“What’s the matter, Lot?” Carlotta pushes the myriad of legal pads before her to the side. “Is the baby coming? Should I call Foxy and Sexy and tell ’em to hurry on down with their catcher’s mitts?”
“What? No. The baby is fine. I just had a hankering for an anchovy pizza.”
“That’s Foxy territory.” She gets straight to tapping on her phone.
“What are you doing?” I swipe at it, but she pulls it out of my reach.
“Foxy gave me strict instructions that if you needed anything at all I was to let him know.” She gives her phone one last and rather dramatic tap. “And send. Don’t worry, Lot. He’ll have that fishy pizza to you in no time.”
“Noah is at work,” I tell her as I shoot him a text of my own telling him to disregard whatever it was she just informed him. “He’s got a case to solve in the event you haven’t noticed.”
Noah practically spent the night at the sheriff’s department. He let me know this case is going to have him working around the clock because of its potentially explosive nature. The mob isn’t exactly known for their patience or appreciation of the justice system. And Everett is off vetting contractors who will potentially build our dream home right over the charred remains of the houses we lived in before. Our new life will be just like a phoenix rising from the ashes.
Carlotta grunts, “You mean the case you need to solve. Come on, Lot. You and I both know that Foxy is only good at one thing, and that’s planting a baby Fox inside of you.”
Lily gasps as she trots our way. “Does this mean you know for sure the baby is Noah’s? Carlotta, is there still time to change my bet?”
Carlotta slashes her hand through the air. “Sorry, kiddo. What’s done is done. Payouts aren’t coming until once that paternity test comes back and it’s ironclad. You’ve still got time.”
A choking sound emits from me. “You’re taking bets?”
Carlotta scoffs. “Don’t play dumb, Lot. You’re in on the pool, too. Don’t tell me that baby has gobbled up all of your brain cells already.” She looks to Lily and shakes her head. “It’s gonna be a long eighteen years.”
Meg zips our way from the Honey Pot. Her dark hair sits on her head like a rat’s nest, and her mascara is smudged over her eyes giving her that smoky look.
“Don’t mind me,” she says, coming behind the counter and snatching up a chocolate filled croissant from the bakery shelf. “Keelie just showed up to relieve me. I need to get back to Red Satin. It’s a real mess down there. The Canellis are up in arms. We’re talking a full-blown mob war is about to break out, and it’s going to span all the way to New Jersey. They think Nicky Knuckles pulled the trigger.”
“That’s what I think, too,” a voice chirps from my left, and I turn that way to see Angel Face Flo glowing with a hot pink aura. Her long black hair is filled with shimmering onyx-colored stars, her face looks freshly made up, hot pink lips, long thick lashes, a touch too much rouge, and she’s still wearing that short pink number she was killed in—bullet hole through her heart and all.
“Lily?” My voice pitches. “Would you mind keeping an eye on things out here? I need to show Carlotta something in the kitchen.”
Meg nods my way. “What is it? Can I see it? Did you get another pricey mixer? If so, the Honey Pot can use your old one? Someone dropped the dirty dishes in there while it was kneading some dough and now the paddle moves wonky.”
Carlotta snorts. “Let me guess. Keelie?”
Meg nods. “I can’t fault her. I’d be throwing dirty dishes at people’s heads if I hadn’t slept in five months.”
Makes sense. Five months ago Keelie gave birth to a bouncing baby boy. Apparently, one who doesn’t care for sleeping.
“Nope, not a mixer.” I look to Flo and hitch my head toward the kitchen.
“A bakery!” Flo looks around and marvels at the place. Her smile is so wide she’s practically all teeth. It never fails to amaze me how real the dead can look. Who knew you didn’t need a body to still be you?
She pokes her head into the bakery shelf—right through the glass and plucks up a pink cruller and does her best to pull it out, but thanks to the laws of psychics that donut isn’t able to waltz through the glass as easily as she is.
