Cutie Pies and Deadly Lies: A Cozy Mystery

by Addison Moore

“What?” I bounce on my heels. “There’s no way either of you is correct. Obviously, the cider is spiked tonight.”

  “I didn’t have a drop. The reason I was able to single Moose out was because I sifted through a few public pictures of their events and found a small handful with Merilee and Coach Hagan looking a touch too cozy. So I drove down to Leeds and spoke with a few people. Finally had an assistant of his open up and mention the fact Coach Hagan announced two weeks ago he was leaving his wife of thirteen years, two kids in the mix.”

  “What? You think he was leaving her for Merilee? Merilee was a lot of things, but I can’t see her as a homewrecker.”

  Noah leans in with his left brow hooking into his forehead. “He mentioned her by name. Said he was ashamed how it all went down.”

  I suck in a quick breath and disconnect my hold on him in the process. “That sounds ominous.”

  “I thought so, too.”

  A jumble of bodies squeeze their way past us, and my purse feels as if it’s about to hit the ground. No sooner do I secure it over my shoulder than I spot a neatly folded piece of paper tucked hastily near the opened zipper, glaring at me with its bright yellow hue. I pull it out and open it between us.

  “I know what you did. Back off or else,” I read and a chill prickles my skin as the words ring out. The letters are drawn out with sharp peaks and valleys, a distinctive look, but not one I recognize. “Noah, someone just stuffed this into my purse.” I look frantically into the crowd, but there are so many limbs, so many glammed up bodies I hardly recognize a soul. “Do you think the killer just delivered a message?”

  Noah pulls a small plastic bag from his pocket and both quickly and discreetly takes the note from me and makes it disappear behind his lapel. “I think this is a clear sign you need to keep from asking questions around town.”

  “There’s no way I’m doing that. I’m not going to let some lunatic intimidate me. Give me that note back.”

  Noah shakes his head, the defiance in his eyes assuring me he’s not giving in without a fight. “Detective Lemon, you are officially dismissed from the case.”

  I’m so stunned I can’t believe my ears. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying stay out of my investigation.”

  Chapter 11

  Noah Fox takes off into the crowd inside of the grand ballroom of the Evergreen Manor, and suddenly I really am moved to murder someone.

  “How dare he!” I turn on my heels and smack into a body. Judging by the solid granite wall I don’t need to look up to confirm my suspicions, but I do. “Are you always going to get in my way like that?” I take a full step back before Everett tries to walk through me once again.

  “No.” Everett smacks his lips as if he were bored with me before craning his neck into the crowd. “How dare he what? What did Noah Fox do now?”

  I open my mouth to say something but think better of it. No matter how much the truth is wanting to spill out of me like a greasy glass of marbles, I’m betting Everett will suggest I take Noah’s advice. If it’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s male camaraderie—especially when it maligns my intentions. For the record, my intentions are good. I just want to put Merilee’s killer behind bars and be done with it. And now I have that note to contend with. Correction—had that note to contend with.

  “Noah Fox just stole a piece of my private property before sauntering off into the crowd like he owned it.” I spot Noah at the buffet line stuffing his face with my butterscotch cookies, amassing quite the confection collection on that little white plate he’s holding.

  Everett pushes out a quiet laugh. “That’s Noah in a nutshell.”

  Just as I’m about to grill him into tomorrow with all the hellfire of a prosecuting attorney, Keelie steps in.

  “Is this a private party? Or can anyone deliberate in your honorable presence?” Her teeth glitter as she bubbles with laughter. Keelie is adorable, and for whatever reason, every adorable ounce of her is annoying the heck out of me.

  Neither Everett nor I bother to answer. Instead, I continue my interrogation of the questionably honorable judge.

  “Is Collette Jenner the one who invited you tonight?”

  “That she did.” He rocks back on his heels while scanning the room as if looking for her.

  “I thought you said she was your ex? It sure doesn’t sound that way to me.” I shoot Keelie the side-eye. We’ve never been good at maintaining a relationship with our exes, seeing that the original relationship didn’t work out to begin with.

