Cookie exchange executio.., p.13
Cookie Exchange Execution, page 13
Cole closes his eyes for a moment too long.
“See there?” Chris nudges me. “I told you, the husband is often the killer. This man is guilty as sin. He can’t even look the two of you in the eye. I take back what I said about wiping him off the list. He is the list at this point.”
“Cole?” I say his name gently enough for him to open his eyes once again and look at me. “Is it true? Were the two of you arguing? I mean, I get it, Noah and I argue all the time.” We don’t. But I want to make him feel as if he were talking to friends and not a couple of investigators ready to put him away for life—not that we would hesitate if he was guilty.
“It’s true.” He glances over his shoulder. “But it wasn’t serious. Not really. My ex had just shown up. And Karen and Belle have a very explosive history. Believe me, I thought I was doing everyone a favor when I pulled Karen to the side. Once those two get into it, everyone in the vicinity is given notice. We were having a nice party. Spirits were high. We were pulling in money for a good cause. I didn’t want either Karen or Belle ruining that.”
Tannen gives a frenetic nod. “It’s true. I was witness to a couple of their heated discussions—although Cole pegged it right. It was more of an explosive argument.”
Chris shakes his shaggy white curls. “Maybe it’s true. Let’s dig in the direction he’s led us, but be aware it could very well be a decoy.”
Noah nods to my right, because even though he can’t see Chris, thanks to me, he can hear him clear as day.
“Cole, tell me everything I need to know about your ex.” Noah pulls out his phone. “I’ll record it if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all. Belle and I were married for about six years when I met Karen at a function for the hospital. I was working security that night, and we hit it off. We had an affair. Not my finest hour. Belle and I weren’t even having any real problems. I was just—young and dumb, let’s put it that way. Karen was magnetic. People were inexplicably drawn to her, and I was one of them. She was beautiful. And she was intelligent. The most intelligent woman I knew. Anyway, Belle found out about it. And Belle, well, she could be positively vindictive and psychotic—a toxic combination. Let’s just say I picked the wrong woman to cheat on. She didn’t bother confronting Karen or me, then she went straight down to Leeds and took a hit out on me with some mobster.”
“No kidding?” Jordan lets out a hoot and breaks out into spontaneous applause. “Atta girl. That’ll teach him to mess around on her watch.”
Santa Chris shakes his head. “Street justice never ends well. Not on this side, not on the next. Order and the law reign supreme. She should have filed for a divorce and gone about her way.”
“What happened next?” Noah demands.
“Before the hit could happen, the feds busted a bunch of the criminals that run the wild west down there and the hitman she hired was one of them. He sang like a bird about everything he knew to reduce his time, and her hit was one of the things he knew.”
Noah shakes his head. “I take it that didn’t bode well for her.”
“Nope,” Chris says. “She did five years in the pen. In the meantime, we got a divorce. I married Karen, and together we raised my boys.”
“You and Belle share children?” I ask.
He nods. “Two boys. They’re in high school now. Belle was sent away while they were young. It was a horrible thing all around. But they have a relationship with her now.”
Huh. If I was sent away to prison and my husband and some bimbo he cheated on me with were raising my kids, I’d be out of my mind with fury. I mean, I get that she had to go—putting a hit out on someone is pretty severe—but it sounds as if her plan backfired in a major way.
Chris nods in my direction. “I know what you’re thinking. Her volatility must have only increased once she saw how it all played out. Instead of landing Karen in the grave, she landed her in her place.”
Jordan slumps. “Talk about your cruel twist of fate. But it sounds as if Karen got her comeuppance after all.”
Maybe she did. And maybe Belle was the one to deliver it.
“Cole, when did Belle get out of prison?” I ask. I have a feeling it hasn’t been all that long.
“Seven months ago.” He gives another long blink. “And now that we’ve had this conversation I feel like the answer to who killed Karen is right there in front of my face. Noah, you have to call her in.”
“I will,” he says. “But first I need to make sure I’ve got the case on its feet. If she did this, I’d hate for her attorney to poke a hole in it before it ever gets off the ground.”
