“What did she do, do, do?” Bingo oinks out that last word three times straight.
Tallulah leans in a notch herself. “Ambrosia took advantage of the fact Ronald and I were at a rocky point in our relationship. She broke into my apartment and boxed up all his things and then scattered them around town. She wrote up this insane treasure hunt and gave it to him to perform in order to get his things back. Of course, his valuables had been stolen by then. Ambrosia made it look as if I did it. She even swiped my phone and texted him a nasty note about it. At the end of the day I tried to let him know it wasn’t me who did it, but it was too late. He was done with me, and that was the end of it. And ironically, that day at the signing, Ronald proposed to his new girlfriend. Ambrosia made sure I saw the entire thing unfold. Apparently, she still maintained a friendship with him, and I learned after the fact that it was Ambrosia who put the idea in his head to propose to his new girlfriend that day. It was terrible.” Her voice breaks as she looks to the ground.
Bizzy sighs. “I’m so sorry. That must have been painful.”
“It was. But, on the bright side, I sold a record number of books that day,” she says, wiping tears from her face.
“I guess that part of Ambrosia will be missed by her fans. I mean, she did contribute to the literary world no matter what kind of a person she was.”
Tallulah huffs at the thought, “All Ambrosia contributed to the world was carbon dioxide. Yeah, she wrote some books but not that many. Someone was feeding her manuscripts. And I’ll be the first to say, I can tell a stark difference between the two.”
“The two?” I ask.
“Yup. There are two clear voices in her work. The crappy one is hers, and the sublimely written pieces, well, those are a true mystery.”
Bizzy and I glance at one another for a brief moment.
Didn’t Jackie mention something about that? Wait, it was Henry who said Jackie has accused Ambrosia of hiring a ghostwriter.
“Tallulah,” I catch her gaze, “do you think Ambrosia hired a ghostwriter?”
Her mouth opens. “You know, I don’t know about a ghostwriter, but she definitely has her hands on someone else’s work. Even some of her fans have called her out on it. The difference is night and day.”
“I wonder what was going on with that?” I shake my head. “I guess Ambrosia may have taken that secret to the grave with her.”
“Jessie Lane might know more,” Tallulah offers. “She was actually Ambrosia’s only friend standing that I know of. Pardon the pun, but everyone else wanted to kill her.” She warms her arms with her hands as if a chill just ran through her despite the fact thermometers all over town are ready to burst. “Anyway, Jessie was the event coordinator along with Wiley Rose Publishing. Jackie Hart, another author who attended the event, had a similar problem with her. I guess you could say Ambrosia was a bit of a book thief when you get down to it. I know she’s not here to defend herself, and if she were, she’d deny everything I’ve said, but it’s true. Ambrosia didn’t write all those books. So great news for your mom. Her favorite author might just be somewhere out there, alive and well.”
She gives a friendly wave and thanks us for coming out before taking off.
Bizzy pulls me in close by the arm. “That was wild.”
“Did you get anything from her thoughts?”
She nods. “She said she hopes Ambrosia is rotting in hell. She said if she can’t have Ronald, Ambrosia got exactly what she deserved—a knife to the back just like the proverbial one she delivered.”
“Dark thoughts.”
Bizzy winces. “They usually are. I’ve learned not to hold them against people. They don’t know they’re being judged.”
“Do you think she killed her?”
“I honestly don’t know.” She blows out a breath as she looks in the direction Tallulah took off in, and I spot Bingo following along, grazing over the field as she goes.
“I think we need to go back to the beginning and talk to Jessie.”
Bizzy nods in agreement. “And in the meantime, I think we need to head back to the library and check out every book they have of Ambrosia Whispers.”
“We should scour the internet to see if anyone else has accused her of hiring a ghostwriter, too.”
“It sounds as if we have a lot to do,” she says.
“Let’s get Bizzy,” I tease and she gives a sarcastic laugh.
“It never gets old.”
Chapter 12
Yellow cake is my preferred delicious base when making a traditional flag cake.
The miniature versions are selling out, too, and just about everyone who takes a bite comments on how moist the cake is. My secret is simple. In addition to the usual sinful amount of butter, I throw in just a dollop of sour cream to keep the cake from drying out.
