Rigby sits up. “You mean you’ve slept with every man at this table?” she shouts so loud half the restaurant turns to look this way.
I catch Keelie giving me a quick thumbs-up, and both Hook and Meg break out into spontaneous applause.
Dear God, kill me now.
The waitress comes by and takes our orders and quickly deposits a drink before us all.
“Time for a toast.” Curtis picks up his glass, and we all do the same.
The bird expands his feathers and shudders as if it’s about to molt. “Time for a toast! Time for a toast!”
Everett gives my hand a squeeze, and we share a knowing look.
“To love!” Curt raises his glass ever higher. “And, of course, to Lottie, the girl we’ve all loved at one time or another.” His eyes soften as he looks to me with a creepy interest brewing in him. “May you find it in your heart to forgive me for causing you so much undo pain. Hey? How about I buy you coffee sometime?”
I roll my eyes and lift my glass. “To love.” God knows it’s bittersweet. Curt’s flirtation really knows no bounds. It’s nice to see his girlfriend is so blasé about it. I’m sure they’ll have many years in a polyamorous relationship, but I’m willing to bet she won’t be necessarily apprised.
“Love!” the bird caws and makes it sound like the four-letter word it is. “Love!”
“Rigby”—I smile over at her—“I had a conversation with your late aunt once about birds, and she mentioned she had a beautiful macaw that she just adored. But I can’t seem to recall the name of it.” What’s a little appetizer of lies before dinner? If it can satiate my hunger for justice, I say bring on the half-truths.
“Macon,” she grunts as if I sucker-punched her. “Macon the macaw. That thing was a nuisance.”
Macon turns her way and lets out an earsplitting squawk of protest.
Rigby growls in its direction as if she heard. “My aunt made him repeat everything twice. That’s how meticulous she was about things. You may not know this about her, but she was very militant about the way she went about things. I think that’s why we never got along. My own mother died years ago, and my dad moved to Europe, so Aunt Rhonda made it a point to try to be a parent to me as much as she could. I was already in New York by that time. But, boy, if she thought you were doing something wrong, she’d let you know it. And she’d turn you in for it, too. She didn’t believe in letting anyone get away with anything.”
“That must have been hard on Felicity. I mean, no one is perfect, right?”
A guttural laugh expels from her. “Felicity is far from perfection. In fact, she’s downright weird.”
“Weird! Weird!” Macon goes off like an air horn, and Everett’s chest strums with a silent chuckle.
That’s funny. That’s exactly the word Carlotta used to describe her.
“Weird like what?” I ask casually as the waitress brings out dinner and begins to set our dishes before us. “As in she liked salt on her watermelon, weird?”
Cormack giggles. “I love seasoned salt on my watermelon in the summer. Mmm,” she moans as she leans into Everett. “Remember that time we were in the kitchen and we went from going wild with the watermelon to—”
I clear my throat as I look to Rigby. “Maybe Felicity is just misunderstood?”
“No way.” Rigby shakes her head emphatically. “She was spoiled rotten from the day she was born, handed everything she wanted on a silver platter, right up until her mother discovered those Pepper Patrick books. My aunt was obsessed with a capital O. She even went as far as trying to convince Felicity to legally change her name to Alice McDade. Of course, Felicity thought she was nuts. But suddenly, all the attention Felicity was getting went straight to Pepper, straight to those books she was penning. It was almost as if Pepper put a spell on her through them. That was pretty weird, too. But the strangest thing of all was when I talked to the coroner this afternoon. It turned out, the killer had placed a chloroform rag over her nose and mouth, and once she passed out, they shoved it down her throat. Then I guess they strangled her somehow with a necklace, he thinks.” Rigby leans in as if she were about to dispense the juiciest morsel of gossip. “And get this. It’s exactly how one of the victims dies in the latest Pepper Patrick novel. Honest to God, if my crazy aunt knew how she bit the big one, she’d probably approve.”
And on that cheery note, we start in on our dinner.
But for the life of me I can’t seem to let it go.
