Murder in the Mix Boxed Set 8

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Murder in the Mix Boxed Set 8 Page 24

by Addison Moore


  “I’m the secretary at Curb Masters out in Hollyhock. It’s a landscaping company. They mostly do that whole mow, blow, and go routine, but people will hire them for landscape design every now and again, too. Your mom has a great floral design out front.”

  “Thank you. Her horticulture club has had a hand in it.” I bite down hard on my lip. “I really admire your dedication to authors. I can’t believe you volunteer your time out of the goodness of your heart.”

  She belts out a laugh. “I wouldn’t paint me as a saint. But yeah, books are my passion. I share my favorite authors on all my social media sites as often as I can. I understand how valuable word of mouth advertising can be.”

  Bizzy leans in. “Jessie, you’re in the know with these authors and their lives. Who do you think could have done this to Ambrosia?”

  Jessie squeezes her eyes shut tight. “It’s awful, I know.” She takes a deep breath. “I shouldn’t say anything, and believe me, I’m the last person to start rumors, but this is no secret in the book world. Jackie Hart and Ambrosia had a very real beef.”

  My adrenaline spikes a notch. “About what?”

  She shakes her head. “That’s not my story to tell. Nobody really knows the nitty-gritty details, but Ambrosia once mentioned something about a project they once worked on together that went south. Anyway, after whatever the inciting incident was, Jackie badmouthed Ambrosia at an event and word got out. Before you knew it, Jackie’s readers were upset with Ambrosia and vice versa. It’s been a heated situation for some time now.”

  Bizzy and I exchange a glance.

  Bingo snorts. “My Valerie could write up a storm. She wrote a story about me once. In fact, I believe I was her very first story.”

  A thought comes to me. “Jessie, have you ever tried your hand at penning a novel?”

  She cringes. “Yup. I’m guilty. It didn’t go so well. Thankfully, I could see the awful writing on the wall. I thought of hiring a ghostwriter to implement my ideas, but it turns out, my ideas weren’t so great either. My mom was the creative one in the family.”

  Bizzy’s face brightens. “Is she a writer?”

  Jessie glances to the ceiling as if she didn’t quite know how to answer.

  “She’s put pen to paper once or twice. But life had been hard for her for the most part.” She pulls out her phone and checks the time. “Speaking of family, I’m supposed to see my sister this afternoon and I’m running late. She’s in Burlington, so it’s a bit of a drive.” She waves to my mother. “Good luck to you, Mirandy! And thank you for the opportunity to work on your cover!”

  Mom runs over with her hands held out, a residue of sticky goop on her fingertips.

  “Thanks to you, too, Jessie!” She makes a face at her hands. “Don’t forget about the signing do-over in two weeks. We’ll have it right here in the conservatory. Wiley thinks we need a snazzy name for it.”

  “I agree,” Jessie says. “How about the Summer Sizzler? You can use the tagline, Things are about to heat up in Honey Hollow.” She looks my way. “I may not be able to pen a novel, but I can hammer out a hell of a tagline.” She gives a hard wink.

  Mom coos, “That is brilliant! If you don’t mind, I’ll be calling you if I need any advice.”

  “Please do.” She nods to Bizzy and me. “I’ll see you ladies at the Summer Sizzler!” She speeds off and Bingo charges after her. Something tells me Bingo will make another pit stop in the kitchen before coming back.

  A dark figure heads into the room, and I’m shocked to see I recognize his handsome, albeit somewhat irritated, looking face.

  Noah blinks back as he spots us. “Bizzy? Lottie?” He shakes his head in dismay. “I’m sorry you have to witness this.” He nods over to where his father is currently being quasi-assaulted by Georgie and Carlotta—and what is my mother doing with his feet?

  Ugh.

  Something tells me I don’t want the dirty details.

  Bizzy looks to Noah. “Oh no, Jasper and Everett just went to see you at the sheriff’s department.”

  Noah gives an apologetic smile. “They won’t find me there. As soon as my father asked for tips on shaving his chest, I thought there might be trouble.” He casts a glance my way. “And I thought maybe I’d drop by the bakery after. But I can see you’re already in hot pursuit of Valerie Nester’s killer.”