“Oh, Lottie,” Bizzy moans through her next bite. “I’d ask for the recipe, but I think both my taste buds and the Cider Cove Fire Department wouldn’t approve if I made it.
I can’t help but laugh.
Bizzy asked for a large serving of my flag cake and I quickly complied with a slice that could qualify as a cake all on its own. Bizzy has made no secret about the fact that despite her surname, Baker, she’s pretty much a hazard in the kitchen.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “I’ll be glad to be your supplier.”
The bakery just finished up with a rush, and since Lily asked for the afternoon off, Bizzy was kind enough to jump behind the counter and help me out.
She points her fork my way. “It’s no wonder your bakery is the busiest bakery I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh, I can actually explain that odd surplus of anxious customers. About a year ago, my mother had a brainstorm and decided to profit off all those not-so pesky poltergeists. Believe it or not, she charges eighty bucks a pop to tourists willing to brave her haunted halls. And once they’re done with their Haunted Honey Hollow B&B Tour, she sends them by the busload in my direction for what she’s billing as The Last Thing They Ate Tour. It’s virtually a free tour. That is, unless they purchase the sweet treat the poor unfortunate soul happened to be noshing on when they bit the big one. And it has been an awful strange string of coincidences that each time I find a body, I also find one of my desserts on or near the deceased.”
Bizzy’s mouth falls open. “That brings a whole new meaning to the fact your desserts really are to die for. But I don’t want to die. At least not yet. I have a wedding to tend to in September.”
“That’s right. You and Jasper are tying the knot. I bet you’re over the moon.”
“More like overwhelmed. You wouldn’t believe how much planning goes into one of these events.”
“Oh, I would. Keelie just got married last month.”
As if on cue, my bestie waddles in through the walkway from the Honey Pot Diner. Her blonde curls look a bit wild and unkempt, she’s donned a pale blue dress the exact same hue of her eyes, albeit the dress has a few red stains running down the front, and her belly looks as if it’s grown twice in size since I last saw her a few days ago.
“Lottie Lemon,” she grouses. “I see you judging me. Don’t say a word and hand over whatever she’s having.” Keelie plunks herself down on the stool next to Bizzy.
I quickly oblige and set Keelie up with a slice of flag cake that rivals the one I gave Bizzy.
“I can’t believe your baby shower is coming right up.” No sooner do the words leave my mouth than the bell on the door chimes and in comes my mother.
“Lottie!” she trills in a panic. “Oh good, you’re here, too, Keelie. We need to shore up the menu for the baby shower. Lainey says all she’s craving is your peach cobbler.”
Keelie grunts, “There’s nothing like your peach cobbler, Lottie.” She lifts her chin as she scans the vicinity. “You wouldn’t happen to have any around, would you?”
“Ooh”—Bizzy’s shoulders bounce—“and peaches are in season, too.”
“I don’t have any at the moment, but co
nsider it a done deal for the baby shower. In fact, I’ll order up a fresh bushel from the local farm. They’re organic, too.”
Keelie makes a face. “Who cares about organic? All I care about is getting their sugary sweetness in my belly.”
Mom gives Keelie’s tummy a pat. “You’ve already got something sweet inside your belly. And I just can’t wait to squeeze those chubby little baby cheeks.”
“Keelie?” Bizzy offers an affable smile. “Do you know what you’re having?”
“A baby,” Keelie snips.
“Keelie Nell Turner,” I say. “Bizzy Baker is a good friend of mine.”
Keelie’s nose twitches in the exact way it’s prone to do when she’s upset.
“You used to consider me a good friend, Lottie Lemon.” Her lower lip quivers and a ripe terror grips me, because I swear on all that is holy, my best friend is about to lose it.
“You are my good friend,” I insist as I make my way around the counter.
“Good friend?” she fires off the words as if they were expletives. “We used to be best friends.” She starts in on a wail that reverberates off the walls like an echo chamber, chasing off what few customers I had left from the afternoon rush as they quickly find the exit.
“Oh, Keelie.” I wrap my arms around my bawling bestie. “I love you so much. Nothing or anyone can ever change that.”
