Murder in the Mix Books 1-3 (Murder in the Mix Boxed Set)

by Addison Moore

  Keelie leans in. “My God, this gives an all new meaning to the words breast stroke.”

  “I’m just thankful there are only a handful of men, and they all look about ninety.”

  Her lips crimp. “Too bad that hottie judge isn’t here. I’d sure like to climb on his shoulders and play a game of chicken.”

  My stomach tightens when she says it. I’m not sure how I feel about Keelie crushing on my Everett.

  GAH! My Everett? He’s not my anything. He’s ornery, curt, and hardly ever smiles. He’s a brick wall of a man who is so far removed from his emotions it’s— That image of him shedding tears after speaking with his father comes back to me. Everett has a heart. He just chooses to save it for those few and far occasions such as contacting the dead.

  “Well, he’s not here. Grandpa Moses is. So put away your happy hormones and help me get through nude swim. I’m pretty sure this is what PE in hell looks like.”

  A dark-haired girl cannonballs into the water before rocketing back to the surface with her tresses perfectly glossed back.

  “This is heaven!” she shrills as she swims over to a group of women all seemingly happy they were splashed in the face by her shock and awe campaign.

  “That’s her,” I whisper to Keelie as we head for the small crowd at the end of the pool.

  An older woman wearing nothing but a whistle around her neck eyes the two of us, riding her gaze up and down our towels with what feels like bitter judgment.

  “We got newbies!” she hollers, and the sound of her voice reverberates throughout the room.

  At once each pair of eyes looks our way, and I can feel my skin growing hotter than a dumpster fire.

  Dear God, what did she have to do that for? It was bad enough I’d have to drop my towel at all let alone with an audience at rapt attention.

  “What are your names, girls?” She gives her graying curls a quick scratch—the ones on her head. Sadly, this type of occasion does call for clarification.

  Keelie waves as if old friends were greeting us. “Kiki and Lottie!”

  The crowd offers us both a warm welcome as our monikers circle the room in an echo.

  “Kiki?” I hiss at my best friend’s new nickname, which I know nothing about.

  “I wasn’t about to tell them my real name. What if one of them steps into the Honey Pot Diner and says hey, it’s Keelie from the nudie pool! This way I can say it was my twin sister Kiki.”

  “You do have a twin, and her name is Naomi.”

  “Drats. I always forget about that.”

  The crowd bursts into spontaneous song set to the turn of “Happy Birthday,” stopping both Kiki and me in our naked tracks.

  “We welcome you, we do! We welcome you, we do! We welcome you, Kiki and Lot—tie! We welcome you, we do.”

  The last stragglers hanging around next to the pool quickly get into the water, and the entire lot of them turns their backs to us.

  “First, they sing—and then they shun us,” I whisper. “Such is life.”

  “My name is Carol!” The older woman swims against the crowd to join us. “Whenever we have new people, we offer up a warm welcome. We all know how hard that first time can be getting into the water, and seeing the class is only an hour long, we found that turning our backs makes the process go by a whole lot faster. So, go on and drop your towels and come on in. The water is fine!”

  She promptly turns the other way, and both Keelie and I glower at one another as if the reality of what was about to transpire were suddenly upon us.

  We count to three, and no sooner do our towels hit the floor than we’re both in the water. Thankfully, it’s as warm as a bath.

  The class gets underway, and I mosey us over to Jules who’s stretching and panting with the rest of them.

  “Hope you don’t mind,” I whisper as I take the spot next to her.

  “Nope! It’s all yours. The first time’s the toughest, but after a month you’ll have to remind yourself to get dressed in the morning.” She chortles as if the struggle was real.

  “Well, I doubt that, but thank you for your reassurance.” I’m pretty sure if I start showing up to the bakery in the nude I’ll find myself wearing a nice tight straitjacket. And here I’ve feared that psychiatric accouterment for entirely different reasons all these years.