“I agree,” he tells us. “We won’t say a word.” He looks to Tannen and she nods.
He sure spoke for her fast. But I get it, they’re working together.
Tannen glances at the clipboard in her arms. “Well, I’m glad Dr. North’s killer will be apprehended soon. I’ll be one of the first to rejoice when I hear the news. Not only did Cole lose his wonderful wife, but I lost a friend—and the hospital? They lost a treasure. If we’ve learned anything from this horror, it’s that tomorrow could be a mythical creature for any of us.” She pauses to take a breath. “It was nice seeing you again, Lottie. You, too, Detective. I’d better get back to my post.”
“Oh, hey”—I hold a hand out as if to catch her—“Honey Hollow’s annual Christmas fundraiser is coming up. We auction off decorated Christmas trees, and the proceeds go to helping needy families. I just want to extend the invite to the two of you. In fact, Mayor Nash is my father. I’d like to arrange for a couple of trees to be auctioned off in Karen’s memory. I’ll make sure all the proceeds from those trees go straight to the children’s hospital.”
“Thank you,” Cole says as his brows arch. “That’s very generous of you, Lottie. We’ll do our best to be there.”
They both take off and Noah and I watch as they head toward the North Pole party together.
“And I’m out,” Jordan says. “Remember what I said in my letter, Lottie Lemon. As far as my killer is concerned, don’t go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. You have a little girl to think about—and two husbands to cater to.” She disperses in a fit of maniacal laughter.
“I’m out, too,” Chris says. “I think I’ll head over to your place and see if I can’t make a few wrongs right.”
“Oh no, don’t do that,” I say, trying my best to stop him, but he’s already melted away in a vat of tiny red stars. “I’m sure Everett won’t be amused when things start to shift around on their own. You only threatened to deck the guy. Everett might actually go after him with a baseball bat and destroy what’s left of the house.”
“Not true,” a deep voice strums and we turn to find Everett in a red flannel and jeans, looking like a handsome lumberjack while holding Lyla Nell in one arm and Pancake in the other. Coming up behind them is Evie with Waffles in her arms and Toby on a leash. “I wouldn’t dare hurt that house after what he put it through. Besides, Bear and I already swept up the mess. He’s called in the reinforcements to repair the damage that was done, and he’s going to do his best to get us in before Christmas. I cut him the check anyway.”
“That’s because you’re a good guy,” I tell him as he comes in close and his spiced cologne envelops me before he does.
“Don’t let my secret out,” he teases as he lands a kiss to my cheek, and Lyla Nell pulls me in by the face and does the same.
“Aww,” I coo at her as she clings to her daddy, one of them anyway. “Who’s ready to pick out a tree?”
Evie heads this way and we pick out a tree as a family.
We might not look like your traditional family, but we’re a family nonetheless.
“Ooh, let’s get that picture with Santa before we leave,” I say as Evie leads us straight to the man in the red suit. We wait our turn, and soon enough, Evie and I are both in his lap with Lyla Nell nestled in mine and Pancake and Waffles in Evie’s lap. Noah stands with Toby to our right, and Everett flanks us on the left. As soon as the flash of that camera goes off, both cats let out a bloodcurdling yowl before jumping in the air with their hair standing on air, their little paws extended.
Pancake lands on Santa’s head while Waffles does his best to claw up Santa’s chest. And Toby? Well, that sweet thing charged the cameraman.
And in that moment, the perfect picture was achieved.
I think it’s going to be our Christmas card.
Noah
“Honey Hollow in December looks like the inside of a snow globe,” I say, shaking off the cold while entering the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery.
Mom is the first to greet me with a scoff. “What are you doing leaving your cabin on a day like today?”
“Working,” I tell her as I head over to Lottie and Lyla Nell who are helping Lily decorate a tree we bought yesterday for the bakery. We went a little hog wild in the tree purchasing department. Lottie bought three: one for her rental, one for the new place—hope springs eternal—and one for the bakery. Everett bought one and had it shipped to the courthouse, and I bought one for my cabin. At the end of the day, it was all for a good cause.