Keelie pulls back, red-faced with her eyes swollen with tears.
“Actions speak louder than words, Lottie. Who have you been investigating with all this time? Has it been me or her?”
Bizzy inverts her lips. “It was me. But in truth, it was my friend Georgie who was pegged as the killer. So I guess that makes this my investigation. And I sort of asked Lottie to help out.”
I give a furious nod to Keelie. “And believe me, as soon as you’re able, you’re riding shotgun on any future criminal chase I might find myself in.”
Keelie makes a face as she presses a hand to her belly.
“Actually”—she gives a little shrug—“I’d hate to do anything to endanger myself. I’m the only mama this little sweet pea is going to get. I mean, what if something happened to me all because you had a hankering to take down a killer? Bear would get remarried. Some other woman would step into my brand new mama shoes, and I’d have to come back to haunt both of them. That’s not very nice, now is it? So where does that leave us, Lottie Lemon? Where, I ask you? Where?”
Bizzy’s eyes bulge a moment at my bestie’s theatrics.
“I think I have a solution.” Bizzy reaches into her tote bag and lands her laptop next to Keelie. “We need help with research. You can do that right here while eating a piece of Lottie’s delicious flag cake. And best of all, there is nothing that can happen to you while doing it.”
Keelie sucks in a quick breath. “That’s a great idea! I can be your right-hand research gal!” She bucks in her seat. “But you’re wrong about nothing happening to me. I think I’m having a bladder attack. Here’s hoping I can make it to the restroom.” She does an odd little mermaid wiggle all the way back to the Honey Pot and we don’t dare try to stop her.
Mom takes a hearty bite out of Keelie’s cake.
“Mmm,” she moans. “Let’s have a nice variety for the shower, Lottie. Throw in a few dozen flag cake cupcakes, peach cobblers, those cheese Danishes that Lainey is always drooling over, and a full cookie bar. I’m thinking pinks and blues as far as the iced sugar cookies go.” She starts to head out the door. “Oh, and you’re both invited to the book club at noon tomorrow in the conservatory. Jackie Hart will be reading from her book, as I will be from mine. And I’ll give you both copies featuring my brand new cover! You won’t believe how steamy it is.”
“She means scary,” I whisper to Bizzy. “I’ve seen it.” A thought hits me. “Mom? Will Jessie Lane by chance be at the reading tomorrow?”
She snaps her fingers. “Good idea! I’ll invite her to come. Once she sees my new cover, I’m just certain she’ll share it with all of her social media friends. I just can’t wait to be a virus hit.”
“Viral,” I shout after her, but it’s too late. She’s gone. “Although, considering who her new boyfriend is, virus isn’t a far cry from the truth. Wiley Fox has been known to get around like a contagion or a parasite. Thankfully, Noah is nothing like his father.” My shoulders sag just thinking of Noah. I’d be lying if there weren’t more than a smidge of guilt over everything I’m putting him through.
Bizzy makes tracks through the whipped cream on her plate with her fork. “You really care about him, don’t you?”
“I do.” I shake my head. “But Everett and I…we’re”—I glance down at my wedding ring, and it’s as if a light turns on inside my heart—“married, or at least for all practical purposes we are. And I’d be a liar if I didn’t say I was loving it. I’m loving him.”
Her expression grows dark, and she clears her throat.
“How about we start the investigation for Keelie since she’s currently indisposed?” Bizzy fires up her laptop, and soon we’re surfing the internet, reading all sorts of reviews and blog posts concerning Ambrosia Whispers’ books. “Looks as if her fans agree. Half of them say it’s as if she’s two different authors.”
I point to one review in particular. “A literary Jekyll and Hyde.”
Bizzy and I shake our heads at the screen.
“We’ll see if Jessie knows anything,” she says.
“I wonder if we can get ahold of her laptop?”
Bizzy’s eyes light up with a mischievous fire. “I bet you know a detective who would give it to you gift wrapped.”
“Noah won’t do it.”
“Please.” Bizzy glances to the ceiling. “You have him eating out of the palm of your hand. That man would dig up a graveyard if you asked him to.”