“Huh?” Lily squints at the shelf in question. “I’d swear on my life I just saw a donut jump. Don’t tell me this bakery is haunted, Lottie Lemon.”
Carlotta and I exchange a panicked look.
“No ghosts at this bakery,” I’m quick to assert and a couple of customers turn to look my way.
“That’s right,” Carlotta backs me up with a nod. “We’ve got rats.”
“Rats?” Lily screeches and an entire table of lavender-haired grannies up and walk right out.
“That’s right. Rats,” Carlotta is quick to double down and the entire left side of the bakery up and follows those grannies to rat-free pastures.
Meg shakes her head. “You should have stuck with the ghosts, Lot.” She snatches another chocolate croissant and waves as she heads for the door.
“Expect a visit from me at the club,” I shout as she’s about to exit.
“I’ll warm some pasties for you.” She winks as she takes off.
I turn to Flo. “You. In the kitchen right now. I’ve got an entire stack of hot pink crullers with your name on them.”
Carlotta scoops up her legal pads and is quick to obey my command even though it wasn’t necessarily meant for her.
We head back, and thankfully Flo floats right by my side.
“So like I’m dead, can you believe this?” she says with her fists balled against her hips as she gives the kitchen a quick once-over.
“Sadly I can believe it,” I say. “Where did you end up going last night after you ditched us?”
She makes a face as she scoops up a hot pink cruller off a cooling rack.
“I tried to find the louse that did this to me.” She takes an angry bite before moaning into the sweet treat.
Not that long ago, I couldn’t even hear the dead. Then, as my powers grew, not only could I hear them, but they were able to move objects in the material world, and as of late they’ve hit the culinary jackpot—they’ve achieved the ability to eat.
I don’t know where that food goes. I don’t want to know. All I do know is that the ghosts that can nosh and nibble are far happier than any of the other ghosts I’ve come into contact with.
Carlotta leans her way. “Did you find him? Is the case solved?” She swats my arm. “You should have the victim come back more often. This case will be open and shut. Maybe we can avoid that mob war after all?”
Flo moans once again as she swallows down a bite and wags her finger our way.
“Not so fast. I couldn’t find him.”
“He was that hard to track down, huh?” Carlotta shakes her head. “I’m afraid he’s gone into full bunker mode on us.”
“He might have,” Flo says, struggling to admire her reflection in the tiny mirror on the wall, and sure enough, she seems to spot herself, albeit faintly—not that it would be detectable to the human eye. She turns my way. “And it’s all your fault I couldn’t find him, Lottie Lemon.” She glowers over at me with those illuminated amber eyes. “Turns out, I’ve got a spiritual noose around my neck.”
“That’s right,” Carlotta says with a touch of pride. “You’ve got to include my Lot Lot in on the action if you want this case solved.”
“I’m afraid she’s right.” I wrinkle my nose at the girl. “Flo? Can I ask why or how it is that you’ve come back? Usually it’s someone that the victim held near and dear, like a special person in their lives, but typically it’s a pet they once loved.”
She glances back in the mirror and gives her supernatural tresses a quick tussle.
“Makes sense. Who could I possibly love more than myself? Could you blame me?”
My mouth falls open.
Florenza Canelli loved herself the most. Of course, it all makes sense now.
&nb
sp; “Look at these lips?” She puckers up for Carlotta and me. “I didn’t have to get them augmented like Lorena.” She gives a sly smile as she blows herself a kiss in the mirror. “And my hair is—was naturally curly, so I didn’t have to pollute it with all those chemicals like Donata. Face it, I was the best of the best. Whoever did this couldn’t take all my glory.” She turns our way with her eyes red as fire. “And whoever did this to me is going to wish they could take my place.”
“What do you mean whoever did this to you?” I narrow my eyes over her. “I thought you said it was Nicky Knuckles.”
“Now, now”—she takes another hasty bite out of the cruller in her hand—“I didn’t say I was sure.” She shrugs. “Now that I’ve been given some time to think about it, there might be another contender or two in there. You can’t have all of this”—she waves her hand up and down her nonexistent body—“and not have a couple of people angry with you.”
