“Don’t any of you worry,” Luke says. “The killer will be apprehended soon enough. And don’t you worry, Carlotta Junior. Why don’t you take a pass on this case and leave it to me? It will be my pleasure to bring the killer to justice for you. We’ll be in touch soon.” The prickly mobster claps his hands together. “It’s time to feast, dammit.”
The live band starts in on a boisterous yet happy little ditty and the waitresses quickly congregate at our table and start in on a hips shaking, bootie vibrating dance that makes the floor of this establishment shake right along with them. One of them begins to howl, and then as if it were a catching condition, each of the raving beauties is doing the same. They all hit maximum yipping capacity, and my poor ears feel as if they’re begging for mercy. Then, in one coordinated move, they yank Noah and Everett out of their seats, and soon enough five buxom beauties surround both men as they’re navigated to the dance floor. The shaking, vibrating, and howling resume, and each of those women takes turns latching their bodies onto them.
I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.
Sorry, ladies. You’re not stealing my men.
And sorry to you, too, Luke Lazzari. You’re not beating me to the killer. I’m no damsel in distress.
More importantly, I’ve got a streak to maintain.
Somebody killed Norman Pemberley, and I’m going to work overtime to crack this case wide open.
Chapter 15
I told Evie it was a hard no as far as putting together a girl gang was concerned.
I happen to know firsthand they have a zero tolerance policy toward gang affiliations at Honey Hollow High, let alone starting one.
Everett said it would take years of therapy to undo the damage Luke is inflicting on her. And Carlotta suggested Evie partake in her choice of self-help, the liquor is quicker method.
It’s the afternoon of Keelie’s bachelorette party. I’m still in the dark as to what will happen once I close up my shop and put my fate into Naomi’s hands. She insisted she’s taking over this shindig, citing that Keelie is her monkey and this is her knocked-up circus.
I would have fought her on it, but I’m worn down trying to clear Keelie’s good name before her wedding day. I’m no expert, but I happen to know going into your wedding day with a cloud of suspicion over your head—from the sheriff’s station your father happens to run—isn’t the best feeling in the world. And if I could gift my best friend anything on her wedding day, it would be the peace of mind that she’s not going to have a homicide pinned on her while she’s on her honeymoon.
It’s a sweltering afternoon in Honey Hollow. The sweet June air is perfumed, as every lovely bloom is surrendering its oils to the hostile sun. People are streaming into the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery for the air conditioning alone, but once they’re here I’m rewarding them with a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls that I just pulled out of the oven.
My right-hand gal, Lily, and I work nonstop until we finally manage to hit a lull in the afternoon.
Lily moans as she slings a dishrag over her shoulder. “This is all your fault, Lottie. You’re too good at what you do. We’re never going to catch a break.”
“What do you suggest I do to remedy this?” I’ll be amused to see what she comes up with.
“I don’t know. Burn a few biscuits once in a while. All I know is, I need better shoes if I’m going to be standing on my feet all day—like the kind nurses wear in hospitals.”
“We better hope we can catch a second wind. In fact, I think we’ll close early tonight so we can rest up before we take Keelie out one last time while she’s still a free woman. What do you think Naomi is cooking up?”
“A felony.” She makes a face. “And knowing her, she’ll blame you.” A smile curves on her lips.
The chime goes off at the door and in strides a familiar brunette. Her dark hair is layered around her face and her lips are painted a dark shade of crimson.
“Brandy?” I step over to the register and offer a cheery grin as the woman heads my way. “So great to see you again. How can I help you?”
“Hello, Lottie.” She bites down over her lip as she looks to the bakery shelves. “I’m just here to pick up a few treats. I’m headed to a friend’s house for dinner, and I thought I’d bring dessert.”
“Sure thing,” I say as I hold out a hand toward the refrigerated shelf and a spray of stars ignites inside of it. Soon enough, that adorable miniature goat begins kicking up cupcakes in every direction.
“Oh my God.” Brandy jumps back and yelps.
“Oh no! It’s fine,” I say, heading on over and plucking Bruiser right out of the shelf.
