I shrink a notch in my seat as I shake my head.
“Oh my dear, Lottie. I suppose you’ll have to spend more alone time with both Noah and Everett to get to the bottom of this. And once you do just that, you’ll know where to go from there.”
I sigh. Somehow I think spending alone time with Noah and Everett will only end up confusing me all the more. My worst fear is that one day they’ll both get fed up and walk out of my life forever.
Noah and Everett rise from their seats as if they weren’t wasting any time in making that fear come true, and my heart plummets right into middle earth.
“Wait!” I jump to my feet. “I’m sorry! I’ll make it up to you, I swear. Please don’t go. I’ll do anything to make this better.”
All eyes in the room are focused on me in a wild state of confusion.
Noah pulls me in for a quick embrace. “I’m headed to work.”
“On a Saturday?”
“We’ve got something big cooking. Justice knows not the hour or the day. There are no weekends when it comes to fighting crime.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
Everett leans in. “I have an appointment to see The Lucky Lemon. You up for a trip to Honey Lake?”
“Oh.” I press my hand to my chest and try to calm my heart from detonating like a nuclear bomb over and over. “Actually, I have to run a quick errand with Carlotta.” I shoot her a sharp look. “It has to do with Nell.” And Luke Lazzari, but they don’t need to know that little devilish detail.
Both Noah and Everett offer me a quick embrace and a kiss to the cheek.
Noah bears those lawn green eyes over mine. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” I say, and as soon as the word streams from me it feels like a lie.
Everett leans in. “Don’t worry, Lemon,” he whispers. “Evie told me she’s meeting her special friends down at the lake. I’ll be sure to have a word with them. There’s not a boy in this town who will want to look twice in her direction when I’m through with them.”
Great. I’m sure Evie will appreciate that—never.
They take off and Evie heads off with them.
Mayor Nash heads back to take a shower as Carlotta slings her arm around my shoulders.
“So what’s on the agenda, Lot? Should we kidnap Keelie and take her to Wedding Dresses-R-Us out in Leeds? I hear they’re having a two-for-one special. I’d pick up a couple if I were you. Heck, the way you’re going through husbands, you might want to take stock in the company.”
“Very funny. Maybe we’ll catch up with Keelie later. But first, there’s an old boyfriend of yours we need to hunt down. Get your best dress on, Carlotta. We’re headed to Mobsters-R-Us instead.”
Chapter 8
The Canelli family may run their crime organization from the basement of Red Satin Gentlemen’s Club, but the Lazzari family has chosen something perhaps a bit more poignant and telling of their organization in general. They run their crime empire from the meat packing district in Leeds, at a place called The Butcher.
“It reeks of carcasses and fresh blood,” I grunt as we’re led down a series of narrow hallways to the back by a beefy wall of muscles.
Carlotta used her connections to get us this far, and I’m hoping her connections will bring Norman Pemberley’s killer to justice as well.
Luke Lazzari and Carlotta had a thing way back when classified as a fling, and one thing led to nothing, which is pretty much par for the course in Carlotta’s life, and not in any bad way.
She leans toward me. “Remember, Lot. I do the talking. I’m the cute one in this scenario. You’re just my smart-aleck kid who decided to tag along because I can’t leave you on the playground after school once it gets dark.”
“In what universe are you living? It’s the middle of the afternoon, and I’m an adult. And by the way, if you get to be cute, I qualify, too. In this dim light he won’t be able to tell us apart.”
A spray of stars ignites as if to aid in our illumination deficiency, and before we know it, an adorable tiny little specter floats right up into my arms.
“Baby Bruiser, I just love you.” I snuggle his face by mine. “Promise me you’ll never leave me.”
Carlotta shoots me a look. “Now, now, Lot Lot. You and I both know curses upon curses wait for you once you start in on the ghost-napping game. Once the killer is caught, back to paradise he goes. The only ghosts that get to stay are the ones that have permission, like say, the shadow squad over at your mama’s place.”
