“That was weird,” I whisper to my mother. “Did she have some connection to Clark?”
Mom nods. “She mentioned they were friends. We’ll see you all later.”
Wiley grabs her by the hand and the two of them zip right out of here.
A rustling sound garners our attention and we find Cormack on her knees with her hand deep in Rooster’s pockets.
“Hey,” Noah shouts as he quickly pulls her way. “What the heck has gotten into everyone tonight? What are you doing? What’s in your hand, Cormack?”
“Nothing.” She bites the air between them as she gives Noah a hard shove to the chest, and it’s enough to make both Everett and me inch back with surprise.
Cormack typically venerates Noah as if he were a deity, so to see her try to rough him up is a sharp U-turn as far as her affection goes.
Way back when in high school, Wiley was married to Everett’s mother, Eliza, making Noah and Everett stepbrothers for the duration of that short matrimonial mishap. Wiley basically pilfered Everett’s wealthy mama and then proceeded to fake his own death.
Cataclysmically for us, he managed to perform the second resurrection known to mankind when he resurfaced in Honey Hollow and conned my mother into selling her B&B and giving him all her money. It sounds so ridiculous it’s hardly believable, but it’s true as gospel.
Anyway, back in high school, Cormack was dating Everett when Noah thought he might want Cormack for himself, and Noah’s been paying for it ever since—or so he believes.
Noah is still convinced that the only reason Everett stepped into the picture with me romantically was as a form of revenge.
I don’t believe it in the least.
Everett leans her way. “Cormack,” he grumbles her name. “You were looking for something. What was it?”
“Fine.” Her brows dip as she frowns at the two of them. “Rooster said he was going to propose. He said he bought a diamond the size of my head, and I thought he was going to drop to one knee tonight.”
“Eww,” I say out loud without meaning to. Rooster and Cormack have at least thirty years between them. Not only that, but Rooster was the human equivalent of pond scum according to Carlotta and Charlie. “All right, so did you find the ring?”
“No,” she snips my way. “Are you satisfied, Lorena? You get two happy endings and I get none.” She growls before taking off.
I watch as she nearly trips over a rock before howling at the moon and dissolving into the shadows. I’m about to turn back to Noah and Everett when I spot Sammy huddled near the woods speaking to a man with a familiar looking face. He’s holding her now, rubbing her back, whispering into her ear, and I can’t help but think it looks intimate.
“Hey,” I say. “That man who’s talking to Mrs. Willoughby, I saw him having an exchange with Clark earlier. He was shaking his finger at him. It didn’t look friendly.”
“Good to know.” Noah pulls out his phone and taps into it. “Just made a note. I’d better go over and introduce myself.”
“Good,” Everett says. “I’ll head over to the Evergreen.”
“What for?” Noah doesn’t sound pleased with the idea.
I’m not too thrilled with it either.
Everett glances over his shoulder before leaning in and whispering, “That’s where Rooster was staying. Don’t make me do the math for you, Noah. For all we know, Naomi could be packing up his things right now. And we both know when Manny’s place was searched last week it came up empty. Rooster’s got those briefcases. And do you know what those briefcases have? Your prints, mine, and Lemon’s. I need to get over there and make sure they don’t end up in the wrong hands. And by wrong hands, I’m talking about the sheriff’s department.”
“I am the sheriff’s department,” Noah says, giving Everett a quick shove to the chest.
Everett growls as if he’s about to draw blood. “And that means you and probably Ivy, and God knows who else, have to get a warrant before you can enter to look for clues if that man’s death turns out to be a homicide. We both know it will. Do you think Ivy and the rest of the boys in blue are going to be fine with you popping two of Rooster’s briefcases in the back of your truck? I don’t think so either. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to commit a little breaking and entering to get us out of this never-ending pit you’ve landed us in.”
Noah’s eyes close a minute and he certainly doesn’t contest the fact.