“A real shame about how Felicity was treated.” I shake my head wistfully and garner a funny look from Noah. I’m familiar with all of Noah’s funny looks, and this one in particular says back down.
Rigby nods as she twirls a mound of spaghetti onto her fork.
“I mean, I would have acted out, too,” I offer it up as bait. “Dyed my hair, shaved half of it. Maybe even gone out with an unsavory character or two. Like that Bojangles person you mentioned yesterday at the bakery.” I nod over at her. “It sounds like neither you nor Felicity got along that great with her.”
“That’s for sure. Even this guy had a serious beef with good old Rhonda.” She ticks her head toward Curt.
“You?” I glower at my ex. “What in the world did you have to beef with poor Rhonda over?” Suddenly, I’m moved to slug him for even thinking an unkind thought about her. It’s as if we’re talking about another Rhonda entirely. The Rhonda Gilbert I knew was nothing but a kind and patient soul.
Curt growls at me as if I had accidentally pulled the pin on his temper. “Let’s just say when she came out to New York, things went sideways. I’m not proud of it, but now that she’s gone, I can finally put it behind me.”
Wow. Curt really doesn’t have a filter on that brain of his, does he?
Hey? He owed Hook money… I lean in and go with it.
“How much did you owe her?”
Curt’s eyes bulge as if I just pried into his darkest fantasy. Scratch that. Knowing Curt, he would wholeheartedly approve.
Noah clicks his tongue with a crooked grin. “She called it. Lottie is a genius.”
Everett pulls my hand to his lips. “That she is.”
And suddenly, I’m not interested in interrogating anyone for the rest of the night. I doubt Curt offed Rhonda, but if he did I’m betting he left a trail of clues you could see from the space station.
Dinner is quickly finished, and just as dessert hits the table, Macon squawks and spreads his wings before charging for Curt’s blueberry cheesecake.
“Oh no,” I say, trying to flick my cloth napkin at the bird, but it’s too late. Macon jumps onto Curt’s dessert, and everyone at the table gasps at the odd sight of the seemingly spontaneous demolition.
I slap my hand over the squashed cheesecake without thinking, but that doesn’t stop Macon from taking a pecking bite of a berry before flinging it right at Curt’s face.
“Oh God.” I pick up another berry and peg Curt with it as well. Not only do I feel compelled to partake in the supernatural good time, but I’m rather enjoying it, too. “That’s what you get”—the words come out wooden—“for cheating on me all those years ago.”
Macon bounces right into the cheesecake again and begins shuffling it backward over Curt’s dress shirt, and I quickly join in on the cheesecake flicking fun.
“Geez, Lottie!” Curt stands and does his best to wipe the mess off. “It’s nice to see you still play with your food.” He looks to Everett. “But you already know that, don’t you?” He gives a congratulatory laugh as we all stand and head for the exit.
Noah shores up the bill, which is far too kind of him. Then, of course, not to be outdone, Everett drops a wad of hundred dollar bills onto the table as a tip. I’m sure the waitresses at Mangia can’t wait to have us back. I give a quick wave goodnight to Keelie and Meg as we head back out into the warm night air.
Rigby looks over at me, that smirk still smug on her face. “Everyone knows the way to Curt’s mattress is through a good food fight.” She takes Curt b
y the tie as if it were a leash. “Stick with the man you’ve got, Lottie Melon. This one is off-limits to you.”
Rigby speeds into the night with him, and Curt chokes as he tries to keep up.
“It’s Lottie Lemon,” I shout after them, and Curt gives a friendly wave.
“Coffee! You and me, Lottie Cat!”
“Good Lord.” I go to shake my head up at Everett, but that bird snags my attention as it lands square on Noah’s head.
He grips his temples and winces. “What the hell? I just got the worst headache.”
Macon’s talons glide a little too close to Noah’s gorgeous green eyes, and an all-out panic sets off in me.
“No!” I shout as I lunge over and carefully pull the creature off of Noah’s head. “You may not do that!” I reprimand sharply.
Noah straightens as he looks to me while Cormack laughs up a storm.
“My headache went away just like that.”
