through him. “Honey, I will take you wherever you wish.”

  “And I know what you mean by take.” I swat him on the arm as we peer under the massive mahogany structure, but there’s nary a trash bin.

  “Clayton’s office?” We head farther down the hall, and Noah reprises his lockpick routine. Inside it’s far more spacious than Ryan’s office, and the desk feels about a million miles away. We head over and find a treasure trove of boxes.

  “Crap,” I whimper. “This could take weeks to excavate. What the heck kind of filing system is this, anyway?”

  Noah’s dimples flirt with me as he gets right to work. We plow our way through box after box, each of them filled with receipts of some kind or another.

  “It’s an expense account,” Noah whispers as he combs through the massive stack in his hand. “It looks as if they’re getting ready for a quarterly return.”

  “Why don’t they just ship this off to their accountant?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m betting they’re altering a few facts before they land this pile of debris anywhere.”

  I come across a manila folder marked Bismarck. “Found it.” I wave it at Noah, and we pull the stack out and begin pilfering through it.

  Noah filters through his half quickly. “On the back of each one there’s a note—meeting with clients. Bars, restaurants, the hotel café. Looks legit.”

  I spot one familiar word and point to it as my heart stops beating. “How about the bungalows?”

  “Bingo.”

  Noah and I take a picture of every receipt we can from a bungalow rental. I spot a familiar date and gasp.

  “Noah, April sixteenth. That’s two weeks before Nessa was killed. That was the same date on Nessa’s final sketch. I bet these dates all line up.”

  “I’ll be damned.” Noah and I put everything back the way we found it and hightail it out of the building as if it truly were on fire.

  By the time we get back into his truck, we’re breathless.

  “Noah, aren’t you afraid that the security cameras caught us?”

  “Nope.” His dimples press in as he grins at the road ahead of us. “I happen to know that the water from the sprinklers short-circuited the security system, and it’s not getting an overhaul for another week.”

  A laugh bucks from me. “You wouldn’t have done that otherwise, would you?”

  “Not a chance.” Noah looks my way as a sly smile creeps up his face. “With the exception of for you. I’d break every rule twice for you, Lottie Lemon.”

  A moment of contented silence bounces by.

  “Do you think Clayton is our killer?” I ask, shuddering at the thought of being in the killer’s office, rummaging through his things—the thought of the killer visiting my mother’s B&B.

  “I’m not sure. But we’re close, Lot. And I think they know it. We need to be extra careful with this one. I have a feeling they’re not going down without a hell of a fight.”

  “They never do.”

  Ain’t that the truth.

  Chapter 55

  The Saturday of the masquerade ball all of Honey Hollow is aflutter. It seems Cormack had the bright idea to turn it into a charity event and charge an exorbitant attendance fee. All proceeds will benefit the Honey Hollow Art Center, so it’s a winning proposition. Plus, I’m betting she’ll haul in an entire slew of wealthy prospective husbands for Landon as well. On second thought, the event should come with a warning label.

  Outside, the air is warm, and the hills are verdant green and speckled with bright yellow daisies. The sky is clear, and the maples are budding young, tender leaves. After I finish catering the masquerade ball tonight, the next big thing on my list is Lainey’s bridal shower next month. I’m so excited about it you’d think it was my bridal shower.

  A deep sigh expels from me as I finish replenishing the lemon bars into the refrigerated showcase. I indulged this morning and had as many lemon bars as I wanted once they cooled and after I doused them with powdered sugar. I’ll admit, I was thinking about all things bridal at that moment, too. In the back of my mind, I wonder if marriage is something I see with Everett or Noah. Of course, if either proposed, I’d say yes in a heartbeat. Well, perhaps not Noah. I’m afraid polygamy is heavily frowned upon in the great state of Vermont.

  But Everett?

  I wonder if the thought would ever cross his mind. Not in my wildest dreams did I ever envision myself married to a judge. Judges in general sound old and stuffy, angry at best. But Everett is the complete opposite—drop-dead gorgeous, dangerously sexy, determined to do what’s right, pensive, and loyal to a fault— the fault being putting his own career in jeopardy for those he cares about—in other words, me.

  In that respect, I don’t deserve him. In no way should I ever haul him into half of the harebrained ideas I lead us into, and yet he never wavers. He volunteers. And my God up in heaven, the mattress moves that man is accomplished in. How on earth is he capable of executing half of those stunts I will never know.

  The bell to the bakery chimes just as I take in a deep breath of fresh squeezed lemon. There is no better scent in the spring than that of lemon and sugar.

