Six Merry Little Murders

by Lee Strauss et al.

  I reach down and scoop him up in my arms. “Noel, this is Greer and Winslow. They find you precious beyond measure, and Greer wishes she could keep you for herself.”

  Something between a howl and a whine comes from him. “Well, hello, beautiful,” he practically purrs the words out.

  She reaches over and offers him a scratch on the head. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

  “The pleasure is all mine.” His tail wags so hard it’s swatting me on the arm like a punishment. “I certainly hope the two of you are in the mood to catch a killer. I’m anxious to be back to paradise before the big day. I’d love nothing more than to spend Christmas with my sweet Tamara. That is in fact the day we met. I was gifted to her by her father.”

  Greer coos and looks as if she were about to cry all at the same time.

  Winslow shakes his head. “I’m afraid we can’t help. There’s a haunting to be had.”

  Greer waves him off. “We’ll be glad to help. But if you don’t mind biting an ankle or two, that would help us out, too.”

  “Then it’s settled.” Noel jumps out of my arms and runs down the hall. “Let’s go, Lottie! It’s time to catch a killer.”

  We head back out and the fun and games—or more to the point, the horrors and potential assaults have begun as the giant digital clock my mother hung for the occasion is already counting down. A buzzer goes off, and a man I don’t recognize leans into the microphone set up front and shouts, “Next!”

  Bodies circulate and mingle, and among them I spot Noah and Everett talking to Detective Ivy Fairbanks. As soon as they spot me, they head in my direction, and I lead them to the mouth of the room.

  “Lottie.” Ivy lifts her chin. She’s donned a red velvet gown and has her crimson hair pulled back into a chignon, looking every bit the glamour girl she is.

  “Detective Fairbanks. It’s nice to see you here tonight.” I’ve already shared everything I know about Joyce and Bonnie with Everett and Noah. I supposed Noah has shared it with Ivy by proxy.

  She sniffs. “I thought I’d jump in and try my hand at love.” She wrinkles her nose as if the thought were offensive to her on some level.

  “Well, don’t go yet.” I look to both Noah and Everett who look equally handsome with their dark inky suits and their killer good looks—no pun intended. “It turns out, Tamara was speaking to me the night she was killed—moments before to be exact.”

  “What?” Everett’s cobalt blue eyes widen a touch. “Lemon, I suggest we consult with an attorney before you implicate yourself in the presence of the law.”

  “Honestly, I think it’s fine.” I pull out my phone. “Tamara left a message for me at the bakery.” I turn up the volume on my phone and play it as the three of them listen in. And as soon as it’s finished, they all lean back and take in a collective breath.

  “Lottie”—Noah rakes his fingers through his hair—“this is big. That was a woman speaking to Tamara.”

  I nod. “A woman who wasn’t me. And the only women in the woods with her that night were Joyce and Bonnie.” I shrug. “I guess Stacy was, too, according to Scott.”

  Noah and Ivy exchange a knowing look.

  Ivy pulls out her phone. “I’ll review the evidence. Lottie, send that to me right away. I need to have an analysis done.” She shifts her gaze to Noah. “I’ll be out front if you need me.”

  Noah and Everett lean in, and we listen to the recording once again.

  Everett’s chest expands. “She’s frantic. I’m sorry you had to hear that, Lemon.”

  “I am, too,” I say. “But if it could help capture her killer, I’ll listen to it again every day of my life.”

  The recording wraps up, and Noah shakes his head. “It sounded like whoever that other woman was said something to the effect of did she sell art?” He shakes his head baffled by it.

  “Your interpretation is better than mine. I thought she said did he sell are. I guess we may never know what they were talking about.”

  Noel barks. “Or who she is.” Noel runs into the conservatory and growls. “I see one of the suspects now, Lottie. Let’s attack!”

  I make a face as I crane my neck into the crowd. “There’s Bonnie,” I say as I spot her blonde mane teased to the ceiling. Her lips are painted a caustic shade of pink, and she’s already chatting with a rather nice looking gentleman.

  Everett nods to our left. “And there’s Joyce.”

