Cutie Pies and Deadly Lies: A Cozy Mystery

by Addison Moore

  The air stills in the room a moment as the three of us try to process the scenario.

  “I don’t know whether to hug you or slug you.” Honestly, it sounds both too good to be true and like a natural disaster in the making. “I’m not sure if I’d rather have people suing me because they’re suddenly addicted to chocolate chip cookies or because they busted a hip when they fell out of my rickety old furniture.”

  “That won’t happen,” Bear chuckles at the thought. “I’ll make sure everything is sturdy enough before I set it in this place.” He runs his fingers through his thick curls, and Keelie gives a little sigh. She’s always had a slight thing for Bear, but as per girl code he’s been off-limits. Believe you me, the reason I don’t want Keelie dating Bear has nothing to do with the fact he was my first and everything to do with the fact he’s a jackass of the highest order. He’s not just a player. He wrote the playbook—and has revised it several times to boot.

  “Sounds good”—Keelie nods furtively at me as if trying to get me to agree—“we can paint them all to match. It won’t be as bad as it sounds.” She doesn’t sound all that convincing.

  “She’s right.” Lainey offers a commiserating smile. “And I think we should paint them in every shade of pastel. That way we’ll be celebrating the fact they don’t exactly match. Sort of an organized form of chaos.”

  “Organized chaos,” I repeat as I take a deep breath. Slowly, in my mind’s eye, this place comes to life before me, with its butter yellow walls, its pastel furniture looking scrumptious as nonpareils, the showcase shelves filled with every delicious sweet treat I have ever wanted to bake, the gleaming kitchen filled with new appliances, the smooth marble counter over the island—okay, so it’s stainless steel for now, but my luck is looking up. It can’t hurt to be optimistic at this point. A rush of adrenaline surges in me like never before. “This is really happening.”

  Lainey offers a partial hug. “It’s really happening.”

  Bear heads for the door. “You know what else is happening?” He nods my way. “You and me at the Evergreen Friday night. Save a dance for me, would you?” There’s a glimmer of optimism under that sarcastic demeanor, and I can’t help but think Bear is still holding out the vestige of hope for the two of us. He ducks out before I can properly school him. Not that I would after that kind offer he made. Maybe Otis Fisher really is a changed man? Not that it matters. You don’t get to run around on me and then get to call me your girlfriend again. New York comes to mind. Come to think of it, I seem to attract a certain type of playboy.

  I look to Keelie. “They’re not going to have a dance at Merilee’s fundraiser, are they?”

  Keelie tips her head back as her lips pull into a line. “I only know one thing for sure. Naomi is in charge of the event.”

  “In that case, I hope she opts for a live band.”

  Chapter 10

  Naomi Turner did not opt for a live band. Instead, she has Mutton Darren, the general maintenance manager at the Evergreen Manor, streaming rap music from his phone through an obnoxiously loud speaker the size of my Honda.

  “You could have warned me that I needed earmuffs!” Keelie shouts to her older twin, older by two minutes, but those one hundred twenty seconds have been lorded over my best friend for as long as I can remember.

  “It’ll put people in a good mood,” Naomi admonishes with that perennial perturbed look on her face. “And a good mood is a giving mood. Mora Anne says she wants a top-of-the-line casket for her sister.” She scoffs down at her own sister. Her heels are so high she’s towering over the both of us. Keelie has a softer, friendlier look about her, whereas Naomi looks as if she’s about to break the arm of everyone in here. Keelie and Naomi are fraternal twins, which I always thought should have been called sororal twins, but nonetheless they look identical enough with their hair withstanding. Keelie is a fresh scrubbed, curly headed blonde, but Naomi has opted to dye her fair locks a shocking shade, the color of a raven’s wing. And she spends a copious amount of time each day flat ironing her curls. She’s a big fan of Keeping up with the Kardashians, and it’s no coincidence her hair and overall style took an abrupt U-turn once she began watching the show religiously. “I bet you’d give me the coffee can.”