  Everett grunts as if my line of questioning offends him on some level. “I’m on good terms with all of my exes. Collette invited several employees from the courthouse. The PR firm she works for is here in number, too.” He openly glowers into a crowd of suits.

  “Do I sense a smidge of jealously?” I relish the thought. Even though I’ve only known him for a short time, I’m reveling in the fact something has gotten under his skin. Everett has been one hundred percent stoic and impossible to read since the beginning. I suppose that’s why his profession suits him so well.

  “Not a smidge, not a drop.” He gives a dark chuckle as Noah steps into our small circle.

  “What are you laughing at?” He takes an angry bite out of a bright orange maple leaf-shaped cookie. Fall is tied with spring as my favorite time of year. One of my favorite things to do this time of year is make a leaf cookie bouquet and pass them out to friends. I even gave one to Mora Anne and Merilee last year. Not because we were friends. Mostly I felt sorry for them, two spinster-like women holed up in that apartment of theirs all the time, but apparently Merilee was having a merry time with a married man no less.

  Everett maintains his amused demeanor, which only seems to infuriate Noah. “I’m laughing at the fact you’ve already managed to tick Lemon off. Are you going for a record? Because I think you just broke one.”

  Noah ceases chewing his cookie, still shooting that death glare his way. The tension rises, as does the volume of the music once again, and I’m quick to jump between them in the event things decide to escalate quickly.

  “Before you do something rash like slug him—Everett here happens to be a judge.”

  Noah gives one of those slow blinks that lets you know he’s beyond exasperated. “I know all about him.”

  Keelie gasps, “How in the world? Let me guess. You landed yourself in a heap of fun-loving trouble and wound up in the honorable judge’s courtroom?” The entire left side of her body takes the opportunity to lean against Everett’s rock-hard body, and I can’t help but frown.

  We look to Noah awaiting a reasonable and perhaps slightly above the law response.

  “First”—he stabs Everett with his glare—sorry analogy on my part, but accurate nonetheless—“why are you always around?”

  Everett scowls ten times harder than before. “I’m an invited guest. I’ve bid on half a dozen items. Be glad I’m around.”

  “Around Lottie?” Noah doesn’t relent in that heated stare.

  Keelie ribs me, and I can’t help but press my lips tight. I can’t recall a single time when I’ve had this much testosterone-based attention paid to me. Not in Honey Hollow. For sure not in New York.

  Everett pushes his tongue into his cheek, and you can practically see the steam rising from his ears. “What’s it to you?” He takes a step in.

  “Hey?” I push my hands between them. They’re so close I can’t help but land my palm over each of their chests. I can feel their heartbeats vibrating right up through my arm, and it tickles just enough. More importantly, I’m able to securely say that Noah Fox’s chest is just as rock-hard as Everett’s. Hey! Maybe they go to the same gym?

  Everett leans in close, his attention still one hundred percent on the obnoxious PI. “Look, I’m not seeing Lottie, and I’m not out to steal her from under you.”

  Noah’s cheek flickers as if he were embarrassed on some level.

  “I’m not seeing anyone,” Everett continues. “And I certainly do
n’t want to see you. Why don’t you leave? You and I both know you’re not parting with one red cent to help that poor woman bury her sister.”

  Noah flinches. “I’ll have you know I just bid two hundred dollars for the sundry basket. It comes with toothpaste, and mouthwash, and a boatload of toilet paper. You never know when you’re about to step in a pile of bullshit. Or in my case, run into one.”

  Keelie and I gasp in unison.

  “And on that note”—I spot Chrissy Nash standing next to the oversized picture of Merilee, and she looks as if she’s about to be ill—“I’m leaving. Until you two can grow up and, for the love of God, tell me how you know each other—the two of you can have at it.” I pull Keelie along with me, not giving her a say in the matter.

  “Hey!” she’s quick to protest. “It was just getting to the good part.”

  “I need you to help me solve this case. Noah wants me to stay out of the investigation, but it will be over my dead body.” I grimace as soon as I say it. For sure I’m not telling Keelie about the note. The note may as well not exist as far as I’m concerned. I need to solve this mystery or in the least put the white-hot spotlight on some other unfortunate soul. I’m their only suspect for God’s sake.

