Macaron massacre, p.7
Macaron Massacre, page 7
part #10 of Murder in the Mix Series
Noah tosses a tennis ball out past the sand, and Toby retrieves it dutifully and runs right back.
“The food was delicious,” I say, closing up the box of pizza we picked up from Mangias. Back when Noah and I were hot and heavy, we ate our weight in pizza from this place.
“The cookies were a hit with both Toby and me.” Noah falls back onto his elbows. “So a baby, huh?”
A dull laugh pumps from me. “Rumor has it, I started a rumor.”
Noah rolls onto one side as those verdant green eyes of his bear hard into mine. Each time Noah looks at me this way, I can feel his pain regarding our abrupt breakup. He’s made it clear he just sees this as a rough patch in our relationship and has decided to turn a blind eye to my bed-hopping with Everett.
“I would be honored to have kids with you one day, Lottie. An entire gaggle of children. And I believe in my heart, that will happen for us one day soon.”
A moment of thick silence fills the space between us.
“Immaculate conception?” I can’t help but tease. “I’m pretty sure your wife would frown upon just about any other manner.”
Noah frowns himself in response. “I’m almost through with the court mandated counseling. And then hopefully it’s full steam ahead. Britney still thinks she can mold me into her version of my perfect self. What she doesn’t realize is that I’m perfectly happy with who I am.”
“I sort of like who you are, too.” I give his foot a playful tap. “I bumped into Britney last month, and she told me all about how she wishes you were building gyms right beside her. I guess she’s not so hot about you trotting around with a weapon strapped to your back.”
“Among other things. But Britney was a serial cheater. Her string of boyfriends ended our marriage years ago. She’s only doing this to make me miserable. She doesn’t want me back, and, even if she did, it’s not happening. Honestly, I think she gets a thrill out of goading both you and Cormack.”
I groan at the sound of the C word. “Why did you have to say her name? That woman is like a pesky poltergeist. Once she hears your voice echo her name, she’ll be here in minutes.”
“Well, then I’d better spill what I came to say before she gets here.” Noah sits up and takes both my hands in his. A sad smile forces his dimples to dig in deep. “Lottie, I’m so angry at myself for botching everything up between us. I plan on spending the rest of my life making it up to you.” He leans over and lands a kiss to my forehead. “After what Nell told you about having children one day, it got me thinking. I want more than anything to be the father of those children. I know that our situation isn’t ideal and that you’ve moved on—temporarily, I’m hoping—but I guess what I’m trying to say is, I still want us, Lot. And as soon as my divorce is final, Everett better watch his back because I’m going to kick him to the curb.”
We share a warm laugh.
“I hear everything you’re saying. As for kicking Everett to the curb, that would be my job. And only if I feel it’s the right thing to do. I hate that we’ve morphed into something so complicated. It all felt so simple at the time. I’m sorry you’re so miserable. If it helps, I’m miserable, too.”
“You’re proving my point.” His dimples press in deep, no smile. “You and I belong together. Deep down, I think you know that.” He grimaces a second. “And if I can be honest—every time I see you leaving his place, I want to go over and shoot up his living room.”
“Nice,” I say, pulling my hands from his grasp.
“I’m sorry.” He claims my hands once again and lands a kiss over my ring finger. “Lottie, I’m asking that you don’t forget me. I want to spend the rest of my life with one woman, and that happens to be you.”
“Noah”—his name expires from me, slow and painful—“you know I still love you. And I always enjoy spending time with you—and Toby. My affection is tied for the both of you, by the way.” His chest rumbles with a quiet laugh. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what the future has in store for us.” A very sober part of my heart just can’t bring myself to pledge my life to someone who’s already legally bound to someone else. And I have a feeling that once the divorce is final, I won’t be feeling any more certain about our predicament. In the meantime, I’ve gone off and fallen in love with Everett.
Noah sighs as he gives my finger a tug. “Let’s talk about the case.”