It’s true. My mother’s B&B is happily haunted by some of the best ghosts I’ve ever met. In fact, she’s capitalizing off them nicely by hosting what she calls the Haunted Honey Hollow B&B Tours at eighty bucks a pop. And after the tourists get their socks scared right off them, she sends them to my bakery for what she’s dubbed as the Last Thing They Ate Tour.
“Fine,” I say as I give a playful nip to Bruiser’s soft as velvet ear.
“Say”—he perks up and takes a look around with those glowing baby blue eyes—“where in heaven’s good graces are weee?”
Carlotta shakes her head my way. “Don’t do it, Lot. This is why parents lie to children. It’s to keep them safe from perceived danger. He’s already a goner. I don’t see any reason to panic him.” She shoots a rather spontaneous, albeit manufactured, smile his way. “We’re in a toy shop. Everything you see will be on some bratty kid’s Christmas list in just a few months. In fact, Lottie and I are on our way to see Santa as we speak.”
“Good grief,” I mutter. “I can see why fate played its cards the way it did when I was an infant.”
Our fearless leader, a man of about seven feet, bald, all muscles, leads us through a large room that starts off innocently enough looking like a kitchen, albeit with blood-splattered walls and stainless steel counters and shelves. And then a few steps farther we’re treated to the theatrical horrors this place truly holds, sides of beef hanging from the ceiling strapped to a chain, fresh blood pooling beneath them, remnants of butchered meat lying every which way, and the stench of death clinging heavy in the air.
Bruiser lets out a scream that can rival a thousand little girls who have just had the heads of their Barbies lopped off by their brothers.
“Santa is a killer! Abaaandon ship! Abaaandon ship!” And just like that, he dissipates to nothing.
“Really, Carlotta? Santa? Remind me to never have you tell Evie a bedtime story.”
She averts her eyes. “Sounds good to me. Bonus points if you can stop her from telling me those nighttime jaunts through her terrifying mind. If half of what she says is true, they should burn down all the boarding schools and put the flames out with holy water.”
The wall of muscles before us stops shy of what looks like the door to an oversized walk-in freezer, and we bump into him as if it were a part of our slapstick routine.
“You’re here,” he grumbles. “No talking. Enter the room, find a seat, and he’ll be with you shortly.”
I lean in close to Carlotta. “So help me, if they try to turn us into Popsicles, I’ll—”
She gives a long blink. “You’ll what?”
“Turn into a Popsicle.”
The door opens and we’re happily led into a large dark cavernous room where the stench of death is replaced with cheap patchouli, the walls are painted a deep shade of navy, and the concrete floors look polished to a mirror shine. A smattering of tables is set out, and there are more than a handful of men playing cards, reading newspapers, and talking amongst one another, while beautiful women walk around in matching short silver dresses that make them glow and glitter like stars in this strange testosterone thick universe.
A gray cloud fills a large carved wooden desk in the back, and appearing and disappearing at the mercy of that plume of cigar smoke is Luke Lazzari. He’s talking to one of the shiny silver girls, and as soon as he spots us, he lifts his finger and the girl scatters.
“Carlotta.” He stands and holds his arms out as Carlotta qui
ckly falls into them.
Luke Lazzari is tall, balding but fit, and overall handsome in a pinstripe suit-wearing mobster kind of way. I’m guessing he’s a little older than Carlotta—seeing that she has a thing for older men it makes perfect sense—and he’s also one of the most dangerous men in all of Leeds—all of Vermont—and I’m betting the world isn’t far behind either.
“Carlotta Junior.” He lifts a hand my way. “Take a seat, ladies. Make yourselves comfortable. Can I get either of you a cold drink?”
“Oh no, I’m—”
Carlotta swats me without looking and nails me on the stomach, nearly bringing up that short stack I gobbled down for breakfast.
“We’ll take two Long Island Iced Teas. Make one a virgin for the killjoy.” She nods my way.
“I’m not a killjoy,” I say.
Luke snaps his fingers, and a silver girl appears. “Two Long Island Iced Teas—one with no balls.”
The girl takes off, and I shoot Carlotta the stink eye.
