Flag Cake Felonies (MURDER IN THE MIX Book 23)

by Addison Moore

  “Eww.” Evie fans the air in front of her nose as if Carlotta just let a noxious odor fly. “That’s, like, totally gross.” She snaps the book back out of Carlotta’s hand and makes a run for it.

  “Get back here, kid,” Carlotta shouts over the murmur of the blossoming crowd. “I plan on using that as a battle guide!” She takes off after her and so does Fish by proxy.

  Bizzy winces as she looks into the crowd. “Do you see, Georgie?”

  “No, are you worried?” Actually, come to think of it, she probably should be. Carlotta and Georgie have been glued at the hip. Here’s hoping Georgie didn’t break one.

  “Not yet.” Bizzy makes a face. “Okay, so I’m a wee bit worried.”

  “Boo!” a female voice blows the word into my ear and I jump, only to find Greer Giles in all her unearthly illumination. Greer glows a peculiar shade of green and her long dark hair looks as if an entire onyx solar system was trapped in it. I say that each and every time, but only because each and every time I’d swear it was true.

  “Give me your hand,” I say to Bizzy as I take up her cool fingers. “Greer is here. And she looks great, by the way.” I nod over to the sultry spook. “You really do.”

  Greer pretends to fluff her hair with her hand. “I’ve been digging into Macy’s cosmetics. She’s got all the good stuff on hand. No offense, Bizzy. But I’ve never been into anything they’re willing to sell you at the grocery store.”

  Bizzy looks indifferent. “No offense taken. You wouldn’t have happened to see Georgie, would you?”

  Before Greer could so much as bellow out a haunted reply, the distracting snorts of an adorable piglet come from the right.

  Both Bizzy and I turn that way, even though only one of us can actually hope to see anything, and Bingo is strutting right through the crowd, and I mean right through the crowd in the most literal sense. And on her back is a happy little ghoul, little Lea with her hair combed straight over her face, her tiny Mary Janes kicking at Bingo’s sides as if spurring her on. A flash of something glimmering and black sits nestled in a ball right in front of Lea, and I’m guessing that’s Thirteen curled up for a nap.

  Greer bubbles with a tiny laugh. “I like to call this bring your deceased daughter to work day. Lea said if she hears one icky bit, she’s ditching this good time. But don’t you worry, Lottie Lemon. I’m not going anywhere. Bring on the sleaze, please.” She gives a cheeky wink.

  Mom runs by, looking frazzled before she spots me and backtracks.

  “Oh, Lottie, Bizzy, we’re just about to get underway. I saved you both seats up front. Please don’t be shy. Feel free to ask as many questions as you wish during the Q&A.” She makes a face as she leans in. “It’s going to be embarrassing if I don’t get a single question aimed my way.”

  “I’ll ask you two,” Bizzy offers. “It’s the least I can do for letting my pets stay at the B&B.”

  Mom waves her off. “They’re not pets. They’re furry family members. And you’re always welcome. In fact, Sherlock Bones is curled up next to Wiley as we speak. I think he’s inspiring Wiley into getting a dog himself.” She zips off into the crowd as she tries to coerce the masses into taking a seat.

  “Wiley is a dog,” I say, leaning into Bizzy.

  Greer floats up a few feet off the ground, and the unearthly sight makes my stomach do a soft revolution. I can get used to a lot of things, but seeing a human, dead or alive, levitate off the ground is apparently where my stomach draws the line. I go to pick up Bizzy’s hand and note I’m still conveniently holding it.

  “There’s Georgie.” She points a ghostly finger toward the front of the room. “By the reception desk.”

  “Huh. Georgie looks as if she’s staring right through the wall,” I say as I lead Bizzy right out of the congested room.

  And just as we’re about to peruse the area for a kaftan-loving rebel-rouser, we run into three distinctly handsome men.

  “Hey,” I say with a laugh caught in my throat. “What are you three doing here?” I ask as I size up Jasper, Everett, and Noah—each one looking far more dapper than the next.

  Jasper is quick to snatch Bizzy from me and wrap his arms around her.