  “Only because you’d deserve it.” Keelie gives a cheeky wink. “And you’re wrong about the giving mood. My entire body feels like a beating heart that’s about to give out. You’ll be chasing people and their potentially deep pockets away with this noise. If you have a heart of your own, you’ll have him turn it down and maybe play something softer, something without expletives or the phrase you better watch your back.”

  I grimace because that happens to be the refrain going off like a gunshot in our ears. To make it worse, it turns out the coroner confirmed the fact that the knife that inflicted the fatal blow was delivered through poor Merilee’s back. I’ve been asking questions to anyone that will listen, just trying to garner a clue as to what happened to Merilee that day. I’m so thirsty for the truth I’d do anything to solve this mystery.

  Naomi snarls before heading toward the grand ballroom to deal with the noise, as Keelie so accurately put it. We’re still in the foyer of the Evergreen Manor, a stately building that was once a colonial era home to a rich earl who was determined to be a Yankee. It has a haunted mansion appeal if you ask me with its oversized white pillars in the front and aggressive ironwork scrolling around the balcony. Inside, the walls are paneled with mahogany, and the floors are rich with thick emerald carpet, giving the place a cloistered feel. But it’s ironically spacious, and it has its mammoth side working for it in every capacity. The entry and lobby are tastefully decorated with garland comprised solely of fall leaves and pumpkins, and there are oversized pots of mustard yellow mums dotting every entry. A double staircase leads up to a plethora of rooms. Outside of the manor there is only Mom’s B&B in all of Honey Hollow and Hollyhock. And if both those places are fully booked, you might find a seedy hotel in Leeds with availability next to one of Bear’s favorite stripper hangouts. It’s not a shocker that the Evergreen Manor and Mom’s place are always booked to capacity.

  Forest Donovan walks in looking dapper as the day is long with a suit and fresh shaven face. It turns out, this is a quasi-formal event, per Naomi’s public invite. Keelie has donned a flashy red dress, and I opted for something more demure—i.e., the only thing my mobile closet could spit out, a blush pink A-line dress that makes my hips look as if they’ve doubled in size. One of these days I’m going to rectify my disaster of a wardrobe, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.

  “Lottie.” Forest grins as he lunges in for a quick embrace. “You look great.” There’s a veil of sadness in his eyes, and I know it has nothing to do with my illusionary expansive hips and everything to do with my sister. “How’s Lainey doing?”

  I didn’t need a road map to solve that mystery.

  Just as I’m about to answer, Keelie elbows me and nods to the entry where Lainey comes in wearing a navy velvet dress that makes her look like a princess—and plastered to her side is Tanner Redwood, still wearing his vest from the parks and rec department. Lainey spots us and quickly threads her arm through Tanner’s, speeding them off to the grand room. Judging by that crestfallen look on Forest’s face, he witnessed the entire event.

  “I guess she’s doing just fine.” He tips his head our way. “Have a great evening, ladies,” he says as he heads in their direction.

  “That boy isn’t giving up,” I say to Keelie. “That’s a good man. He’s fighting for what he believes in, and that happens to be true love with my sister.”

  “You say true love. Lainey says stalker.”

  I give her hip a bump with mine. “She does not say that. At least not to me. Lainey knows how much I love them together. In fact—” I pause a moment as Keelie looks to the entry with wide eyes, and before I can turn my head, Naomi joins us just as transfixed as she looks to the entrance as well.

  I glance that way just a
s an all too familiar brick wall of a body strides my way. “Lemon,” he says it stoic as if we were about to head into a boardroom to discuss a hostile takeover.

  “Judge Baxter,” I say with the same lack of enthusiasm.

  “Everett, please.” He nods to both Keelie and Naomi, both trying to outdo themselves in the drooling department. Everett looks intimidating as usual in a black suit, gold tie, his dark hair slicked back, and those blue eyes siren at us like a warning. Everything about Everett looks like a not-so-veiled threat.

  “What are you doing here, Everett? Do I need to instate a restraining order?” I’m only half-teasing.

