Murder in the Mix Boxed Set 8

by Addison Moore

  “You’re showing them something, all right,” I muse as I glance down to her bulging bosom. “And I hate that you and Mayor Nash have an open relationship. I’d have a lot less to worry about if you just stayed put.”

  “I know, Lot. A kid always wants their parents to be together. But nobody puts your mama in a corner.” She tugs down her bustier until her décolleté is spilling over the edges. “Now watch how a pro does it. Soon, I’ll have every billionaire eating out of the palm of my hand. Don’t worry, Lot. I won’t forget the little people once I hit the dating big leagues. We’ve got fat wallets here today, and showing up in a little black dress wasn’t an option. Men hate bland and boring.” She gasps hard at something just past my left shoulder, and I turn to find Mayor Nash laughing it up with a gorgeous older woman in a little black dress.

  I moan at the sight. “Mayor Nash doesn’t look so bored.”

  “That’s exactly why I’m going to kill him,” Carlotta grunts as she waddles forward in that mass of crinoline and secondhand satin, and I watch as she heads that way like a slow moving blob of fabric.

  “There she goes.” Hartley sighs as she shakes her head that way. “Carlotta just wants to have fun. But it’s no fun watching the man you love having a good time with someone else. Ask me how I know. The man we’re here celebrating was a pig’s patootie.” She brushes her hands together as if she were washing her hands of him.

  “Norman wasn’t exactly faithful, I take it?”

  “Are you kidding? That man had six different women at the very same time. He was unashamed about it, too. That’s what bothered me most. The least he could have done was hide his mistresses, but no, he had to parade them around town—showing them off like trophies while we were still married. I’m not too surprised he was met with a rather dramatic end. The only thing I regret was not being in the room to see it. But at least I got to see the body.” She shrugs. “I’ll admit, it made me pity him. We could have had a good life, but Norman didn’t understand that he couldn’t have everything he wanted. He just thought his money could buy him his every desire, people, cars, land. It didn’t matter. If he threw enough of it around, he got what he wanted.”

  “Land, huh? I heard things went sour in some of his latest real estate ventures. Do you know anything about that?”

  “Nope. I’ve never been one to care about the business aspect of things. I’m all about l-o-v-e, if you know what I mean.” Something behind me sideswipes her attention, and I follow her gaze all the way to the bar where Wiley is making a spectacle of himself, shaking a tumbler to the delight of a row of smitten women. I can’t blame them for gawking. Much like his son, he does have dimples to die for, but not to give away sixty percent of your earnings for.

  Hartley purrs like a jet engine ready for liftoff. “Now there’s a piece of real estate I can get behind or underneath if you catch my drift. I’d better head over and put my brassiere in the ring.” She darts off before I can stop her. Not that I want to stop her. I say Godspeed, Hartley. I hope she snatches that louse right out from underneath my unsuspecting mother. Okay, so that sounds a bit cruel, but I say a temporary heartache is better than a permanent financial debacle, and that’s exactly what Wiley promises to bring to my mother.

  I turn toward the door, hoping to find Everett heading this way, but find Jenson having another heated conversation with Debbie instead.

  Jenson looks respectable in a dark suit, his hair slicked back. And Debbie looks as if she’s wearing a couture number straight off the catwalks of Paris. The dress is geometric, with far too many angles for me to figure out how she got it on, let alone how she’ll get out of it.

  A cloud of sweet perfume envelops me just as Analise crops up in my midst.

  “I think she’ll have to cut herself out of that one,” she muses as she nods to Debbie.

  “I was just thinking the very same thing.” I bite my lip to keep from giggling. “But don’t tell her I said that. This is her father’s funeral after all.”

  Analise rolls her eyes. Her blonde hair is curled in tight little ringlets, her makeup a bit too garish in dark jewel tones against her pale skin, and that dress—it makes Carlotta’s getup look demure by comparison. It’s a tight red leather number that has zippers and pulleys and holes in all sorts of dicey places. I’m not quite sure how she’s getting out of her own dress either, but I’m betting there are a number of men here today that would love to help her figure it out.