  I turn to find her laughing with a group of women. Each one looks more polished than the next. Joyce has a tight-fitting number on, a little black dress by every definition of the word, and she’s wearing a strand of garland around her neck like a scarf.

  “They both seem to be in a good mood,” I say just as I spot Stacy standing with my sisters. “Ooh, look at that.” I point over to them.

  Mom runs up before I can say another word.

  “Lottie! Oh, thank goodness you came with a few good men. I’m down one man and I need to borrow from your surplus.”

  My lips part as I look to Noah and Everett. I was never good at sharing my toys, and I have never entertained sharing my boys—but then again, neither one of them is officially mine.

  Noah pulls out his phone. “Everett, why don’t you take this one? Ivy just texted and I need to confer with her about something.” He takes off for the exit, and I look to Everett who’s busy twisting his lips in a knot.

  “It’s fine,” I say as I hike up on my tiptoes and offer his cheek a quick peck. “That’s something to remember me by.”

  He ticks his head to the side. “Not only are you unforgettable, Lemon, you’re all I ever think about.”

  “Aw!” Mom melts at his sweet proclamation. “Now come with me, Judge Baxter. We need to get you officially registered for the event.” And just like that, they disappear into the crowd.

  A bout of laughter garners my attention from the right, and it’s Stacy and my sisters having a good time.

  Noel barks up at me before floating up around head height. “Let’s get moving, Lottie. There’s a killer in the room, and I’ve got one serious bone to pick with them.”

  “Very funny,” I say, nodding to my right. “I think I’ll go join that conversation. Maybe Stacy or Lainey will remember something from that night.”

  “Good thinking.”

  No sooner do we arrive than Stacy looks my way. “Hi, Lottie. I was just on my way to the kitchen. The farm provided all the produce for the crudités and I don’t see any of it out. I have a feeling I’ll have to assemble it all myself.”

  “Oh, I can help,” I offer.

  Noel groans, “I forbid you to make a glorified salad when there’s a suspect to identify.”

  “That’s okay.” Stacy shakes her head. She’s wearing a stunning gold dress and her red hair gleams in the light. I think it’s odd she’s here tonight, especially after she was with Scott at the tree lighting. “Hey, can I ask what those detectives wanted?” She glances to the door.

  “I don’t know.” I bite down on my lower lip because it just so happens that I do know.

  “I think I know.” Stacy’s left brow hikes into her forehead. “Scott told me someone called into the sheriff’s department and implicated him—said they were an eyewitness to the event. It looks as if tonight is Scott’s last night as a free man. He’ll be going away for a long time.” She offers a forlorn smile. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  “Wow,” I say as we watch her take off. “Now there’s a twist.”

  “No, it’s not.” Lainey shakes her caramel waves. She’d donned a bright red sweater with a reindeer on it and its nose blinks on and off. “Everyone knows Scott did it.”

  Meg leans in. She’s got her jet-black hair ironed out straight, a tight leather dress with a row of spikes over her shoulders, and matching spiked heels.

  “Do you think Scott did it?” Her icy blue eyes sear into mine like a threat. Meg can make a simple hello sound like a menace.

  “No, I don’t.” I’d fill them in o
n what I know, but I have a feeling whoever is responsible for Tamara’s death is standing right here in this room with me.

  Noel lands on my shoulder and it feels as if a ham hock just did a hard landing.

  “Lighten up, will you?” I whisper as I try to adjust myself to accommodate him and both my sisters scoff at me.

  Lainey makes a face. “You’re the one that needs to lighten up, Lottie. It’s like this case has you twisted up in knots.”

  “Speaking of the case”—I look to Lainey—“is there anything at all that you can remember from that night? Did either Joyce or Bonnie say anything that could lead you to believe they were at their wits’ end with Tamara?”

  She shakes her head. “I didn’t spend much time with either of them. I was too busy trying to help Stacy. She was so focused on her camera. She wouldn’t stop talking about it. She does photography on the side. She made it sound like that camera was her baby.”

  The lights flicker on and off, and the entire room lets out a choir of oohs.