  The instructor, who turns out to be Carol, has us doing jumping jacks, and not only is water sloshing around freely but spare parts are jumping and bouncing, and it’s an overall unnerving scene. My jumping jacks involve my arms snuggly fitted over my girls, but Keelie seems to find the exercise both freeing and hilarious.

  I look over to Jules with a manufactured smile, and she winces at me as if I were smiling for all the wrong reasons.

  Dear God. This could not get more humiliating if it tried. The lengths I go to for my friends. Everett owes me years’ worth of dinner for this. Although, even if he tried to give it to me, I wouldn’t collect. I really do care enough about him that I don’t want to see him rotting away in a prison cell.

  “Hey!” I say brightly to Jules as the instructor has us switching things up and jogging underwater. “You look familiar.”

  Jules glances my way. “Yeah, you sort of do, too. Do you work at Endeavor?”

  “That’s where I’ve seen you.” I slap the water as if punctuating the epiphany and end up splashing myself in the eyes. Chlorinated water really does have a bite to it. “I mean, I don’t work there, but I was delivering cookies.”

  “The cookies! Yes! Now I know where I’ve seen you. You catered the awards ceremony, and I think I had some of your cookies at the funeral, too.” She grimaces as we begin to punch the air together.

  “Yeah, that was really tough.”

  “I can’t believe they still haven’t caught that killer,” she huffs. “Everyone knows the Ashford Sheriff’s Department is run by total incompetents.”

  “Hey.” Keelie looks as if she’s about to throw a punch at a far more solid surface.

  “Kiki,” I hiss before turning back to Jules. “You’re right. But from what I hear, everyone and their brother had a beef with Collette. I guess they have quite the suspect pool to weed through.”

  Jules belts out a laugh as we proceed to sock the ceiling. “You got me there. I don’t know one person who didn’t have a chip on their shoulder because of her.”

  “Me either,” I say while racking my brain. “With the exception of that girl, Jenna, who gave the eulogy. They sounded as if they had the ideal friendship.”

  “Yeah, right,” Jules balks as we start in on squats. Side note: underwater squats are a snap compared to the on-land variety. And again, chlorinated water really does have a bite to it. “Jenna couldn’t stand Collette toward the end. But I suppose death cured her of that and she plugged ahead and gave a great speech anyway.”

  My body seizes just hearing it. “What kind of beef could Jenna have possibly had?” I’m more or less talking to myself, but hey, if Jules wants to throw me a bone, I’m all ears.

  “Never mind. It’s actually pretty tawdry, and I guess it’s best to let old sleeping dogs lie.” She rolls her eyes at her analogy.

  Tawdry? Old sleeping dogs?

  “Mr. Rutherford!” Again, totally speaking what I’m thinking. But hey, it worked for me the first time.

  “So, you know?” She makes a face as she swings left and then right.

  “Oh yeah, I mean, Collette and I were kind of close.” Dear God, forgive me for speaking lies about the dead. “I know all about that affair she was having. I guess Jenna was her side girl for a while.” Side girl. Just saying the words makes me shudder. It’s more than enough to have two people in a bedroom without inviting an entire party. I know for a fact I’m not sharing Noah with anyone.

  “That’s the thing”—Jules says, indulging in a deep lunge in my direction, her lips just above the waterline—“Jenna wanted Rutherford for herself. She was doing everything she could to get that man away from Collette. But Collette, she
had something special that he was coming back for time and time again.”

  I suck in a sharp breath at the revelation. “Do you think she’s the one that poisoned Collette?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, like I said, just about everyone had a beef with her.”

  “Oh right. My beef was that she snagged a man I was dating right from underneath me.” I shoot a look over to Keelie in an effort to silence her. The last thing I want to do is drag Everett into this further.

  “The judge?” Jules submerges herself underwater and comes back up. “You do realize why she was bringing him around, don’t you?”

  “Black hair, blue eyes, and a commanding presence that screams he’s large and in charge? I think I can figure it out.”