  “Believe me, Lottie, Deb isn’t crying over her father’s untimely demise. More like cheering it on. He left everything to her. Of course, it’s being contested, and there were little bits and pieces scattered to the exes, but nothing to write home about.”

  “I heard there was some land deal that has both her and Jenson worked up.”

  She tips her head to the side a moment. “I think I did hear something about that. A man named Peter had something to do with it. Norman wanted a few of his properties, and eventually got them, but not before the poor guy had a heart attack over it. I don’t really know what happened after that.” She shakes her head. “What am I saying? Norman got the land. I don’t even need to look at a deed to prove it.” Her shoulders jump as she looks to the entrance. “Manning Tanenbaum is here,” she squeals like a schoolgirl.

  “Manning who?” I follow her gaze, but all I see is an older gentleman with thick gray hair and a set of teeth that looks as if he swiped them from a horse.

  “Never you mind.” She fluffs her hair like mad. “Wish me luck. I’m going in.”

  Analise takes off with both hips swinging, and once I spot those six-inch heels, I’m half-afraid she’ll sprain an ankle on the way over.

  Debbie struts by, and we both do a double take at one another at the very same time.

  “Lottie.” She pauses as she takes a step back. “Thank you so much for the desserts. Those raspberry pinwheels are my favorite.”

  “It was my pleasure, and I’m glad you’re enjoying them.” I give a quick glance around for Jenson. “I thought I saw Jenson with you. He looked pretty upset. I guess he’s taking your father’s death pretty hard.” I seriously doubt it, but I needed to start somewhere.

  She shakes her head. “More like he’s taking my father’s will pretty hard. Anyway, he’s got a vendetta all of a sudden. He says he wants a part of the antique mall. Don’t tell him this, but my lawyer says he might just get a piece of the pie yet. I guess my father put the title in his name. He and Jenson were pretty close before Analise jumped ship from Jenson to my father. My dad always said Jenson was the son he never had and he treated him as such.”

  “Up until he stole his girlfriend. Sorry,” I mouth that last word.

  “It’s a known fact my father couldn’t resist a pretty young thing, and Analise wasn’t exactly fighting it either. Jenson has money, but my father had real money, and I think that’s all she ever wanted. Jenson really loved her. He was fiercely trying to protect her from my father.”

  That scene between Jenson and Analise on the day of the murder comes back to me.

  “Makes sense.” Especially after the bizarre story Analise told me about her true relationship with Norman. The man was a tyrant according to her. She was more or less a prisoner. “Debbie, do you know anything about Hilden Commercial Holdings?”

  Her mouth opens and a gagging sound emits from her throat. “Not this again. Has Jenson been talking to you? Never mind. Don’t answer that. That entire Hilden debacle should have died along with my father.”

  “Actually, Analise mentioned it. Something about a man named Peter having a heart attack over the exchange.”

  “Peter Hilden.” She nods. “He wouldn’t sell to my father, but my father had him over a barrel. He was in foreclosure on both properties but claimed he had someone who was willing to help him refinance and get back on his feet. He was old and wanted to pass down the real estate to his children. He said it was all he had to give them—two failing businesses. But my father didn’t care. He turned one int
o an antique mall and kept the other.”

  “What was the other property?”

  “A firing range.”

  Someone calls for her from the patio.

  “Excuse me, Lottie. If you stay a while longer, I’ll have a check to you before you leave.” She takes off, and I stand there stumped, trying to put the pieces together. Peter Hilden didn’t want to sell his land, but Norman forced his hand. I wonder why this irked Jenson enough to bring it up to Debbie?

  I’m about to turn around when I practically bump into the man himself.

  “Jenson!” I perk at the sight of him. “It’s nice to see you. I’m Lottie. I visited you out at the antique warehouse.”

  “How can I forget? How does your mother like the bed warmer?”

  I make a face. “She loves it so much she’s already put it to use.” It took a lot not to tell him she nearly burned my house down with it. But I don’t want to spook him. Not yet anyway. “I was just talking to Analise. She brought you up.”