  Lainey cranes her neck past me. “It’s time to start the shenanigans. I’d better help Mom get that microphone working or we’ll all grow old and die here.” She winces. “Bad analogy, I know.” She gives my shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll be back.”

  Meg scoots in. “So? Who did it?”

  “I don’t know.” I glance out into the crowd and spot Joyce spontaneously dancing to the Christmas carol belting out its cheery tune overhead. “Joyce has full ownership of her business now that Tamara is gone. She certainly had a motive.”

  “Joyce has always been a go-getter. If she wanted Tamara dead, I wouldn’t doubt she could do it.”

  I make a face as Bonnie just about attacks Everett at the registration table.

  “Bonnie certainly goes after what she wants. In fact, she’s addicted to just doing that.”

  Meg belts out a laugh. “That woman practically lives at Red Satin.”

  Noel barks just shy of my ear. “Which one is it, Lottie? Which one has the greater temper?”

  “I guess anyone could get riled up,” I say. The crowd only seems to grow more congested just as a photographer squeezes in front of us and snaps a candid shot. He takes off, but my gaze lingers in his direction. He turns his enormous white lens to the side and it’s a foot long at least, with the letters DSLR written across the side.

  DSLR.

  I let it ruminate in my mind a moment, and then, just like that, my heart stops cold.

  I know who the killer is.

  10

  The music turns down a notch while my mother steps up to the microphone and begins laying out the ground rules for the matchmaking melee about to ensue.

  Meg says something about ducking for cover and does a disappearing act into the crowd, but I’m not too interested in anything going on in this room. Instead, Noel and I head out of the conservatory and straight into the kitchen.

  “Oh, thank heavens, Lottie.” Stacy slides a bag of chopped carrots my way. “I could really use your help, after all. It turns out, everyone from the office is in the next room and completely unwilling to give up their coveted spot in the little mating dance about to take place.”

  Noel hops up onto the kitchen island—floated up to be exact.

  “Ask her, Lottie! Ask if she killed my Tamara—my best girl.” And then as if the tiny pup were coming to an abrupt epiphany, he stops cold. “The camera, Lottie. That’s what you were looking at in the next room. It’s what made you think to come here, isn’t it?”

  It wasn’t did he sell are I heard. It was DSLR.

  “That’s right,” I whisper, carefully pulling the bag of carrots my way. “It sure is busy in there. I guess everyone wants to find love during the holidays. It would be nice anyway.” I swallow hard, examining her as she works to stack the celery onto a three-tiered platter.

  “Well, they’ll be hungry for something to snack on in just a few minutes. Not that my veggies can compete with that fudge of yours. You’ll have to give me the recipe.”

  “I will.” I clear my throat. “Did you see there was a photographer next door? I guess my mother spared no expense. That camera he had looked pretty expensive.”

  She scowls as she pulls a head of broccoli toward her. “Trust me. It was expensive. I should know. I’ve got my fair share of equipment. Or should I say had,” she grunts before bringing down a butcher knife over a head of broccoli in a violent thrust.

  Noel jumps straight into the air and keeps on floating. “Good grief. I think we should leave, Lottie. She’s armed and dangerous.”

  But I don’t leave. Instead, I make my way around the island as I inch my way over to her.

  “Is that what you were arguing with Tamara about? You were talking about a camera that night.” I know because Lainey told me as much. “And you accused Tamara of taking it.” I know because that conversation I was fortunate enough to digitally overhear told me exactly that. “It was a DSLR camera you accused her of taking, wasn’t it?”

  Stacy’s face bleaches out. Her mouth falls open as she lets the butcher knife slip from her fingers.

  “How do you know that?” She gives a few quick blinks. “I mean, everyone knows that. I was pretty upset that I had lost it. But no, I didn’t accuse Tamara of anything.”

  “Yes, you did. It was after Scott left. After Bonnie and Joyce left together as well. Tamara called me to put in an order for a party—a Christmas party she would never get to have because you pushed her. It wasn’t an accident.”

  “No,” Stacy says it lower than a whisper, shaking her head as she begins to back up. “This can’t be happening.”

