“Mom, if I had that same philosophy, I’d be broke. We both know just about every soul in Honey Hollow. Of course, you can take money from people you know. You’re running a business, not a charity.”
“Oh, pish posh.” She waves me off. “I haven’t had a single stranger, a single real potential buyer come forward and so much as ask a question about my novel. And just so you know, Wiley says it’s a good thing to gift your book to friends and family. Once they fall in love with it, they’ll tell ten friends and so on. It’s the only way to go virus these days, Lottie. Everyone knows that.” She hugs herself as she sniffs the air, and I don’t have the heart to correct her use of the word virus versus viral.
An uproar erupts at the table next to us as the line to see Ambrosia Whispers disassembles, and there’s a mad rush as women begin to mob her. Women of all ages begin to grab for her books, and there’s even a man in a fedora eyeing the ruckus. The cagey redhead pops up like a cork in the middle of the madness, and soon Wiley runs over and pulls a megaphone to his mouth.
“Attention, attention!” he bellows, looking eerily like Noah’s twin. Actually, both Noah and his brother Alex look like carbon copies of their father, same black hair, green eyes, and dimples for days. “The authors are taking a well-deserved thirty-minute break. Please enjoy the coffee and the desserts in the next tent over and come back for more stories that sizzle!”
I glower over at him without meaning to. Okay, I meant it.
Bizzy leans in. “My God, he looks exactly like Noah.”
I nod. “Just an older version. At least we know Noah ages well.” But then, I never doubted he would.
Wiley crops up next to us. “Ladies.” He nods our way, and I quickly introduce him to Bizzy.
“It’s a pleasure to have you here.” A smarmy smile takes over his face. “I see you have a copy of Reckless Fear. We hope you enjoy it. Look for the sequel coming next fall, Reckless Mattresses.”
My lips part, and just as I’m about to ask my mother about her squeaky sequel, Ambrosia Whispers pops up with the thin blonde I met back at the inn, Jessie Lane the coordinator. And next to Jessie is another girl, too, who looks more like a throwback to the eighties with her wildly teased mane—mostly long dark hair, but on either side of her face, there are thick hot pink streaks that match that caustic hue on her lips. She’s got an elastic smile and rows of pearly white teeth that take over her face.
“Jackie Hart—stories with Hart.” She shakes my mother’s hand. “Quite an event you’re putting on here today, Mirandy. We have a local romance writers meet-up every now and again. You’ll have to swing by.”
Mom claps. “Let’s do it soon! I own the B&B. We can have a meeting at the end of the month in my conservatory. I’m just dying to be a part of your community. I’d like to get to know all of your tips and tricks to selling books. I haven’t sold a single copy yet today.”
“Don’t worry, Mirandy.” Jessie gives a commiserating laugh. “We still have plenty of time left. And the meet-up at the inn sounds fabulous. I’ll coordinate with you, and I’ll make sure to invite all the local authors. Expect between thirty to fifty.”
“Oh, it sounds great.” Mom oozes with relief as if this were the exact stepping-stone she were looking for, and it might be.
“Mirandy.” Ambrosia leans her way. It’s a bit unnerving to hear them all reference my mother by her pseudonym, but I suppose they’re all using theirs as well. “The first step in selling like hotcakes is getting a top cover model to grace your cover.” She points to Bizzy’s copy and Bizzy holds out the book. “See that? Rose petals falling on a simple white background? That’s not going to attract a lot of attention. What you need is some serious beefcake. I’m talking a real hottie with a bare chest.”
Both Jackie and Jessie nod furtively as if it were a must.
Mom grunts over to Wiley, “It looks like it’s back to the drawing board.”
Jessie lifts a finger. “I can help you with that. In fact, I’ll be by the inn tomorrow to pick up the things I left in the conservatory. I can share the names of some top photographers with you.”
Mom’s face brightens. “You know, I’ve got a camera.”
Wiley says something in response, but my attention is hijacked by a rather lumbering little piglet who just bounced her ghostly self through three different people.
Oh dear God, we’re staring right down the barrel of a cloven-hoofed homicide! I’d better text Noah and Everett. Although, Everett’s most likely already spilled the homicidal beans to Noah.
