Flo is still raging on, and I scan the room and quickly find both Lorena and Donata not too far off from the unhappy couple, and if I’m not mistaken, both women seem to be giggling at the sight. So much for helping a girl out.
Flo slaps the man silly and stalks right over to her friends before the three of them start to go at it. We’re talking full tilt arguing, finger-pointing, eyes bulging, and bodies shaking with anger.
Wow. Flo sure has a lot of energy. I would have been wiped out after that first go-round. I’m not too much of a fighter. I’m much more of a lover, as evidenced by the sugar cookie growing in my belly.
Everett strides up with his tie askew, and I straighten it for him with a laugh.
“Made your escape?” I tease.
“Lemon, those girls weren’t interested in dancing. Thankfully, a group of boys wandered over and I was able to ditch them. Cormack accosted Noah.” He glances back, and we spot poor Noah trying to get away from Cormack Featherby’s grabby—and judging by the length of her fingernails—stabby hands.
Once upon a time in high school, Noah and Everett fought over that spindly blonde socialite. She was dating Everett, and then Noah had the bad sense to steal her away from him. And, well, Noah and Everett haven’t gotten along too well ever since. Cormack, however, has turned into a full-blown stalker. She happens to be the self-professed president of the Noah Fox Fan Club and does her best to dig her claws in him at every turn. And judging by the way she’s wrapped her wrist around his tie, he’s not getting away anytime soon.
“Come on.” I pull Everett by his tie as I lead him to the dessert table with a wink. “Let’s eat our way into the new year.”
His brows twitch up and down. “Have I ever told you, you have the best ideas?”
“Only every night in the bedroom.” I give a cheeky smile.
Everett and I indulge in the breakfast-inspired sweet treat buffet I’ve provided, and we both moan our way through bite after bite of those extra soft and lofty waffles.
“Lemon.” Everett closes his eyes a moment. “I think I found the one food I could live off of. How about I help you whip up a batch of these tomorrow afternoon—right after we sleep in until noon?” He lands a maple-flavored kiss to my lips.
“Done. And have I told you how irresistible I find you in the kitchen? That’s saying a lot since I can’t get enough of you in just about any other room.”
A rumble of a laugh rattles through him as he pulls me close.
“I can’t wait for this new year to begin, Lemon. The construction on our new home, the baby—this is going to be the best year yet.”
Just last week for Christmas, Everett surprised me with plans for a mega house to be built over the two properties where we lived up until our respective homes burned to the ground last October. We were next-door neighbors, and lived directly across the street from Noah out on Country Cottage Road. Now, we rent the house that sits next to the one I lost, and we’re living together for the very first time. Even though we’ve been married for exactly a year now—the marriage was more or less a business transition in the beginning—we’ve only been living together for a month. Evie and Carlotta live with us, too, along with my sweet cats, Pancake and Waffles, a couple of ornery yet loveable Himalayan brothers.
The music changes to something slower, and Everett and I quickly gobble down our food.
“Come on, Lemon.” Everett tucks a kiss to my cheek. “I need to dance with my beautiful wife one last time before the year is up. I hear it brings good luck.”
“Ha!” I laugh at the thought. “You do realize I’m not exactly a rabbit’s foot. More like a corpse magnet.” It’s true. I’ve stumbled upon more than my fair share of dead bodies as of late. As soon as the homicide rate skyrocketed in Honey Hollow, it seemed I was right there to catalog them all, and each of those homicide victims just so happened to be noshing on one of my sweet treats. Suffice it to say, a person or two has accused me of nefarious marketing practices.
We step over a few feet as he wraps his arms around me and we begin to sway to the music. I lean my head on his chest and listen to the steady thump thump thump of his heart, and I give a dreamy sigh. My body just so happens to be turned at an angle to accommodate my bourgeoning belly, but Everett has his hand over it, and every now and again the baby rewards him with a kick. And every time the baby gives him five, he drops a kiss to the top of my head.
A pink hurricane zips over to the buffet and catches my attention as she makes a plate of my waffles, ten high at least. It’s Florenza Canelli, and boy, does she look furious. Can’t blame her. She seems to be having a rather explosive end to this old year. Hopefully, she won’t have any more blowouts with a single person in the year to come.