“Lottie Lemon,” I muse as I wrap my arms around both her and Lyla Nell at the very same time. Lot has Lyla Nell strapped in that baby carrier she loves to tote the baby in, and Lyla Nell loves to face the world head-on while she’s in it.
“Dadda!” Lyla Nell holds up a small stuffed snowman, and I pretend to eat it until she squeals and jerks it away from me.
“Easy, Daddy,” Lot says, handing me a bright red ornament to put on the tree. “That would be the equivalent of someone trying to eat Toby.”
Lyla Nell shouts something at me as if agreeing with her mother.
“Okay, okay.” I land a kiss to her dimpled cheek. “I won’t eat your snowman.”
Lily shakes her head. “None of this would be happening if you didn’t have the urge to buy another tree, Lottie. The bakery already had a tree. I don’t see why we had to have two.”
“The bakery is plenty big enough to have four trees if we wanted,” Lot says. “And besides, that one is flocked and this one isn’t. Half the customers have been taking selfies of themselves next to it, and on occasion, a line would form. This way there’s no line, and it’s nice to have a variety.”
Carlotta hobbles on over. “You had it right the first time, Lot. While they were waiting in line, they saw my hot dogs and frosted morsels just outside your window, and soon I was the one with a line forming. Speaking of which, I’d better fire up the grill soon. It’s time to make me some moolah.”
“And steal the food right out of my baby’s mouth?” Lottie shoots back and Lyla Nell looks genuinely concerned for the welfare of her next baby biscuit. “Absolutely not.” Lottie looks fit to kill at the thought. “Noah, if she so much as dares to start a fire outside of my bakery, I demand you arrest her. She’s not only hurting my business, she’s hurting Charlie’s.”
Carlotta chuckles. “Foxy won’t arrest me, and you know it, Lot. He knows I’m on his side when it comes to the Sexy-Foxy tug-o-war for your britches.”
“Are you?” Lottie looks shocked by this news, and quite frankly so am I.
“I am now,” she says.
A guttural laugh comes from Lot. “You’ll arrest her, Noah, as soon as she strikes a match, and if you won’t do it, I’ll call Mayor Nash down to do it himself.”
“You’ll have to try better than that, Lot.” She laughs. “That’s not punishment. That’s called Tuesday night.”
“Carlotta, please don’t make me arrest you,” I plead with her. “Besides, you work for Cormack’s foundation now. And rumor has it, she pays well.”
Carlotta bucks as if I shot her. “That’s hazard pay is what that is. She sent me to every seedy shop in Leeds, trying to convince them to put a flyer in the window. That’s a rough neighborhood down there. I could have been killed. And that’s exactly why I quit.”
Both Lottie and I look at her with horror.
Lot closes her eyes a moment. “You quit? Are you nuts? This is the one undercover assignment we’ve given you. There’s no way you’re quitting. You had better march your hiney down to wherever it is Cormack has her headquarters and beg for your job back.”
“No can do, Lot.” She pats her belly. “I’m looking to sue for damages. My lawyer says I shouldn’t even speak to the woman. Conflict of interest.”
“Why are you suing?” I’ll bite because I know Lottie won’t. In fact, Lottie looks darn right pleased with the idea.
“This and that,” Carlotta says, grabbing her back.
I nod. “In other words, Cormack has deep pockets.”
“Doesn’t she?” Mom sings as she practically floats our way. “Noah, how blessed you are now that you’ve found your Mrs. Right. Oh, I just adore her.”
“You won’t for long,” Carlotta tells her. “Now that you’re family, you’ll have to buy her a gift for Christmas. And not something that was born from your cheapskate of the month club either. Macky expects nothing but the best. The quickest way to find yourself outside of her good graces is to give her a gift that leaves a stench in her nostrils.”
Mom clutches at her throat and gasps. “But I don’t have two nickels to rub together.”
My mother is sitting on a mountain of money. I know this for a fact because she sold my childhood home and locked up every last dollar in her bank account. But my mother has never been a spender. She’s so cheap she can make the eagle on a quarter scream.