Carlotta nods. “You had some serious enemies.”
“You watch it, Spider.” Flo jabs a finger at my bio-mother the arachnoid. “You’ve got some enemies, too, you know.” A smile glides up one side of her face. “Aunt Caterina let me in on a secret or two.”
“What?” Carlotta barks so loud the metal mixing bowls on the island vibrate to the tune of her voice. “Cadillac swore she’d take my secret to the grave.”
“What secret?” I shoot Carlotta a suspicious look. Oddly, I don’t believe there is one. Either that or it has something to do with her penchant for hoarding ketchup packets in her bedroom.
“It’s nothing, Lot.” Carlotta looks flustered as if it very much were something. “It has something to do with—uh, my love of—”
“Ketchup?”
She slaps her hands together before touching her nose and pointing my way. “You’re good at guessing, Lot.” She shoots Flo a mean look. “And she’s even better at sending spirits like you right back to that poltergeist party in the sky.”
Why do I get the feeling Carlotta suddenly wants to send Flo packing? Not that I object. A mob war could take us all down in the crosshairs, and I’ve got my sugar cookie to think of now. Nobody wants this case closed more than I do. Except maybe Flo.
“She’s right.” I nod to Flo. “How about we start asking around for help in tracking down Nicky?”
“We’ll start with Lorena.” She nods. “If I know my bestie, she’s already asking the hard questions. But not today.” She eyes the rack where the rest of the crullers are cooling. “It’s the weekend. And it’s her first day of mourning. She’s got to be a wreck. Not today, and definitely not tomorrow. Tomorrow is Sunday. And if I know anything, it’s you don’t mess with Sunday dinner.”
“Fine. We’ll start Monday.” I wince as I look to Carlotta. “Which reminds me, I need to call into jury duty to see if they need me. Both of you send up a prayer. Now that I have a killer to hunt down, I don’t have time to pretend to care about a little courtroom drama.”
I head to my office, pull the jury summons out of my purse, and put in the dreaded call to see if they need me to trek over frozen tundra and serve up some justice. After five minutes of being instructed to press this and press that, the robot on the other end, who suspiciously sounds like Noah’s sourpuss of a mother, Suze, finally gets to the awful point.
“You are required to report for jury duty on Monday, January fourth, at eight a.m., at the Ashford County Courthouse. Please bring your jury summons with you.”
I don’t hear the rest. I simply hang up. I’ve never felt so despondent, so oppressed, so angry with the government for hijacking my time.
I step back out and Flo shakes her head at me. “The feds gotcha, didn’t they?”
“They got me.” I wave my jury summons like the white flag of surrender. “We’ll have to wait until Monday night to talk to Lorena. I have a feeling that’s going to be a long day.”
Flo nods. “And an even longer night for you, Lottie Lemon.”
“Why is that?” I get the feeling I’m not going to like the answer.
Flo takes a breath she doesn’t need. “Because if I know my family, they’re planning my funeral. And without me there to take care of the details, I know for a fact they’re taking me to tacky town. Not one of my sisters has any taste. And who the heck knows what Lorena and Donata will dream up without me there to tell them what to think? We’ve got a funeral to stop until I can figure out how to control this mess.”
“Woo-wee!” Carlotta whoops and hollers as she slaps her hands together. “It’s been a long time since I’ve stopped a funeral dead in its tracks. Get it? Dead in its tracks?”
But I’m not interested in entertaining Carlotta’s sense of humor or Flo’s for that matter.
“I’m sorry,” I tell the specter among us. “But there’s no way on earth I’m going to be able to stop your own family from holding a funeral for you.”
A dark smile bleeds from her lips. “There’s one way to stop this tacky funeral from happening.”
“What’s that?” both Carlotta and I ask in unison.
“Steal my body.”
Chapter 5
“Jury duty,” I grunt. “Notice how they’re both four-letter words? A coincidence? I think not.”