  His eyes widen. His entire face smooths out at the prospect.

  “She did, huh?” His chest puffs up. “I guess you could say I’m still holding out hope for the two of us.”

  “That’s nice. I hope it works out for you. She mentioned that the day of the accident you were trying to protect her from Norman. She said you saw right through him. You knew all about the way he was threatening her into staying in the relationship.”

  His jaw clenches. “That man was a monster when it came to both women and business. I tried to warn her, but she was too swayed by the things she thought he could give her.”

  I’d love to point out that Analise is a gold digger and that he deserves someone better than that but don’t want to rock the boat with the investigation.

  He closes his eyes a moment. “I know what you’re thinking. I don’t need a woman like that in my life. But the heart wants what it wants.” He shrugs. “In a way, I’m glad Norman isn’t around to torment her anymore. I just wish he could have changed his stripes while he was living.”

  “I heard there was a business deal that went south.” I’m not sure anything ever went south for Norman, but I sense trouble nonetheless.

  A spray of miniature stars expands between us as Bruiser shows up with a cookie in his mouth.

  “What did I miss? What did I miiiss?” The cookie falls to our feet and Jenson blinks back.

  “I think someone was aiming for us,” he teases.

  “Maybe.” I shoot Bruiser a look before taking a breath. “Analise also mentioned something about a man named Peter Hilden. She said Norman was pretty wicked in dealing with him as well.”

  Jenson gives a wistful shake of the head. “She’s in rare form today. I guess she was listening while I was venting. I always thought it was going in one ear and out the other. She cared more about handbags than she did about the business side of my life.”

  “Oh? Were you dealing with Peter?”

  “I was the financial liaison at the time for Norman. I was in charge of overseeing the transaction for some property Norman was interested in acquiring from the guy. Peter didn’t want to sell. I told Norman to walk away. This poor guy’s life was already in shambles. To make things worse, all Peter ended up with was a few thousand bucks.”

  “That’s too bad. Analise said something about him wanting to refinance and get back on his feet.”

  He nods, his eyes elongating as if he were marveling at the fact. “She really was listening. Go figure.” He scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, Peter was trying to turn his life around. Apparently, the guy was a raging alcoholic toward the end. Lost everything. Just watched his whole world disappear. He didn’t want to lose the last two properties he owned. And Norman made sure that’s exactly what happened. Heck, if Peter were living, I would have bet he was the one who killed Norman. The guy owned a firing range. He was an expert shot. It would have been an open and shut case.”

  Analise struts by with her arm linked with the older gentleman she was gunning for, and Jenson growls at the sight.

  “Excuse me, Lottie. I think this is a great time for me to say hello to my ex.” He takes off in their direction.

  Bruiser brays after him as if he were telling him off.

  “Could you possibly be any cuter?” I quickly cradle him a moment before dotting a stealth kiss to his soft forehead. I don’t care if I look like a loon. Bruiser is worth a straitjacket or two.

  “I think the killer is here, Loootie. In fact, I’d better stock up on cookies. I have a feeling my tummy time is running ouuut.” He jets off for the refreshment table with all the style and flare of a shooting star.

  I know I told Noah I’d wait for him to come back before I spoke to either Jenson or Debbie, but fate practically threw them in my face. Not that those conversations yielded anything earth-shattering, but I definitely have a few more pieces to the puzzle.

  Speaking of older gentlemen with a pretty young thing linked to their arm, I spot Luke Lazzari as he chats it up with none other than Brandy Hildenbrand.

  My mouth falls open as I head on over.

  “Well, lookie here,” I say. “Don’t tell me this is Vermont’s newest power couple.”

  Luke’s elongated dimples ignite as he gives her hand a pat. “This here is the best nurse in all of Vermont, maybe the country. Heck, make it the world.”

