Flag Cake Felonies (MURDER IN THE MIX Book 23)

by Addison Moore

  “I agree,” I say. “Why else would Ambrosia include them? It makes no sense. And we found the initials K.D. on the folder that leads to every single manuscript that Ambrosia was accused of stealing.”

  Everett lifts his brows. “That’s too big of a coincidence to be ignored.”

  Noah nods. “Agree. So who else is on the suspect list?”

  Bizzy bites down on her lip as she considers this. “Henry Watson, Ambrosia’s ex. She did dump him rather brutally by way of sending his entire family the saucy text messages and pictures he and his inamorata were sending one another.”

  “Brutal.” Jasper takes a sip of his drink.

  “Are you kidding?” Georgie snips. “That act alone solidifies the woman as a legend in my eyes.”

  “Me too!” Evie leans in with a touch of too much excitement in her voice. “I can’t wait until a boy cheats on me and I catch him. I’m going to cream him by sending his family and friends all the evidence I compile. I’ll make him wish he never heard of me or my terrifying father who has the ability to put him away for life.”

  Noah lifts his drink. “Don’t forget about your uncle who holds the right to bear arms.”

  Evie nods. “You’re my first line of defense, Uncle Noah. In fact, if at all possible, I’d like to put in an early request to have a sheriff’s cruiser escort me to my first day at Honey Hollow High this fall. I think it’ll send a clear message about who I am and where my connections lie.”

  Everett’s chest expands. “I’ll be there to escort you inside.”

  “No, thank you,” Evie is quick to deny him the right. “And have all of those female teachers lining up trying to get into your pants?”

  Carlotta bucks with a laugh. “Oh, honey, odds are they already have.”

  “Next suspect?” I make wild eyes at Bizzy while Pancake slaps me on the nose with his tail intermittently.

  Bizzy shrugs. “How about Tallulah Velvet? She claims not only did Ambrosia cause her to lose the love of her life, but she further claims that Ambrosia was the one that gave him the idea to propose to his new girlfriend at the lake on the Fourth. That was pretty brutal, too.”

  A groan comes from me. “That’s right. And Tallulah hated Ambrosia for it. She definitely had a motive.”

  Carlotta leans my way. “What about Tacky Jackie? The woman wrote a tell-all about Judge Baxter and invited him to do the read along right in front of his wife.”

  Georgie nods. “A woman capable of such marital malfeasance is surely capable of wielding a carving knife.”

  Everett tips his head her way. “I’ve seen stranger things in the courtroom. I suppose nothing is outside the realm of possibility. But I don’t think Jackie would crap where she eats.”

  Noah frowns over at him. “You went to law school, and that’s the best you could come up with?”

  Everett frowns right back. “I went to law school. But I also have excellent intuition. That happens to be how I knew Lemon was the one for me.”

  Noah tosses his head at the thought. “You didn’t get Lottie off intuition—more like smoke and mirrors.”

  Bizzy shoots a discerning eye Everett’s way and her mouth falls slowly open.

  “Bizzy?” I tap her foot with mine. “Is everything okay?”

  “Oh right.” She blinks back to life. “Jackie Hart. I guess we can’t dismiss her. She did admit to being Ambrosia’s friend right up until Ambrosia stole her plotline. Things went downhill rather quickly from there. She was pretty ticked.”

  Jasper shakes his head. “Ticked enough to pick up that knife?”

  “I don’t think so,” I say. “I mean, it wasn’t a fresh grievance. Whoever stabbed Ambrosia to death at the lake, in front of what could have been potentially hundreds of witnesses, must have been rabid with anger.”

  Bizzy nods. “And it’s not like whoever did this brought the knife with them. There was a catering booth not fifteen feet from where the body was found.”

  Noah nods. “The murder weapon was confirmed to belong to a food service company working that day.”

  “It was a clear act of passion,” I say. “Bright flaming hot revenge or anger.”

  Evie looks my way. “So did you dig into everyone’s history? I mean, even if someone did get worked up over something, that was an exceedingly violent act. It would be hard for me to believe that they didn’t do something of a violent nature before this.”

