Toxic Apple Turnovers: MURDER IN THE MIX 13

by Moore, Addison

  “Sounds delicious.” He leans in and steals a kiss from my lips. “Just like you.”

  Everett pulls me in one more time and holds me like that. His eyes bearing hard into mine, speaking to me far deeper than words could ever venture, intimately sharing his affection for me. Those magical eyes make me forget everything that just happened, everything that’s still happening. But Noah lingers in the back of my mind like a ghost.

  * * *

  That night not only does Everett come bearing champagne—an exquisitely expensive one at that, but Noah comes by and so do Keelie and Bear.

  “To Lottie!” Keelie lifts her champagne flute, and we follow suit.

  I cringe at the thought of toasting myself. “To justice, I think.” I wrinkle my nose at Everett and laugh as we drink up.

  Bear is the first to hit the bottom of his glass. “Whew, that was the good stuff. You deserve it, Lot. And if you think having two men vying for your heart is tough, just wait until you have them lining up out the door. Now that you’re loaded, people are going to take notice.”

  Keelie grunts, “The wrong people. All of the people who love you won’t mind one bit—we’ll just expect better Christmas presents.”

  We share a warm laugh.

  Noah lands his champagne flute onto the counter. “I have an announcement. I’m looking into purchasing a piece of real estate myself—a lodge up in Hollyhock.”

  “What? That’s great,” I beam, proud of him.

  Everett leans in from behind, his chest warming my shoulders. “Hear that, Lemon? He’s trying to one-up you.”

  Noah laughs. “If that were the case, I’ve got a long way to go.”

  “Noah, I’m so happy for you. Let us know when escrow closes and we’ll celebrate.”

  “I haven’t quite got that far. I’m still weighing the investment potential. And I’d like to take you up there sometime to see what you think.”

  “Noah, I’d love that.”

  Keelie shudders. “Any news on those thieves? Or how about that killer?”

  Noah shakes his head. “We should go over the investigation,” he says my way.

  Everett grunts, “You know how to a kill a party, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t mind,” I say. “It’s the perfect time. Let’s go over the suspects for Amanda’s case first. There’s Hazel. She sure stepped into Amanda’s shoes without missing a beat. But I’m not entirely sure about a motive.”

  “The money her parents left,” Everett reminds me. “Money is a strong motivator even among family. We witnessed that today.”

  “Amen to that.” I take a quivering breath at the memory of how angry my uncle was when he stormed out of that courtroom. “Okay, so she has a motive. There’s Connie Canelli. Her motive is far more pronounced.”

  Bear groans as if he might be sick. “You have a Canelli involved? I’m afraid to even listen to this.”

  Keelie dusts his face with her hair. “Hush, you coward,” she teases before rewarding him with a kiss.

  I shake my head. “Connie’s motive is pretty strong. Amanda swiped her billionaire boyfriend from under her. And then she carried on as if it never happened. I would have been worried if I were Amanda.”

  Everett takes a breath. “What about Janelle?”

  “She mentioned that Amanda pulled her business from under her. It turns out, Make it Happen was Janelle’s baby, and Amanda came in and basically took over. Buying her out for a few measly hundred dollars.”

  Noah folds his arms. “There’s Chrissy, the wedding singer. He seemed nice, for the most part.”

  I hold up a finger. “But Pastor Gaines did say he saw Chrissy head out the door just after Amanda on the night she died.” I think on it for a moment. “Mark Russo, her fiancé. He basically implicated both Connie and Pastor Gaines.”

  Both Keelie and Bear balk at that one.

  “Pastor Gaines?” Keelie shakes her curls as if she were restyling her hair. “Come on.”

  “No, I mean it. He’s on the suspect list. I think he might have been having an affair with Amanda. And he was the one that mentioned Amanda and Mark were on the rocks. I didn’t get that feeling from Mark, though.”

  Noah’s chest expands with his next breath. “Mark might have been saving face, and Amanda did go to Pastor Gaines for counseling.”

  Everett gives my shoulders an impromptu rubdown, and it’s all I can do to keep from moaning.