  Brandy giggles like a schoolgirl. Her dark hair spills over the top of her head in curls gathered in an updo, and she’s wearing a crimson pantsuit. Come to think of it, the same one I met her in during the bridal gown boutique right here in this very room. Not that I’m about to call her out for wearing the very same outfit. Most of us don’t have an extensive wardrobe for events such as this one. I’m no stranger to recycling an outfit or two. Although I do note that the pocket square I used to dab down her blazer after I baptized her with water is missing. That’s probably to keep perfect strangers like me from snatching it up and assaulting her outfit with it. Teaches me to keep my drinks to myself.

  “Hi, Lottie.” Brandy tips her head. “Luke was just thanking me for caring for his men the day of that horrible shoot-out. Speaking of which, how is your boyfriend?”

  “Oh, he’s doing great. It wasn’t anything serious, thank goodness.”

  She shudders. “It could have been a lot worse. I can tell you right now, I don’t think any of those men were aiming to hurt anyone. I’ve seen the ATF and the sheriff’s department perform at the gun range, and they could put out a moving target if they wanted.” She looks to Luke. “And I trust your boys know what they’re doing, too.” She gives a dark laugh. “I think I’ll get a drink. Can I pick something up for either of you?”

  “None for me,” I say.

  Luke gives her a quick wink. “I’ll be by in a minute to wet my whistle.”

  She takes off, and his eyes linger near her hemline.

  “I guess you like what you see,” I tease.

  “I’m a fan of the ladies. What can I say?” He tips his head my way, and I admire the shine on the top of his head.

  I wonder if he shaves his head? I heard some bald men do that just to keep the stray hairs from throwing off their look. I’ll admit, there is a certain appeal to that smooth surface. Of course, Luke has that whole man-in-power thing going for him, and everyone knows that brings the women to the yard. I’m not surprised Brandy was shamelessly flirting with him—or flirting right back, to be exact.

  He leans in. “Have you made any inroads as far as tracking down whoever killed the old man?”

  “Nothing significant. But I have a gut feeling I’m about to split the case wide open. I can’t really explain it. There’s just this unsettled feeling I get right before the big picture comes together.”

  “You’re intuitive. That’s a good gift to have.”

  “I bet you’re pretty intuitive as well. I mean, you can’t stay one step ahead of the law all the time and not have some kind of intuition that’s giving you the edge.”

  He sq
uints over at me. “Are you implying that I’ve got boys on the inside?”

  “What? No!” I straighten. “Actually, do you have boys on the inside? I mean, now that I think about it, that makes total sense.”

  His brows hike a notch. “Carlotta Junior, you’re treading on shaky ground.”

  Carlotta Senior waddles up in her gown that looks as if it’s grown five feet in circumference since last I saw her.

  “There you are.” She links arms with Luke, and good thing, especially since I was inadvertently on the verge of goading him into offing me with a weapon I have no doubt he’s concealing. Leave it to me to tick off a mob boss.

  Carlotta gives him a tug. “I’ve got a friend of mine I’d like you to meet. She’s fun and sizzling in the looks department, just like me. You’re going to thank me for this one.”

  He points toward the bar. “But I’m about to meet Nurse Hilden for a drink.”

  Carlotta swats the thought away. “Hart will do you one better. She’ll dress up as a nurse anytime you want.”

  Carlotta does her best to wrangle him away, and I’m left with my finger in the air.

  Did he just say Nurse Hilden?

  I take a quick inventory of the bodies in the room.

  I think I’ve got a few questions for Nurse Hilden myself.

  Chapter 19

  Honey Lake shines like a sapphire just below the expansive patio of the Pemberley mansion. The June air is scorching and humid as it wraps itself around me like a hot wet towel. Loud music filters through well-hidden speakers, and yet it competes with the trills of laughter and the incessant conversation going on around me.

  There are pockets of people everywhere you look, but standing by the railing in an isolated area, devoid of the boisterous crowd, stands Brandy with a pink cocktail in her hand, her lips curling with a touch of malice as she gazes straight ahead at nothing in particular.

  A burst of light explodes to my right as Bruiser materializes with a rather adorable roar.