  Everett’s lips curl with pride. “Nine out of ten people who commit violent crimes have a pattern of destruction that can be traced back to a trauma.”

  Evie’s shoulders bounce. “I was thinking the very same thing. That’s how I know we’re related.” She knocks her knee into Noah’s. “And our shared love of donuts assures me that we’re related, too.”

  Waffles trots out of the cabin and Carlotta scoops him right up, and Bizzy gets back to reading the minds of my sweet cats and we roar with laughter at the thoughts these little seemingly innocent beasts on board are capable of.

  It turns out, my pets are just as intuitive and intelligent as I thought they were, and then some.

  I bet whoever killed Ambrosia Whispers thinks they’re pretty intuitive and intelligent right about now. Especially since they believe they’ve gotten away with a homicide.

  But neither Bizzy nor I will let them get away.

  We just need one more puzzle piece to click into place and they won’t get away with anything.

  Certainly not murder.

  Chapter 16

  The large banner hanging in the conservatory at my mother’s B&B reads Welcome to the Summer Sizzler! Things are about to heat up in Honey Hollow!

  It’s the afternoon of the second author signing my mother is hosting this month. Seeing that the first ended with a body, she’s determined to leave a good taste in the mouths of readers—namely with the encouragement of my sweet treats. Not only has she lined up as many local authors as she could squeeze into the cavernous room, but it seems as if every woman in all of Vermont has come out to witness the event as well. It’s elbow-to-elbow room only, and the scent of clashing perfumes and my fresh baked cookie platters are all competing for my senses. In addition to the bodies milling around, there’s a life-size cutout of Ambrosia Whispers near the front that entire hoards of women are busy taking selfies with.

  I spot my mother and sisters noshing on a batch of my blondie bars, and each of them looks momentarily derailed by ecstasy.

  Lainey groans while swallowing down a bite. “Lottie Lemon, I’ll hang you by your toes if you don’t make these for my baby shower.” Her hair is neatly curled and her makeup looks impeccable, a far cry from the state I found her in at the library.

  “You bet I will,” I say, quick to free my toes from their proverbial harness.

  Meg balks, “I’ll hang you by your toes if you don’t have any of that flag cake. I’ve only been here ten minutes, and I’ve already had three slices.”

  “Duly noted,” I tell her. “I’ll have them at the shower in cupcake form.”

  Mom looks to Bizzy. “Georgie and Carlotta are helping out with the decorating. You wouldn’t happen to know how to keep a double baby shower running on a timeline, would you? What with all the games, the food, the presents, the keeping track of the gifts—it’s all beginning to feel like higher mathematics to me.”

  “Oh”—Bizzy blinks back—“I run all sorts of events at the inn. I can help you keep the afternoon on track. And that way you’ll be free to mingle with your guests and enjoy the day.”

  Mom pulls her in by the arm. “I can’t thank you enough for this. I’d better get to my station. The signing is set to start in five minutes!” She trots off in her fancy heels with their signature yet pricey crimson bottoms. Mom is pulling out all the stops to promote her new book, including looking her best to impress the bevy of potential readers who have turned up for the event.

  Just about every wall of the conservatory is lined with tables. And situated about three feet from one another, anxi
ous authors prepare their stations with baskets full of bookmarks and key chains and towers of paperbacks lined up beside them. I see Jackie and Tallulah, and, of course, Jessie Lane running from one side of the room to the other. It was kind of her to offer to assist my mother and Wiley in the effort.

  Lainey leans in. “That was nice of Mom to include a tribute to Ambrosia Whispers.”

  Meg shakes her head. “I don’t know, that life-size cutout is creeping me out.”

  I shudder as I look at the two-dimensional replica of the late great author.

  “Mom said that Jessie had it on hand,” I whisper.

  Bizzy nods. “Meg is right. It’s creepy.”

  The ghost of a diminutive, yet lumbering sweet little swine strolls into the room, right through the crowd and toward that cutout of her old owner. Bingo gives a few good sniffs, and in doing so tips the cardboard right over.

