Bobbing For Bodies: MURDER IN THE MIX 2 Read online

  Bear leans in. “Hope you don’t mind, but I decided to meet with my new attorney here.”

  I suck in a quick breath as I look to Everett’s female companion, and now that I think about it, I recognize her from that day the Simonson sisters took me to court.

  “Fiona Dagmeyer.” She’s quick to shake Bear’s hand. “Why don’t we take a seat.”

  “Oh, sure,” I say, pointing to an empty table by the window. “I can bring you coffee and some apple berry cobbler I just pulled out of the oven.” I tip my head toward Bear. “I’ll bring a few brownies to get you through it as well.”

  “No thanks.” Bear picks up my hand carefully. “Just sit by my side. That’s all the help I need to get me through this.”

  “I’ll do whatever you ask.”

  “No, you won’t,” Fiona corrects with a curt smile that says something nasty far more than it ever does something nice. “I prefer to speak with my clients alone. I find when they’re around family or friends they seem to want to embellish to save themselves of embarrassing truths. I don’t have time for any of that.”

  “That’s fine.” I shake my head at Bear. “The two of you take a seat there, and Everett and I will sit at another table. I’ll still be here for you.”

  Bear and Fiona head to the table near the window, and I’m slow to take a seat with the handsome judge in front of me.

  “I’ll get you some coffee,” I say, batting my lashes up at him nervously. “In fact, I’d better check on those pies I have in the oven. There’s so much to do before I close up for the night. I’m sure you understand.”

  I try to take off, and he quickly steps in front of me, blocking my path.

  “Lemon.” He points to the empty table near the door. “It’s time.”

  I frown up at him. “I don’t want it to be time. Can’t you see I have nothing to hide? This little interrogation of yours is completely uncalled for.”

  “Lottie.” His brows knot up. “You’re incriminating yourself with your uncharacteristic behavior. You do realize I’m not going to hurt you. And I’m not turning you over to the police.”

  “It’s not the police I’m worried about.” It’s men with nets that scare me. Ever since I was old enough to realize my gift was far from normal, I was petrified I’d end up in a mental institution somewhere. Just me in a straitjacket and a thousand critters from yesteryear. It’s enough to make me go mad just thinking about it.

  Everett lands a warm hand over my back and ushers us to the table as we take our seats.

  He leans in, and the warm scent of his cologne tickles my senses. It’s a bit spicier than the one that Noah wears but equally intoxicating. There’s just something about cologne that does it for me. It might as well be a love potion—I respond that aggressively to it. A part of the reason is that my father wore his Old Spice liberally. Mom gifted my sisters and me each a bottle a few years back for Christmas, and we called it Dad in a Bottle. I guess that’s why I love musky scents on men. Suddenly, everything just feels right with the world.

  Everett takes a breath as if he too were girding himself. “What are you really afraid of?”

  “You judging me.” That, and psychotropic medications being force-fed down my pie hole. I would be the worst patient ever. They really would need to tie me to a bed.

  A warm laugh bounces from him—a rarity in and of itself. “That’s what I do by trade. I judge.” His features harden. “But I won’t judge you as a person. Now, walk me through it. You thought you saw a squirrel coming in through the front door.”

  “It was getting pretty warm in here with all of those bodies.” Speaking of which, my body heat index spikes twenty degrees, and I can feel a bite of sweat erupting under each arm. “I hadn’t eaten all day. Can you believe it? All of those fudgy brownies right in my face and not one bite.” Truth. “Anyway. I guess it wasn’t a squirrel after all. I’m just too embarrassed to tell you what it really was.” A flare of heat rips through me as I spew an entire catalog of lies.

  “What was it?”

  Everett looks every bit the concerned friend. It’s amazing to me that just a month ago I was swatting his behind with my forehead, and boy did I ever annoy the living heck out of him with those fancy face maneuvers. And yet here we are, chatting in my brand new bakery—about the curse that’s finally about to take down my life.

  I clear my throat. “It was a dust ball.” It comes out lower than a whisper.