In Everett’s mind, it all boils down to the fact I let Noah dictate whether or not we stole Florenza Canelli’s body from the morgue. Everett was against the idea from the get-go. And well, now Noah blames himself for the endless amount of trouble we’ve drifted into as well.
“I’ll go,” Noah says as he gives a quick look around. “Ivy just got here. I’ll let her handle things. Everett, why don’t you take Lottie home? I’ll tell Ivy there’s an emergency with Lyla Nell or that Lottie needs me.” He blows out a breath before pointing a finger at Everett. “You will let me handle this. I work for the sheriff’s department. It makes sense. Besides, I don’t want to see you get kicked off the bench again. Don’t make me do the math for you,” he says that last part mockingly as he repeats Everett’s words back to him. “Now get out of here.”
We’re about to do just that when a tall redhead in a long navy jacket steps up.
“Well, well, the gang’s all here.” She flashes a short-lived smile my way.
“Detective,” I say, offering my own brief curve of the lips.
Detective Ivy Fairbanks is Noah’s partner down at the homicide division in Ashford. She’s as brilliant as she is stunning, and I’ve suspected for some time that she’s got the hots for Noah. Recently, I was proven right. Not that I want to be right about something like that. She was after Noah back when Noah and I were still together, and for that reason alone I don’t care for her.
“I saw the blueberry muffin jammed in one of the victim’s mouths.” She nods to where Rooster is lying. “What did you do to that guy?”
“Nothing,” I tell her. “I didn’t touch either of them—well, at least not until after they were dead.”
She sighs my way. “Why do I have a feeling we have different definitions of the word dead?”
The coroner gets our attention and calls Noah and Ivy over to where Rooster lies with his eyes wide open to the sky. His face is pale, washed blue from the moonlight and most likely his lack of blood flow. It’s an unnerving sight.
“Check this out.” The coroner casts his flashlight over a couple small red protrusions on the side of Rooster’s arm. “Snake bite.”
“Snake bite?” I look to Noah and he looks stumped by the revelation.
“It looks as if we’ll have to run toxicology.”
The sounds of footfalls speed in this direction, and both Carlotta and Charlie nearly trip right over Rooster as they come up panting.
“It’s true, Mama,” Charlie pants through a laugh. “He’s dead,” she sings, and the relief in her voice is palpable.
“He ain’t dead.” Carlotta walks over and gives Rooster a swift kick to the cookies and both Noah and Everett make a guttural noise as they cinch their knees a notch.
“Carlotta,” Noah says it sharp, and yet there’s a note of defeat in his voice because corpse-kicking season seems to have come a little early this year.
Carlotta pulls her foot back and does it again—twice as hard—and this time the coroner looks as if he’s about to be sick himself, but Rooster doesn’t move an inch.
Carlotta harrumphs. “Well, I still don’t believe it. Shelby Hardy Tuttle aka Rooster Puddin’ is pure evil. And Lord knows it takes a heck of a lot more than death to kill this kind of wickedness.” She pulls Charlie close. “Come on, Cha Cha. I’ll buy the whiskey. Good work, Lot. We’ll toast to your gallant effort in trying to off him.”
My mouth opens as I look to my sister. “Does that mean you’ll drop the lawsuit?”
Charlie served me papers last week letting me know she was suing for
half of everything Grandma Nell left me in her will.
Charlie’s chest thumps. “My dreams might be coming true tonight, but yours are on ice until Mr. Sexy turns up the charm. I guess you can’t have everything. Isn’t that right, Noah?” She winks his way as the two of them take off.
Noah lowers his chin as he glares at Everett a moment. “Goodnight, Lottie,” he says as he gives me a quick peck to the cheek. “Kiss Lyla Nell for me, would you?”
I nod as Everett and I say goodnight to both Noah and Ivy before heading home, and I text Noah regarding the faux emergency before we ever hit the driveway.
I’ll be right there. Noah texts back.
And we know exactly where he’ll be—the Evergreen Manor.
Noah
The Evergreen Manor is set against a hillside with pine trees surrounding it like a fortress.