Bizzy gasps as her eyes hook to mine and I nod, affirming my thoughts.
Jackie Hart, the author with Hart, leans in, and her sugary perfume suddenly hits me and cuts off my oxygen supply.
“Ambrosia, why don’t you share some of your tips and tricks with Mirandy Lemonade?” She gives a wink Ambrosia’s way.
Why do I get the feeling that woman somehow just slighted my mother?
Jessie huffs, “Sorry, Mirandy. That vault has been on lockdown for years.” She gives Ambrosia an icy look. “There are just some industry secrets that authors are willing to take to the grave with them.” She sniffs hard as she looks to Jackie. “You have a few yourself, Jackie, haven’t you?” A moment of thick silence slices by. “Excuse me. I hear there’s flag cake for dessert. I hope the berries are fresh.”
“Oh, they are!” I call out after her. “Grown locally and organic!” But I doubt she heard. The festering crowd has swallowed her whole. Honey Lake is a hot spot this time of year in general, but it seems as if all Vermont heads this way on the Fourth.
Jackie rolls her eyes, her pink streaks lifting in the breeze as light as cotton candy. “Leave it to Jessie to stir the pot.” She glowers over at Ambrosia for a moment. “I hear His Ardent Wishes spent three weeks on all the best-seller lists. I guess congratulations would be in order. But you won’t get them from me.” She stalks off into the swell of bodies and leaves the rest of us with our mouths agape.
Ambrosia waves it off. “And that’s what happens when you hit it big, Mirandy. You need to watch your back, because the one who smiles at you one moment will be the one who stabs you in the back the next.” She glances around. “But I don’t have time to worry about that. The only thing I want to worry about is writing my next bestseller. Excuse me. I’m anxious to try those delicious desserts.”
She takes off and my mother quickly pulls Wiley to the side and begins brainstorming ways to land naked hot men on her cover.
I nod to Bizzy. “I think this is our cue to find our own hot men.”
“With temps nearing triple digits, every man here qualifies as hot.” She shudders as we make our way out of the tent. “Lottie, I think we need to find the killer before the killer finds their victim.” Something to the left catches her eye. “Speaking of hot men.”
We head over to the lawn just outside of the white sandy beach that surrounds the lake to talk to Noah, Everett, and Jasper about our concerns, but the consensus is that there’s not much we can do. Noah calls in for extra security for the event without trying to sound too cryptic.
The sun begins to set, and everyone is noshing on a slice of flag cake with its creamy whipped topping and fresh berries set in the pattern of the American flag. Almost everyone has gone back for thirds, and there’s nothing more that pleases a baker than that.
A tangerine glow fills the sky as dusk sets over Honey Hollow and the landscape takes on a dreamy magical appeal.
Noah nods over to Everett and me.
“Do you two mind if we have a quick word?”
My stomach cinches. A part of me insists I run, but I agree instead as Everett and I follow Noah over a few steps near the woods that line the north end of the lake.
Noah takes a breath, and his dimples invert as he looks to the two of us. His chest expands, and if I’m not mistaken, it looks as if he’s having a hard time getting his words out.
Everett clears his throat. “I’d like to say something if you don’t
mind.”
Noah nods for him to proceed and looks a little relieved.
“Noah”—Everett’s chest expands—“I know things haven’t been easy for either of us, but I want you to know that it stretched me more than I wanted when I suggested to Lemon that she see where things could go between the two of you. I just want to thank you for returning the favor.”
Noah gives a curt nod. “You’re welcome, but I think it should be noted it was merely a suggestion. Lottie wanted to do this. She’s not with you because I asked her to be. She’s with you because she wants to be.” His expression softens as he looks to me. “Just know I’m here, Lot. I’m not going anywhere. The two of you are married, so it makes sense that you’re together. But I want you to know I’m not a closed door, not unless you close it.”
I clear my throat. “Duly noted.” I take up his hand. “Noah, I’m not in this to hurt either one of you. I just want everything to be okay between us.” Tears blur my vision, and I do my best to blink them away.