The music changes pace to something livelier just as the DJ takes over the mic and announces that it’s time to do the official New Year’s Eve countdown. The room swirls with bodies as everyone quickly finds their loved ones and friends.
Noah comes this way and I pull him in, wrapping my right arm around Everett’s waist and my left arm around Noah’s as we count back from ten together.
“Three, two, one!” we shout in unison.
“Happy New Year!” the room breaks out into cheers just as a series of four loud pops goes off, detonating so loud there’s no mistake as to what made that horrific sound.
Screams break out as people scatter, and both Noah and Everett shield me with their bodies.
Noah pulls back and draws his weapon as the room devolves into utter chaos.
Lying on the floor to our right with a bullet wound through her chest is Florenza Canelli. Her legs and arms are splayed, and she just so happens to have an entire waffle caught between her teeth.
Florenza Canelli won’t have to worry about having any more blowouts in the year to come.
Angel Face Flo is dead.
Chapter 3
Noah raises his gun to the ceiling with one hand and hoists his badge in the air with the other.
“Ashford County Sheriff’s Department,” he shouts. “Everybody clear the building in an orderly fashion!”
But it’s too late. People are nearly trampled as they exit through every given orifice at once, and the chorus of screams is ceaseless.
Everett does his best to pull me toward the kitchen—where we happen to be privy to an exit that leads right to where I parked my bakery van, but I dig my heels in before breaking free from his grasp and run toward the body instead.
“Lottie, no,” Noah riots just as a flock of men and women fall over the poor woman checking her vitals. One of those people happens to be my sister Lainey’s husband, Forest Donovan. Forest, a fireman and a first responder, has wavy brown hair and stunning gray eyes. Lainey and Forest just had a baby last August, my sweet niece Josie, and this outing was their first big date night since the event. I’m sure Lainey will board herself up in the house for the next eighteen years after this catastrophe.
Forest checks for a pulse both at Florenza’s wrist and her neck before looking my way and shaking his head. Forest has always seemed perfectly capable of saving the world, but right now he can’t do a thing for that poor woman on the ground.
“She can’t be dead,” I say mostly to myself.
“Big Boss!” an annoying wail comes from behind us as Cormack Featherby runs up with her boobs bouncing to her chin as her body struggles to stay within the confines of that tight blue dress of hers. “I’ve got this! Featherby Sleuths Investigative Services to the rescue!” She trips and falls, landing right over Florenza Canelli’s unresponsive body.
“Everett!” Noah thunders, with his weapon drawn oddly at the rest of the room. “Get them both the hell out of here, now.”
Everett wraps an arm around my waist and plucks Cormack up by the hand, but before he can sail us out of the room, I turn to see a smattering of men in dark suits glaring in this direction. And every last one of them looks livid—livid enough to kill. I recognize two of them. They’re both tall and bee
fy, and they that just so happen to be glowering at one another at the moment.
The bald one with light eyes and a pointed chin is Luke Lazzari, aka The Butcher, who also happened to date Carlotta once upon a dangerous time. The guy next to him, who looks as if he’s about to shoot a round of bullets straight from his mouth, is Jimmy Canelli. He owns Red Satin Gentlemen’s Club down in Leeds, the very same gentlemen’s club where my sister Meg works teaching dancers their moneymaking moves. Luke and Jimmy are from opposing crime families. A Canelli just so happened to take a bullet tonight. There is no way this is going to end well.
“Your people did this,” Jimmy bellows over at Luke. “You killed my niece and there’s going to be hell to pay.” He storms out of the ballroom, and I catch Luke tipping his head back before cutting a cold glance to the body on the floor.
The next thing I know, Everett has navigated both Cormack and me out into the frozen night where snow covers the ground and the evergreen branches are still weighed down with powder from the storm that blew through last night.