  I crimp my lips. “I’m still referring to her as Ambrosia Whispers. It’s easier to remember. You have to admit, she had a catchy pen name.”

  “Lottie.” Noah closes his eyes. “Even though I’m afraid my words will fall on deaf ears, let me handle this one.”

  “Noah”—my voice dips as if pleading for him to understand—“this was clearly a crime of passion. The killer isn’t coming after Bizzy or me.”

  Georgie lets out a whoop, her hands firmly plastered to Wiley’s gooped-up chest.

  “Bizzy, get a picture!” she shouts.

  “Excuse me. Duty calls.” Bizzy pulls out her phone and gets to work documenting the whole hairy ball of wax.

  Noah sweeps his gaze over me. “What the hell is happening?”

  “My mother is convinced that your father’s dad bod is about to skyrocket her book to the best-seller list.”

  He offers a mournful smile, and a breath catches in my throat.

  “Oh.” My fingers rise to my lips. “That’s not what you meant. Noah, I’m sorry.”

  “No.” His eyes close once again. “It’s fine. You need to have a shot with Everett. I get it. I wanted this for you.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m just”—he gives the back of his neck a quick scratch—“an idiot.”

  Mom screams, and soon Georgie and Carlotta are joining in on the horrific choir.

  Noah and I hustle our way over to find all three women with their hands adhered to Wiley’s chest.

  “Lot Lot!” Carlotta calls out. “Snap a couple of quick pics yourself. And be sure to get my good side. Ah heck, what am I saying? Every side’s my good side.”

  Mom sucks in a quick breath. “Do you think this would work for the book cover?” She looks my way. “Lottie, Bizzy, take as many pictures as you can.”

  Bizzy exhales as she looks my way. “I think I’ve got this.” She leans my way. “I’ll take one for the team.”

  Noah and I take a step back as she snaps away.

  He rocks his arm against mine. “Where to next, Lot?”

  “Jackie Hart.” I shrug. “How about you?”

  His dimples dig in. “Jackie works at a restaurant called Ciao in Hollyhock. I know the place well. It’s dress to the nines fancy.”

  “Hey, is that the Italian restaurant where they do the singing and dancing?”

  “Yup! You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “I’m thinking it sounds like the perfect place to take our out-of-town guests for dinner one night soon.”

  His dimples press in once again. “If it means I get to have dinner with my girlfriend, I’m all in.”

  I bite down over my lip and nod.

  “Is it weird I still consider myself your boyfriend?”

  “Is it even weirder I do, too?”

  Noah’s chest depresses as he sighs with relief. “Thanks, Lot.”

  I offer a weak smile because I’m not sure he should be thanking me for anything.

  My focus will be on pinning down Jackie Hart.

  Something tells me Noah’s focus will be elsewhere.

  Chapter 6

  That night Everett and Jasper bring enough Chinese food from the Wicked Wok to feed all of Vermont and Maine.

  Noah is working late so he couldn’t make it, but after we finish our feast from the East, Bizzy begins regaling us all with a little rendition of pet mind reading. Of course, Georgie, Carlotta, Jasper, Everett, and I all know she can truly read their minds, but Evie doesn’t. Evie doesn’t even have a clue about my own supernatural tendencies. And I do feel bad about holding that tidbit back from her. But the truth is, I’m just not sure she’s ready to hear it.r />
  Regardless, Bizzy has been playfully interviewing Pancake, Waffles, her cat Fish, Jasper’s dog Sherlock Bones, and Noah’s sweet golden retriever Toby. It’s been a laugh a minute. Who knew our pets were so observant and insightful? And here I thought all they cared about was naps and food. It turns out, they very much care about the happenings in our lives.

  Evie takes another bite out of her spring roll as we all congregate in the living room, sprawling over the sofas and the floor.

  “Bizzy”—Evie nudges Pancake over toward Bizzy with her foot—“ask Pancake what he thinks about my dad and mom finally getting together.”

  Bizzy’s mouth opens as she looks my way. I bet she’s just as glad as I am that Noah isn’t around to hear this.

  Bizzy hitches a dark lock of hair behind her ear. “You heard the girl, Pancake. What do you think?”

