Macaron massacre, p.2
Macaron Massacre, page 2
part #10 of Murder in the Mix Series
Everett nods as if he were in on it. “I get it. And, as much as I don’t want your banana hands on Lemon, I think you proved the point brilliantly.”
“What point?” I look at the devilishly handsome judge. Everett has black hair, steely blue eyes, almost no affect, save for the hard-won dirty grin he lets slip now and again, and he is rather dirty in the most delicious sense. There’s not a woman on the planet who isn’t capable of being disarmed by his charm and wit. Essex Everett Baxter was a prolific playboy before we started dating a few weeks back. In fact, it seems he’s bedded his way through most of Vermont. And oddly enough, each of the women who has landed him horizontally comes away with the ability to freely use his proper moniker as a door prize. Even though Everett and I have crested that coital horizon many, many times, I’ve yet to call him anything but what I’ve grown accustomed to.
Everett swoops in and drops a tender kiss to my lips.
Noah growls disapprovingly at the display of affection, and it sounds like thunder. Even though I broke up with Noah rather quickly after I learned of his matrimonial entanglement, especially after I learned that his wife halted the divorce proceedings and wanted him back—Noah still loves me deeply—as I do him, and none of those feelings are a secret to anyone in this room.
Everett takes a step back, his expression somber as he penetrates me with his gaze. “You have to admit, Lemon, you had someone within striking distance. Noah could have been anyone. If you had that gun we gave you, Noah’s head could have been splattered all over the wall right now, just the way it should be.”
“Everett.” I squeeze my eyes shut, forbidding the visual to ever take root. I may have forgotten to mention that Noah and Everett cannot stand one another, and the rivalry predates me by a mile.
They were stepbrothers once upon a time in high school. Noah’s scoundrel of a father took financial advantage of Everett’s mother. And while the two were legally brothers, Noah thought it was a good idea to steal Everett’s girlfriend, a beast by the name of Cormack Featherby.
Cormack has since moved into the bed and breakfast that my mother owns and has tried to pull every trick in the book to win Noah back. I can’t stand her. She’s wily, wickedly crafty, and a drop-dead gorgeous blonde who might just succeed at her mission. Honestly, nothing frightens me more. I realize that I’m with Everett now, but my heart is still tangled in the unfinished business between Noah and me.
Noah steps in next to Everett, and the two of them are observing me with the same disapproving look echoed on their faces.
I scoff. “You do realize I don’t care for it when the two of you team up against me.”
“It’s for your safety.” Noah is quick to bat a reason my way.
“He’s right, Lemon.” Everett always refers to me by my surname, and it just tickles me to pieces. “We’ll head over to the range later this afternoon if you’re available. I had two cases to preside over this morning, and I’m off for the rest of the day.”
A dull moan escapes me as I look to the marble island filled with hundreds if not thousands of the delicate French pastries.
“I could really use a break from the bakery. I’ve been dreaming of macarons all week.”
“Don’t I know it.” Everett gives a sly wink. Mostly he said that to drive Noah wild with rage, and, judging by Noah’s purple face, he succeeded.
Noah recently asked me to slow the frequency in which I entertain myself with Everett—Noah’s code for coital contact. But I can’t seem to slow anything down with Everett. He’s so ridiculously handsome, women of all ages and stages in life are practically required to crane their necks whenever he’s around. And I’m definitely not immune to his charms. In fact, I find them the calm in this ocean of misery Noah has inadvertently tossed me into.
Noah nods as if he’s suddenly on board with anything that Everett has to say.
“I’ll go, too.” He shoots a dirty look to Everett. “In fact, I’m the only one who should ever be at a gun range with you, Lottie. If you go with this buffoon, you just might hurt someone. On second thought, maybe I should give the two of you a fifteen-minute lead. Aim for his ticker. I’ll help cover up the crime.” He manufactures a dimple-laden grin my way. “I am the lead homicide detective. I can make this look like an accident, and we’ll live happily ever after.”
“With your wife?” I couldn’t help it. He had it coming for suggesting I commit a murder just to get me back in the sack—okay, so Noah wants everything with me, not just a quick thrill, but still. And boy was it ever thrilling being with Noah.
