Red, White, and Blueberry Muffin Murder

by Addison Moore

  “Stood at the window for an hour?” Meg, Lemon’s no-nonsense sister, laughs at the thought. “Sounds as if Judge Baxter here likes to watch things happen.”

  Soon, everyone joins in on the laughter, the loudest of which is little Lyla Nell.

  “All right, back to business.” I pull Lemon in close and look deep into her honey-colored eyes. “Lemon, I love you. And although I could never repay you enough for bringing Lyla Nell into our lives—”

  Carlotta raises a hand. “You may not be able to pay her back, but you might want to think about giving Foxy a tip.”

  Lainey nods. “That’s true. Without Noah, we wouldn’t be standing here today.”

  “To Noah!” Wiley breaks out into a full-fledged applause and the others follow weakly.

  I take a moment to cut him a glance. “Fine. Thank you.” I nod back to Lemon. “I’d like you to know that though it might seem my push present has been a bit delinquent, it was thought out well before the baby was born. But since it was dependent upon a certain level of fabrication around here, it wasn’t possible until today. I asked Bear to prepare a wet slab of cement where we could put our handprints to commemorate our family forever, right here on the grounds where our family will continue to grow and bloom.”

  The women in the crowd coo in concert.

  Lemon’s eyes fill with tears as she nods my way.

  “This is the most beautiful thing you could have done for me, Everett. It’s perfect.”

  “It is perfect,” Keelie cries out as she dabs her eyes with a tissue.

  “Hey,” Cormack barks. “Noah is giving the kid a swing on a tree he bought in her honor. I think that’s downright perfect in my eyes.” She wraps her arms around him and gives him a squeeze.

  “I’m not competing with Noah,” I tell them. “In fact, I’m inviting you, Noah, to leave your handprint along with ours. As Lyla Nell’s father, you’re a permanent member of this family.”

  Lemon sucks in a breath. And that look of wonder and love in her eyes assures me that including Noah was the right thing to do.

  It was.

  Keelie tilts her head at the wet slab before us. “Do it in the shape of a sunflower and leave some space between your hands so we can make room for all the new babies coming this way. We can add them in with paint or something.”

  Lemon presses a hand to her chest. “That’s a great idea! We should start adding to our family right away.” She shoots me an odd look I can’t quite read.

  Noah steps in as if he was breaking up a fight. “Don’t you want to wait until Lyla Nell is a little older? Like sixty?”

  Lemon laughs as she pushes past him. “No. Everett needs this. And we’re going to have a big wedding right away, too.”

  Charlie smirks. “I bet it’ll be the biggest shindig to end all shindigs. At the ritziest locale imaginable.”

  Miranda moans, “All the best locations are booked three years in advance.”

  “We don’t have three years,” Lemon says in haste. “We have to act fast. We can get married right here, on our own land asap.”

  “Asap?” I cock my head to the side, trying to figure out what’s going on. Come to think of it, after that king-size breakfast she gave me this morning, she gave me a deep tissue massage and kept whispering how much she loves me, and how much Lyla Nell and Evie needed me.

  A sinking feeling hits me in the gut.

  Could this be another facet of those hormones she’s got brewing? Something is cooking, that’s for sure.

  I want all those things with Lemon, too, but her sense of urgency has me more than a little curious.

  Bear helps us out as we get ready to do the deed and Keelie guides us until our sunflower is complete. In addition to Lyla Nell’s handprint, Keelie and Lemon include her tiny feet in on the fun and leave a track of baby footsteps trailing along the bottom of it. Keelie takes a stick and draws a stalk to the sunflower, adds a few leaves, then writes our names in the corner along with the date.

  “It’s so lovely,” Miranda whimpers as she hugs Wiley’s shoulder. “I’m so happy for you all.”

  A silver SUV comes up and stops at the base of the street before letting a few honks rip. The driver, a young man in his twenties, dark hair and dark sunglasses on, leans our way and waves.

  “That’s my ride.” Evie gives a little hop. “Bradford said I could drive us anywhere I wanted. I think we’re going to head to Starry Falls and check out the waterworks they’ve got going on.”