“Well, too bad, Toots,” Carlotta snips in her face. “When you don’t deliver something gold wrapped in silver, on the big day, you’ll be tossed out on your ear—never to be welcomed again. The rich have long memories when it comes to those that offend them.”
Mom practically swallows all ten of her fingers at the thought.
As if on cue, the door swings open, an icy breeze blows in and so does Cormack. Her hair looks like a tumbleweed. She has dark bags under her eyes, and she has a long dark trench coat draped over her body. She most certainly looks out of sorts. My guess is, she’s feeling that way, too.
Lottie grabs another ornament. “Looks like someone decided to take the broomstick for a ride.”
“Noah,” Cormack growls. “Where have you been? I drove by your cabin, then all the way to Ashford, and this is where I find you?”
Lottie turns her way. “Next time, try here first. Noah loves to spend time with his baby girl.”
“That’s good to know.” Cormack sheds a tight smile my way. “Considering the fact you’ll be the proud papa to a baby girl next summer.”
“Cormack.” Lottie presses a hand to her chest, and I’ll be darned if she doesn’t have tears in her eyes. “Are you having a little girl?”
“Well, it’s either that or a boy,” Cormack snits before looking my way. “She’s not so bright, is she? Come on.” She takes me by the hand. “We’ve got an appointment with Dr. Barnette, and then we’re meeting my photographer for my maternity shoot.”
“Cormack,” I inch back. “You’ve got a flat tummy. Don’t you want to wait until you’re showing a bit to document the journey?”
“You can be such a man, sometimes, Noah.”
“Thank you, I think.”
“But I’ll need a picture of you holding my belly for our Christmas cards. It’s still not too late to get them out.”
“I just sent mine out.” Lottie winks my way.
I happened to see the ones she selected from yesterday’s photo shoot with Santa. All heck broke loose. That about sums up my life right now.
“Cormack, where is the photo shoot?”
Maybe I can have Alex stand in for me?
“Out in Fallbrook at Daddy’s estate. The veranda overlooking the snowy hillsides is just magical this time of year.”
I look over at Lottie and she gives a nod of approval.
I have no choice but to go. Cormack is offering me access to the Featherby mansion. Just last month I got the grand tour by Manchester and he took me straight to his office. I knew that tour would come in handy one day. And it looks as if that day is today.
Lottie packs up a box of cookies for Dr. Barnette and her employees, and soon Cormack and I are off to the races. If I can find evidence that Manchester is behind the money laundering, I’ll have to thank my brother for knocking Cormack up.
Dr. Barnette’s office was a blast from the past. Her staff gobbled up Lottie’s cookies before the box ever hit the counter. And Dr. Barnette asked me to say hello to Lottie for her. Cormack’s pregnancy is proceeding without event, and that was a phrase Cormack took umbrage with all the way to Fallbrook once we were through.
Cormack insisted that her couture shopping sprees were quite the events—and I don’t doubt that they were.
The Featherby estate is quiet tonight. Cormack and I ham it up for the camera for about a half hour straight until both our fingers freeze solid and we call it a day. And while Cormack is pouring over the photos from our session, I excuse myself under the guise of using the restroom. But as much as I’d like to bang my head against the bathroom wall for letting the world believe I’ve fathered Cormack’s child, I make a beeline for Manchester’s office.
If he’s home, I would never know it. But I’d imagine he would have come out to say hello to Cormack and me.
Manchester’s office is dark and Gothic with lots of heavily lacquered bookshelves lined with rare editions of just about everything. A large glossy desk sits near the back, no computer, no laptop. Manchester is old school in every capacity, so I wouldn’t have expected it.
I take a seat behind his desk and open and shut a few drawers until I find what I’m hoping is the holy grail. A couple of check registers. Manchester might have enough accountants to register tally marks to the moon, but he is far too miserly to let anyone control his assets other than himself.
I pull out three leather folders. The first of which is from the Bank of Fallbrook.
I take a peek inside and see that he’s written a handful of menial checks—to the groundskeepers, credit card bills, and more than a few made out to Cormack.