Everett wraps an arm around me. “Lemon is magic.”
Noah leans in. “Is that what this is? Magic? So it’s true?” he says it lower than a whisper. “You’re a witch?”
Good Lord.
Cormack shivers as if we were suddenly transported to the arctic tundra. “Come on, Foxy. It’s time we had a little food fight fun of our own. Have I got plans for you tonight.”
Noah doesn’t take his eyes off me for a good while until Cormack plucks him away and steals him into the night.
Everett and I watch as the two of them take off. Noah looks both miserable and stunned.
Everett leans in and brushes a careful kiss over my ear, and my entire body electrifies from his mere touch. “You ready for that nightcap?”
“Only if you toss in a food fight.” I spin into him. “And maybe one of those amazing kisses? We both know you’re the only one capable of magic around here.” I can’t help but wrinkle my nose. It almost doesn’t feel fair to ask, but, in truth, it completely makes me forget my troubles.
“Why wait to get to the good part?” He leans in and sears my lips with a kiss that makes my toes curl, my stomach explodes with heat, and my heart threatens to leap right out of my throat and into the stratosphere. My head spins, and I feel both dizzy and faint, and Everett wraps his arms around me tight just to keep me upright—a maneuver I’m sure he’s had to employ a time or two.
A car honks as it passes us by, and Cormack leans out the window hollering and cheering us on. I’m assuming she’s doing the honking as well. Poor Noah is as green as a glow stick.
“You beat us to it. But watch out!” she calls as Noah continues to speed down the street. “We’re about to set the house on fire!”
And that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.
Chapter 6
She went in for a nightcap.
Yes, I looked. How could I not look? Anyone knows that if you plan to nurse a healthy grudge, you must have the fuel in which to nurture it with. Of course, I went in for a nightcap as well. Everett made me a steaming cup of chamomile tea and a shot of whiskey for himself. He probably needed it after dealing with Cormack Featherby for the evening. Believe you me, Everett Baxter is used to wrangling with his exes, but Cormack is a bit more of a slippery fish. In truth, it didn’t seem to bother him in the least when he was kissing me goodnight for that last hour and a half.
Everett’s kisses are like a fine wine that should never be rushed and most certainly should be savored. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to hold off on exploring more than his hot mouth. That man is a virtual jungle gym of fun just demanding to be conquered. And now that Noah and I are no longer a thing—nor can I bring myself to even think of having a thing or a fling with that man until well after he’s no longer married, if ever—I think it’s time to allow Everett a chance to shine in every capacity.
The next day, the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery is stocked full of tourists. As the weather warms up, the tourists love to come to our neck of the woods and take in the natural beauty this area of Vermont has to offer, the verdant fields, Honey Lake, the haunted B&B.
At first, my mother’s foray into the paranormal was a cute, yet slightly scary, way to earn a little cash on the side, but now that it’s a virtual boon to the entire Honey Hollow economy, there have been rumors that pamphlets are being made and circulated to the tourist societies all over Vermont—even reaching as far as Manhattan. Imagine that. My mother—with the help of Greer Giles and her two-hundred-year-old boy toy—have actually put Honey Hollow on the map.
And do you know what else has put Honey Hollow on the map? Murder.
The afternoon rush dies down, and I pull another batch of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven, ready to refill the barren shelves. The door chimes, and I look over to see both Willow Lancaster and Felicity Gilbert walk in and I’m ashamed to admit that a tiny spiral of excitement hits me. I can’t help it. I have a stark thirst for justice, especially when it comes to poor Rhonda. I’m incensed that this should happen to her at all, but the fact that the tragedy occurred just moments prior to meeting her idol seems far too unfortunate.
Speaking of Rhonda, her fine-feathered pet—beloved as he must have been—has been following me around nonstop ever since, and, for whatever reason, both Pancake and Waffles are on extreme edge around this beast that I’m fairly certain they cannot see.
“Hello, ladies.” I try not to sound too cheery as they make their way to the counter. “What can I get you? Raspberry turnovers? Perhaps a cream puff or two? I just so happened to pull out a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies—and I never skimp on the chips. All on the house, of course.”