  “But it did happen, didn’t it?”

  Her fingers clasp over the handle of the knife again.

  “Lottie!” Noel barks my name out in one vicious roar.

  Instinctively, my hand slaps over Stacy’s, and soon we’re struggling for the knife gyrating wildly between us.

  Stacy grunts, “Don’t do this, Lottie. It didn’t have to be this way.” In one swift move she has me in a headlock with my back tucked to her chest as she moves us toward the back door that leads to the woods behind the kitchen. “Why do you always have to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong? Scott was the perfect scapegoat. He exploded that night when he saw her. It was believable. I even had Scott doubting his own story at times.” She works the door open and the icy wind hits us with a blast. “Now look what you’re making me do?” She brings the knife to my throat as I writhe, trying my best to get out from her grip on me. “Stop struggling or this will get messy.”

  “Stacy, we’ve known each other for a long time. You’re good friends with Lainey. This isn’t you. This isn’t what you’re about.”

  “She took my camera, Lottie. I saved for months to buy that. I researched it for a year before I made the purchase. Tamara had everything handed to her. Scott and I did all the work on the farm while she did whatever she wished with her time. All she wanted to do was hurt me. Yes, I was with Scott. But not for long. Scott and I—we were going to get married as soon as his divorce was final. He promised me, no prenup. As soon as I get my name on the deed to that farm, I’ll take my half and leave him. I never wanted Tamara’s sloppy seconds. Tamara worked me like a dog for years. She thought she was better than me. But I showed her. I took what I could. Scott was ripe for the picking. Tamara treated him like the help. She made it all too easy.” She pulls me past the walk and we stumble in the snow as we miss that first step on the way to parking lot.

  The knife slips from her, and I lunge for it.

  “Lottie!” Noel jumps past me and onto Stacy’s chest.

  “Oh my God.” She lets go of me and clutches at her chest. “I can’t breathe.”

  I try to crawl past her and she grabs onto my ankle. “I’m sorry, Lottie. This ends tonight. You end tonight.” She plucks the knife right out of my hand and thrusts it down over me just as I roll out of the way. But Stacy is relentless as she hoists the knife back up.

  “You�
�re going to die, Lottie. And don’t forget—you made me do it.”

  “Like Tamara made you do it?”

  Her eyes fill with rage. “Tamara lied to me! She took what belonged to me, and I was going to make her pay.”

  Noel growls like a hound from hell as he jumps onto her back and Stacy falls forward, landing on top of me.

  Noel barks, “I’m so sorry, Lottie! Oh dear, the knife! The knife!”

  “Where’s the knife?” I stop struggling to get out from underneath her in time to look up and see a shining silver blade right over my head, and before I can scream a shoe comes from nowhere and kicks the weapon out from her hands.

  Stacy’s body is yanked off mine, and I see Everett’s handsome stone-cold face as he pulls her to the side.

  Noah and Ivy come running out the back door of the kitchen, and soon Stacy is in handcuffs and I’m in Noah’s arms.

  “Lottie, you could have been killed.” He presses a heated kiss to my forehead. “I’m so glad you’re okay. What happened?”

  “She confessed. She did it. She pushed Tamara off the embankment,” I pant.

  “Let me take care of this.” He steps over to where Everett and Ivy work to subdue Stacy.

  Noel runs up. “Good work, Detective Lemon.” His body lights up an eclectic blue hue, and tiny sparks of light that look like miniature stars spray all around him in a supernatural display of glory. “I’m afraid it’s time I return to paradise, to my Tamara.”

  Tears come to my eyes. “I’ll miss you, Noel. Have a wonderful Christmas with your best girl.”

  Slowly, Noel begins to fade into the background until there’s not a trace of him left.

  “Merry Christmas, Lottie Lemon! I will never forget you.”

  “I’ll never forget you either.”

  Everett comes over, and soon I’m in his strong, capable arms. I press my ear to his chest and listen to the quickening of his heartbeat.

  Everett pulls me in tight. “You got another one, Lemon. I’m proud of you. How about we put a moratorium on finding any more bodies until after the holidays?”