“Another topic I’m conflicted about.” I tell him all about Naomi’s new venture into fighting crime. “It really got my juices going to solve this murder. But the thought of losing Nell makes me sick to my stomach. And God knows if anyone in this town sees me puking, it’ll only confirm the rumors.”
“What’s this?” The voice of an elderly woman pierces from my left.
“Nell!” I glance over to see her materializing, albeit for my eyes only. “Hold onto me, Noah,” I say, giving his hands a squeeze. “You’ll be able to hear her, too. Nell, where have you been?”
She floats above the quilt and looks majestic with the navy lake as her backdrop.
“I’ve been spying on Will.” She glowers as she says his name. “To think I raised such an imbecile really gets my blood boiling.”
“No offense, but you don’t have any blood to boil, Nell.” I couldn’t help but tease her. I’m so elated she’s back, it’s unreasonable how happy she’s made me.
“Never mind that.” She looks down at my hands conjoined with Noah’s and lifts a brow with amusement. “Good afternoon, Detective Fox. Lottie here tells me she’s apprised you of her secret.”
Noah flexes a smile as he looks in her general direction. “That she has. And you can rest assured, her secret is safe with me.”
“I’m glad you’ve accepted Lottie for who she truly is. And in tagging along with your previous conversation—I may have heard a snippet or two—Lottie’s children will be predisposed to being supersensual themselves.”
“I won’t mind one bit.” Noah doesn’t miss a beat.
“That’s what I like to hear.” She chortles my way. “He is a cutie.” Noah squeezes my hand at her blatant endorsement of him. “Now what’s this I hear about you not wanting to solve the latest murder? I happened to be at the bakery this morning long enough to listen in on the heresy before I met with Carlotta for breakfast.”
The thought of disappointing Nell doesn’t sit well with me, but then again, neither does losing her.
“Nell, we both know if I solve this case tomorrow you’ll be sent back to paradise within seconds. And, in the event you’re not aware of the fact, I missed you fiercely. There’s no one else like you in my life, Nell, and there’s no one else on this planet who can take your place. I can’t bear the thought of sending you off to paradise again. I just don’t have it in me.”
“My dear child”—her voice trembles with what sounds like frustration—“don’t you see? We have no say in the matter. If you go against your natural inclination to bring justice to light, you’ll risk losing your powers altogether. Your supersensual standing was given as a gift—and it can just as easily be taken away.”
“That doesn’t seem fair. Carlotta has the gift, and she’s yet to stumble upon a single body. In fact, after that meeting we had at the bakery with the transmundane community, it seemed I was the only one met with death and murder.”
“That’s your specialty. Just like Detective Fox is a professional homicide detective, one might say you’re a professional sleuth ordained by the divine.”
Noah ticks his head to the side. “That’s a much higher authority than the Ashford Sheriff’s Department, Lottie. I’d go with it if I were you.”
I click my tongue in frustration. “Nell? Do you realize how difficult it’s going to be for me to say goodbye to you again?”
“Do you realize how difficult it will be for you if your powers begin to fade? My dear, you haven’t even scratched the surface of what you’re capable of. In fact, I might be stepping out of bounds when I say this, but I can assure you that the more cases you solve, the more skills you’ll acquire in the supersensual realm. You might even get to see me a bit more than you bargained for while you’re still here in your earthly frame.”
“Oh, Nell! Really? That would mean everything to me.” A flood of relief hits me at the thought of stepping back into the latest homicide investigation. I would love nothing more than to bring Rich Dallas’ killer to justice. “And you’re so right. Trying to keep out of the case was creating an entire backlog of cravings to find the killer myself. I felt like a volcano about to erupt at that table this morning. I just have to find out who stabbed Rich Dallas to death. And I have to do it today.” I sit upright, ready to bolt from the lake and run all the way back to the Honey Pot Diner to scour the scene for evidence—not that the Ashford sheriff’s deputies haven’t picked it clean, but I have to do something, anything to progress the case. “Wait, Nell. That still means, the faster I solve the case, the quicker you leave for paradise.”