  “Starry Falls?” I ask a little rougher than I meant to. “That can be an hour drive depending on traffic. And you’ll need to take the highway. You’ve never been behind the wheel before. I’m going to have to say no. And in that tank?” I shake my head at the mean machine Evie is going to have to commandeer.

  “Relax, Dad.” She lands a kiss to my cheek. “I’ll be fine. How hard can driving be, anyhow? Besides, Bradford said anytime I want, he’ll take over. He says he’s going to treat me like the queen I am and make sure I have a really good time.”

  Carlotta chuckles. “That’s funny. Those are the same words my own driver’s ed teacher said to me.” She looks to Lemon. “Funny story. That driver’s ed teacher was almost your father.”

  “Don’t listen to her, Everett.” Lemon gives me a squeeze. “Be careful, Evie, and don’t even think about looking at your phone.”

  “Don’t worry.” Evie cinches her purse over her shoulder. “Bradford Van Horn is a consummate professional.” Her lips curve with pride as she doles out the three-dollar word. “He said he’s taking my phone hostage as soon as I step into his car.”

  I’m afraid that won’t be the only thing he’s going to take hostage.

  “How do we know we can trust this guy?” I can feel fight-or-flight kicking in and I’m tempted to yank Bradford out of his car and fit him with a pair of cement boots.

  Noah nods her way. “Remind him you’re underage and that your uncle is a cop who carries a gun.”

  “And that your father is a judge who loves to dole out long sentences to anyone even thinking about toying with an underage girl,” I add.

  Evie bubbles out a laugh and she’s about to skip off when she stops short as a small blue butterfly flutters past her.

  “Cool! A blue butterfly.” She gives me a wave. “I’ll take that as a sign of good luck.” She zips into the SUV and is gone before I can say another word.

  It’s probably for the best.

  Carlotta shakes her head. “The kid must not be a fast learner. This family doesn’t have any good luck.”

  “It’s got a blue butterfly,” Lemon says as her sisters and mother fish out their phones and begin snapping pictures of it.

  “Oh my word,” Lainey shouts as she chases the thing. “I think this is the Honey Hollow Blue Butterfly. They’re on the endangered species list!”

  Mom gasps. “Look! It’s flying right over to that bush in the back of the property. Oh, there’s a another one!”

  Meg nods. “And it’s flying right through your new house, too.”

  A hard groan comes from Mayor Nash. “You girls haven’t sent any of those pictures to your social media accounts, have you?”

  “Yup.” Lainey hikes up her phone.

  “Me too,” Cormack says.

  Miranda, Lemon, and Meg all say ditto.

  “What’s going on?” Noah asks the mayor, and Harry buries his face in his hand a moment.

  “It’s the butterfly.” He sheds a depleted smile my way. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to pull the plug on construction until who knows when. That Honey Hollow Blue Butterfly is a protected endangered species. And that makes this land, and your partially built home, its habitat. I’m sorry, guys, but it’s going to be a long road with a lot of red tape to make this home happen for you.” His phone rings in his hand, and he shakes his head at it. “And so it begins. It’s the preservation society. I have to take this.”

  He steps off to take the call and Carlotta steps up in his place.
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  “Told ya this family has no good luck.”

  Charlie shrugs over at her sister. “I guess the golden girl doesn’t get everything after all.”

  Lemon’s lips tug as if she was about to lose it, and I’m right there with her.

  “That’s okay.” Her voice trembles. “As long as I have my handsome husband by my side, nothing else will matter.” She gives a little whimper as she and the rest of the people gathered take off to look at that bush brimming with butterflies.

  Noah starts to leave and I jam my hand to his chest.

  “Something is up with Lemon,” I tell him.

  “Yeah, she’s upset about the house. I would be, too. Sorry, man. You can’t seem to catch a break.”

  “Not that.” I glance back at her as she speaks with her sisters. “She’s been acting funny, wanting to speed along a wedding, kids, not to mention the things she’s doing for me when we’re alone.”

  Noah tips his head back as his chest expands.

  “Not that,” I tell him. “Look, I know Lemon enough to realize something has her rattled. I asked her if something was wrong this morning and she clammed up. For whatever reason, she’s not talking to me about it. That’s where you come in. Get to the bottom of this. If something is bothering my wife, it’s bothering me.”