  Naomi gags as if it were her I was looking to slap with a legal restraint. “Naomi Nell Turner.” She’s quick to shake Everett’s hand, caressing her fingers around his wrist while she does it. “I manage the Evergreen Manor and would like to personally welcome you to this fine establishment. Our dining room is always open to the public—the only real five-star restaurant in either Honey Hollow, Hollyhock, or Leeds. We offer both prime and choice New York steak. If you’d like a companion to join you for dinner, I’d be glad to accompany you.” She hikes her shoulder toward him suggestively.

  “That’s quite an offer.” Everett doesn’t crack a smile. Way to go, Judge Baxter. He knows how to ruin a person’s day both on and off the bench. And right now, I’m not too sorry about it. “But I’m here for the auction. A friend of mine extended the invitation.” He looks to me. “She said there would be cookies delivered fresh by the best baker in town.”

  Naomi takes him by the arm. “Right this way.” And they’re off before I can say a word in response.

  Keelie rattles my arm as if she were trying to revive me. Trust me, it’s not necessary. “Did you see that? He was flirting with you! That’s the guy from the Honey Pot the other night.”

  “That’s the judge who sided with me in small claims court. Mr. Sexy.”

  Keelie makes a squeaking sound while digging her nails into my forearm. “He is so into you! It looks like he wants to side with you in far more interesting places than a courtroom—like your bedroom.”

  “I don’t have a bedroom.” I raise my brows at my lust-filled friend. “Not technically, anyway. I’m in Lainey’s guest room with all her dusty stuffed animals she couldn’t stand to part with. Poor Pancake thinks he’s in a taxidermy shop. The oversized giraffe with the large glass eyes has been giving us both nightmares for a week.” I shudder just thinking about it.

  “I’m betting Mr. Sexy could find a way or twelve to soothe and calm you.”

  “Who needs soothing and calming?” a male voice strums from behind, and we turn to find Noah Fox looking every bit the wily animal his surname suggests.

  Keelie’s jaw unhinges at the sight of his fitted Italian suit, those glossy dark shoes, that glossy dark hair.

  “Holy hello.” Keelie takes a firm step back to properly take him in. “Detective Noah Fox, you are a sight to behold. Feel free to do a firm and thorough pat-down of either of us this evening. You never know where we might be hiding evidence you’d like to have your way with.”

  I kick her shoe, and she makes a face at me.

  Keelie clears her throat. “I’d better check on the cookies.” She takes off, and it’s just Noah and me. It feels half as awkward and off-putting as it did in the beginning and yet still very awkward and off-putting.

  “Cookies?” His face smooths out, and as soon as his lime green eyes hook to mine, my heart thumps into my throat without my permission. Probably just nerves. Mora Anne will undoubtedly be here, and I’m not too sure how she’ll feel about seeing me. “You bake them?” There’s a gleam in his eyes as if he were ready to come up with some acrid quip.

  “Yup. Four dozen maple leaf sugar cookies, three dozen snickerdoodles, three dozen butterscotch chip cookies. Those last two were a personal request from the deceased’s sister. She let the event coordinator know she would like to have them here.”

  “Well, I happen to love snickerdoodles”—he holds an arm out, and my mouth falls open as I thread mine through it—“and I happen to love maple leaf sugar cookies, and I have a soft spot for butterscotch. It happens to be my favorite.”

  “Duly noted,” I say as we enter the grand ballroom in all its autumn glory. The hall is packed with people, so many that I’m not sure where they all came from. Honey Hollow doesn’t have this many residents on a good year. In the corner to our right I spot Mora Anne and a stalky man speaking in a frenetic manner. “Ooh, look at that.” I give Noah’s arm a tug, and he leans in until he spots them.

  “Mora Anne,” he says it warm against my hair, and a shiver runs through me.

  “I can see why you’re so sought-after, detective. Your investigative skills are to be admired.” I can’t help but tease him. It feels as if Merilee’s killer should have been arrested by now, and yet we’ve hardly gotten out the gate.

  “And that red-faced and angry man next to her is Moose Hagan.” A smug grin rides over his face. “Any relation to your ex-boyfriend Bear?” He lifts a brow.

  A choking sound emits from me. “What? No. Not that I know of. And have you been investigating me?”