  “I’m here to see my fiancée,” he says. “Rumor has it, the book club is an event not to be missed.”

  Everett’s lips twitch with devilish intent as he pulls me in and wraps his arms around my waist.

  “And I’m here to see my wife.” Everett brushes his lips against mine and my entire body demands to riot for more.

  Noah nods my way, the clear look of irritation on his face.

  “And I’m here to observe a suspect. My case is growing cold, and I don’t like it.”

  Carlotta pops up next to Noah. “Rumor has it, your showers are growing cold, too. Now, where’s my bestie?” She juts her head in ten different directions. “Gray?”

  “I’m here!” Georgie wails as she barrels into our circle. “Good going, Carlotta, you’ve got two detectives and a judge for me.” She latches her hand over Noah’s wrist. “Let’s go.”

  “Where are we going?” Noah asks, taking off with her and the rest of us follow suit.

  “I’ve got the killer trapped in the broom closet!”

  “What?” Bizzy and I chirp in a panic.

  Bizzy pulls Georgie back. “What do you mean you’ve got the killer trapped? Please tell me there’s not a real person in some closet just waiting to press charges against you. Boy, you are determined to never see Maine again.”

  “Of course, there’s a person trapped in a closet. I’m speaking English, aren’t I?” She pulls Noah along until we come to a small linen closet just shy of the reception counter. “All right, Foxy, get ready to cuff ’em.” Georgie yanks the door open and out tumbles Lily Swanson. “There she is!” Georgie holds up a crooked finger to her. “The killer!”

  Lily’s dark mane is tousled and her cheeks are flaming red, which only brings out the rage in her eyes.

  “Oh, I am going to kill her,” Lily seethes. “Naomi Turner will rue the day she thought fit to lock me away in a closet.” She blows right past us and Noah doesn’t move a muscle in an effort to arrest her.

  “What are you waiting for?” Georgie howls. “She’s getting away! Where’s Sherlock? That little furry dude never lets me down.”

  Noah rubs Georgie’s arm. “I’m not trying to let you down. Now tell me exactly what happened.”

  “She confessed! I heard her telling Macy she was going to get her, just the way she got her best friend.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think they were talking about death. Not literally. Lily and Naomi both dated Alex at the very same time. And strangely, Lily still likes Alex as a friend. Maybe she was trying to be protective of him, as in she would come after Macy if she hurt Alex?”

  Georgie smirks. “Or maybe she was trying to up the body count?”

  A shrill whistle comes from the conservatory as my mother calls everyone to their seats and we move as a small mob into the glass room and we somehow squeeze ourselves into the front row. Up front there are four chairs and an elongated table set before them loaded with small stacks of Jackie’s books and my mother’s. Jessie Lane is seated at the edge of the table and is holding a microphone, and seated on the opposite end of the table is Wiley Fox, as if he truly had the right to be up there. But then again, he did convince my mother to sign a publishing contract with him that gives him over sixty percent of her sales. He’s as wily a fox as his name suggests. But I can’t blame my mother for falling head over heels in love with him. He’s essentially Noah Fox with about thirty years on him.

  Jessie welcomes the crowd as she speaks evenly into the microphone.

  “My name is Jessie Lane, and I’m here to help facilitate this special event. We’ve got two lovely authors with us this afternoon. Let’s give a warm welcome to the fabulous Jackie Hart!” The room goes wild with a deafening applause and a few errant catcalls.

  Jackie gives a wild wave to Everett. �
�You came, Essex! You came!”

  Everett offers a friendly nod her way. There’s no harm in Jackie thinking Everett showed up just to hear her speak about her books. I hope.

  “And let’s welcome newcomer to the romance world, Mirandy Limeade!”

  “Lemonade,” my mother corrects with a smile, but there’s dead silence in the room for a moment until I start to clap and the rest of the front row joins me.

  My mother grows quickly crestfallen, but just as quickly brushes it off.

  Jessie is right. This writing gig is a new career path for my mother. Of course, she didn’t get the lion’s share of the applause. The audience has yet to know her. Here’s hoping this afternoon changes everything. Or not. I’m not exactly thrilled to think this could actually propel her further into Wiley’s clutches.

