Toxic Apple Turnovers: MURDER IN THE MIX 13 Page 3

  “Come here, sis.” Meghan pulls me in and smothers me against her chest. “I just knew this day would come.”

  I pull free and gasp for air. “I certainly didn’t expect it to come so soon.” I lift my brows toward Everett.

  Mom bounces over with her boyfriend, the new pastor of Honey Hollow Covenant Church, Pastor Stephen Gaines.

  “Lottie Lemon!” Mom scolds playfully with tears in her eyes. “A surprise engagement party? I can’t believe you managed to pull this off right under my nose!”

  I glance to Cormack and frown. “Neither can I.”

  Noah comes up with his brother, Alex. You would think they were twins if you didn’t know Alex was just a hair younger. Alex shares Noah’s dark hair and serious green eyes, but he’s beefier and looks as if he belongs in a heavyweight boxing ring. He’s been dating my assistant, Lily, and her best friend, or should I say her ex-best friend, Naomi Turner. Naomi’s twin sister, Keelie, is actually my best friend.

  “Lottie”—Noah shakes his head, a sign he’s filled with remorse—“I can’t apologize enough.”

  Cormack is quick to swat him. “No apologies necessary. In fact, they’ve already thanked me by way of those dazzled looks on their faces. Of course, I myself put together the custom cocktails.” She brays like a donkey. “The Lottie Toddy and the Gavel Buster—I threw in an extra for Essex, the Mr. Sexy Sangria. And for Noah and me, I have the Foxy on the Roxy and the Cormapolitan. Please feel free to enjoy! It’s an open bar courtesy of Daddy.”

  I’d like to strangle both Cormack and her daddy right about now.

  Mom accosts Everett’s poor mother just as Meghan excuses herself, something about needing to inhale all of my delicious desserts.

  Amanda pops up again, and Pastor Gaines asks to speak with her in private.

  I pull Cormack in by the elbow. “Are you insane?”

  “Ugh,” she grunts. “You hate the color scheme. I knew I should have gone with something more garish that was guaranteed to please you, but it’s my special day, too, you know. Don’t be selfish, Lonnie.”

  Her mini-me, Landon, comes by. “Congratulations, all! It wasn’t that long ago we were all amassed right here for my fabulous divorce party. How I wish I had another upcoming matrimonial dissolution. Everett, you’ll have to hook me up with one of your rich lawyer friends. No one under the thirty-seven percent tax bracket, I’m pleading with you.” Her gaze hooks to someone in the corner, and I glance over to find a couple of men in suits—a tall bald man a little older than me perhaps, clean-shaven, an air of superiority about him, and next to him is a smooth looking dude with a dark inky suit and heavy lids.

  “Whoa.” Landon wiggles her chest their way as if showing off her wares. “Come to mama!”

  Amanda pops back up. “The one to the left is taken.” She giggles. “That’s Mark Russo, my fiancé.”

  Both Cormack and her younger sister inch back as if they were blown away by this news.

  Landon chokes as she struggles to speak. “The Mark Russo?”

  Amanda laughs. “The one and only. That’s Chrissy Castaneda next to him. He works as a manager at one of Mark’s plants by day, and he’s a wedding singer by night. A darn good one, too. You should both consider booking him for your weddings.”

  “Chrissy?” I say under my breath as I inspect the man with dark curly hair and a prominent chin.

  Everett leans in. “Odd name for a grown man.”

  Amanda waves it off. “Some nicknames never die. I’ve known Chrissy forever.” She makes a face as yet a third man joins them, a redheaded man who looks ready to kill in a sharp gray suit. “Chrissy is my brother’s best friend.” The smile glides off her face. “Excuse me.” She takes off in the opposite direction.

  “I’m betting that’s her brother,” I say, looking back at the redhead, this time seeing a family resemblance.

  Noah takes a breath. “And I’m betting they don’t get along.”

  Cormack slings her arm around his shoulder just as the music picks up in volume. “But we certainly get along, don’t we, Big Boss?” She yanks him to the middle of the room and starts in on some sort of stripper moves as she shimmies up and down his body.

  “I hate it when she calls him that.”