  Both Pancake and Waffles have pale butter-colored fur with rust-tipped tails and a dusting of cinnamon over their noses. They’re a couple of Himalayan brothers that thankfully made their way into my life. I had Pancake first, then when my grandmother Nell died, she bequeathed Waffles to me and I couldn’t be happier to have him.

  Bizzy pulls Pancake into her lap and the handsome boy looks my way, then to Everett before letting out a rather clear meow.

  Bizzy inverts her lips. “He says he thinks he can speak for Waffles when he says they just want Lottie to be happy. But he will admit that one of Lottie’s suitors, and he won’t say which, makes sure he gives them a treat each time he visits.”

  Everett reaches into his pocket before tossing out a small sprig onto the floor and Pancake, Waffles, and Bizzy’s cat Fish all attack it at once.

  Everett offers a sly look my way. “Catnip.”

  The room breaks out into laughter and cheers.

  Carlotta stands and stretches and Georgie does, too. They’ve donned matching red kaftans with tiny round silver mirrors sewn into them that reflect the light like a seizure.

  “It’s been real, folks.” Carlotta pats her belly. “Thanks, Judge Baxter, for the extra five pounds. I’m sure you and my Lottie Dottie will find a creative way to work it off.”

  Evie sticks her finger down her throat and pretends to gag.

  I nod to Carlotta. “Where are you off to?” My suspicion is growing by the minute.

  “Gray and I are painting the town red tonight.”

  Jasper raises a brow. “Heading down to Main Street?”

  “We’re not sticking around Honey Hollow.” Georgie lifts a crooked finger. “We’re headed to the city that never sleeps.”

  Evie sits up straight. “New York?”

  “Close.” Carlotta scuffles across the room and grabs her purse. “Leeds.”

  Everett and I moan in unison, prompting Carlotta to belt out a laugh.

  “Have the decency to wait until the rest of us are gone, would ya?” Carlotta bops Evie on the shoulder. “If I were you, kid, I’d run for cover. These two lovebirds are liable to explode all over the room at any given moment.”

  “What? Eww.” Evie bolts for the door before looking at Everett and me. “My sleepover starts in a half an hour. I’ll text you tomorrow when the coast is clear.”

  Everett just so happens to live next door. A few years back when I was looking for a new rental, Noah had a couple of houses come available across the street from him, right here on Country Cottage Road, and I took one, and by chance, or by a deliciously diabolical plan, Everett took the other.

  “I can bring fresh donuts in the morning,” I offer.

  “Cool,” Evie says as she walks out the front door. “We should be up around twelve or two.” She waves to everyone in the room before disappearing.

  Jasper laughs. “Getting up at the crack of noon. Boy, do I miss being a teenager.”

  “Yeah?” Bizzy wraps an arm around him. “What should we do to relive a little of that teenage magic?”

  Jasper twitches his lips. “How about a walk around Honey Lake?”

  “Sounds good to me.” Bizzy scoops up Fish, and Sherlock follows them to the door as they say goodnight.

  Georgie gives Everett and me a wave. “Feel free to explode all over the room as often as you want.”

  Carlotta gasps as she looks my way. “Dear stars above Honey Hollow, this here could be the night the two of you create a wee one to call your own. In addition to Evie.”

  Georgie slaps her thigh. “Why, you’ve got a built-in babysitter. I say get right to it. There’s not a baby-making moment to waste.”

  Carlotta nods. “Judge Baxter, I know you’ve got the right stuff to replicate your DNA until you’re well into triple digits.” She leans in. “And I don’t doubt you’ll be able to launch that rocket right up until the end.”

  “Okay,” I say, navigating Carlotta to the door.

  She bats me to the side and spins his way. “But her lady parts are destined to shrivel up and disappear.”

  I scoff at her. “Gee, thanks.”

  Carlotta makes a face before looking back at Everett. “It’s true! She only has a small window of time to pop those puppies out. And if you wait too long, you might just get out-Foxed, if you know what I mean. Her ovaries are just as fickle as she is.”

  “Enough,” I say without the proper enthusiasm.

  Georgie grunts as she leans in to inspect me, “I say she’s got at least five good years. It’ll be iffy after that, but it might be possible. They have all sorts of injections they can juice you up with nowadays, and who knows? You might even hit the jackpot and have a litter of six or eight at a time.”