“It is.” He gives my fingers a quick squeeze. “In fact, I expect us to get right back to sharing pizzas at Mangias without missing a beat.” He gives a slight wink, but I can see a patina of hurt in his eyes. He looks to Everett. “Have fun while it lasts.” He takes off and I hold my breath a moment.
“Wow, those sounded like fighting words,” I whisper mostly to myself.
“Don’t worry, Lemon.” Everett wraps his arms around me. “I’m used to his vitriol. Noah’s never been good about coming up empty.” He shakes his head in the direction Noah took off in. “I’d better get the guy a beer. How about I meet you down at the lawn in two minutes?”
“That sounds perfect. I’ll get us all another slice of cake.”
We split up, and I head off to the dessert tent just as the first firework of the night detonates over the sky. I look up to see a colossal display of fiery glory, a giant white flower with red stars shooting out from the top while “America the Beautiful” blares from the speakers set up at the base of the lake.
A sharp scream erupts from my left, and I glance that way just as Bizzy runs up.
“Did you hear that?” she pants out the words while squinting into the darkness.
Another scream erupts, and we dash in that direction, only to find Georgie Conner howling at the sky with her hands covered in dark sanguine liquid.
“Georgie?” Bizzy takes a staggering step forward. “What’s the mat—”
Before she can finish her sentence, we both spot exactly what’s the matter at once.
Sprawled on the lawn lies a motionless redheaded woman with a long-handled knife plunged into her back, and a slice of flag cake sits next to her hand.
Ambrosia Whispers won’t have to worry about writing another bestseller.
Ambrosia Whispers is dead.
Chapter 3
In seconds, this stretch of grass, just yards from Honey Lake, where Bizzy and I are standing, is engulfed with sheriff’s deputies, and the grand finale in the sky hasn’t yet begun.
It turns out, Noah, Everett, and Jasper were on our tails, and Noah called for backup as soon as he spotted the knife.
Carlotta runs a water bottle over Georgie’s hands while the poor woman continues to wail away.
“She’s dead!” Georgie thunders. “She’s really dead!”
Sherlock Bones bounces around in a panic as if he were trying to calm the poor woman himself. Bizzy’s cat, Fish, is at my place with my sweet cats, Pancake and Waffles. For a second, I thought of bringing them along this afternoon, but now that I’m apprised of the murderous turn of events, I’m relieved the cats are home safe, spared of all the gore.
Evie volunteered to watch over both Sherlock and Toby, Noah’s golden retriever, and they’ve been having a grand time today chasing beach balls up and down the sand.
Bizzy swipes the bottle from Carlotta’s hand. “We could be washing away evidence!”
“I don’t care!” Georgie howls as she wipes her hands down on her kaftan. “I can’t have a dead woman’s blood on me!” In one swift moment, she whips off her dress and she’s standing in front of us in a gray bra and day-glow white parachute panties.
Carlotta balls up the dress and tosses it aside. “Don’t you worry, sister. I won’t let you stand alone!” She whips off her matching kaftan and tosses it aside as well, and now we’ve got another pair of parachute panties glowing in the dark. And I’ll be honest, in this murky light, I can’t decipher whether or not Carlotta has on a bra at all. I’m not going to scrutinize the situation either.
Jasper comes over. “Georgie, they need a statement from you.”
“I didn’t see anything!” she howls. “I tried to get the knife out. I’m innocent, I tell you. I can’t go up the river for murder one. Don’t let them take me, Carlotta!”
Carlotta links arms with her. “Don’t worry, Gray.” Carlotta employs the cheeky nickname she’s given her old buddy. “I’ve got an in with both the homicide detective and the judge. If either of the them gives you grief, I’ll threaten to have my Lot Lot cut them off where it hurts—in the bedroom.”
Georgie gasps. “Wait a minute. Didn’t she just give the homicide detective the old heave-ho?”
Carlotta turns and glowers at me. “Way to go, kid. Now my bestie is going to roast.”
The three of them take off just as my sisters crop up.
“Bizzy,” I say. “I know it’s not an ideal time, but I’d love for you to meet my sisters. This is Lainey,” I say, pointing to my look-alike with her caramel curls and hazel eyes as she holds her enormous belly. “She’s due next month, along with Keelie. Lainey is older than me by a year. And since we look so much alike, I always surmised my parents were wrong about my adoption.”