  She belts out a laugh. “It was to make Rutherford jealous. She made no secret about that to anyone who would listen in the lunchroom. She wanted him to give poor Patty the boot so she could take the prized position and be the new Mrs. Brad Rutherford.”

  A horrible knot forms in my stomach. “So she and Jenna were essentially locked in a game of tug-of-war.”

  “That’s right. Only Collette is dead, so I guess she loses.”

  And Jenna has a solid motive for murder.

  Carol blows her whistle, and bodies begin to plod toward the stairs.

  Jules turns to leave. “Hey, you never mentioned what your beef with Collette was.” I try to keep my voice light as if it was some morbidly fantastic game we were playing.

  She shrugs. “She beat me out for VIP, but I’m already over it. It’s not like you get a raise with the honor. Besides, Collette is gone. I’ve got it in the bag next year.”

  “One more thing.” I tiptoe over—the underwater version of running. “Um, that kid, Josh? The one that tried to revive her the night of the ceremony. What do you think his beef with her was?” I know what Jenna said, but now I’m questioning whether or not she was a reliable narrator.

  “He’s a sweetheart who got caught up in Collette’s dark web. I guess he tried to get in on the kink that she partook in down at some gross club in Leeds, but she turned him away. Collette was all about the older alphas. Young boys never interested her much.” She plods her way to the steps. “See you next time.”

  No, you won’t.

  She turns back around, giving me the full frontal, and I cringe as I cover my own delicate parts with my hands.

  “Oh hey! We’re having a company picnic at the community center in Ashford tomorrow at two.” She says picnic with air quotes. “The entire company is shutting down early. Mr. Rutherford usually throws a holiday party complete with a Thanksgiving Day meal, but out of respect for our recent loss he’s retitled the event. I’m sure everyone would really appreciate it if you brought some treats. I can clear it with accounting, and, of course, we’d pay you for it.”

  “I wouldn’t hear of it. Consider it a gift from me to the firm.” And what a gift it will be to have one more chance to speak with Jenna. I’m sure her nose is a foot long by now.

  Jules takes off, and I ruminate over our conversation.

  Josh is a sweetheart, and Jenna sounds like a snake. I have some serious questions. Thankfully, I’ll revert to a tried-and-true method of getting answers from just about anyone.

  Cookie platter to the rescue.

  Chapter 48

  “You do realize you look guilty,” I say, looking directly into Essex Everett Baxter’s big blue eyes as he hardens his gaze over mine.

  The bakery is bustling, and I’ve been up since three, baking up a storm to fill the order for that impromptu company picnic while my mind reeled at a mile a minute ruminating over all of the potential suspects—this dapper man in front of me being one of them.

  “I realize that.” Everett shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “But like I said, Collette could not take pills. I knew that from way back when we dated. Everyone knows that about her. She handed me two capsules, which she said would cure her of the headache she felt coming on, and asked me to sprinkle them into that concoction you had everyone drinking.”

  I inch back in my seat. “Concoction, Everett, really?”

  Lily waves to me from the counter. “The platters are ready.” For me she doesn’t so much as crack a smile, but for Everett, she not only grins like a cat with a canary snug between its teeth, she leans over dramatically, ensuring us a full view of those globes she’s doing a lousy job of hiding in her sweater.

  “Thanks, Lily.” I wave a hand over Everett’s face and break the spell Lily Swanson has over him. “Where did she get the pills?”

  His jaw redefines itself as if my questioning went too far. “She asked everyone in that room for pills, Lottie. I don’t know. Maybe one of her friends plucked them out of her purse.”

  “Friends? Believe me, Collette had no friends.” My eyes spring wide. “Jenna!”

  “Yeah, maybe her. I don’t know where they came from, but eventually the pills made their way to Collette.”

  “Okay, this is a good start. Now help me load up my trunk with cookies.” I stand, and he follows.

  “Where are you going?”

  “We’re headed to the Endeavor company picnic.”

  Everett’s nostrils flare at the thought. “I have an idea. I’ll drop the platters off, and you work on that recipe for the contest this Saturday.”