  “What about the brother?” he whispers it into my ear like a secret.

  “Slater.” I straighten as he continues to melt the tension off my body. “Yes, he said he loved his sister, but he also said he could have killed her.”

  Keelie raises a hand. “I know the feeling.”

  “So do I,” both Everett and I say in unison, and I glance back and offer a guilty twitch of the lips. “Slater could have done it. Their parents left everything to Amanda, hoping she would do the right thing—which I assume is parceling it out evenly, but she kept it all. Hazel never really voiced that as a concern, but Slater admitted to it. She said she would be a very good steward of their money for the entire family’s sake.”

  Keelie gurgles out a laugh. “That sounds like you, Lottie.”

  “Very funny. I’m not laughing.”

  Bear pulls Keelie in. “So who did it? Who killed Amanda Wellington?”

  I shake my head at Noah and Everett. “I don’t know. I’m completely stumped. Any updates on that den of thieves?”

  Noah glances to Everett, and they both clam up.

  “Oh, I see. There are updates. They’re just not for me.”

  We call it a night, and I walk everyone to the door.

  I pick up Pancake and Waffles and hold them tightly as I watch both Everett and Noah leave for their respective homes.

  Noah and Everett are keeping things from me—and I am not amused.

  Chapter 16

  It is a rare occasion that I toss and turn at night. I’ve often dubbed myself the Queen of Sleep. In fact, I’ve honed the unique ability to fall asleep on cue, time and place permitting. I can sleep on planes, on trains and buses, but last night I couldn’t fall asleep to save my life.

  Instead, I went through Amanda Wellington’s social media profiles. I looked through pictures upon pictures of her smiling face—of the beautiful venues she was in charge of procuring for her clients. Lainey’s wedding was in her portfolio, and I had a chance to relive that day all over again. One particular picture stood out to me, the one that she took of Pastor Gaines. He was smiling for her, as one would assume, especially since he never ceases to do so—but it wasn’t his usual smile. It was a wicked grin that I’ve seen on Everett just before he pulled me into a dark closet to have his way with me. Suffice it to say, it gave me the willies. So, of course, that segued into an extensive internet search on Pastor Gaines, which didn’t yield much at all. I tried to remember what state he said he came from, but it all felt a little fuzzy at that ungodly hour—details and my sanity were fleeting.

  Once I was in my car, on the way to the bakery, my sanity really took a back seat. Instead of making the right on Main Street, I turn left and end up at the Honey Hollow Covenant Church.

  It’s still pretty dark out. The sun has just kissed the horizon, and a tangerine glow casts its glory over our small corner of the world.

  I park and get out, trying the front door that leads to the office, but it’s locked. I’m not sure why I expected anything different. I make my way around back, nearly tripping over a bucket, and look into the window of Pastor Gaines’ office using the flashlight feature on my phone.

  Nothing of importance sticks out. That dried flower arrangement that I held as my bouquet while Noah and I pretended to get married brings a weak smile to my face.

  Out of sheer morbid curiosity, I try to wiggle the window open and to my horror it not only moves, but the upper portion slips right into my hands.

  “Oh my God—oh my God, oh my God!” I land it carefully onto the ground below and ji
mmy the lower half out of its socket as well. It’s still too tall for me to hop on in, and just as I’m about to look around for something to give me a step up, a shimmer of light explodes from inside.

  “GAH!” I sink down a notch, only to find a luminescent being—Owlbert, leaning over the ledge.

  “Need a boost?”

  “Yes, I need a boost!” I try my hardest to scale the wall, but it’s no use.

  “There’s a bucket around the corner, left out by the janitor.”

  “A bucket? You’re a genius!”

  “They don’t call me Owlbert Einstein for nothing.”

  Great, I’ve got a wise guy on my hands. Hey? Owls are wise. I’m totally correct in my assumption.

  I spot the bright orange bin, and before Owlbert can say another word, I’ve all but pole-vaulted my way into the office. My feet carry me deeper inside, despite the fact my brain is screaming get out. I prattle my way around spastically, mining through the trash—nothing but wadded-up tissues and candy bar wrappers, the desk—pencil city. I check every drawer and nook and cranny I can find, but there’s nothing here of any use to me.