“Lottie?” Lily looks stymied by my action. “What are you doing?”
“Just warming the air.” I shrug into the lie. “If it gets too cold, the cupcakes take off like missiles.” I wrinkle my nose over at Brandy. “It’s some complex chemical reaction. The plumber tried to explain it to me once and—” I flit my hand over my head in an effort to finish my sentence.
“Plumber?” Lily squints over at me. “I don’t remember a plumber coming by.”
“You weren’t here.” I spin her toward the kitchen. “See if we have a fresh batch of cupcakes. We have Mr. Pemberley’s end of life party coming up this Thursday and we need to increase production just to keep up.”
Bruiser brays out a sweet little melody just as Lily groans as she makes her way to the back.
“Loootie”—Bruiser sounds just as sweet as he looks—“is she the killeeer?”
I give a little shrug his way. “Brandy, what are you thinking for dessert?”
She taps the side of her cheek with her finger. “Maybe a double chocolate layer cake?”
Bruiser grunts, “Everyone knows that’s the flavor choice of killers. I say call the sheriff’s department and have her arrrested.”
“That sounds perfect,” I say as a light laugh brays from me, making me sound exactly like that tiny little poltergeist I’ve grown far too attached to. “In fact, I just frosted one this morning.” I reach back and pull out a bakery box before retrieving the cake.
She gives an approving nod once I show it to her.
Bruiser lets out a few quick bleats. “I knew I should have eaten that before it ever made it out of the kitchen. I don’t think she has any friends, Looottie. I think she’s going to eat it all on her ooown.”
No crime in that. I’ve done it far too many times to number and never regretted a thing.
“That looks amazing.” Brandy’s eyes meet with mine. “Did I hear you say there was going to be an end of life celebration for the man who was killed?”
“Yes. His daughter is hosting it this Friday at the Pemberley mansion. From what I hear, it’s going to be a big affair. His daughter asked me to cater the desserts, and I couldn’t believe the order when she called it in. I think I’ll be feeding the masses.”
She shifts her gaze to the mess in the refrigerated shelves before her.
“He was a very well-loved man,” she says. “Or at least his money would have you believe it. I guess when you have billions, it can buy you anything you want—the dirt from under someone’s feet or friends at a funeral.” She shrugs.
“Buying the land under someone’s feet?” I lift a finger. “I think Jenson said something of the same nature. That’s the stepson. The one you thought ran away from the scene of the crime.”
She waves it off. “Oh, I remember Jenson,” she says the name as if she were trying it on for size. “Well, I heard the rumors. Norman was a tyrannical land baron. But I guess if you’re used to the world handing you everything, you expect to get what you want.”
Lily hobbles back out with a tray of cupcakes and sets the bright pink frosted confections down on the counter, right through Bruiser.
“These look delicious.” Bruiser gets right to licking the frosting off of one, and I quickly move the tray into the refrigerated shelf.
A thought comes to me. “Oh hey, Brandy? You’re a nurse, right?”
“That I am.” A polite smile bounces on her lips.
Bruiser bleats again, and this time I twitch my lips his way.
“Nurses know how to kiiill.” He tips his tiny face my way, and it’s taking all of my self-control not to pull him close and dust his face with kisses.
“You’re a nurse!” Lily peers over the counter. “I hope you can help. I need shoes that will be kind to my tired dogs, day in and day out. My feet are about to fall off, and if they do, I won’t mind one bit.”
“Me, too,” I say. “My feet are on the verge of never speaking to me again—or barking.”
Brandy laughs. “Believe me, I know exactly how you feel. When I’m on my feet at the hospital, my feet have no choice but to obey. Let me write down the brand my friends and I swear by. They have hundreds of shoes, but there are a few that are far more comfortable than the others. And memory foam is a must.” She pulls a pen and paper out of her purse before jotting it all down and hands it my way.