  Lainey groans, “And if it wasn’t creepy enough, it looks as if it’s going to keep tipping over.” She shudders herself. “I think I need another blondie bar, or twelve.” She takes off and Meg leans in.

  “I’m thinking of giving Lainey and Keelie a together gift for their shower. A couple of guys I know from a club down the street offered—”

  “No,” I cut her off. “No male strippers at the baby shower. That’s where I draw the line.”

  Meg averts her eyes. “I was going to say they offered to show up and give them massages when it was over.” She sneers my way. “Do you approve, Ms. Prude?”

  I twist my lips. “Only if they throw one in for Bizzy and me when they’re through. I have a feeling after keeping track of the sweet treats and keeping the afternoon on a schedule, we’ll need one, too.”

  “You got it, chief.” Meg salutes me as she takes off.

  Bizzy nods me over a few steps away from the crowd.

  “Something Evie said yesterday had me thinking.”

  “You want a sheriff’s cruiser to escort you to the baby shower?” I tease.

  “Funny.” She shakes her head. “I did a little digging and found that Henry had a few domestic disputes on record.”

  “Filed by Ambrosia?” My mouth falls open and she nods. “You think he fed us a crock of lies the day we spoke with him?”

  “Any one of them could have lied to us,” she’s quick to point out.

  “And they all probably did. Is there anything you found out?” I ask, anxious to hear it.

  “Jackie had a brief restraining order against Ambrosia. She was livid that Ambrosia blatantly stole her ideas.”

  I glance in that direction and catch Jackie laughing it up with the long line of readers anxious to speak with her.

  “She was angry,” I say. “Ambrosia could have rubbed salt into the wound that day. They might have exchanged words. What about Tallulah? Anything on her?” My eyes snag on the blue-haired woman currently with her nose to the grindstone as she signs a copy of her latest novel.

  Bizzy shakes her head. “Nothing much. She has a dating profile up. It looks as if she’s getting on with her life. Ronald is in the rearview mirror, and she’s driving straight ahead.”

  “Good for her,” I say as Georgie and Carlotta barrel on over in a set of black and white matching kaftans with what looks to be inspirational quotes all over them.

  “I love your dresses.” I try to read as many uplifting quotes as possible while my head keeps turning at an angle to accommodate them.

  “Thanks, Toots.” Georgie rocks her hip my way. “I brought them along in the event Carlotta and I needed to do a little light reading. Little did I know we’d be hitting the books.” Georgie gives her gown a prideful tug. “Hey, Bizzy, hope you don’t mind, but Sherlock and Fish wanted to run free out back. And don’t worry. I threatened them within an inch of their furry lives. They’re not to leave the property.”

  “That’s fine,” Bizzy says. “I think they’ve been craving a little nature.”

  “Speaking of craving.” Carlotta holds out an empty tote bag latched to her shoulder. “We need to go load up on some books.”

  “Good thinking.” Georgie hooks her arm to Carlotta’s. “I’ve got a suitcase on wheels we can use once these fill up.” They trot off and quickly get lost in the crowd.

  Something catches Bizzy’s attention at the door. “Jasper’s here. Let me see what he’s up to. I’ll be right back.”

  She takes off in his direction and my feet take off in the direction of another man—one who happens to be standing near that cutout of Ambrosia Whispers, speaking to her fans as if he had a right.

  “Henry Watson,” I say as I come upon him with a smile. “Nice to see you here.”

  He tips his sandy-colored fedora my way. “Lottie Lemon. Good to see you again.” He ticks his head toward the cutout of his ex. “Jessie let me know they were doing a memorial of sorts. A part of me needed to be here.”

  “Henry,” I whisper as I turn my back to the crowd. “I’m sorry, but I heard an awful rumor that you were arrested for a domestic dispute with her. Is that true?”

  Henry closes his eyes. “You have it partially true. The charges were filed against Val. Ask anyone at the sheriff’s department. It was Val who liked to take things too far, and I was on the receiving end of the terror.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” And there’s something in me that insists he’s telling the truth.

  A tall, rail-thin blonde appears in our midst.