  “A what?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

  “You know, a little mini dirt devil. A tiny tornado of unhygienic fun. My mother always called them squirrels. They just come in and whip right through the house, embarrassing the socks off my mother and me.” My face heats to unsafe levels. I’m positive you could light a cigarette right off of the tip of my nose. In fact, if Noah were here, I’d give him one big red-hot kiss just to get away from his snooping ex-stepbrother.

  Everett sinks back in his seat. That look on his face is locked somewhere between anger and disappointment, a sure sign he’s not buying the dirty load I’m trying to sell him.

  “A dirt devil.” He nods. “And you expect me to believe that a whirlwind of dust and debris—less than a foot tall—had the power to maneuver its way through a forest of bodies and make its way out the back—in a bakery with virtually no breeze.” He cocks his head to the side as if volleying the dirty ball back in my court.

  “Yes?”

  “Lemon.” He closes his eyes a moment, and for a second I contemplate running out the door. I can always cite female troubles. Men never like to hear the word menstruation. Actually, it not only might scare Everett off, it might clear out the bakery in record time. Of course, that would be another lie. And now that I’m dancing on a ball of flat-out lies, I’ll have to keep adding to them just to keep myself from falling. Soon I’ll be an astronaut who needs to check on the space station. A secret assistant to the President. My den of deceit knows no bounds.

  “Let’s try this another way.” Everett sounds exactly as stern and in command as he did that day in court. “What do you think the repercussions would be if you told me the truth?” He gives a slight shake of the head. “Please don’t bother elaborating on the dirt devil. I’ve already determined that was simply a cover in hopes I’ll leave right this minute and buy you a broom.”

  A tiny laugh bubbles from me. There’s just something about Everett that puts me at ease. “Fine.” I swallow hard, knowing full well it’s not fine. “But first, I have to tell you that what you’re about to hear, only one other person on the entire planet is apprised of.” I’m hoping that alone will give him pause.

  “Go on.” His finger calls to me as if beckoning me to get to it already.

  “Not even my best friend, Keelie,” I whisper in hopes he can see the severity.

  “That’s fine. I won’t tell her. I promise I won’t tell a soul without your permission.” His gaze remains secure over mine.

  Bear and Fiona head over, and I’m flooded with relief. Every last molecule in my body has just exhaled. I bolt up, and Everett is slow to follow.

  “Well?” I ask the two of them. “What’s the verdict?”

  Fiona rides her gaze over me from head to toe, and judging by that nonplused look on her face, I gather she’s not too impressed.

  “Mr. Fisher”—she nods to Bear—“I’ll be speaking with you soon. Think about the things I said and implement them.”

  Bear scratches at the back of his neck. “Will do.”

  She looks to Everett, and something akin to a genuine grin blooms on her face. “Essex, I’ll be up late.” She gives a sly wink before heading out the door.

  “Up late?” I gawk as I give him a slight shove on the arm. “Don’t tell me you’re still dipping a toe into Dagmeyer infested waters.”

  “Not a toe.” A dirty grin blooms on his face. “And not any other body part either. We’re exes, Lemon. When I say something, you can count on the fact I’m telling the truth.”

  I suck in
a quick breath and swat him over the arm once again.

  Bear offers me a spontaneous hug. “I’ve got to run. It’s been a long day.”

  “Yeah, sure.” I bite down hard over my lower lip because there are still so many questions I want to ask him. “Hey, Bear? What kind of things did Fiona ask you to implement?” I’ll start easy. Warm him up a bit.

  “I need to buy a suit in the event this escalates any further. I’m innocent, but she said people are hungry for answers. I guess she’s heard enough rumors that Hunter and I weren’t exactly on friendly terms the last few weeks.”

  “Did he ask you for a loan?” I regret the words as soon as they sail from my mouth. So much for warming him up.

  Bear ticks his head back as if it were ridiculous, but there’s something in his eyes that says it’s not. “Yeah, he asked. But I’m tapped so he didn’t get it.” He pinches his eyes shut a moment.

  “Do you know if he asked Chuck Popov for a loan?” Micheline already suggested as much, but I figure square one is the best place to start as far as this conversation goes.