It more or less looks like Miranda’s B&B but triple the size, and I’m sorry to say, an upscale version of it. In Miranda’s defense, she was going for the cozy appeal right until Cormack and Cressida dug their gilded claws into that place and turned it into a bubblegum pink wonder. And whereas the B&B looks like a large mansion, the Evergreen Manor looks like an enormous prep school with its white Roman columns and the ivy crawling along the walls as if trying to hide its secrets. Inside, it’s covered in dark wood paneling and smells like expensive perfume.
I spot Naomi Sawyer at the reception counter. That’s Keelie’s twin sister, same face, but Naomi is a brunette to Keelie’s blonde. From what Lottie has told me, Naomi has never cared too much for her due to the fact Keelie loved Lottie so much. I can understand the jealousy to an extent, but now that everyone is older, and you would hope wiser, you’d think Naomi would be a little nicer to Lottie, but that’s just not the case.
She’s talking to someone, a woman with wavy hair, and when she turns to laugh, I see it’s Charlie who has already beaten me to the punch.
What the heck is Charlie doing here?
She’s not here to swipe those briefcases, is she?
She’s a smart cookie. I wouldn’t put it past her. But she’s also smart enough to know those briefcases are trouble. And she’s also friends with Naomi, so here’s hoping she’s here for a genuine gab session.
I clutch my hand tightly around the oversized duffle bag that I made the trip home to retrieve. The point of this operation is to get in and out with little to no one noticing me. And if they do, I don’t want them to remember me as the man with two briefcases. I dug up the biggest gym bag I could find, and I’m pretty sure they’ll both fit inside nicely.
I’m about to head toward the entry when a familiar looking couple steps out of the foyer, and I jump behind a large backlit sign as they pass by.
Holy smokes.
I close my eyes a moment. It’s Dad and Miranda.
What the hell are they doing here?
Miranda adjusts her skirt and fiddles with the buttons on her blouse, and suddenly I have an inkling of what they could be doing. I don’t get it, though. They live together at her B&B.
Variety is the spice of life?
“I just feel so dirty,” she says, and I wince because I don’t want any part of a private conversation—especially not a dirty one that concerns my father.
“Don’t feel dirty,” my father says. “We’re just getting what’s ours.”
They take off toward the parking lot with a spring in their step and I shake my head at them. Fine, I envy the guy. I wish I were getting what’s mine with Lottie tonight.
I step into the lobby and then quickly duck behind a large silk plant. I’ve donned a baseball cap and a jacket I don’t typically wear, in the event Ivy and I need to review any footage. I want all my bases covered. I know the Evergreen only has security cameras in the lobby because I’ve done my fair share of investigations concerning this place. I’ll be fine once I get upstairs. I also have access to the guest register database because of those numerous investigations, so I’ve already gleaned the fact Rooster was staying in room 203.
Naomi laughs at something Charlie tells her, and I use the opportunity to inch my way toward the stairs. The elevator is smack in front of the reception desk, so that’s out, but the stairs are slightly to the right of where they’re standing and I should be able to run up unnoticed. But since I need to ensure this fact, I decide to hold out for a few minutes in hopes that a crowd will walk through those doors. Heck, I’d take a single person, a dog would do nicely. Anything to distract from me.
“I just hated everyone in high school.” Naomi glances at her nails.
“Did you hate Lottie?” Charlie asks as if she were rooting for it.
“Who could I hate more?”
The two of them break out into a deep belly laugh and I shake my head at it. Lottie has been nothing but kind to both of them. Naomi is still holding grudges, and Charlie is suing her.
A family of six walks in through the door—mom, dad, and four tired looking kids in stair step heights, two boys and two girls. The young girl in her father’s arms is already asleep. Her hair is dark crimson and she reminds me of Lyla Nell the way her mouth hangs open limp as she blissfully snoozes.
My heart warms at the sight. That could be Lottie and me one day with our brood. It should be Lottie and me one day. We’re already a kid down, three to go. But I’ve got Everett mucking up the waters.