“Or your girlfriend?” Everett doesn’t mind getting in on the field day.
“He’s got you there,” I say, chuckling as I head back to the island to quickly finish constructing the last tower for the party.
While I’m busy assembling away, Noah and Everett get into a heated argument over God knows what—probably debating whose weapon is bigger, and I’m not talking about a pistol anymore. But I choose to ignore the clatter. It’s crunch time, and I can hear the voices picking up volume as they drift in from the Honey Pot.
Not only is it Rich Dallas’ impromptu birthday party—the real event is Mayor Nash’s official kickoff for his reelection campaign. Leave it to my mother to arrange a shindig for both of her boyfriends all at once. My God, she’ll be lucky if they don’t kill each other this afternoon.
Rich Dallas is basically a human stick of hostile dynamite just waiting to explode. It’s no secret he hates Mayor Nash, but he’s putting up with my mother’s lunacy in an effort to fully win her back.
I’m hoping that right after we cut into the birthday cake and Rich’s children leave, she’ll put his head on the chopping block.
A thought comes to me, and I pause midflight with a raspberry macaron in hand. A few weeks back I saw the ghost of—
Something at the front of the bakery catches my eye, and it’s a welcome reprieve from my disastrous train of thought.
My coworker, Lily Swanson, is manning the register so I’m not worried about a customer needing service, but the air out front—it almost looks as if it’s swirling and sparkling.
I take a few blind steps in that direction, ignoring the all-out shouting match that’s broken out between Noah and Everett.
Sure enough, the air glitters into the shape of a woman, an older woman—a familiar frame that I’m both frightened to see—and equally looking forward to.
Slowly her form begins to come in clear in front of me—wrinkly, bent over, a head full of glowing silver hair as if a piece of the moon were alive in it—and that warm smile I miss so very much.
Here she is, in the ghostly flesh. Nell Sawyer looks my way and offers me a lethargic wave as she disappears once again in a sea of sparkling stars.
My heart drums wildly, and my adrenaline spikes to unsafe levels. This is what I’ve been dreading for weeks. Usually it’s a pet that’s crossed over that I see just before disaster strikes. But in the event the person who is about to undergo a severe misfortune didn’t have a favorite pet, a human will do in a pinch. And it seems as if Nell is here in that very dreadful pinch.
The most horrible part is, whoever Nell was called for, here on Earth, must have really adored Nell. And I happen to adore just about everyone who loved dear, sweet Nell.
Someone I love, someone Nell loved, and someone who loves Nell is about to meet their demise. But not if I can help it. If anyone can aid me in circumventing this great tragedy in the making, it’s Nell Sawyer herself.
Death has come to Honey Hollow once again, but I’ll do anything to keep it from finishing the job.
Not today.
Not with anyone who loves Nell.
Chapter 2
The Honey Pot Diner is rather spacious inside, but you wouldn’t know it with all of the bustling bodies fighting for elbow room. Copious amounts of floral perfume clash with vats of expensive cologne as the people of Honey Hollow struggle to circulate through the tight space. Large waxy posters stamped with the face of a handsome older man sporting a flirtatious grin are plastered in every free corner. The words Reelect Mayor Nash are stamped across every last one of them. There’s a small birthday banner currently being erected by my mother and the hostile birthday boy himself, and I can’t help but scowl. I bet he threatened her within an inch of her life if she didn’t decorate for his shindig, too.
My sister, Meg, pops up next to me and scowls at the two of them right along with me. “Lure him to the kitchen, Lottie. I’ll plunge the knife through his chest.”
Before I can reprimand her, our older sister, Lainey, pops up. Both Lainey and I share the same caramel-colored waves and hazel eyes. We really do look as if we could be blood-related, even though we’re far from it.
Meg was born with flaxen locks but chooses to dye her hair a stark jet-black. It looks gorgeous when juxtaposed with her icy blue eyes. For years, Meg used to work the female wrestling circuit in Las Vegas, but she’s been back in Vermont for the last few months teaching the strippers down at Red Satin some lusty-thrusty moves.