  Jessie announces that Jackie and a lucky audience member will read a portion from her book together, and Jackie wastes no time in getting out of her seat and yanking Everett to the front of the room.

  Jackie shoves a copy of her book into Everett’s hands and they read nearly an entire chapter—of the least raunchy material in the book. That’s not saying a lot, considering there are words being exchanged that I’m positive have driven Evie straight out of the room in horror, or in the least motivated her to shove her earbuds into her ears.

  Believe me, I’m half-tempted to shove just about anything into my ears to dampen this drivel. Not that Everett isn’t hot while expressing his lines. But the fact Jackie seems to be falling all over him, and reading each word with such lusty believability—and the fact this is the very scene that sets up the infamous page thirty-three, well, it gives me a snapshot into the past I wasn’t looking for.

  Noah leans my way. “See this, Lot? These are his signature moves playing out in real time. The guy’s a Johnny one-note.”

  Carlotta leans in. “Yeah, but I bet he can play the hell out of that one note.”

  The scene wraps up, and Everett makes his way back to my side.

  “Don’t worry, Lemon,” he whispers it hot into my ear and my insides tickle. “I plan on writing a whole new book with you. Chapter one has just begun.”

  A smile swims over my lips, and I can’t help but glow at the thought of penning an entire lifetime with Everett. Initially, when Everett and I got married, we knew we needed to keep the matrimonial gig up for twelve months straight to meet the requirements of his trust fund, but a part of me wants to maintain the marriage far beyond its expiration date.

  It’s my mother’s turn at bat and she enlists Wiley to read a spicy snippet, and just as they’re getting to the nitty-gritty, Bingo belts out a series of oinks and snorts, mercifully drowning out any sexual shenanigans that might have otherwise haunted me.

  The room breaks out into polite applause and Greer zooms forward, taking a seat right on Everett’s lap.

  Everett glances my way. “Did you just feel a cold breeze? It feels as if an ice block just sat in my lap.”

  I nod as I pick up his hand so he can hear her if he has to.

  “It’s a glamorous block of ice who we like to call Greer.” I look up at her. “What’s got your ghostly knickers in a twist?”

  “Please, Lottie. As if you had to ask. This is one hot reading. And as soon as we’re done here, I’m going to hunt down Winslow. He appreciates how worked up I can get after one of your mother’s book club meetings.” She spins around and gives Everett’s tie a little tug. “And Everett, I’ve read In the Judge’s Chamber. Had I known it was about you, I would have tracked you down and had my way with you before it was too late.”

  It’s true, Greer wanted a turn at bat with the good judge but died before those lusty fantasies ever saw the light of day.

  Everett sheds a short-lived smile. “Hope you enjoyed the book, Greer. And I hope you get some mileage out of it with Winslow.” His lids hood as he looks my way. “I’m saving all my page thirty-threes for you, Lemon.”

  I can’t help but swoon and reward him with a quick kiss.

  Jessie begins in on the Q&A and almost every question is for Jackie. My poor mother is just sitting there like a bump on a literary log.

  True to her word, Bizzy pipes up and asks two rather benign questions.

  Carlotta asks one, and my sisters reveal themselves from somewhere deep in the crowd and each asks her a few basic questions as well, evening up the score.

  Jessie gives the floor to a random woman from the back.

  “Hey Jackie, everyone knows Ambrosia ripped off your stories. Now that she’s dead, your devoted readers want to know. Did she swipe more than just that book? Everyone here knows Ambrosia Whispers took someone’s entire catalog and made it her own. My money is on you. Are the rumors true? Did she blackmail you into giving her your unpublished work?”

  Noah leans my way. “I was regretting this while watching my dad itemize the things he was about to do to your mother, but I’m back to being glad I came.”

  Jackie looks to Jessie, and I’d swear on all that is holy they just shared a knowing glance.

  Bizzy looks my way, and I give a curt nod.

  Jackie clears her throat. “No. Whatever catalog Ambrosia snagged, it wasn’t mine. And yes, it’s true that she stole one of my ideas, but it would be over my dead body if she took one of my stories that I penned from start to finish. No disrespect to the dead, but she wouldn’t get away with stabbing me in the back like that.”