Nell bubbles with laugher as she rises to the sky. “Oh my sweet, Lottie. You haven’t heard a thing I said. I promise you this. Your powers are growing. Solve this case, Lottie. The quicker, the better. The faster you discover the killer, the quicker your powers will grow.” And with that, she floats to the sky and disappears, one ghostly molecule at a time.
“Wait! Where are you going? Aren’t you going to solve the case right along with me?”
“I’ll be back. But first, there is something I must do.” And just like that, Nell fades into the great expanse of a clear blue sky.
“You heard the woman, Noah,” I say as we bounce to our feet. “There’s work to do.”
His phone buzzes in his hand, and he looks at the screen.
“Forensics wants to speak with me. It looks as if the report just came in.”
“Perfect! You do that. I’ll get my head together and figure out how to go about the investigation from my end.” Every feel-good emotion under the sun attacks me at once as I leap onto him with a hard embrace. “Oh, Noah, it feels as if we’re back in business. I can’t tell you how miserable it was denying myself something I wanted more than anything in the world.”
We pull apart, and he presses those sad evergreen eyes over mine.
“I know exactly how that feels, Lot. Hopefully, this time next year we’ll be having an entirely different conversation. Who knows? Maybe we’ll be planning that family I’m hoping we’ll have someday.”
I give a little shrug. “Stranger things have happened. But in the meantime, we’ve got a killer to bring to justice. Partners?” I thrust my hand forward, and he shakes it.
“Partners.” He brings my hand to his lips and lands a sweet kiss over the back. “You’ll always be my partner in every single way. Now let’s go catch a killer.”
“Ten bucks says I catch them first.”
“Ten bucks says you do.”
Chapter 8
It turns out, Gloria Dallas’ personal assistant of twenty years is now serving down at the Ashford County Courthouse as a secretary for the honorable Judge McDonough.
And to think I gleaned all of that within five minutes in my tiny office as soon as I got back to the bakery. I scooped up a variety of cookies—my infamous macarons included—and hightailed it to the Ashford County Courthouse just like that.
Typically, I would have invited Keelie to join in on the fun, but seeing that weeks ago I hinted to Everett about a private date in his chambers and have yet to make good on that promise, I decided it’s best I fly solo on this one.
The courthouse is a typical colonial throwback. Inside, it’s decorated with oversized dark chocolate doors that mimic the design of a Hershey’s Bar with rows of elongated rectangles carved into the enormous doors themselves.
When I went digging for information on Gloria, the first thing that popped up was her dried up fashion career—Dallas Designs. Unfortunately, for her, she didn’t get too far in the world of couture, but she did pretty well, considering how competitive the fashion market can be.
In fact, I thought I recognized a few pieces from my mother’s wardrobe. Wouldn’t that be ironic? My mother prancing around in a Gloria Dallas original?
But I’m not here for Gloria. The woman I’m here to see is Trisha Lawrence.
I head past the main arteries of the courthouse and even manage to acquire a friendly nod from one of the security guards. Lord knows I’ve been down here enough to be on a first name basis with everyone who works in the building. I offer him a chocolate covered pretzel cookie before proceeding further.
When you’re in the crime solving business, you need every single soul on your side. Not that I’m not normally congenial and friendly, but I figure it’s best to go out of my way and make a few buddies anywhere I can. You never know when you might need them to trust you enough to spill a secret or two. And that’s where my cookies come in—or as I like to call to them, weapons of trust-building, secret-spilling destruction.
My mother always told me that people are like a garden. You need to water relationships with attention in an effort to keep them alive and healthy. And here I am to water—or in my case, feed. Who knows how many more cases will lead me back to the mean marbled halls of justice?
I’m still tickled pink that Nell all but gave me a directive to carry on with my crime solving ways. In a sense, it made me feel official, like some caped crusader whose sole goal in life is to tackle the bad guys. Although, it’s still up for debate whether or not whoever killed Rich Dallas was a bad guy. Gloria and her daughters acted as if they wanted to erect a statue to them.