“Oh, thank you.” I wave it at Lily before glancing down at the mint green paper no bigger than a playing card. “Neat penmanship,” I marvel at her tall lettering all uniform in size. Printed just above her note are the letters FFR and a phone number just beneath that. I stare at the letters a moment. A flash of Brandy wearing a hat with the same initials comes back to me from that debacle at Luke’s butcher shop. “Thank you, Brandy,” I say, passing the paper to Lily to look at. “Can I ask what FFR stands for?” I point to the top of the page and her mouth opens before she laughs it off.
“Fidelity Finance and Refinance.” She shrugs as her eyes widen. “I confess. I’m one of those people. Offer me a toaster, a hat, and anything else, I’m a customer for life.”
Lily rings up her order. “I’m the same way. What’s the point of living if you can’t have a freebie now and again?”
Brandy expels a robust laugh. “I’m right there with you.” She nods to the note in Lily’s hand. “As evidenced.” She pays before taking the cake in her arms. “Thank you, Lottie. I hope the shoes work out for you both.”
“I’m sure they will,” I say, and no sooner does she leave than a small mob moves in right after her.
Bruiser tramples this way, and I could swear everyone in the room can hear his hooves clattering over the counter.
Lily squints my way. “Did you hear that? It sounds as if a miniature horse just ran by.”
“What? No! That was”—I frown over at Bruiser who proceeds to lick the frosting off his lips—“that was rain.”
“Rain?” Lily cocks her head with disbelief. “In the middle of June, with a clear blue sky?”
“Stanger things have happened,” I say as I scoop Bruiser into my arms and head back to the kitchen.
And something tells me that stranger things are bound to happen tonight as well.
Chapter 16
It seems everyone knew Norman Pemberley was a greedy land baron. I bet his greed is what killed him. If I’ve learned anything from the rash of homicides I’ve been involved in, it’s that you never have to look far to find the true motive for murder.
And try as I might to get Norman Pemberley out of my mind, I can’t help but note the irony as Keelie, Lainey, Meg, Naomi, Lily, Carlotta, Evie, and I stand outside of the Midnight Moonshine Bar and Grill dressed in our western gear, ready to boot scoot with the best of them. It’s the second time in a month that I’ve been here, although tonight I’m not chasing a suspect. I’m chasing a good time.
Carlotta sticks her fingers into her mouth and belts out a sharp whistle.
“All right, y’all. Time to rustle us up some cowboys. The girl with the most boys at the end of the night wins the prize.”’
Evie bounces on the adorable turquoise boots she just bought this afternoon. She also picked up a cute pair of cut-offs trimmed with lace and a tight white T-shirt with the word BYE in silver glitter. I suppose it’s better than hello in a place like this.
“What do we win?” Evie plucks at one of her long, luscious, dark locks. I swear, Evie has enough hair to cover all our heads.
“Herpes,” I say, ushering us inside. “No collecting boys—or phone numbers.”
“No fair!” Evie protests. “Carlotta gets to have all the fun.”
I nudge my bio mother in the ribs. “Try not to have any fun, would you?”
“That ought to be easy.” She smirks my way. “You’re here, aren’t ’cha?”
Lily belts out a hearty laugh at the thought as we step into the western-themed establishment.
It’s dimly lit, save for a rainbow of rotating disco lights. The scent of hot wings and ribs tickles my nose and makes my stomach rumble. The dance floor is full of people showing off a well-choreographed move in unison, and there’s a live band crooning about a dog, a truck, and a girl named Sue.
Lily scoffs. “Lottie, try to keep your joy-killing superpowers at a minimum tonight. This is Keelie’s last night of freedom.”
Lainey rubs her belly. She’s donned a chambray dress that drapes her nicely and gives her that stylish flair she’s touted all through her pregnancy. “And soon any remaining freedom she might enjoy will be lost for eighteen years.”
My blonde bestie gasps as she grips her own beach ball of a belly. “Lainey, what have we done? We’re never going to leave the house again.”
Meg grunts, “Who’s going to manage the library? And what about the Honey Pot?”
Lainey shrugs. “We have a sufficient backup staff in place for my leave of absence. I don’t plan on being gone forever. No way am I abandoning my post as the lead librarian. I worked hard to get that title and I’m keeping it.”