  “Aren’t you a gentleman. It’s almost as if you want me to stay out of the investigation. Say? You haven’t been speaking to that ex-stepbrother of yours, have you?” Everett’s entire world seems to be comprised of exes in every capacity.

  He doesn’t bother with a response. He doesn’t bother with so much as lifting an eyebrow. Instead, he helps me load up my truck, and we hightail it down to the Ashford Community Center.

  * * *

  The Ashford Community Center is at least ten times the size of the community center in Honey Hollow. It has a fresh paint job, new glossy floors, and actual chandeliers in lieu of fluorescent lighting. Bodies fill the room to capacity, and the room is thick with the scent of turkey. Mr. Rutherford spared no expense. It’s an entire Thanksgiving Day buffet with not only the famous bird on the menu but mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, green beans, biscuits, marshmallow yams, and an entire litany of additional side dishes to ensure a terrific feast.

  Everett helps me land the dessert platters to the side, and soon enough there are hordes of people henpecking at them. In addition to the cookies, I brought over several pumpkin and pecan pies. You can’t really have a Thanksgiving celebration without them. Plus, this way, I’m hoping to win over a few new customers, too. Lord knows I’m already up to my eyeballs with pie orders for next week, but what’s a few dozen more?

  Jenna heads this way, her eyes fixated fully on that cookie platter, and I smack Everett on the arm.

  “Here she comes. What should I say?”

  “Ask if she’s the killer, and if she says no, we can leave.”

  I glare up at him a moment.

  “Lemon”—he gives a long blink—“you don’t need any help from me. I see a slice of pumpkin pie with my name on it.” He takes off, and I head over to Jenna who is building a precarious pyramid of nutty spice cookies and chocolate chip peanut butter swirls. She tops it off with a few Mexican wedding cakes and does a double take my way as I come into her line of vision.

  Jenna is dressed in a low-cut dress with fall leaves printed over it, her lips are outlined bright red, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s looking to snag herself a Rutherford.

  “Thank you so much!” Her eyes light up as she spots me. “You really do know how to bring the holiday cheer. Is there any way I can put in a special request for the next event?”

  “Sure, I don’t see why not.” Although, I don’t cater to prison, which is exactly where she’ll be going once it’s revealed that she’s the killer. My God, I could be standing in front of a cold-blooded murderer! My body seizes with a momentary paralysis at the thought.

  “Great. I really miss my mother’s
cranberry cheese ball cookies. She made them this time of year and I’m not sure which I miss more, the cranberry cheese balls or her!” She chortles as if it were hysterical.

  “What kind of cheese?” I can’t help it. Inquiring minds want to know.

  “Two cups all American. Nothing fancy, just something tried-and-true. It goes great with turkey leftovers, too. I make me a mean turkey melt for about a week straight after the big day.”

  “That does sound delicious.” The cookie not so much. “Hey, I have a question for you?” My God, I don’t have a question for her! Who knows what hairy scary thing will evict itself from my throat next? Thinking on my feet never was my forte.

  A thought comes to me.

  “I heard a rumor that Collette was poisoned by some pills she was taking to alleviate a headache. The deputies said she got the pills from someone at the party. Did you see anyone give her the pills that night?”

  GAH! If Jenna is the murderer, I just tipped her off to the fact that the sheriff’s department is onto her. Dumb, dumb, dumb. This investigation stuff really is a learn-as-you-go kind of thing.

  She gives a knowing nod. “Yeah, I heard the same thing. She asked everyone for medication. Poor thing forgot to put a couple of her migraine pills into her purse that night. She asked me, but I had one of those useless clutches with just enough room for my lipstick and car keys. I don’t know who she got the pills from, but it could have been anyone.”

  She answered so smoothly and nonchalantly that either A: She’s a psychopath killer. Or B: She’s innocent. That really narrows down the field.

  I lean in, my gaze intently fixed on hers. “I heard that kid, Josh—the one that gave her mouth-to-mouth—was just obsessed with her. Do you think he’s a suspect?”