  A crowd of customers makes its way out the door as a familiar blonde clad in spandex sashays inside. Her hair is swept up into a ponytail, and one eye is cleverly hidden behind a loose vani
lla strand of hair. I’m beginning to think the universe would unravel if we ever saw both of Britney’s peepers at once.

  “Well, if it isn’t Mrs. Fox.” I force a quick smile to bounce on my lips. “What can I get you? A frosted oatmeal cookie? A raspberry turnover? A new husband perhaps?” I’m only partially kidding. Although, I have no clue what I would do with Noah once he became available. I haven’t exactly waited for him. I was more than livid when I found out he simply forgot to mention the fact he still had a wife. I assumed she was an ex. Besides, I’m knee-deep in Essex and loving every carnal minute of it. A part of me feels terrible for admitting as much.

  Her perfect pout expands a notch. “Just a cup of coffee. Black. And throw in a couple of lemon bars. So are you close to catching the killer?”

  I glower at the coffee as I pour her a cup and slide it across the counter. “No. In fact, I think I’m being counterproductive in my pursuit.” I pluck a few lemon bars out of the case and plate them for her. “Any whisperings in your Swift Cycle classes on who may have done it?” At this point, a rumor in the wild is just as good a suspicion of my own.

  “Cormack thinks you might be the killer.” Her bright crimson smile expands with a vindictive amount of glee.

  “She’d be wrong about that. Just like she’s wrong about the fact the killer is sending her all of those cryptic messages.”

  “I’ve seen them.” Britney averts her eyes as if she, too, knew they were nothing but fakes. “She received another one today. Something about she dies tonight.”

  “Please”—I huff as I sling a dishrag over my shoulder—“she was supposed to die the other day. Obviously, I’m not that lucky.”

  “Neither am I.” Britney bites into a lemon bar and moans. “Mmm, so good.”

  “Speaking of good. How are things with Noah?” I offer an apologetic shrug for no reason, although sleeping with the woman’s husband is plenty reason enough.

  “As if you care.”

  Lily comes by and refills the napkin dispenser to my left, mostly because she’s dying to listen in. I refilled all the dispensers myself an hour ago.

  “I do care.” About Noah.

  She crimps a smile. “About Noah.”

  Okay, so I might just like her a little bit more for reading my mind—and for sharing similar quasi-homicidal thoughts about Cormack.

  Britney shrugs as her hard steel shell seemingly melts away. “Therapy isn’t going how I wanted.”

  “What did you want?”

  “I don’t know what I wanted. That’s the problem. I think maybe I wanted to see this new and improved version that has you and Cor-Macaroni drooling all over your feet—but I got the same old Noah. Same Noah who can’t see that I want him to shape up and become the man I always knew he could be. Same Noah who refuses to admit that I can commandeer us into a future version of ourselves that can really take us someplace. Noah just wants to discuss our feelings. He wants me to see that I was trying to change him.”

  “It sounds like you were—are.”

  She blinks hard my way. “Excuse me? Wait until you get your claws into a husband one day. Trust me, you’ll be tempted to sand off a few rough edges, too. When you really love a man, you look into their soul and you realize who they are destined to become. It’s convincing them that’s the tricky part.”

  “What exactly did you envision for Noah?” I’m equally curious and entertained at this point.

  She scoffs as if it were obvious. “Noah shouldn’t be running around with a weapon strapped to his back. He should be commandeering an entire fleet of Boss Fit Gyms. And they should be planted right next door to each of my Swift Cycles. We should be creating a marketplace. The Fox family should have a conglomerate of physical fitness chains. Our children would have had a brilliant, not to mention fit, legacy.”

  The thought of Noah and Britney having children makes my stomach roll hard. I don’t know why. I’m happy with Everett. It’s not like I’m going to keep both Noah and Everett on a string, marry them both, have both their children. But still, the thought of Noah having children with another woman grieves me, and I place the blame squarely on his shoulders. He toyed with my heart whether or not he knew it.

  “So, Boss Fit? That’s where they flip tractor tires and document the entire event on Facebook, right?”

  “That would be it. Noah and I would be social media famous by now.”

  “So now that you know you can’t change him, what are you going to do? I mean, therapy is mandated for just a few more weeks.”

  She looks to Lily, her eyes slitting to nothing. “What she’s really asking is, when will the divorce be back on schedule?” She turns my way. “Are you planning my divorce party, too, Lonely?”

  “It’s Lottie. And yes, I’ll throw you a party if you wish, and I will gladly arrange for the dessert to be there, too. But no, I do not relish your divorce. In fact, if you want to know the truth, I dread it. A part of me hopes it drags on forever because I don’t know what to do with myself anymore.”

  Lily gasps. “You wouldn’t dump Essex for that cheating two-faced Fox, would you?”