Keelie shrugs. “I’ll probably have to pass the torch at the Honey Pot for a while. There go all those free meals I’ve been enjoying.”
A blaze of brilliant light ignites behind them as Nell and Greer Giles pop up in the midst of us as if they belonged here, and I, for one, think they do.
I give our ghostly guests a tiny wave.
“Lottie”—Keelie looks my way—“you don’t think it’d kill Grandma Nell all over again to know I’ll be leaving the Honey Pot in someone else’s hands, do you?”
I glance over as Nell pretends to stab herself in the chest before splaying her arms out wide, closing her eyes, and sticking her tongue out the side of her mouth.
“Not funny,” I whisper.
Nell shrugs as she straightens. “I’m sorry, Lottie. It’s just that death isn’t all that dramatic. Tell her I don’t mind one bit. Perhaps Meg can manage it?”
Keelie makes a face. “I know it wasn’t funny, Lot. It’s like I have no filter on my mouth these days. This baby has stolen my good looks and my good senses.”
I shake my head. “Nell won’t mind at all. And Meg?” I turn her way. “Maybe you can help manage the Honey Pot?”
“Hey!” Keelie slaps me on the back. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a genius?”
Meg glowers my way. Her dark hair is just as slick and shiny as Naomi’s long locks. And come to think of it, both women are dressed in short denim skirts with black leather jackets. They look like they’re part of a girl gang—a girl biker gang.
My younger sister blinks over at me as if she were just coming to. “You know what? That might actually work. I don’t have to be at Red Satin until three, so I could help out at the diner in the morning and early afternoon.”
Naomi rolls her eyes. “Who cares about the diner? I see men and I’m ready to attack.” She takes off for the dance floor and Evie does her best to follow along.
“I’m in!” Evie shouts before pointing a finger my way. “Try to get some natural shots of me having a good time. I’m short on my upload quota for the day!” she shouts as she dances her way toward Naomi.
Keelie and Lainey waddle to the nearest table and plant themselves in a couple of chairs. I’m not going to say anything, but I’ll admit to questioning the durability of those chintzy chairs that look as if they’ve been constructed out of balsa wood
. If one of those women ends up on the ground because the Midnight Moonshine was too cheap to invest in proper furniture for their patrons, I’ll make sure we own this bar by morning. I’m sure Everett would help us in our litigating endeavors.
“Come on, Lottie Lemon”—Greer lets out a wild whoop as she bucks her hip to mine—“it’s time to let your hair down and get a little crazy. Your best friend is about to have her very first wedding.”
“First and last,” I’m quick to add.
Nell nods. “And it will be.”
“Aww,” I coo. “Nell, you really do have insight into the future, don’t you?”
She gives a nervous glance over to Greer. “Only to an extent.”
Greer glances to the ceiling. “I know nothing, Lottie. And believe me, I like it that way.”
Carlotta looks to her mother. “Well? What’s it gonna be? Do I win the lottery, or don’t I?”
“Carlotta.” It takes great effort not to groan her way. “You’re a wealthy woman.”
“I know that, Lot, but it doesn’t change the fact I want to win.”
Nell chortles. “Oh dear, child. Don’t get your hopes up, but I’m not ruling it out either.”
“And what about Lot Lot?” Carlotta secures me by the wrist as if I were about to bolt. “Let’s skip right to the juicy bits of her life. Which bad boy does she shack up with first? Is she gonna have a tribe of little litigators or miniature murder investigators on her hands?”
Nell tips her chin down to get a better look at me. “Well, Lottie, which is it?”
“Please.” Greer begins to shake her body to the rhythm of the twangy music. “Lottie, you just keep both. Noah and Everett won’t mind sharing. You’ve already groomed them to do just that.”
“I’m not grooming anybody,” my voice squeaks as I try to defend myself.
Carlotta barks out a laugh. “That’s what they all say—just before they go to prison.”
“I’m not going to prison.”
Greer shakes her head. “That’s right. You’re not. With those two hotties? You’re headed straight for heaven.”
Cake Pop Casualties (MURDER IN THE MIX Book 22) Page 13