My lips twitch from side to side. “He may have already tried to dig up a body or two, but that graveside shenanigan was partially done to clear his good name.”
“Point proven. What are we waiting for?”
“Let’s talk to Jessie first. And if she doesn’t give us the answers we need, we’ll ask Noah.”
“You’ll ask Noah.” She nods. “That man would give you the world, Lottie Lemon.”
My chest squeezes tight because I just so happen to know she’s right.
Chapter 13
The very next day the Honey Hollow B&B is brimming with bodies—almost all of them exclusively female, and one hundred percent of them are crammed into my mother’s conservatory.
Bizzy is the first to greet me as I arrive. She helps Lily Swanson and me unload the bakery van and get the cookies and flag cake cupcakes out onto the dessert table my mother has set out.
“Lily really wanted to come and hear Jackie Hart read her work,” I tell Bizzy.
Lily nods. “I figured why not? We’ve got a skeleton crew running the bakery and I really do love Jackie’s work. I was pretty much able to corroborate everything she wrote in In the Judge’s Chamber. Essex and I go way back.” She gives a sly wink to Bizzy, and I can’t help but snarl.
Lily and Everett were more or less a one-night stand—okay, so a couple of one-night-stands, but that was it. In fact, that about sums up every other sexual relationship Everett has had with other women in a nutshell.
Lily leans toward Bizzy. “I hear your sister is dating my ex.”
Bizzy looks to me for help just as the sister in question pops up.
“Lily”—I say with not nearly as much caution as I should be expending—“you’ve met Bizzy’s sister, Macy, haven’t you?”
“Briefly.” Lily’s lips twitch a short-lived smile. “I’m Lily Swanson, Alex’s ex.” She lifts her chin a notch. “So what do you think of the Fox Express?”
Macy’s left eyebrow hooks into her forehead. “I’m thinking I may need a ticket to ride for a long time to come.”
Lily chortles at the thought. “Well then”—she steps in close to Macy and begins to navigate her away—“let me fill yo
u in on everything I know.”
They take off and both Carlotta and Evie fill their void.
“Hey, Mom.” Evie gives me a brief hug, and I take in her sugary sweet perfume. Evie’s long dark hair is coiled in neat waves and her cobalt blue eyes siren out just like her daddy’s.
Carlotta has donned a navy and white tie-dyed kaftan, and I have a sneaking suspicion that there’s a matching one just like it running around here somewhere. Carlotta looks as if she’s cradling something in her arms and, sure enough, a cute little pink nose pokes out from the fabric of her sleeve.
“Fish!” Bizzy trills as she gives her sweet kitten a scratch between her ears. “Are you having a good time?”
Bizzy stares intently at the black and white tabby a moment.
Bizzy looks up at Evie and me. “She says there are far too many people here to have a good time. But she doesn’t plan on leaving. She wants in on the book club.”
Evie laughs at the thought. “You and me both, Fish.” She wags a book in my face. “Look what Glam Glam, or should I say Mirandy Lemonade, gave me. It’s a signed copy. It’s got the new cover and everything.”
Glam Glam is what my mother opted for instead of going the traditional route and being called plain ol’ Grandma.
I suck in a quick breath as I pluck the naughty book from her. But before I can berate the fact my mother gave her the tawdry tome, I quickly inspect the cover and cringe.
“Oh, it’s even worse in person.” I all but gag out the words. Wiley stands proud on the cover, bare-chested, with three different hands pressed to his torso with something sticky layered between them.
Bizzy recoils at the sight, as she should. “What is that weird film on his skin?”
“Wax, but it certainly doesn’t photograph well.”
Evie bucks with laughter. “That’s hilarious! I bet Glam Glam really thought this looked hot. Boomers can’t be expected to know any better.”
Carlotta glances her way. “Spoken like a true millennial.” She plucks the book from me. “And for your information, little Miss Evie, Mirandy was just handing it to you so you could pass it my way. This hot little ditty is mine.” She holds it close to her chest. “I’ve already read the first edition, of course. In fact, I’ve convinced Harry to act out a few of the scenes with me. He’s coming over tonight and we’re doing just that.”
Flag Cake Felonies (MURDER IN THE MIX Book 23) Page 11