  “Eight?” Everett says it stern.

  “Yuppers.” Carlotta links her arm to Georgie’s. “And if you get an even dozen, you might even get yourselves a TV show. A Baxter dozen!”

  Georgie gasps. “How about a Baker’s dozen?”

  They exchange high-fives while Everett and I exchange a look.

  “Don’t worry,” I tell him. “We won’t accept those curses.”

  Carlotta turns as they waddle down the porch. “Are you calling me a witch?”

  “If the pointy hat fits,” I say, giving a quick glance around for Carlotta’s car, but I don’t see it in the immediate vicinity. “Hey? How are you getting to Leeds?”

  Carlotta waves as they hit the sidewalk. “We’ve got a couple of brooms parked around the corner.”

  “Funny.” I close the door and bite down over my lip as I look up at the outlandishly handsome judge by my side. “I would have told them to stay out of trouble, but I think that’s the point.”

  Everett’s lids hood low. He’s already taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, so I pull him in by the tie.

  “Are you ready to spend a little time with your wife?” My teeth graze my lower lip when I say that last word, the most important word of all.

  “My wife,” he whispers, a dangerous smile twitching on his lips. “I do like the sound of that.” He cups my cheek, his thumb gently brushing against my lip. “Do you have a bathing suit handy?”

  “What?” A small laugh bubbles from me. “Not what I was expecting to hear you say next. But yes, in fact, I happen to have a brand new cherry red string bikini in my bedroom.”

  “Can’t wait to see it. Put it on. We have somewhere to go.”

  I don’t ask. I simply strip to nothing and come back wearing the skimpiest red bikini Honey Hollow has ever seen.

  “Now what, Judge Baxter?” I run my finger down his tie like a promise.

  Everett growls as his eyes sink low. “I’m this close to abandoning plan A and going with plan B.”

  “B for bedroom?”

  His lips curl in response.

  “Now I’m very curious what plan A could have been.”

  He winces. “All right. It’s still a go. But so is plan B.” He takes me by the hand and swings the front door open.

  “Are we going outside?” A mild sense of panic strikes me as the cool night air seeps on in. “Should I grab a towel? Or a coat?”


  “Nope.”

  “How about some flip-flops?”

  “You probably won’t need those either.”

  “No shoes? Why do I get the feeling things are about to get mighty interesting?”

  We’re about to step out the door when Toby zooms past us in a redheaded furry blur, leaping and barking his way to freedom right into the middle of the street. “Oh no!” I zoom right after him and scream his name as he makes a mad dash across the street.

  Everett is on my heels, and no sooner does Toby land on Noah’s porch than he looks at the two of us and begins to sway as if he were wondering which direction to bolt in next.

  “Don’t you move, Toby Corbin Fox!” Okay, so I don’t really know if Toby has a middle name, but it felt right adopting the rest of Noah’s moniker to reprimand him.

  Toby darts to the front lawn, and I seize the moment by doing my best to dive-bomb over him. But the sneaky dog slinks away before I ever touch him and I land onto the cool blades of Noah’s lawn, just before Everett lands on me from behind.

  Thankfully, Everett has landed rather strategically as not to crush me.

  Before either of us can move, a truck pulls up and kills the headlights as the sound of footsteps quickens this way.

  “Lottie?” Noah’s voice spikes with worry. “Everett? What the hell is going on?”

  “Lemon.” Everett helps me up and I cringe as I watch Noah’s eyes widen with the slight look of horror as he takes in my bikini-clad body.

  “Were you trying to escape?” Noah takes a step in close, his eyes wild with surprise. “Lottie, were you running to me for help?”

  “What? No!” I glance down and note my top is more than slightly askew and I quickly fix it. “Good grief.” I glance over to the porch, only to find Toby innocently curled up and taking a nap. “Toby got out and took off, so I took off after him.”

  Noah ticks his head to the side. “And why are you wearing”—he motions at my bikini—“never mind. There are some things I don’t want to know.” He takes a moment to glower at Everett. “I’d say have a great night, but I don’t think you need me encouraging you.” He sighs my way. “Goodnight, Lottie. Everett,” he says, heading on into his home and taking Toby with him.

 

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