“Essex,” Cormack shouts as she plucks her hand free. “You’re ruining my case! Take care of Linola here. It’s time to cut my teeth on a real whodunnit.” She pokes her finger in my chest. For some reason, both Cormack and Cressida, Evie’s bio mother, refuse to get my name right. “You stay out of my investigation, Limoncello. I’ve gotta prove myself in the crime-fighting world. And I’m doing it tonight.” She stalks off before either Everett or I can get a word in.
Just last month, Cormack’s wealthy father pulled a few strings and greased a few palms to garner his spoiled little angel her very own PI license. He also rented her the very same office space on Main Street where Noah once had his PI office. Cormack has been doing her best to claw her way back into Noah’s life for years now, and I have a feeling this is just another ploy to do just that. The only mystery she’s interested in solving is how to land the latest designer purse in her closet—and perhaps Noah in her bed.
“Lemon, are you okay?” Everett quickly runs his hands over my body, over the baby as if feeling for a gunshot wound.
“I’m fine.” My heart riots in my chest as if calling me a liar. “The baby is fine.” No sooner do I say the word than it gives a swift kick as if to agree with me and right over Everett’s hand to boot.
A short-lived smile curves his lips. “Nothing ever felt so good.” He closes his eyes and lands a kiss to my lips. “I love you, Lemon. I love you both. Nothing can happen to either of you.” He gives a quick glance over his shoulder. “I saw Evie run out the door just before midnight. I’d better go find her.”
“Go ahead,” I tell him. “I see my mother.” I point over to where she’s standing huddled with Carlotta and my sisters. “I’ll be fine.”
“Sounds good.” Everett shuttles me right into their circle before planting a kiss to my lips. “I’ll be right back with Evie. Don’t move a muscle.”
He takes off, shouting her name just as an entire line of patrol cars heads this way.
Sheriff Jack Turner jogs up with his shock of gray hair and sturdy build. Jack is my best friend Keelie’s father, and I’ve known him for as long as I’ve been alive.
“Lottie Lemon, tell me you had nothing to do with this one,” he growls as if maybe I did.
“I’ve never had anything to do with any of them.”
He presses out a short-lived smile. “Keep yourself safe, would you?” he says, taking off for the scene of the crime.
“Oh, Lottie.” Mom quickly removes her stole. “It’s too cold for you to be out here in that skimpy dress.”
“I don’t feel a thing,” I say as Lainey dives over me with a hug. Lainey has caramel-colored hair and hazel eyes that match my own. We look so much alike that for years I was convinced my parents had the details of my adoption wrong.
“Lottie, this is terrible.” Lainey pulls back with tears in her eyes. “I have to get back home to Josie. And I’m taking the rest of the week off from the library.” Lainey just so happens to be the head librarian at the Honey Hollow Public Library, a position she worked hard for. “I just want to bubble wrap my sweet baby girl and never leave the house again.” She takes off her heavy wool coat that touches down to her calf and slips it over me and my body drinks down the warmth clinging to it. “You need this more than I do. That baby is your priority, Lottie Lemon. I’ll stop by the bakery soon and make sure you’re okay. And we have to plan your baby shower next month—you haven’t even done your belly pictures. And look at you.” She gently places her hands on my stomach. “You just popped out overnight. You’ll be as big as a house in no time.”
Carlotta grunts, “You get any bigger, Lot, and I might just be tempted to move on in.”
Meg snorts at the thought. “She’ll find a way to do it, too, Lot. I hear Everett’s adding a wing onto that mansion he’s building just for Carlotta.”
Meg is my younger sister, younger by one year. She used to take part in the female wrestling circuit in Vegas as Madge the Badge before coming back to Honey Hollow. She’s the one that works at Red Satin, but she also helps manage the Honey Pot Diner, the quaint restaurant that’s attached through a shared walkway to my shop, the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery.
Meg has jet-black hair, icy blue eyes, and an overall morose view of the world. Her lips are painted a dark shade of chocolate, and she has on copious amounts of inky kohl over her eyes, giving her the appeal of a Goth princess—a look she’s very much after.
“That’s right.” A touch of pride infiltrates Carlotta’s face at the thought of Everett tacking on a wing just for her. “I knew it was a good move to get on Mr. Sexy’s good side.”