Meg rolls her eyes. “And I’m Meg, a year younger and cooler. I used to be a female wrestler back in Vegas, but I came home to teach the strippers their night moves.” She looks my way. “So who’d you kill this time, Lot?”
“I didn’t kill anyone.”
Lainey wrinkles her nose as Georgie continues to howl out her innocence. “Who’d the old hippie kill?”
Bizzy shakes her head. “Trust me, Georgie wouldn’t hurt a fly. She said she just came upon the body. She’s a bit frazzled at the moment. I’m hoping once she’s settled, she’ll remember something.”
Lainey moans while gripping her belly.
“What’s the matter?” I squawk. “Oh God, it’s the baby, isn’t it? You’re about to give birth, aren’t you?”
“What? No.” She bats me away. “I’m just sad that my sweet child is about to enter a world where killers run amok. It’s terrifying to think about. Just last week, I was worried about the teacher shortage in our local school district, and now I have to worry about a killer running loose in Honey Hollow. This mother thing is no joke.”
Meg grunts, “I’d better get you home. I’ll stay the night with you since Forest has to work.”
I turn to Bizzy as they take off. “Forest is Lainey’s husband. In fact, he’s one of the firefighters helping out.”
I look over at the grisly scene with Ambrosia Whispers lying on the ground with the knife still plunged deep in her back. A coroner’s van pulls up to the lawn and the firefighters are doing their best to cordon off a large area. But a crowd has amassed and people are actually snapping pictures of the poor woman.
Noah stalks over. “Lottie, Bizzy, did the two of you see anything suspicious at all?”
“No,” I say. “I didn’t.”
Bizzy shakes her head. “I just heard Georgie screaming, and then we found her with blood on her hands. I guess she was trying to help the poor woman. If the knife had any prints, I’m sure they’re gone. Georgie mentioned she was trying to pull it out.”
Noah’s chest expands as he takes a look around. “Keep an eye out for anything suspicious. If you learn anything new, call me.”
He takes off just as the man in a fedora lumbers his way over with a determined look on his face. He looks
pale, curly dark hair peering out from under his hat.
“Is it true?” He glares past us and a tiny smile curls on his lips. “I guess it’s curtains for Red.” He turns to leave and Bizzy and I exchange a quick look.
“Excuse me,” I say, catching up to him. “Did you know the deceased?”
“You could say that.” He takes off into the crowd just as Bizzy meets up with me.
“Lottie, I read his thoughts. He said that witch had it coming.”
“What?”
“He also said something about getting her off his paperwork would be a bear.”
“Paperwork?”
Jessie Lane runs up. “Oh my God.” She covers her mouth with horror, her eyes locked over the body. “Oh, I can’t believe this.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m sure you were good friends.”
“I don’t know how friendly we were. Ambrosia wasn’t about making friends. She was about turning a dollar.” She shudders. “Anyway, I have access to all her social media. I should probably contact her family and then put out a message to her readers. She has a legion of fans.”
The sound of a woman wailing in the distance picks up, and soon it sounds like a choir of howls and screams as word gets out.
“Jessie, if you need any help, please let me know. My mother is the one that owns the inn, and I run the bakery in town if you need to reach us.”
Bizzy nods. “And you know those closest to her. I’m sure you’ll be vital to the investigation.”
A woman with dark hair and blue highlights catches my eye as she makes her way silently to the edge of the caution tape blocking off the area.
“Hey, who’s that?” I nod to the woman in question and Jessie turns to look.
“That’s Tallulah Velvet. Why?”
“Oh”—I shake my head—“I just saw her having a heated conversation with Ambrosia earlier today. I guess I’ll have to let the homicide detective know.”
Jessie’s shoulders sag with relief. “That’s right. Tallulah and Ambrosia were having it out. I tried to stop it. I guess things escalated.” She bites down over her lip. “I knew she had it out for her. But to kill her?”
Flag Cake Felonies (MURDER IN THE MIX Book 23) Page 3