“No death.” Lainey bites the air between us as if the suggestion were mine. “No murder, no homicide. Please kindly take the Grim Reaper off of every invitation list for the next six months. My bridal shower is in less than two weeks, and I’m a nervous wreck that the sickle is going to swing and hex my entire wedding.”
Meg barks out a laugh. “Forget revoking the Grim Reaper’s invite. It’s Lottie you need to put on the no-fly list. You do realize she’s been at the center of every murder investigation in Honey Hollow’s history.”
I cringe because it happens to be true. And how I hate that it is. Since last September, we’ve had an entire rash of murders taking place—one a month to be precise. I shudder just thinking about them. And, of course, seeing that I’m transmundane, further classified as supersensual, I have the supernatural gift to see the dead pets and people alike. It used to be that the dead making a guest appearance meant that something far less drastic than a human soul getting evicted off the planet. But, as of late, it’s almost a given that a proverbial head will roll.
Lainey scoffs at the thought. “Lottie, your invite is safe with me.” She frowns as her eyes fill with worry. “That is, of course, unless you stumble upon another corpse between today and my bridal shower. I really can’t afford a body cropping up between my gifts and my cake. All that bad juju…” She shudders. “I need everything to go off without a hitch.” Her mouth rounds out. “Ooh, before I forget. I’m in love with that tower of macarons! I absolutely need to have that at the shower. Would you? Could you? Please? I really don’t need a cake.” She squeezes her eyes shut as she pleads and looks adorable in the process.
But before I can answer, her fiancé, Forest Donovan, comes up and lands a kiss on her cheek from behind. Forest has wavy chestnut hair and stunning gray eyes. He and Lainey have been in love for as long as I can remember save for a short bout of insanity last fall. He’s a firefighter right here in town, and Lainey is head librarian at the community library. They’re a match made in Honey Hollow heaven.
“Hello, girls.” He dots another kiss to her cheek. “Do you think this will wrap up before five? We’ve got dance lessons tonight.” He makes a face as if he wasn’t exactly looking forward to it.
“Dance lessons?” Meg perks up. “You’re not coming to one of my couples’ courses, are you?”
I inch back from my brash sister as my mouth squares up. “You’re not teaching couples how to strip, are you?” As if I’m immune. It wasn’t so long ago that Everett and I took a class that specialized in exactly that, but it was all a part of a covert operation to catch a killer.
Meg’s chest thumps with a laugh. “Honey, I’m teaching classes on everything under the sun these days, and I do mean everything. I just rented a condo in Lainey’s complex.”
Lainey’s upper lip twitches, a sure sign she’s disgusted. “What kind of couples’ classes?”
“It’s more like couples’ therapy.” Meg looks my way. “You should consider coming, Lot, and bring the hot judge. Heck, bring the hot detective, too. I’m betting some time on your back with two handsome men tending to your needs is just what the doctor ordered.”
Both Lainey and Forest break out into a fit of laughter.
“Very funny. That’s right. Have a good laugh at my expense.” I spot Mayor Nash heading in through the door, and the room breaks out into congratulatory cheers. “Forest, please assure your sweet bride-to-be that not one thing will go wrong on or before your nuptials.” I nod to the three of them. “Excuse me just a sec. I’d better get the last of my macarons finished up.” I head for the walk-through that leads into the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery and bump into a body. I jump back a foot, only to find myself staring at a stunning brunette who could double as the newly-minted Duchess of Sussex’s look-alike.
“Can I help you?” I say instinctively, forgetting momentarily all about the dual shindig about to take place next door. For all I know, she could be one of Rich Dallas’ daughters. He’s got two or twelve.
She bites down on her bottom lip as she cranes her neck past me while taking in the crowd.
“You wouldn’t happen to know a Judge Baxter, would you?”
I flick my wrist as I break out into an easy grin. “I sure do—in the Biblical sense, if you know what I mean.” I give a cheeky wink. “Everett is my boyfriend.”
Her eyes grow twice their size as her jaw unhinges.