  “This way.” Owlbert leads me to the secretary’s desk. “Try that contraption,” he says, floating to the oversized monitor.

  “It’s probably locked,” I can hardly maintain my breathing as I sit behind the behemoth desk, and the monitor brightens in an instant. “It’s on,” I marvel, pulling the keyboard forward, and the screen lights up with multiple files sitting right on the desktop. “And it’s not locked.”

  “This is a church, Lottie, not a prison.”

  “Yeah, but you never know when a common criminal will waltz right in.”

  “Or a baker.”

  I pause a moment to shoot him a look. “I’d kill you, but the Grim Reaper beat me to it,” I tease.

  He chortles with a laugh. “A little gallows humor. I do appreciate the morbidity of it all.”

  “Look at this,” I say, opening a file and quickly perusing it. “It’s employee records. This is perfect. And here’s Pastor Gaines’.” I click it, reading over it quickly. “It’s just your basic application. Name, social security number, a few odd facts, the previous church he worked at.” I pull out my phone and take pictures of it from top to bottom. “I think that should do it. Help me get out of here.”

  Owlbert illuminates my path as I make my way back out that window. “Unfortunately, it’s not going to be put back together, and terrifyingly enough, it has my fingerprints all over it.” I look up at the ethereal being flying just above my head. “Well, genius? What now?”

  “The janitorial closet is still ajar. Might I suggest a little window washing?”

  And window wash I do. I spray liquid detergent over the front and back of both pieces of glass and run the hose nearby over it before hopping into my car and making a squeaky clean getaway—emphasis on the clean.

  * * *

  The sun has risen just a notch. It’s usually at this point in the new day that I have my ovens filled with croissants with the dough I made up the night before. I park out back like I usually do and note the door ajar.

  “Did I leave the door open last night?” I’m about to get out of the car when a seam of light flashes underneath the door, and every muscle in my body tenses.

  I throw the car into reverse and turn the heck around with my heart pounding a mile a minute. I pull in just shy of the cleaners down the street and call Noah. Thankfully, he picks up on the first ring.

  “Mrs. Fox? How can I help you?”

  “I just passed by the bakery. I think I’m being robbed.”

  “Don’t move!” he roars, and from there it’s just a blur.

  A giant blue cargo van comes barreling down the street, and I seize.

  “It’s the van!” I shout. “The one that Nell saw. They just took off past me. I can follow them,” I say, starting up my engine once again.

  “Don’t you dare!” he riots in my ear. “Just tell me which way they’re headed.”

  “West,” I say, pulling my car forward, but it’s too late. They’re already gone. I park in front of the bakery and wait for Noah.

  He shows up in seconds, followed by a bevy of squad cars.

  “Lottie!” he thunders as I get out of the car and he lunges for me.

  Noah holds me tightly as if he almost lost me. “You could have been killed.” He runs a breathy kiss over the top of my head before pulling back. “You’re usually inside at this point.”

  “I was running a little late.” I wince up at him as if it wasn’t true.

  “Thank God. I’d hate to think what would have happened if they found you in there alone.”

  “I’m safe,” I say in an effort to comfort him, but at the same time it feels as if I’m trying to comfort myself.

  We head on in and not much is out of place, just a few cooking utensils knocked to the floor. The office looks like a whirlwind blew through it, but they couldn’t open my ground safe.

  “I guess they didn’t get away with much.” I shudder. “But just knowing they were in here gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

  “I’m not leaving, Lot. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

  A sheriff’s deputy approaches us. “There’s a call about a break-in at the church. I think we’re going to head over.”

  Every muscle in my body freezes.

  “Good call, I’ll take it from here.” Noah waves them off. He looks my way and opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, then pauses abruptly. “Lottie? Why do you have an extremely guilty look on your face?”

  “Oh? I—I’m not guilty.” I shake my head a little too vigorously.