  Bear winces. “How do you know this?” he whispers before rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “Yeah, he asked. The kid asked everybody. Nobody gave him anything, Lot. Especially not Chuck.” He glances over my shoulder a moment at Everett before leaning in. “I asked Chuck not to give him anything, and in exchange I told him I’d make sure he got the bids when I backed out.”

  “At the bank?”

  He nods. “And other jobs. I didn’t want anyone feeding Hunter’s need for green speed.”

  “Why?” I’m suddenly ravenous to know the answer.

  He shakes his head. “Because nobody needs that much money, Lot.” Everett clears his throat, and Bear’s chest expands with his next breath. “I’ll talk to you some other time, Lot. Funeral’s on Sunday. I’ll text you the details.”

  “Please do,” I say as he speeds out the door.

  Everett takes an enormous breath, and I swear I can see the judgment ready to pour out of him. “How did you know that kid needed a loan?”

  “Never you mind.” I look past him for signs of Ivy whom I’ve quickly adopted as my nemesis. Technically, that would be Naomi, Keelie’s twin, but since Naomi isn’t trying to staple Noah to her side, she’s been evicted from the coveted position.

  “Lemon, are you investigating Hunter’s murder? Both Noah and I don’t think—”

  I hold a hand up between us. “I don’t care what you think. Hunter was my friend, and Bear still is—sort of. Anyway, I’m being cautious so no need to worry.”

  He rocks back on his heels. “If you don’t care about what I think, then you shouldn’t have a problem letting me know what had you running out the back door that night. You found a body, Lemon. And to be honest, I think maybe you’re too close to the situation or you’d see that there might be some importance in your own timeline of events leading up to the gruesome discovery.”

  “Ugh. You are relentless, you know that? And you’re just as obnoxious as you were that day I met you in the coffee shop. If I recall correctly, you wouldn’t tell me your name. Your name. And you’re asking me to divulge something extremely private and quite painful to admit.”

  “What are you talking about?” His voice hikes an octave to match mine. “You said you saw a squirrel bolting through the place and followed it to a dead man.”

  “And you didn’t see it!” I smash a finger into his granite-hewn chest. So not fair. Everett has the face and the body of a god. Lucky for me, so does Noah.

  “You didn’t see it either,” he barks, and my adrenaline hits its zenith.

  “Yes, I did,” I spit the words in his face. “I saw a dead squirrel that once belonged to Hunter Fisher himself. A dead pet. It’s what I always see before something very, very sinister happens to its previous owner. Are you happy?” I snip as I whip off my apron and speed through the kitchen. I tell the staff I’ll be back to close up as I snatch my keys off the rack and race to my car that just so happens to be parked right over the spot Hunter breathed his last breath.

  “Lemon, wait,” Everett riots as he barrels out after me. But it’s too late. I’m already racing off into the night.

  I’ve never seen Everett so full of emotion—his heated anger matching mine. And then I remember him mentioning that he had his ways of getting information out of just about anyone. It was his gift.

  I shake my head as a dull laugh pumps from me.

  Everett wasn’t angry with me. He was manipulating me to get what he needed.

  Well played, Everett. Well played.

  I pull out of the alley and spot Ivy Fairbanks heading into the bakery with a dutiful Noah by her side.

  But I don’t stop. I drive all the way to my sister’s. There’s only so much torment I can take for one night.

  Everett promised he wouldn’t tell a soul.

  I kept my end of the bargain. Let’s see if he keeps his.

  Chapter 9

  In keeping with this seemingly new tradition of having my sanity disband at some point in the latter half of the day, my mother and her questionable suitor are seated across from Noah and me at Mangia, Honey Hollow’s premier Italian restaurant which has write-ups in three national newspapers.