“Buck up, Lot,” she whispers. “The rule is, nobody says no to Luke Lazzari.”
Luke leans onto his elbows with his chin dipped down and, I’ll admit, he looks more than a little intimidating.
A growl of a laugh bounces through him. “The rule is, nobody says no to Carlotta Sawyer. Now, what can I do for you? Who do I have to find, maim, or kill to make my beautiful girl happy?”
Something between a giggle and guttural laugh escapes her. “Go ahead, Lot. Ask him what you came for.”
I scoot my seat forward a notch. “A man by the name of Norman Pemberley was murdered last week. My best friend happens to be a top suspect in the killing. Of course, she didn’t do it, but I need to get her off the hook.”
“Norman.” Luke looks visibly angry at the mention of him. “Yes. I’m familiar.”
I give a quick glance around. “Rumors are swirling that Norman’s fiancée, Analise Johansson, was dating your nephew.”
“Johnny,” he offers without hesitation.
I suck in a quick breath. “You knew?”
“Everybody knew. It’s no secret. They were college sweethearts.”
Carlotta leans in. “Little Johnny went to college? Good on him.”
Luke gives an appreciative nod. “He’s really turned his life around, that kid. And part of cleaning up his act included taking out the trash.”
My jaw unhinges. “As in putting a hit on Norman?”
“As in dumping Analise. The girl was nothing but a gold digger.”
“So you don’t think he killed Norman for stealing the love of his life?”
Luke inches back. “Love of his life? What are you talking about? Johnny is married to a sweet Italian girl named Gia. They have a little girl, six months old. They’re in the old country on vacation, yachting around Sardinia.”
“Well, then who killed Norman?” I ask softly, mostly to myself.
A smattering of stars appears in a spasm. “Lottie!” Bruiser scampers this way in a panic. “I sense danger. I don’t think you’re supposed to be here! You both have to leave at once. This is not for you. None of this was meant for you. Norman’s killer isn’t here. I’m not supposed to be heeere.”
Luke lifts a finger. “I heard about some shady dealings, business, art, land. You name it, the guy was crooked as they came. He once—”
An enormous boom fills the air, followed by the sound of a hundred men scampering, chairs scraping against the floor in haste, weapons being cocked.
“Freeze!” a deep voice shouts. “This is the ATF working in conjunction with the Ashford County Sherriff’s Department, conducting a search and seizure.”
Luke rises to his feet as he pulls a gun from seemingly nowhere.
“The hell you are,” he shouts as he fires a shot, and before I know it, both Carlotta and I are diving underneath his desk.
“We’re gonna die!” Carlotta bellows at the top of her lungs. “Funny, the last time I said those words I was giving birth to you. And now it’s all come full circle.” She lets out another hair-raising scream.
Gunfire erupts all around us, loud powerful detonations that have the strength to vibrate the cold concrete floor beneath us.
A seam of light catches my eye straight ahead—the exact opposite direction in which we came.
“Look!” I tap Carlotta on the hand until she opens her eyes. “I think that’s an exit. We should make a run for it.”
“No way. Everyone knows the second you stand up, you become a magnet for bullets.”
“Okay, fine. We’ll crawl.” I nod. “On three.”
The sound of rapid gunfire rips through the building.
“Three!” I shout, and soon enough Carlotta and I are on all fours racing like a couple of infants toward what we’re hoping is an unlocked door.
Just as we’re feet away, the door bursts open and a man dressed in black crouches before me with his weapon drawn straight between my eyes.
“Freeze!” he roars and I gag a moment because I recognize those verdant green eyes and those dimples digging in on either side of his cheeks without the benefit of a smile.
His weapon drops a notch. “Lottie?”
And entire swarm of men run in after him, weapons drawn just as bullets rain down in every direction.
Noah leaps over me and pulls Carlotta in as well. He shields us with his body as he does his best to work us toward the door. Noah pops to his feet, and in one herculean move he picks up Carlotta and me as we crest the threshold out of the dungeon of death and into the light.
Another shot gets fired, Noah’s body bucks, and the next thing I know, the three of us are on the ground again.