  “If she’s not talking to you, how am I supposed to get her to open up to me?”

  “I don’t know. Think of something. Wine her, dine her”—I pause a moment to offer up a quick smile—“I’ll do the rest.”

  He glowers at me. “I bet you will.” He starts to take off. “Don’t blame me if she falls right back in love with yours truly. Not that she’s ever fallen out of it.” He turns around and winks. “Who knows? This little quest of yours might just turn into a reversal of fortune for us both.”

  He takes off and I glance back at the small crowd of family as a blue butterfly spirals in the air above them.

  I’m suffering a reversal of fortune, all right.

  Let’s pray Lemon and I aren’t the latest casualty.

  Lottie

  Everett is going to die.

  Nell says I have the power to stop it, but I’ve never felt so helpless in all my life.

  It’s obvious the mob is going to gun him down. And poor Noah. No thanks to Wiley he’s got a hit on him.

  That terrible vision comes back to me. Everett and Noah in the woods. Everett pushing Noah away just as a loud bang goes off, then Everett taking three bullets to the chest.

  A sickly moan comes from me as I stare out at my bakery. It’s perfectly cozy with its butter yellow walls, pastel furniture, and a walkway that leads into the Honey Pot Diner. That’s the restaurant Grandma Nell left me along with a million other real estate holdings—all of which Charlie is suing me for. There’s a resin oak tree smack in the middle of the Honey Pot Diner, and its branches extend over the ceiling and into the café of the bakery. Each one is meticulously wrapped with twinkle lights, and it makes both this place and that look like a fairytale come true.

  It’s Monday, Everett is at work—safe at the courthouse.

  Hey? There’s a thought. If Everett stays at the courthouse that vision will never get a chance to manifest itself. And Noah should stay away from Everett in general.

  A thought hits me and my fingers dance across the screen of my phone.

  Stay away from Noah! I send the text to Everett and instantly regret it.

  Good grief, that was an ominous message if ever there was one.

  Everett texts right back. What’s going on with Noah? Did he say something to you?

  Goodness, here I was trying to make things better, and I’ve only made them worse.

  Never mind. I don’t know what I was thinking. I hit send again. Have a great day!

  Perfect. Everett is going to think I’m psychotic if he doesn’t already.

  It won’t be wonderful until I’m home with you.

  “Aww,” Carlotta coos from over my shoulder.

  “Would you stop sneaking up on me like that!”

  “It’s not my fault, Lot. You’re standing in the middle of the bakery, that’s fair game. If you wanted privacy, you should have snuck off to your office or to the freezer. With Sexy messaging you sweet nothings you might need to cool off.”

  I make a face as I take a look around the bakery. The temperatures might be rising outside, but it’s definitely cool in here. That, coupled with the fact the scent of my blueberry muffins is wafting down the street, explains why it’s standing room only at the moment.

  My mother has already sent two of her Haunted Honey Hollow Tours my way. After Mom found a way to capitalize off the ghosts that have taken up residence at her B&B, she decided to share the wealth by sending them my way for what she’s dubbed as The Last Thing They Ate Tour. Sadly, it showcases the dessert that was quasi-involved in the latest homicide. I’m not sure how or why, but one of my desserts always seems to find its way to the scene of the crime. And on occasion, it’s used as a modality to the murder itself.

  Not with Clark Willoughby, though. He wasn’t killed by way of one of my blueberry muffins. He clearly sustained a gunshot wound to his upper torso—a shot to the heart. Just like the one Everett is about to take on.

  I bite hard on my lower lip just as Suze waves me to the counter.

  “What is it?” I ask as I come upon her and Lily.

  “I’ll be working the kiosk down at the lake.” Suze sheds a sarcastic smile, and for the life of me I can’t read between the lines.

  “Thank you,” I tell her.

  “It’s going to be hot,” she growls. “I’ll need to stay hydrated, you know, and drink lots of water. The bathroom is a ten-minute walk.”

  “Wear a diaper.” Lily shrugs. And oddly enough, it seems less of a snarky remark and more of an honest suggestion. “Don’t women your age wear diapers, anyway?”

  Suze averts her eyes at the thought.