  Everett leans in. “You know what I’d like to hear you call me in about an hour?”

  “My ex-fiancé?” I make a face.

  “My first name.” His lids hood dangerously low as a wicked grin twitches on his lips.

  I may have called him by his spicy moniker a time or two when we’ve been in a compromising position, but only because the throes of passion practically demanded it.

  “How about Mr. Sexy?” I’m about to lift my arms around his shoulders just as a brunette in a power suit glides between us.

  “Essex, you dirty dog.” She chortles, and it’s not until I step around her do I realize it’s Fiona Dagmeyer, a defense attorney slash ex-girlfriend of his. Okay, so girlfriend is stretching it. More like lady friend—of the night.

  Yes, Everett was a dirty dog when you get down to it, or at least he was before he met me. Oh heck, he’s still very much so to this day—and this time, it’s exclusively with me.

  She turns my way with her crimson lips twisted in a knot of dissatisfaction. The aforementioned power suit is poppy orange, her eyes are filled with a familiar fire, and judging by that scowl on her face, she’s not too thrilled with her ex’s newfound disposition.

  “Lottie.” She smacks her lips with disdain, but I couldn’t care less. A woman from Everett’s past who actually has my name right is an impressive unicorn in my book.

  I lean in. “This is the part where you congratulate the happy couple.” A gloating smile twitches on my lips. I can’t help it. Fiona Dagmeyer has always acted as if she were superior to me in every way. And in the past, she’s always had the “Essex” upper hand.

  She glances back at Noah and Cormack. “And I have.” She turns back to Everett and starts rattling off something about a backlog of cases down at the courthouse, and my brain essentially shuts off to the conversation.

  Instead, I turn to see if I can find that adorable little specter flying around here someplace. For once I’d like the heads-up on who is going to bite the big one. But I don’t see the adorable fuzzy little owl. I see Greer Giles in her ghostly frame, glowing like the ethereal being she is, waving me over by the mouth of the entry.

  I do my best to thread my way through the crowd and smack into a body.

  “Oh, sorry!” I say, stepping back, only to realize I’ve just bumped into Holland Grand of Grand Orchards. “Holland! It’s so nice to see you.” Awkward to see you is more like it. Awkward to see anyone is astutely accurate. I didn’t want an engagement party. I’m certainly not engaged. Am I? I glance down at that rock glittering on my finger as if it were contesting my protests. Everett’s mother gave it to me months ago when she found out Everett and I weren’t doing rings. It was once her mother’s, and I’m sure it’s worth more than all of the real estate in Honey Hollow combined.

  “Lottie Lemon!” Holland offers a giant grin. Holland and I grew up together. He’s a year younger than me. For a while he dated my sister, Meg, and that went south quickly. Rumor has it, he’s the very person who sent Meg running toward Vegas in the first place.

  Just as he opens his mouth to say something else, an arm comes up over his neck and nearly flips him backward. I quickly recognize the face that the arm is attached to as none other than Meg herself.

  “What the heck are you doing here, Holland Grand?” She spits his name out as if it were a curse.

  Hook comes up behind her and helps poor Holland upright. His face is as crimson as his hair.

  He coughs and sputters. “Meg, Hook.” He nods their way with a look of extreme annoyance. “I was just about to ask Lottie if she’d like to bake for the Apple Festival later this month. It’s our annual harvest kickoff, and your cutie pies were such a hit last year we’d love for you to cater once again
. In fact, these miniature turnovers are not only delicious, but they’re brilliant. It would be the perfect dessert to feed the masses.”

  “Yes!” It comes out enthusiastic and genuinely joyful, the first bit of good news it feels like I’ve had in a while. “I would be honored to bake for the Apple Festival. Send me whatever details you have. I’m super excited to do this.”

  “Lottie!” Greer’s ghostly voice echoes from the entry as she tries her best to flag me down once again. Her long glossy dark hair shimmers with light, and she’s still wearing that white ruched gown she was killed in. The crimson bloom over her heart looks like a flower or a brooch more than it does a bloodstain.

  “I’m sorry. I think I see someone I know. Please excuse me.”

  “It’s your night, Lottie!” Holland calls after me. “Congratulations!”