A dark chuckle strums through Everett’s chest as we pull up in front of Honey Hollow High and Evie jumps out of the car.
“Thanks for the ride,” she sings. “Oh, and before I forget, the Winter Formal is next weekend, and both Kyle and Conner asked me to be their date so, of course, I said yes. They’re renting a limo and everything.” She rolls her eyes.
Evie was born with a platinum spoon in her mouth, so I can see how she’s not so easily impressed.
“Winter Formal? Next weekend?” I squawk. “Evie, that’s so fun! As soon as I get home, we’ll hit the Scarlet Sage Boutique and pick out a dress for you.”
Evie looks slightly affronted. “No offense to your friend, Scarlet, but my dress isn’t going to be found anywhere near her shop. That was fine for homecoming, since it was practically a back-alley ho-down. But this is the big league. I’ve contacted Cressida and told her I needed access to the holy of holies, her couture depository. She holds all of her designer gowns under lock and key in some vaulted warehouse down in the basement of the Bentley mansion. Dash and I are heading over after school to raid it. Don’t worry, guys. I’m not ditching you for the pod that birthed me.” She looks my way. “Believe me, she’s never moving in with me the way you’ve let Carlotta move in with us. And by the way, I’d trade Cressi-duh for Carlotta any day of the week. But I don’t have to. I have you.” She dots a kiss to my cheek. “Remember, if you can pull off what I told you to do, you’ll never have jury duty again for the rest of your life. Good luck getting out of it.” She waves to Everett. “Have fun doling out the life sentences. Love you!” She slams the door and bolts for a group of girls shivering in the snow.
“Nice.” I sigh as Everett pulls back onto the road. “Do you think Cressida is trying to weasel her way back into Evie’s life by way of designer dresses?” I warm my belly with my hands until the heater kicks in again.
Everett shakes his head. “I doubt it. She’s about as maternal as an earthworm.”
“Earthworms might be more maternal.”
“Touché.” He glances my way. “So, don’t keep me in suspense. What did Evie suggest to get you out of jury duty for life?”
A naughty smile rests on my lips and I bite down over it. I take a moment to take in my handsome husband with his black suit, matching tie, and his slicked back dark hair still dewy from the shower. He’s clean-shaven today, and his cologne is intoxicating me in ways that neither hard liquor nor any of my vanilla scented sweet treats could ever be capable of.
“She said I should bring Ethel with me and shoot the defendant.”
“Geez.” Everett grips the steering wheel. “Lemon, half the things she says alarms me. Should we find a good therapist?”
A laugh thumps from me and the baby kic
ks me as if he or she was laughing as well.
“No. Evie is fine,” I say. “She’s just a teenager. They’re dramatic. They let their minds wander and say and do whatever they want.” Within reason, I hope.
His chest expands as we head onto the highway. The sky is gray, the roads are slick with ice and snow, and I’m relieved I don’t have to drive all the way to Ashford by myself today.
“Well, I’m not approving,” he says as he glances over his shoulder before we merge into traffic. “I’m going to have a talk with her. And what’s this going to the Winter Formal with two boys business? That’s not how I want to raise her. I’m going to tell her she needs to make a decision.”
“What? Everett, they’re just glorified friends. Dash is going with them. They’re all practically going stag.”
“That tells me you have selective hearing. I heard facts. She has two boyfriends, both of which asked her and are escorting her to a dance in which she is going to wear something that costs more than the school will have to pay to rent the ballroom for the night. There are many things off in that entire scenario. Besides, my goal in life is to be a better father than the one I had. And that means I need to get involved, even if it means getting my hands dirty. Believe me, I can’t wait to be one hundred percent involved with our baby.” He reaches over and pats my knee. “I’m in love with both of you more and more every day. Just when I don’t think my love can grow another inch, it stretches out a mile. Thank you.”
“Thank you for what? And by the way, you could melt all the snow in Vermont with your sweet words. I love you, too, Everett.”
Murder in the Mix Boxed Set 28-30: Cozy Mystery Page 27