A plaque on the wall reads Judge McDonough, and I follow the arrow down the hall.
Geez, this is the exact way to Everett’s chambers. It looks like I’m getting dangerously close to Mr. Sexy himself. I know for a fact he’s got an entire afternoon of cases, and I don’t dare bother him. I’ll just hang around until he’s through. But what I wouldn’t do to see him performing, live and in person, as he sits on his throne.
The last time I had a chance to witness his judicial glory, I was the defendant and he wisely chose to side with me.
A middle-aged woman sits behind a granite counter, pecking away at her keyboard, her glasses reflecting blue from the screen. I head over, and, sure enough, her nameplate reads Trisha Lawrence.
“Hello!” I call out in a cheery voice. “I’m here from the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery, and I come bearing sweet treats for one and all!” I chirp as I thrust the box of goodies her way. “Choose whichever you like. Heck, take two or three.”
“Ooh, thank you.” She rises from her seat and makes her selection. Trisha is a tall woman, slender, gaunt features, with a few too many wrinkles as if she put in her time sun worshipping in her youth. Her hair is salt and pepper, with the salt winning out, and it’s short and trimmed neatly around her face. “Where is this delectable bakery of yours? I always like to patronize the businesses kind enough to donate to our staff.”
You mean there are others like me? I’d best warn Everett because I’m positive they’re up to no good.
“Honey Hollow,” I say, marveling at what a perfect segue that was.
Her eyes enlarge behind her thick lenses, and it gives her an unearthly appeal.
“You don’t say?” She touches the white chocolate chip macadamia cookie to her lips before pulling it back. “So, you must know about the murder they had there just last weekend.”
“Rich Dallas,” I say it crisp and clear in the event she was unaware of her employment connection.
She wrinkles her nose at the sound of his name. “I knew him. I worked for years for the Dallas family.”
“Really? No kidding!” I deserve an Oscar for my ability to feign surprise. “So, what was she like?”
“What was who like?” Her brows pinch as she takes a bite of the cookie.
“His wife, Gloria. I hear she’s the one that did him in.”
She almost gags on her next bite. Perhaps this wasn’t the best strategy—but if I’ve learned anything in all my months of sleuthing, it’s that my time interrogating just about anyone is limited. Note to self: Interrogation first. Cookies last.
She averts her eyes as if it all made sense. “Now there’s a rumor that doesn’t surprise me.”
It didn’t surprise me either. That’s why I started it.
“So, what was Gloria like? Did she hate him enough to have him killed?”
“Gloria? Please. She would never pay someone to off Rich.” Her cookie dips dangerously close to her lips once again. “She vowed years ago to take care of the monster herself. In fact, I’m a little surprised they haven’t arrested her yet.”
“Do you really think she’d have the rage to stab him in the back? Literally speaking, of course.”
“Oh yes.” She waves it off. “It’s a well-known fact Rich cut her off financially years ago. He was supposed to make a hefty alimony payment each month like clockwork, but he stopped that good time rather quickly.” She takes another bite out of the cookie in her hand and moans through its ooey gooey goodness. The white chocolate chip macadamia cookies happen to be one of my all-time personal favorites. “Anyway, he claimed he was broke. That really enraged Gloria. She vowed vengeance on him then, but that was about six years ago.”
“It sounds like she took her time.”
“Maybe. Or maybe she waited until he was good and happy. That would be just like her. She’s the very definition of vindictive. I heard he was engaged to some trumped up trollop just looking to hitch a ride on the Dallas Gravy Train Express.” Her chin dips a notch. “He wasn’t exactly forthcoming about his financial affairs.”
She reaches for another cookie, and I snatch back the box reflexively. I can’t help it. Miranda Lemon is a saint. And one with questionable sanity, considering the fact she entertained that psychotic for oh so long.