  “Chrissy!” I muster all the enthusiasm I can before realizing something far more somber would have drawn less suspicion. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages.” I offer an impromptu embrace.

  “I’m fine.” She casts a glance to Merilee’s picture. “I just wish Merilee was fine, too.” She pushes a tissue to her nose as her eyes swell with tears. There are bags under her eyes, and her face is blotchy as if she’s been weeping for hours.

  “You don’t look so fine. And understandably so. It’s terrible what’s happened.”

  She nods while swallowing down her grief. “I just wish we had left off on better terms.” She waves it off. “It was a stupid little squabble about a parking space.”

  “Is that what you were arguing about that day at the orchard?” The visual comes back to me—Chrissy Nash, Eve Hollister, and a third woman I couldn’t identify. They all looked a bit frazzled that day. Mora Anne included. “And who was that woman standing with you? Was that Laurie Ackerman from the library? She works with my sister.” I know for a fact it wasn’t Laurie because she’s due to have a baby any day now and is on bed rest. Lainey mentioned last week she couldn’t find a replacement for her.

  Chrissy opens her mouth as if to speak, then promptly closes it. “Um, yes, I guess that was Laurie.” She shakes her head as if her own body were protesting the words that just flew from her mouth. “Like I said, it was just a silly argument over a parking space.” She speeds through the hall and into the lobby.

  Keelie blows out a breath. “Well then. That wasn’t suspicious at all.” She ticks her head to the exit. “I think we have a suspect, Detective Lemon.”

  I spot Everett and Noah speeding this way.

  “And we’re not going to say a word to anyone else.” I manufacture a smile just as they close in on us.

  Noah takes a deep breath, and his chest expands for a mile. “We’re ready to tell you how we know each other.” He pushes each word out as if he were moving a boulder, and my curiosity is piqued twice as much as it was before.

  Everett’s shoulders sag as if he too were acquiescing. His serious eyes settle over mine as if he were about to deliver devastating news. “We’re brothers.”

  A hand pulls me from between the two of them and whisks me into the thick of the crowd, past the tangle of endless bodies, and right into the center of the dance floor.

  A pair of arms wraps themselves around me, and I look up at that familiar devious grin as we begin to sway.

  “Otis Fisher!” I playfully tap his foot with mine. “You have always had the worst timing.”

  His lids turn to slits as he breaks out into a lazy grin. “It’s the first slow song of the night, and you promised me a dance.”

  I’m about to correct him but then remember his kind offer to help me with the office furniture. “I guess one dance couldn’t hurt.”

  “That’s better.” He touches his chin to the side of my head. “And it’s Bear to you.”

  “You got it, Bear.” It comes from me lackluster as I look to the spot where I was standing just a few moments ago with Everett, Noah, and Keelie, and now all three of them have dispersed. I do a quick scan and spot Keelie speaking with Lainey, the two of them glancing my way with disapproval.

  But Everett and Noah are nowhere to be seen.

  They’re gone.

  Brothers.

  I can’t seem to comprehend it. That solves the surface mystery, but there is a fissure between them that runs much deeper—something damaging that has absolved any outward sentiment of brotherly affection.

  Everett is stubborn. Cold as iron.

  Noah is most definitely stubborn. Ornery as hell.

  I’m going to get to the bottom of the rift that’s torn them apart.

  Just like I’m going to get to the bottom of whoever slipped that note into my purse so brazenly. I’m betting they’re the same person who killed Merilee Simonson.

  I’m not staying out of Noah Fox’s investigation because, for one, it never belonged to him. I found the body. I’m the number one suspect. It’s up to me to clear my name.

  I’m kick-starting my investigation bright and early tomorrow morning, and I’m starting with Eve Hollister. If Chrissy won’t tell me the truth about that mystery woman, maybe Eve will.

  After all, why would Eve lie to me?

  Why would Chrissy?