Willow’s mouth falls open. Willow has always reminded me of a petite version of my sister, Meg. “I’ll take a cup of coffee and a slice of lemon cake if you don’t mind.”
Felicity makes a face. Her hair is rumpled, her skin far too pale, and she has large, dark rings under her eyes. Come to think of it, Willow does, too. It’s clear their grief is taking its toll. It’s almost as good a reason as any to take them both off the suspect list. Almost.
Every single suspect in this case has the exact same alibi—they were all present and accounted for at the library for the signing. I’ll admit, this is shaping up to be the toughest case yet, but I just so happen to like a good challenge.
“Just coffee for me.” Felicity plops into the nearest seat, and Willow falls across from her. I nod for Lily to take care of the new onslaught that just walked through the door while I head over to tend to Willow and Felicity.
“I’m so sorry for everything you’re going through,” I say as I set down their treats. “Any word on who might be responsible?”
Felicity sags as she looks up at me with those crimson-laced eyes. “They found a chloroform rag stuffed in her mouth. And the killer had the nerve to strangle my mother, mostly with that necklace she was wearing, but they found hand markings as well.”
Willow nods frenetically. “It was a clear copycat of Pepper Patrick’s latest book.”
I don’t let on that Rigby shared that information with me last night.
“Wow”—I muse—“that means the killer is either a fan of Pepper’s as well or they knew what a huge fan your mother was.” That sounds even more twisted now that I’ve said it out loud.
Willow shakes her head at the ceiling. “That woman put the super in super fan. Everyone that was close to her knew of her obsession with Pepper Patrick.”
“Maybe,” I muse. “But judging by that crowd that showed up that day, a lot of people shared her obsession.”
Felicity shrugs. “Let’s call a spade a spade. That was the biggest thing to happen to Honey Hollow in a good long while.”
Macon swoops down from the ceiling, and his talons clatter over the table. Suddenly, I’m fearing for Willow’s lemon cake. It’s one thing for me to smear cheesecake all over Curtis—he practically deserved it—but I draw the line at tossing lemon cake at my customers. I’ll have to have a long, meaningful talk with this fine-feathered spook onc
e this little powwow is over.
“I agree,” I say. “I don’t remember a crowd that large amassing for anything, not even the tree lighting in Town Square. So, are the two of you fans?” I examine their faces for clues, but they both look equally disinterested.
Felicity tips her head back and forth. “Let’s just say I’m not Ms. Patrick’s biggest fan. Alice McDade, the main character in my mother’s favorite series, was like the sister I never wanted.”
Macon burps out a caw. “Sister she never wanted! Sister she never wanted!” The wily bird looks my way and winks.
I don’t know why, but I’m starting to get a sneaking suspicion about him. There’s just something that doesn’t sit right about his feathered ways.
Willow reaches over and clasps ahold of Felicity’s hand. “I’m sure your mother never meant to hurt you. She confided in me that, once your father passed away, reading became her only escape from the grief.”
“And in the end, it proved lethal.” Felicity’s voice wavers with pain.
“Do you think anyone had a valid motive for wanting your mother gone?” I couldn’t bring myself to say dead. The woman is hardly cold at the morgue.
Felicity’s eyes flick my way and glint with tears in the light. “Sadly, my mother had a habit of rubbing everyone the wrong way.”
Willow grimaces as if she loathed the fact she had to agree. “She also had a habit of threatening people.”
“Threatening people?” It sounds so very off, so very unlike the Rhonda I knew. I guess it’s safe to say I didn’t really know her at all.
“That’s right.” To my surprise, Felicity acknowledges this. “My mother always had a strong desire for justice.”
I cinch a meager smile. “I guess we have that in common.”
Felicity rolls her eyes. “If my mother felt wronged by someone in any manner, she’d make no bones about it. She didn’t sugarcoat anything when it came to things like that. If she was confronting you about something, it was straight no chaser.”
New York Cheesecake Chaos (MURDER IN THE MIX Book 8) Page 6