  I thread my way through the mob, and Greer does her best to pull me into the quiet foyer.

  “What is it?”

  “Oh, there’s trouble, Lottie.” She shivers as she floats toward the entry of the B&B.

  “Goodness.” I avert my eyes. “Is it Winslow? Wait, let me guess. It’s Lea.” Winslow is far too docile to ever get into any real trouble. But little hatchet-wielding Lea? That girl is trouble on a stick.

  “No, Lottie. It’s not Winslow or Lea.” She glides right through the thick mahogany door.

  “Funny,” I say. “Unlike you, I have to go through it the old-fashioned way.” I open the door and make my way down the expansive porch where Greer, Winslow, and Lea all look somberly into a patch of lavender impatiens.

  “What is it?” I trot forward and stop abruptly, a scream buried in my throat.

  “Oh no,” I gasp.

  “Oh yes.” Greer nods.

  It looks as if our party planner extraordinaire, Amanda Wellington, just booked her last event.

  Amanda Wellington is dead.

  Chapter 3

  Dead.

  I sway back on my heels just as Everett and Noah come bounding down the stairs.

  Noah checks for a pulse while shouting for us to call 911.

  Everett pulls me to the side. His jaw is tense, just the way it is when he gets angry. “Lottie, why didn’t you get me? I would have come with you.”

  “I should have.” I shake my head back at Amanda. She’s lying facedown, her bare legs sticking out of the border garden in a grizzly manner. “Greer was the one who called me out this way.” I do a quick scan of the vicinity for her, Winslow, or Lea, but the three of them have vanished.

  Noah comes our way while texting someone on his phone. “I just told Ivy to get out here. Lottie, what did you see? What brought you out to the front?”

  “Greer Giles,” I whisper her name like a secret.

  Noah’s eyes expand just as Ivy clip-clops her way over.

  “Tell her you needed a breath of fresh air,” Noah whispers frantically.

  “Why?” I glance over at Ivy who goes straight to the body.

  “Because ghosts make lousy alibis.” He heads over to her just as a couple of squad cars scream in this direction.

  “He’s right about that.” Everett shakes his head wistfully. “But he’s wrong about the breath of fresh air. Your story is that we agreed to meet one another outside, five minutes apart, in an attempt to leave that circus without drawing any attention to ourselves.”

  I suck in my bottom lip a moment as I take in this handsome blue-eyed devil before me. “You don’t know how much of a turn-on it is to hear you willingly perjure yourself for me.”

  His cheeks flex in an attempt to smile, but Everett is too stubborn to give it, dead body in the vicinity or not.

  The light cooing of an owl goes off behind us as we head toward an overgrown maple dripping with bright orange leaves.

  “I hear you,” I whisper as I crane my neck, and sure enough, a sparkle of light refracts sharply as if it were a prism. The owl materializes with its wings spread out, and it’s a magnificent sight. “It’s here.” I quickly take up Everett’s hand. For reasons I have no control over, if someone touches me, they can hear the dead, too. “What’s your name, and why in heavens didn’t you warn me before someone shoved poor Amanda off the planet?” My chest bucks with emotion as I look to the radiant being.

  The beautiful creature lets out a whirling sound as if it were clearing its throat. “Owlbert Einstein.” It shoots off a couple of who-whos. “Manda’s murder was not mine to interfere with—only mine to solve. Who-who are you?”

  “My name is Lottie, and this is my boyfriend, Everett.” It just felt so natural to say that. Unfortunately, I’m wondering if it will feel just as natural saying the same about Noah? “Did you see anything? Who in their right mind would want to kill Amanda?”

  “I don’t know, Lottie. But I’m determined to find out. I’m headed back to the party.” He flies right through Everett and into the B&B as quick as a lightning bolt.

  A dull groan comes from me. “I doubt he’s going to find the killer at the party.”

  Detective Ivy Fairbanks walks over with Noah as the area floods with sheriff’s deputies from both inside and the bevy of patrol cars pulling up on the scene. A fire truck just rolled up, and Forest dashes past us on the way to the scene of the crime.