  “Nope,” he flatlines. “I stopped in for dinner last night at the Honey Pot. Keelie filled me in on all the juicy details before I had a chance to order my meal.”

  That doesn’t surprise me. I do a quick scan of the room, ready to chop off my best friend’s head for turning over all the dirty details. A breath gets caught in my throat as I look back to him with a newfound fear. “She didn’t happen to mention—”

  “New York?” he cuts me off with an amused gleam in his eyes. “No.” His affect falls once again, and I’m glad about it. A gloating Noah Fox is more than I can handle.

  “So, who’s Moose Hagan?” I redirect his attention back to the party and far away from any out-of-state dalliances I might have had. “And did Keelie offer him up on a silver platter, too?”

  He tips back on his heels as we inspect the two of them still going at it. “Hagan works as a football coach in Leeds. High school. His name came up when I googled Merilee. They were at some of the same meetings together.”

  “You memorized every name at the district educational meetings?” Merilee was a part-time substitute. I suppose it helped with the bills. The business really was struggling.

  Naomi walks by and does a double take in our direction before stopping. “Hello, honey.” Her shoulders do a little swivel, and I roll my eyes. The way Naomi is tossing it out there tonight you’d think she were having a fire sale on her lady bits and pieces. Trust me, there is no sale. They are always set at a discount rate. “I didn’t get your name.” She smooths her hair before extending her hand, a plastic smile cropping up on her lips.

  “He didn’t give it.” I twirl Noah to my right and put us in a more prime position to witness the meltdown Mora Anne seems to be having with Moose. “This isn’t your run-of-the-mill grief. This is a full-on confrontation,” I whisper.

  “Noah Fox.” Noah, the traitor, turns to shake Naomi’s long, skinny paw. “You wouldn’t happen to know what that’s about, would you?”

  Naomi bats her lashes bashfully as if he just asked her to dance. “You mean Mora Anne and that football coach? I don’t know, but I’ve seen him around the Manor a time or two.”

  “Here in Honey Hollow?” I lean in. “But he works all the way in Leeds. What was he doing here?”

  “I don’t know.” Her face twitches with disdain for me. “I don’t keep track of why people visit. They just do.” Her fingers walk their way up Noah’s arm as she giggles into him.

  Wow. Naomi couldn’t care less that we’re practically connected at the hip. If I wasn’t sure about Naomi’s stance on me before, this says everything.

  “Is that Merilee’s boyfriend?” Noah sounds hopeful, and suddenly I’m very sorry for him and his prospective career as a private investigator. Everyone in Honey Hollow knows that neither of the Simonson sisters was dating. They
were both too hostile and agitated to hold down a man, let alone find one that would tolerate them for a prolonged interval of time.

  “Moose?” Naomi tosses that river of ebony hair over her shoulder. “Heck no, that would be Travis Darren.” She averts her eyes. “My mother always said you can’t trust a man with two first names.”

  True. Becca has said that a fair number of times that it probably should have sent up a red flag or two seeing that Honey Hollow is low on such double monikered creatures, but I digress.

  “Merilee had a boyfriend? Are you out of your mind?” The words come out a little too fast, a little too loud, and a handful of people turn my way. “You take that back, Naomi. You can’t lie about dead people and get away with it.”

  “I’m not lying. Merilee was seeing Travis for over a month now. His sister, Janet, told me. She wasn’t too pleased. She said Merilee treated her like garbage.”

  “Well, that’s par for the course.” I try to steady myself on my feet. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact Merilee was in a relationship, albeit short-lived.

  Naomi’s name chimes from the back, and she takes off glowering in that direction.

  “A boyfriend?” I choke Noah’s arm and take in a lungful of his sweetly spiced cologne in the process. “Can you believe it? I can’t.”

  “No.” He looks back to where Mora Anne now stands speaking to a small crowd of women. “I can’t either.”

  A thought occurs to me. “Hey, how did you know so much about Moose? I mean, outside of the school meetings, what made him so remarkable?”

  His cheeks flex as he turns his attention back to me. “Because Moose Hagan was Merilee Simonson’s boyfriend.”