  Fun fact: after you’ve had a child, your bladder decides to have a mind of its own—more to the point, a timeline of its own. I can’t laugh or sneeze without wishing I were wearing a diaper myself.

  “I’m not wearing a diaper,” Suze grouses and ten customers scuttle away from the counter.

  Carlotta lifts a brow. “No shame in your diaper game, Suze. All the cool kids are doing it. Actually, Lot’s boobs wear a diaper.”

  She’s not wrong, but still.

  “Would you ladies keep it down.” I nod to Suze. “What are you trying to get at? If you don’t want to work the kiosk, just say so. I can send Lily.”

  “No way,” Lily is quick to protest. “The humidity turns my hair into a mop. My tresses require some serious climate control.”

  “I don’t mind the heat,” Suze says.

  “Good thing.” Carlotta lifts her chin. “It’s going to be real hot at your last rest stop, Suzie Q.”

  Suze takes a moment to glare at Carlotta. “I was thinking I could get paid time and a half. I’ve looked into it, and it’s not uncommon to pay your workers a little more if there’s a hazard on the job.”

  “Hazard pay?” Lily looks suddenly interested in subjecting her curls to the extremes of summertime madness. “I think maybe I should work the lake.” She huffs over at Suze, “After all, I have superiority around here.”

  I’m pretty sure she meant seniority, but then again, knowing Lily she meant what she said.

  “Fine,” I say to Lily. “But I’m not paying time and a half. Just close down the booth when you think you’re about to melt.”

  “Fair enough.” She snatches up a box of gloves and napkins. “I’ve already got the bakery van packed and ready to go. I’ll see you ladies tomorrow.”

  She takes off and Suze titters to herself.

  “Hey,” I say, tipping my head her way. “You just played Lily like a fiddle, didn’t you?”

  Carlotta jerks. “You beguiled her! And here I never thought I’d live to see you use your powers.”

  Suze waves Carlotta off.
“It was nothing more than good old-fashioned manipulation. I shine where others go dim. Ask my ex. I even manipulated him into leaving me.” She gives a cheeky wink before heading over to help out a line of customers.

  “Too bad my mother couldn’t figure out a way to do that.” I sigh at the thought of my poor mom getting sucked dry by Noah’s shyster of a father.

  “Your mama’s manipulating that man into staying,” Carlotta points out—and she’s probably not wrong.

  “Well, she’s got Lyla Nell for the afternoon, so I’m sure Wiley has made himself scarce.”

  “What’s on the agenda, Lot? You’re not gonna fritter away all your free time baking cookies and sending naughty texts to Sexy, are ya? There’s a whole world out there to seek, kill, and destroy.”

  “Funny you should say that, I was just thinking about paying a visit to someone who I think could crack this case wide open.”

  The bell on the door chimes and in walks Charlie eliciting a gasp from both Carlotta and me, but it’s not Charlie we’re gasping at. It’s the large spotted cat with big yellow eyes perched over her shoulder like an exotic parrot.

  “Who’s your friend?” I ask, taking up Charlie’s hand and leading her behind the counter and in the corner farthest from the registers.

  “You’re a mighty cool cat,” Carlotta says, giving its tail a quick pluck. “I bet they named you something goofy like Hairball or Dingo Dottie.”

  “You’re a dingo.” I make a face at Carlotta before looking at the wondrous creature. “My name is Lottie, and I’m so glad to meet you. I’m going to help you track down Clark Willoughby’s killer. What’s your name?”

  It lashes its tail between us before smacking Carlotta on the head with it. “I’m neither Hairball nor that Dingo Ditty you tried to curse me with. My name is Leo.” His voice is deep and his confidence is high. He has the rapt attention of all three of the women before him, and he reminds me a little of Everett because of it.

  “Nice to meet you, Leo. I’m sorry about Clark.”

  “A true tragedy,” he roars out the words and tiny silver stars appear around his whiskers. “I’m angry with whoever did this. Not only did they send Clark to paradise, they hauled me out of there. I’m not sure which is the bigger crime. But I am sure you’ll figure this out sooner than later. Charlie here is late for work.” He bats her over the nose with his furry plume. “Let’s make tracks as they say. Chop chop.”