  Noah picked me up from Lainey’s, looking exceptionally comely tonight with a dark inky suit and a slick black tie to match. His hair is thick and glossy as if it were still damp from the shower, and the musky scent of his cologne made me want to grab him by the tie and trail off into the woods with him. Under no sane circumstances should we be waiting for our meals to arrive while discussing politics of all things with my mother’s formidable boy toy. Sure, he’s handsome for a silver fox, but there’s a hint of something wily in his eyes that I can’t quite pinpoint. His movements are too fluid, and his face is peppered with white hairs that look decidedly like a briar patch. Side note: Both Everett and Noah have a comfortable amount of dark stubble on their blessed by God faces, but it looks soft and inviting. Wallace here looks like a prickly cactus. I don’t see how my mother could stand to make out with him.

  Oh my God.

  I bolt upright as if I had just been shot. She’s not making out with him, is she?

  Mom gives me a slight kick from under the table. “So Lottie, why don’t you tell us all how it feels to finally run the bakery of your dreams? You’ve been waiting for this moment all your life.” She offers a crimson-lipped smiled to both Noah and Wallace. “My daughter has been obsessed with baking ever since she got her hands on an Easy Bake Oven when she was three. Of course, all the girls used it.” She grimaces at the memory. “Meg would toss a little mud in for flavor. But not my Lottie. She only uses the finest ingredients.”

  She winks my way, and I can feel my face heating. I’ve never done well with compliments in general. Truth be told, there’s nothing more that makes me want to duck under this table and bury my face in my purse. It’s been a long-standing problem of mine. My therapist, back in New York, suggested it was a byproduct of the fact I far more prefer rejection. She claimed that I don’t actually believe the generous statements offered my way, that, in fact, I infer it to be mocking and satirical. My God, she is so right on the money. But this is my mother, and I know for a fact she would upsell me to a tree if she had to. So I take my therapist’s sage advice on how to handle any kind words slung my way and say a simple thank you.

  “Speaking of the bakery”—I start in on a perfect segue to Hunter and his financial woes—“I still haven’t quite gotten over the trauma of having a homicide occur on day one.”

  The waitress comes with our dishes, and I grunt at the fact she’s just ruined my momentum. Wallace isn’t even looking at me right now. He’s practically salivating over the chicken Parmesan they’ve set in front of him. I can’t help but twitch my nose at the sight. My father once said never trust a man who orders chicken when there is steak on the menu. Noah moans approvingly as his steak Toscano is set before him, and I brush my shoulder to his, pr
oud to have him by my side. Both my mother and I opted for the lighter fare, angel hair with Alfredo and shrimp.

  Noah looks tenderly at me, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear we were having a moment. “I’m sorry you had such a dark event the night of the grand opening.” His dimples press in, and I’m openly swooning at the king by my side. Why are my mother and her prickly pear here again? Oh, right.

  “Yes.” I take a deep breath, looking to Wallace. “It was quite a trauma. Did you know him very well?” I ask at the precise moment he indulges in a mouthful of chicken. He didn’t even wait for my mother to place her napkin on her lap. I’m guessing his table etiquette is indicative of every other aspect of his life. He will always come first. And anyone who won’t put my mother first is last in my book. She might as well give him his walking papers tonight, because judging by the way he’s plowing through his meal—

  Noah leans over, his mouth set directly over my ear, and my insides melt like butter on a griddle. “You’re glaring.”

  I look up at him wild-eyed before bouncing in my seat and composing myself once again. “Your food looks wonderful, Wallace.” Take two. “I came this close to ordering the chicken myself.” Lies, all lies.

  “Mmm.” He lifts his fork as he swallows down a mouthful.

  “Did you know Hunter Fisher?” I look right into his eyes, and my mother gasps, waving her hand at me as if she were gunning to swat me.

  “Lottie Kenzie Lemon. You do not speak of the deceased while others are trying to enjoy their meal. It’s bad enough you brought it up at dinner.” She shudders, her narrowed beams of disapproval still set my way. “Noah, I promise you that I brought her up better than that. Lottie is always so rife with sparkling conversation. I don’t know what’s happened to her tonight.”

  Noah’s chest bounces with a quiet laugh. “It’s quite all right. I’ve already been treated to Lottie’s sparkling conversation. And I rather enjoy her natural curiosity.” He tilts his head while giving me the side eye, and I’m betting he’s onto me. Crap. This was going to be my great find. My very own sparkly new suspect.