  “No. I’m in love with Everett.” A sigh expels from me as I watch a tourist bus pull up in front of the bakery.

  Britney’s chest bucks with a dry laugh. “And you’re in love with Noah.”

  Lily gasps again. “But you have to love one just a little more than the other. You can’t have two loves, Lottie. You have to pick one.”

  “I have, and it’s Everett.”

  Britney wags a long svelte finger in my face, her fingernail painted jet-black. “I picked for you, honey. And that, my dear, is exactly why you are not lonely, after all.” She scoops up her coffee and heads for the door. “I’ll see you ladies later at the ball.”

  “Are you going with Noah?” I call out as she hits the exit.

  “Cormack tagged him as her bodyguard. Who knows? Maybe she will die tonight. Wouldn’t that be something, Lucy? You finding a body at an event that you’re catering? What would the odds of that be?” She gives a little wink. “Of course, they would probably arrest one of us because we have the strongest motive.”

  “You would have the strongest motive,” I correct. “I have a boyfriend.” My insides burn each time I refer to Everett as something so juvenile.

  Britney bleeds a dark smile. “Maybe it will be me.” She takes off, and both Lily and I shudder.

  Lily takes a ragged breath. “Did she just threaten Cormack?”

  “Maybe. But I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear it.”

  “Lottie! You don’t really want Noah’s girlfriend dead, do you?”

  “No, but I wouldn’t mind someone scaring her out of town.”

  Lily shakes her head, and her dark hair falls over her shoulders in long, glossy waves. “If those death threats she’s been getting haven’t sent her packing, nothing will. If anything, they’ve glued Detective Noah Fox right to her side.”

  “Just the way she planned,” I say.

  Now I just have to prove it.

  Chapter 56

  The Honey Hollow Art Center sits high above the lake and affords a view of the water, the spectacular salmon sunset, the prairie and evergreens just beyond that, and if you look to the right, you can see the glittering lights of Main Street.

  A pair of arms wraps around my waist as a kiss lands next to my ear. The thick scent of his expensive cologne lets me know exactly who this is.

  “In a sea of desserts, you are the sweetest.” His deep voice rumbles over my back.

  I twist in his arms and study those intense heavenly blue eyes glowing from beyond the black partial mask he’s donned.

  “I don’t know who you are, but I have an empty bakery van out front we can get busy in before my boyfriend arrives.” I bite down hard on a playful smile because I darn well know that Everett just might take me up on it.

  He swoops me around, and is just about to hoist me into his arms when a blonde in a shimmering pink Victorian era g
own—her décolleté a bit too pronounced for my taste—gasps and pants dramatically. She holds a hot pink sequined mask to her face by way of a stick.

  “Oh, Essex”—Cormack is quick to grab him by the hand—“you just have to be my protector until Noah shows up. He’s running late at the lab, and I can’t bear the anxiety of all these masked people surrounding me while I’m so helpless.” She scuttles him out of the makeshift kitchen of the art center, and he pauses at the door as if to ask permission.

  I wave him off. “I’ll be out in a minute. I just have one more platter to put together.”

  And I do just that.

  This time Cormack, the mistress of the event, wanted to incorporate cookies and brownies to the culinary mix, and I gladly agreed. But in keeping with the making-lemon-bars-out-of-lemons theme, the lemon bars are still the star of this splitsville showcase.

  Laughter ensues from a nearby pantry, then the whispering giggles of a couple who sounds as if they were looking for a little privacy among the masked men and women.

  I pick up my emerald green gown—Scarlet Sage was fresh out of dresses, so I hightailed it over to the high school drama department and rented this regal beauty for less than ten bucks for the night—all of my proceeds go straight to the creative arts department of Honey Hollow High School, and I was so pleased with my own charitable endeavor, I sent my sisters and Keelie over as well.

  The gown itself is a combination of satin and velvet, with a full skirt that splits open at my hips where two velvet curtains descend to the floor on my right and left, and in the middle is a puddle of frilly light green taffeta. The upper portion is more or less a satin emerald corset, low-cut with a laced bodice in the back. The entire dress is to die for, and if there is a killer here tonight, I hope I don’t end up doing just that. Lord knows I’ve interviewed every single suspect, and every single suspect will be present at this socialite soirée.

  More giggling ensues.

  “Oh, stop it! Never mind. Do not stop it!” The woman lets out an eerie laugh that echoes through the room, and suddenly it’s clear who I’m about to see when I open the pantry door. I swing it wide, and sure enough I spot Greer Giles, her legs in the air, and Max Finmore who looks as if he’s giving her a piggy back ride in reverse. They’re both fully dressed—thank heavens for accouterment-based mercies.