The family passes by me. Mom heads for the reception counter, dad heads for the elevator, and three of the kids decide to race up the stairs—and I join them.
My heart lets out a few hard wallops as I make it to the second floor, just enough heavy thumps to assure me I’m out of shape.
The carpet is a green mosaic pattern and the walls are covered with red damask wallpaper, both of which are overloading my senses.
It’s late, and I’m tired. I’ve got two homicide cases staring me in the face, and despite the fact I ate nearly thirty hot dogs, I’m miraculously hungry.
Room 203 comes up on my left, so I pull the trinket out of my pocket that can pick the lock on just about anything. I insert the pick into the lock when a sickly sweet perfume surrounds me and a pair of cool hands covers my eyes.
“Geez,” I grunt, turning around and I let out a little howl. “Cormack,” I hiss. “What are you doing here?”
The grin glides off her face. “I can ask you the same thing.”
“I’m here—as a part of my investigation.”
She cocks a brow. “Got a warrant that fast, Detective?”
I take a breath. “I don’t need a warrant. As you pointed out, I’m a detective—the lead detective in the case.” The truth is buried loosely in that jumble of lies.
She plucks something out of her purse and flashes it my way—her own detective badge. I’d like to say she got it out of a Cracker Jack box, but she didn’t.
A few months back, Cormack decided to give Lottie a run for her investigative money and struck out on her own in the PI game. She had her wealthy father buy her that badge she’s bearing. Cormack never did any of the fieldwork required to hone her chops. She’s essentially a danger to herself and others at this stage of the investigative game. Lucky for her and any prospective clients, she’s not open for business per se. She simply uses that shiny badge as an excuse to meddle in my cases.
“Featherby Sleuths Investigative Services, ready and willing to meet your demands.” She runs her tongue along her lips. “Both in and out of the bedroom.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be grieving the man you love?”
“Hard to do when the man I love is standing right here.” Her fingers walk up my tie.
“Sorry, Mack.” A heavy sigh expels from me because Cormack is a vibrant woman who deserves to find happiness. I need to cut her loose gently once and for all. “You’re not getting lucky. Not tonight, not ever. I’m afraid I’m too emotionally tethered to Lottie. You don’t want to waste your time with me. It’s never going to happen.”
A couple of female voices carry this way just a
s Naomi and the mother that walked into the manor head toward us.
I can’t let her see me.
Reflexively, I pull Cormack into a tight embrace and land my face to hers as if we were in the throes of passion. I’ve given Cormack an inch, and she’s not one to merely take a mile—she goes for the gold, jamming her lips to mine and moaning as if she’s in the heat of passion. And knowing Cormack’s obsession with me, she’s just that.
Naomi lets the woman into her room, then heads back down the stairs, and I pull Cormack off me as easy as plucking a suction cup off a window.
“Oh, Noah,” Cormack says it in a breathy whisper as her eyes speedily drink me in. “I had forgotten what it felt like to be close enough to have your magical lips on mine.”
“I don’t have time for this now. I’m sorry, Cormack. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” I try to insert my pick into the lock and she slaps my hand way.
“Would you stop with that? I left my best pair of panties in there last night. I’ve got a key.” She inserts the keycard and the door glides open.
She lets herself in before I can stop her and we find the lights still on.
The room is disheveled, bed unmade, curtains askew, a couple of drawers left opened. I can’t be sure, but this mess may have been my father’s doing or Miranda’s.
For their sakes, I hope they gloved up.
“Ta-da!” Cormack produces a pink pair of underwear off the floor that looks like cotton candy. “Hey, why let a good room go to waste? I only had these on for fifteen minutes. I could put them back—”
“No,” I say, pulling her close. “Listen to me, Cormack. You can’t tell anyone that I was here with you. And you have to leave right now. You’re right. I don’t have the warrant yet. But I need to get a leg up on the investigation, so it’s not unheard of that I would do something like this.”
Red, White, and Blueberry Muffin Murder Page 4