  “Henry?” Jessie pulls him into a warm embrace. “It’s so good to see you.” She gives a mournful smile. “And you, too, Lottie. Oh, and great news. People are really responding to your mother’s new cover.” She taps Henry on the shoulder. “See me before you leave.”

  “I will.” He nods, and we watch as she zips back to tend to the authors.

  “Great lady,” I say.

  “You think?” He lifts a playful brow.

  “Well, yeah, she’s doing all this with her own free time. She’s a volunteer.”

  His lips press white as he glances her way. “That she is. But you know what they say. Even a volunteer finds a way to get paid. Jessica doesn’t do anything for free.” He gives a sly wink. “I’d better grab some dessert before the proverbial cupboard goes bare.”

  He takes off just as both Bizzy and Bingo stride up.

  I shed a cheesy grin Bizzy’s way. “Bet you didn’t know you were herding dead swine.”

  “Hello, Bingo.” She gives a friendly wave to her left and right.

  “Hello, girls.” Bingo licks the cardboard cutout and it begins to tip backward before I save it from toppling.

  Bizzy steps in close. “Anything come from that conversation you were having with Henry?”

  “Not really. He said Ambrosia was the one the cops came for during those domestic disputes and I tend to believe him.” I glance to the life-size version of Ambrosia offering me a winning smile. “No offense,” I tell her lifeless countenance. A thought comes to me. “Hey, Biz? What did your background check turn up on Jessie?”

  “Nothing but a bunch of author signings as expected.” She pulls out her phone. “But I didn’t look up Jessica Lane. Let’s see what her proper name yields.”

  We stare down at her phone together as it’s quickly populated with pictures of a woman who is clearly not Jessie.

  “How about the next page?” I ask and Bizzy heads on over.

  “There’s a Jessica Delaney dominating this page. I guess nothing exciting about Jessie outside the book world.” She’s about to put her phone away when something catches my eye. “Geez, look at that headline. Delaney family loses home and lives in act of arson.”

  Bizzy grunts, “Look at this headline. Arsonist caught. Mystery solved.” She accidentally clicks into the article below it. “Oops.” She’s about to click back, and I stop her.

  “It’s too late. My curiosity has gotten the better of me.”

  The two of us quickly scan the article.

  “So one of the sisters set the fire?” Bizzy shakes her head. />
  “I guess so.” I point just below the incriminating paragraph. “It says she claimed to be heavily abused by her father. That she was trying to protect her sister the only way she knew how. The girls weren’t that young at the time, seventeen and eighteen.”

  Bizzy moans, “It says she’s serving ten years at the Burlington Women’s Correctional Facility.”

  A breath hitches in my throat as I read on. “It says here not only did the father perish, but the mother did, too. Bizzy”—I gasp—“the mother’s name was Katherine Delaney. Initials K.D. That’s a wild coincidence. You don’t think that’s our K.D., do you?”

  Bizzy dots her finger to the screen. “The daughters’ names are Yvonne Delaney and Jessica Delaney.” She clicks on a black and white picture of the family during happier times and expands it so we can get a close-up of the two girls, and we do.

  Bizzy and I exchange a stunned glance.

  There just might be a killer in our midst.

  Chapter 17

  The conservatory at the B&B fills up with enough people to break every fire code in all of Honey Hollow. And yet with all of the people here, I still have the distinct feeling of foreboding laying heavy on me. How I wish I had brought Ethel along for the day. Why do I get the feeling I’m going to regret my decision to leave her at Noah’s?

  Bizzy takes me by the hand and navigates us through the crowd until we come upon Jessie Lane herself.

  Her blonde mane is tousled, her blouse sits askew, and she’s panting as she struggles to squeeze her way to the back of the room with a couple of empty boxes in her arms.

  “You need any help with that?” I offer, taking one of the boxes from her.

  “Thank you, Lottie.” She lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Tallulah sold out of all her books and asked me to get another box from the trunk of her car.”

  “We’ll help,” Bizzy says as she clears a path out of the conservatory and into the parking lot behind it.

  Bingo materializes and moseys her way over, and if I’m not mistaken, I think there’s a touch of my flag cake left on her little pink nose.