  A round of oohs circles the room, and Jackie coyly holds her hand to her lips.

  “Did I say that?” She bats her extra-long lashes.

  A series of boos goes off thunderously loud, and I startle until I realize where it’s coming from.

  I lean toward Everett whose hand I’m still holding. “That’s just Bingo, Ambrosia’s old emotional support piglet.” I give a little wink.

  A woman a few rows back spikes to her feet. “I happen to still be a big fan of Ambrosia’s, and I don’t like all of you ladies ganging up on her when she’s clearly not here to defend herself. Ambrosia was asked about a ghostwriter and she vehemently denied it. That’s the end of it. If any of you want to battle it out, I’ll gladly meet up with you outside.”

  Wiley stands to his feet, and from this distance he looks as if he could be Noah himself.

  “We won’t have any of that, ladies. If you want to keep the authors rolling into town, you’ll need to keep your tempers in check. Now why don’t we all settle down? I’ve got a bar set up to the right and we’ll be serving the house drink—on the house, called the reckless feartini!”

  The room breaks out into a series of whoops as a line begins to form at the impromptu bar.

  I look to Everett. “Why would my mother agree to a bar when she had the entire B&B shut down a few months back because she didn’t have a liquor license? Ugh. You don’t think she got a liquor license, do you?”

  “She doesn’t need one,” he says, frowning in the direction of Wiley as he takes on the role of the bartender. “It sounds as if they’re not selling it.”

  “Noah?” I turn his way. “Why would your father agree to give away perfectly good liquor?”

  Noah’s dimples invert, no smile. “Because he’s trying to get them liquored up. I’m guessing it’s a ploy to sell more copies of your mother’s books. The drink is named after it.” He shrugs as he nods to the line forming in front of my mother. “And it seems to be working.”

  “Some publisher he’s turned out to be. The only bona fide method he’s come up with to move my mama’s books is to sauce the readers. Why can’t she see through him?” I head on up to see if she needs any help, but I bump into Jessie Lane instead. “Sorry,” I say to the svelte blonde wearing a breezy pink sundress. “I was about to see if my mother needed an assistant.”

  “Oh, she’s got one.” Jessie points over to the table, and I hike up on my tiptoes to find Evie sitting beside her, passing her books to sign after opening them up to a blank page in the front.

  “Looks as if my own daughter be
at me to it.” I shrug. “How about you, Jessie? Got any angsty teenagers at home?”

  “Not me. I’ve got my hands full with my sister.”

  “I take it she’s younger than you.”

  “Just a few years, but it can feel like decades some days.”

  Bizzy steps over. “Another great event, Jessie,” she says. “Let’s hope it doesn’t cost anyone their life. Things got pretty heated.”

  Jessie swallows hard. “I can’t believe this hasn’t blown over yet. I thought for sure now that poor Ambrosia is no longer with us, her fans, and those of Jackie’s, would call a truce.”

  I tip my head her way. “They seem certain Ambrosia lifted someone else’s work. What’s your take on it?”

  Jessie leans her thin frame my way as she gives a quick glance around.

  “I don’t know. I asked her myself once and she said she’d deny it until the day she died.”

  Bizzy nods. “I guess she did.”

  Jessie gives a little wink. “She did. I guess in that way, she had the last say. Excuse me, ladies. I’ll see you both here in a few days for the final Summer Sizzler signing. It’ll be nice to get the gang together one last time.” She takes off for the signing table and sits down next to Jackie, passing her books to sign two at a time.

  Bizzy steps in front of me. “She was thinking about what a liar Ambrosia was while she told you Ambrosia denied the allegations.”

  “Why can’t I read minds? It would make my job a heck of a lot easier. You do realize you have a killer edge.”

  “And you’re punny.” Bizzy glances to the author table a moment before drawing closer to me. “While those hecklers were asking Jackie if Ambrosia took her catalog, Jessie was reliving a conversation she had with the woman. She asked Ambrosia where she got those dozens of novels she suddenly spit out into the world.”