Noah has been hit.
Chapter 9
“Noah!” I howl so loud all gunfire ceases for a moment.
In less than a second it’s over, and men with black jackets with the letters ATF printed in bright yellow begin to exit the building with Luke’s men in handcuffs.
A team of medics swarms the area and I quickly direct them to Noah. He’s conscious and moaning as they place him in the back of a waiting ambulance. They peel off his shirt and clean up the blood along his left arm, only to discover the bullet merely grazed him. Noah is quickly wrapped in a gauze sling and taken to sit on a bench just outside the facility. They gave him two painkillers and a bottle of water and asked if I would keep an eye on him while they dealt with the rest of the injured.
Noah suggested Carlotta take my car home and she peeled out of the lot as if she just conducted a bank heist. I suppose ending up on the receiving end of an ATF raid is just as bad if not worse.
“Thank God you’re all right.” I pull him into a careful embrace.
“Thank God you’re not dead,” he says the words right back to me, although with a much rougher edge. “Lottie, what were you thinking? Luke Lazzari is a dangerous man. And if you didn’t realize that before, my God, I hope it’s finally sinking in.” He whips out his phone and his fingers dance across his screen briefly. “I just let Everett know what went down.”
“Gah!” I dive for his phone, but it’s too late. He’s hit send. “What did you do that for? Everett’s going to kill me for coming here today.”
“No, Everett will not kill you because Everett cares for you. Luke, however, isn’t all that interested. The man runs an organized crime family tantamount to a slaughtering machine.”
“Is that what the raid was about today?”
Noah glances up at the parade of men in ATF jackets along with sheriff’s deputies.
“That, and the fact they’ve been running illegal weapons.” He wipes his face down as he slumps over the bench. “It’s something we’ve been working on for months. Lottie, I just saw you at breakfast and you didn’t mention a thing about coming here. I could have saved you the trouble and your life.”
“You did save my life. You saved Carlotta’s, too. And we almost cost you yours.” My chest bucks with emotion. “I’m so sorry, Noah. I don’t know how I can make this up to y
ou.”
Noah presses those deep green eyes to mine. “Lottie”—he takes up my hand—“protecting people is my job. It’s what I do. Protecting you is what I live for. You don’t owe me a thing.”
“So you’re back on the force?” Noah was a bit iffy about taking his old job back even though they were holding it for him. Last month his life was turned upside down, and he thought he was going to serve time for a murder he may or may not have committed.
He gives a hint of a nod. “I think so.”
“I’m so glad to hear it.”
“Good, because as an officer of the law, I have the right to know what the hell you were doing in that building.”
“Fine.” I bite down on my bottom lip a moment. “I did a little research on Norman Pemberley this morning. It got me to thinking why would anyone want him dead. Greed, revenge, a crime of passion? And then I remembered something Debbie Pemberley mentioned to me at Swift Cycle. She said Norman’s fiancée had an old boyfriend who was in the mob. I talked to Luke about it and he said his nephew Johnny dated her, but that he’s moved on and has a wife and kid.”
Noah stares out at the swarm of bodies being moved onto stretchers.
“So you risked it all for a dead end.” He closes his eyes a moment. “Lottie”—he presses my name out like a secret—“I’ll help.”
“You’ll help?”
He frowns my way. “Don’t make me say it again. Not here anyway.”
Detective Ivy Fairbanks steps up in a light blue power suit, her hair pulled so tight into a bun her eyes are severely almond-shaped from the effort, and it takes about ten years off her face all at once. It’s a face-lift and a hairstyle. I’ll have to remember that when gravity is no longer my friend.
“Well, well.” A satisfied smirk crosses her face. “If it isn’t Unlucky Lottie. Thirteen men were hit here today. No casualties so far. If I had to guess, I’d say you were working hard to top yourself.” She looks to Noah. “Fox? I hear you were grazed trying to save her. If you’re not careful, she’ll cost you your life one day.” Ivy takes off, leaving me to scoff in her wake.
Murder in the Mix Boxed Set 8 Page 7