Lainey’s brows bounce. “So did Lottie.” She pats my belly before wincing. “I guess you’re on Noah’s good side, too.” She shrugs. “I’ll text Forest and tell him I ran for the hills. Goodnight! Don’t let the killer bite,” she says, trotting out into the parking lot.
“Hey, Lot?” Carlotta growls as she looks around. “Something isn’t right.”
Meg shoots her a look. “You think? There’s a dead body in there in the event you didn’t notice.”
Mom offers a crimped smile my way. “And I couldn’t help but notice she had one of your tasty waffles wedged between her lips.” She gives a little wink.
“Mother,” I say, incredulous that she would even bring it up.
She rolls her eyes. “Lottie, I’m just stating the obvious. You and I both know what a boon that’s been for business. Each time a homicide victim bites the big one while clutching one of your desserts, the public gets a hankering for that exact sweet treat. People are going to line up for miles in the snow just to get their hands on your fluffy, sweet waffles. I would start to increase production on those right away. In fact, I have my very first haunted Honey Hollow B&B tour of the year coming through tomorrow, and I’m going to send them straight your way right afterwards. We know what they’ll be looking for.”
I sigh because it’s true. After my mother sucks approximately eighty dollars out of the wallets of the people who line up to tour her haunted B&B—and it is haunted by a happy family of ghosts—she sends the tourists my way for what she’s dubbed as the Last Thing They Ate Tour. And horrifyingly enough, it has been a boon for business indeed.
Mom gasps as she looks to Carlotta. “I just thought of something. We should expand our writers’ workshop to run the entire month. We can do theme days! Meg, how about you bring some of the dancers from that cute little club you work at to my place? I bet my writer friends would have tons of questions they’d love to ask them. Romance writers are a curious bunch, and they might help authenticate some of the scenes in our books. Carlotta, you can bring your mobster girlfriends. Oh, and Lottie, you can do an entire class on how to juggle two men at once. This is just going to be wonderful. I should find my publisher and fill him in on all my new ideas.” She wiggles her shoulders in a suggestive manner before taking off while calling for Wiley.
Yes, Noah’s father
has convinced her that his publishing house actually has some prowess in the literary world. And I’m sure that plays into the fact she’s perfectly fine with him taking far more than half her profits. Suffice it to say, I’m not all that impressed with Wiley Rose Publishing, or Wiley himself.
Meg makes a face. “I’d better head to Red Satin. That was Jimmy Canelli’s niece who was gunned down in there. I’m sure the news has already hit the club and my girls have to be scared spitless. I’ll see you both at the B&B for strippers day.”
“I’ve got jury duty.” I shrug over at her. “But I’ll try to make it.”
Meg gives a slight tick of the head. “Boy, it’s like you’re cursed, Lot. On the bright side, as soon as you set foot in the courthouse, there might be a huge fire and the entire place could burn to the ground.” She chuckles to herself as she takes off.
“It’s not funny,” I call after her.
“Aw, come on, Lot Lot.” Carlotta links her arm through mine. “It’s kind of funny. Actually, it’s darn right hilarious. Everything you touch practically turns to stone—stone-cold dead. Get it?” She gives my ribs a quick pinch. “Now let’s go confront the Canelli girls. Cadillac needs me more than ever.”
“Who’s Cadillac again?”
“Cat—my bestie. She got a fancy new ride, and they honored her with the nickname. The mob takes their nicknames very seriously. It’s as if God Himself issues the whatchamacallit ordinance.”
“Fine, I’ll go with you. But something is amiss.” A mean shiver runs through me as I take a quick look around at the masses of people huddled and whispering amongst themselves.
“Carlotta, did you happen to see a ghost?”
She gasps. “Why no, I didn’t. How are we gonna hunt down Angel Face’s killer if we don’t have a supernatural ball of fluff to help us out in the endeavor? Wait a minute. Maybe she never had a pet? I bet she was allergic. I bet she had a hot Italian stallion to keep her warm at night. Once that sexy specter shows, I’ll gladly trap him in my bedroom for you. In the name of the investigation, of course.”
Murder in the Mix Boxed Set 28-30: Cozy Mystery Page 25