  “Another one?” Ivy shoots me a look that could make the Mona Lisa cry. She folds her arms over her chest in a show of judgment and, believe me, I’m starting to think I deserve it.

  “I was planning an escape with Noah.” I wince. “I mean Everett. And once I hit the bottom of the stairs, I saw her legs.”

  Ivy squints my way, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say she were giving me the stink eye. “Fine. Did you realize she had a fistful of those mini tarts you were serving? Her mouth was full as well.”

  Oh heck.

  I give a long, weary blink.

  For whatever reason, every murder in this town has a direct correlation to my bakery. And as horrible as it is, I’ve already started calculating how to increase my order of ingredients to meet the inevitable demand from those Last Thing They Ate Tours.

  I gasp as a terrible thought comes to me.

  “This is horrible.” I look to Everett. “People are going to think I’m planting my desserts around the deceased just to drum up business!”

  Noah winces. “In full disclosure, it’s often brought up on our tipline.”

  “Great.” I collapse my hands to my sides. “So what do you think was the cause of death? Was she stabbed? Shot? Strangled?”

  “None of the above.” Noah’s brows dip. “We’ll have to wait for the coroner’s report to come in. For all we know, it might have been natural causes.”

  Owlbert floats by, assuring me it wasn’t.

  I glance past him just as an entire herd of bodies pour out of the B&B.

  Noah rocks back on his heels. “I’d better take care of this.” He takes off, along with Ivy. “I want this exit sealed,” he shouts to the deputies milling around the body. But it’s too late to stop those already racing down the stairs.

  A petite redhead with an all too familiar face crumbles when she spots the body, and a wailing scream emits from her.

  A couple of men in suits pull her away from the scene as they try their best to comfort her.

  “That’s her sister, Hazel.” Tears come to my eyes. “I can’t bear to watch her pain, Everett. I can’t imagine what it must be like to see someone you love that way.”

  “I can’t either.” He pulls me close. “The men look familiar, too. Amanda’s fiancé, Mark, and his buddy.”

  “Mark looks more concerned for Hazel at the moment.”

  The three of them look our way at the very same time, and my heart thumps hard against Everett’s chest.

  I shake my head apologetically over at Hazel as I start to head over, but a swarm of deputies have descended upon them.

  Mom and Pastor Gaines head our way. My poor mother’s eyes are red and swollen, and she’s gasping for air as if she ran the length of Hone
y Lake.

  “Lottie! Oh, thank heavens.” She wraps her arms around me tightly. “When I heard there was an accident—and then I couldn’t find you—oh, I thought the very worst.” She pulls back and rattles me by the shoulders. “You found another body, didn’t you? Who is it? How did this happen?”

  Pastor Gaines pulls his gaze from the murder scene. “It appears it was Ms. Wellington.”

  “What?” Mom squawks in disbelief before turning my way. “Who’s Ms. Wellington?”

  “Amanda.” My voice breaks as I say her name. “She was the party planner for tonight’s fiasco, and it sure ended that way for her.”

  Mom gasps, “How on earth did she die? Oh, God! Did she fall and break her neck? I’m going to get sued, aren’t I?” She looks to Pastor Gaines in fright. “That’s a terribly callous thought to have while someone lies dead on my property. You’ll have to forgive me. This is only my third body on the grounds.”

  Pastor Gaines’ eyes bulge at the thought. “Mandy would understand. She was a kind soul.”

  “You knew her?” I don’t mind donning my amateur sleuth hat and making sure it fits nice and snug for the indelicate occasion. I consider Amanda a friend—or at least I did—and I plan on getting to the bottom of this.

  “Yes.” Pastor Gaines sheds that perennial smile my way. Wow, it never leaves his lips, does it? “Mandy orchestrated many weddings at the church. We grew to be good friends in the short while I’ve been in town.”

  Everett nods. “Makes sense.”

  Lainey and Meg come upon us. Poor Lainey is red-faced, probably from crying, and I feel terrible for her. First, her wedding planner in July and now her realtor? I’m sure she’s starting to feel cursed.

  Lainey comes in close, and she’s not crying at all—she’s red-faced with fury is what she is.

  “You are cursed!” She swats me on the shoulder with her purse.