  “Lottie?” His tone is suddenly curt, and very official, which sponsors a bout of giggles to strike.

  “You’re actually going to find this a little funny.”

  “What am I going to find funny?” Noah doesn’t look humored in the least.

  “Okay, fine. I was at the church.”

  “What?” He takes a full step back. “Lottie, you were the one who broke into the church? Were you digging for info on Pastor Gaines?”

  “Yes.” I bat my hands in an effort to keep his voice down. “I found this.” I quickly produce the pictures on my phone. “It’s his application. I’ve got his social security number and his last place of employment.”

  “Lottie, I am not looking to hire Pastor Gaines.” He gently braces me by the shoulders. “Do you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to casually tell those deputies not to worry about fingerprints because I don’t want you to be incriminated.”

  “Good thinking,” I pant at the thought of going to prison for simply looking up Pastor Gaines’ employment history, never mind the breaking and entering. “But I’ve already wiped my prints from the window that I may have accidentally broken.”

  “What about the computer where you swiped this information? Did you wipe down your prints there, too?”

  “Gah!” I do a little odd tap-dance fueled by my fear of orange jumpsuits. “Make a few calls, Noah. I’ve got an owl to yell at.”

  After the kitchen is cleared and I’ve sterilized it to the hilt, I get right to baking up a bazillion apple turnovers for the Apple Festival tomorrow. And in addition to that, I bake a beautiful three-tiered cake with white roses cascading up and down the front for my bestie and the beast she’s looking forward to sharing her life with—Bear. I can’t believe Keelie is going to be Mr. Otis “Bear” Fisher one day. It has a nice ring to it.

  Sort of like Mrs. Noah Corbin Fox.

  Or Mrs. Essex Everett Baxter.

  I just hope when I do get married someday there won’t be a bride with two grooms as a topper on my wedding cake.

  And as horrible as it sounds, a part of me doesn’t think it would be all that bad.

  Chapter 17

  The Grand family owns the apple orchard, and it sits nestled high above Honey Hollow with its behemoth barn that pulls double duty as a souvenir shop. The hilly terr
ain is beautiful this time of year, and everywhere you look there seems to be miles and miles of orchards filled with every variety of apple you can imagine. In fact, it’s the Grands’ own Golden Delicious apples that I use to make all of my apple desserts. The Golden Delicious is buttery in flavor, soft, and melts in your mouth like a sugar-laden dream.

  Once Noah, Everett, and I arrive, the festivities are already well underway. The entire orchard is decorated with banners and balloons. It’s almost evening, and twinkle lights are strung out like stars over an expansive area that acts as a midway.

  It’s body to body out here. The throngs have turned out for tonight’s festivities. Crates of apples lie everywhere you look. There are hayrides and booths serving hot apple cider, an area with a press in which you can make your own apple beverage, pony rides for the younger sect, and craft booths where you can make your own fall wreaths out of fresh fallen leaves. And there are even appletinis being served for the adults.

  Noah and Everett have essentially been my bodyguards ever since the day of the break-in at the bakery. Noah kindly asked me to confess my sins to Everett about my own break-in, and let’s just say my boyfriend, the judge, did not appreciate the fact I’m fostering the criminal facet of my talents.

  Noah gets a call and drifts off.

  “Lemon.” Everett wraps his arms around me. “How’s it going with—” He ticks his head toward Noah. “Any luck in finding closure?”

  I make a face when he says it. “Not really. I’ve been too busy getting held at gunpoint and trying to hunt down killers and thieves.” I’m just about to tell him about my mock marriage when my mock groom bounds over.

  “Interesting news.” He does a quick sweep of the vicinity. “I just got some information on Pastor Gaines.”

  “Did you run that information I gave you?”

  “Yes.” Noah’s breathing ticks up a notch, a clear indicator he’s onto something big. “A few of the references he put down never heard of him. Two of them turned out to be bogus, maybe friends that vouched for him. But that’s not the interesting part. I ran his social security number, and the name didn’t add up. If the number does belong to him, then his name isn’t Stephen Gaines. It’s Stephen Heartwood.”