  Chapter 12

  The Honey Pot is filled to the brim with my mother and her cohorts as their cheeky book club commences for the day. The air in the Honey Pot is thick with the scent of fresh morning coffee, and the sweet scent of syrup permeates the room as patrons fill the seats in hopes to fill themselves with one of our scrumptious breakfast selections.

  The book club peeps are a riotous bunch with their explosive bouts of laughter and their just as sudden pensive lulls. This month’s literary selection has a woman in a billowy dress on the cover while a villainous looking man with a sharp goatee chases her through a valley. The Viscount’s Wench was my mother’s saucy pick. I know so because she furnished both Lainey and me with fresh copies from the bookstore right after she chose her spicy selection. My copy is sitting at the bottom of a box in Lainey’s garage without much hope of retrieval. I can hardly think of unpacking, let alone reading. For sure I can’t get my head around moving. All I can think about these days is who killed Merilee Simonson. You might say it’s consuming me. And it’s probably a good thing too since I was most likely threatened by the killer myself last night.

  That note comes back to me, bright yellow, tucked aggressively into my purse, my personal property. That clear invasion of my personal space let me know they’re not afraid to get in my face, without actually revealing theirs. Before I left, I asked Naomi if the Evergreen Manor had security cameras in the ballroom and was met with an enthusiastic no. Shutting me down in any capacity has always been Naomi’s favorite thing to do, so the enthusiasm in general didn’t surprise me.

  “More coffee!” my mother sings as she flags me down. Since my mother’s club is close to thirty strong, and they seem to require more attention than your average customers, I usually make it a practice to tend to them myself, freeing up the waitresses to focus on the tourists and regulars alike.

  I do a quick round of refills as the women chatter among themselves. Most have already leashed their purses to their shoulders signifying an upcoming mass exodus. Eve Hollister and Chrissy Nash hold what appears to be a casual conversation with a couple of women on the end. I’m secretly hoping Chrissy will leave so that I can corner Eve before she takes off, too. I have to get to the bottom of this and find out who that mystery woman was that day at the orchards. I couldn’t believe my ears when Chrissy entered into a blatant lie about Laurie Ackerman. I had Lainey call to confirm the fact s
he was still in fact bedbound.

  “Lottie”—Mom claps her hands together dramatically, and I can feel the onset of a ripe embarrassment coming as sure as a thunderstorm—“your pumpkin spice coffee cake was to die for! Do tell us your secret.” She gives a playful wink. My mother’s mission in life is to praise and uplift her daughters, but as it stands, that often goes hand in hand with a mingling of public humiliation.

  My cheek flinches as she lets the morbid analogy fly, and at least a handful of women offer sideways glances in my direction. It’s no secret that I’m the one that found Merilee. It’s also no secret that I was taken to court by the sisters and brutally evicted the morning before her body was discovered. I’m not too sure anyone in Honey Hollow thinks I’m capable of murder, but considering the fact that it was most likely someone from our sweet town who plunged the knife into Merilee, I’m as good a suspect as any.

  “Thank you, Mother.” I offer the ladies around her a crimped smile. “My secret is there’s love in the mix. I can’t imagine a day without baking. It just makes me happy.”

  An echo of coos circles around the table as the women surrounding my mother look up at me as if I just gave birth to a puppy in front of them. The funny thing is, I’ve never quite envisioned myself having a human child. Growing up, while my friends and sisters were playing mommy with baby dolls, I was the pretend mother to an entire litter of puppies and kittens. I always thought I’d end up with a dog one day, but when Nell said she needed to place one of the kittens she picked up, I took one look and knew he was the one for me. Pancake and I have been family ever since.

  One by one the women gather their belongings, and as fate would have it, Mayor Nash comes in for his morning cup of coffee and usual cowboy omelet. It doesn’t take long for Chrissy to notice her ex and offer a spirited bid adieu to her book-loving besties before dashing out into the brisk morning air. Eve says goodbye to a couple of women before leaning over to pick up her tote bag brimming with copies of The Viscount’s Wench. Most of the ladies have made it a habit to donate their paperbacks once they’re through. And I see this as my golden moment.