I know what she’s thinking. What in the heck is Mr. Sexy doing with this church mouse? Mr. Sexy is actually an official nickname bestowed to Everett by baristas everywhere. And I happen to agree with it.
I hitch a thumb toward the back. “Would you like me to get him for you?”
Her shock quickly morphs to horror. “Oh God, I didn’t think—” She gives a quick look around. “I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I have to go.” She darts out the door before I can stop her.
“Ha,” a female voice honks from behind, and I turn to find my best friend, Keelie Turner, with her pale blue eyes cast in the direction of the mystery woman.
Keelie and I have been besties since preschool, and just last January we found out we’re related. Her grandma, Nell Sawyer, is my grandma, too, in a roundabout way. Nell was technically my birth mother’s aunt, but she raised her so I’m not sure what familial trajectory that lands us in, but I’ve been affectionately calling her my grandmother for as long as I can remember. Nell and I have been friends for as long as I’ve known Keelie. Up until last fall, Nell was the only one who knew about my supersensual standing. And then a few months after that, I found out that Nell was transmundane, too. But then she died, and here we are with her ghost milling around somewhere on the premises.
Keelie smirks as she ticks her head in the girl’s direction. “I bet she’s sorry she can’t hitch a ride on the Essex Express.”
“Maybe,” I say, twisting my lips in that direction. “But the funny thing is, she didn’t call him by that mattress-based moniker.”
Lily waves us over from the register. Lily Swanson is a brunette beauty who, aside from working dutifully for me, has in the past hated my guts. Lily and Keelie’s twin sister, Naomi, are best friends, and well, Naomi has harbored ill will toward me ever since Otis Bear Fisher chose me over her way back in high school. And how I wish Bear had chosen Naomi in retrospect.
Bear took my heart and ground it down to powder with his notorious cheating ways. I left Honey Hollow as soon as high school was over to attend Columbia University where I promptly had my heart ground down to powder once again by my then fiancé, Curt Vanderlin. But ample time has passed and I’ve mended fences with both the cheating louses. Noah was the third to crush my heart, and after that thorough pummeling, I’ve been a living mess ever since.
Keelie leans in. “Hey, doesn’t that man at the counter look familiar to you?”
I squint over at a man just a touch older than my twenty-seven years, wiry brown hair, a day-glow tan, dark blue polo and matching pants.
“Oh, I know him,” I say as I gleefully head over. “Well, if it isn’t Councilman Dushane,” I say cheerily as I head behind the counter to help Lily box up what looks to be the entire bakery. “Checking out the competition?” Scott Dushane is Mayor Nash’s only opponent in the mayoral race.
“Lottie Lemon.” He ticks his head from side to side. “You’re onto me, aren’t you?” He lets a dark laugh fly. “I’m having an official kickoff party of my own down the street at the Woodhouse Grill, but they just informed me they don’t have near enough baked goods to supply my future constituents with, so here I am. Why should Harry Nash get the best goods in town?” He gives a sly wink as he stacks enough pink boxes to make a precarious tower of his own.
“Well, good luck to you in the mayoral race. May the best man win,” I say just as I spot a sparkle of ethereal light coming from the kitchen in the back. “Keelie? Would you mind helping Lily carry these out to his car?” I head to the kitchen without so much as catching a breath, but it’s empty—no sign of Noah, Everett, or Nell’s ghost. Not even my tower of macarons is to be seen. I’m assuming Noah or Everett carried it over for me.
The celestial prickling of light starts up again, and this time I follow it right back into the Honey Pot.
I spot Noah near the bar talking to Cormack Featherby—more like being accosted by the bimbo. I’ve had about enough of her blonde ambition as she tries her best to trap herself a detective to call her own.
Everett is near the bar as well, and I see him having a conversation with a leggy redhead, Detective Ivy Fairbanks. I can’t help but make a face. Ivy is Noah’s official partner in crime. She doesn’t think much of me, but I’m pretty sure she thinks a whole lot about Noah in a less than platonic sense.
I’m about to move in that direction when a hand reaches out and clasps over my arm.
