Bobbing For Bodies: MURDER IN THE MIX 2 Read online

  Noah reverts his gaze to Wallace. “So answer the question,” he spits it out with a friendly grin. “Did you know Hunter Fisher?”

  Wallace gives an eager nod while washing down his food.

  Figures. I pry and nothing happens. Noah asserts his male prowess, and suddenly Wallace is so eager to speak he’s practically choking on his food.

  “I tried to work with the kid.” His eyes flit to the depths of the room, and something about that ocular move raises my suspicions. He’s thinking about something, and I want to know what. “The kid didn’t have two dimes to rub together. It’s a little tough to put a portfolio together when you’re broke.” He barks out a laugh while toasting us with his wine, and my mouth falls open, incredulous.

  Anger is usually not my friend, but in this instance, it might be all I need.

  “Hey”—I play up the affronted angle—“Hunter was a great person. Sure, he wasn’t as financially savvy as yourself—” A good ego stroke always works with narcissistic men like Wallace. “But you could have helped him out, you know. Maybe got him started by giving him a loan?”

  “Lottie!” Mom’s fire engine red lips round out in a perfect O.

  “It’s fine.” Wallace lifts a finger. “I actually looked into a loan for the kid.” There’s a bleak look in his eyes as if it didn’t go so well. “Sometimes these things don’t pan out.”

  Ha! Knew it. There is a connection between Wallace and Hunter’s incessant need for green.

  “So, how does that work? I mean, the loan process. If I needed a loan for the bakery, would I just go to you?”

  Noah cuts me a quick look and gives a slight nod as if to say good work, and I can’t say I’m not gloating a bit at the moment.

  Wallace blows out a breath as if considering this. “It’s not an easy process, but since I know you”—he leans in toward Mom—“and I know your mother…” Eww. “I can see about pulling a few strings.”

  Mom coos and chortles as if those strings were directly connected to her body. Double eww.

  Noah clears his throat. “What’s the name of the financial institution?” There’s a hardness in his voice that has Wallace stiffening, so I give his knee a knock with mine, hoping he’ll take a hint. “I mean, I’m looking for office space, and I can certainly use a leg up.”

  “Martinelle Finance,” Wallace is quick to answer. “I’ve used them for several projects.” His demeanor darkens.

  We finish up with our meals, and soon Wallace and my mother are off to the late showing of some action adventure film at the Cineplex. I’m guessing that was not my mother’s pick. He is so into pleasing himself it sickens me to think what goes on behind closed doors.

  Noah and I take an inadvertent casual stroll down Main Street and end up at the huge fountain in the middle of Founders Square. He’s held my hand every step of the way, and it’s all I can do not to pull him into some dark alcove and have my way with him. To say Noah gets my heart pitter-pattering wouldn’t be skimming the surface of what this man does to me. Parts of my body are quivering that haven’t quivered in a good long while, and if I pant any faster, he’s going think I need a medic.

  Noah pulls me in, and my fingers glide down his tie as the moonlight washes him silver. The air is icy, and the wind blows the oak leaves around us like glittering confetti.

  “Lottie Lemon.” He doesn’t smile when he says my name. In fact, there’s a note of suspicion buried there somewhere. “You’re investigating Wallace, aren’t you?”

  “Aren’t you?” I tease. “I mean, professionals like Detective Fairbanks and yourself certainly must already have a bead on Wallace Chad by now.” I can’t help but flutter my lashes up at him. I might as well soften the blow to his ego with a little flirtation, and I do plan to spend the rest of the evening indulging in every flirtation possible with this shining moon god. The fountain rushes behind us, and the scent of night jasmine still clings to the air despite the fact autumn is well underway.

  His affect darkens as his expression turns serious on a dime. “We do,” he deadpans. “We also know that Martinelle Finance has a reputation, and they may be dealing in dicey waters. We found that out two days ago.” He brushes a stray hair from my cheek tenderly with his thumb. “I know this is going to be hard for you to hear, and just because you hear it doesn’t mean you’ll listen—but we don’t need you in this investigation, Lottie. You’re right. We are professionals,” he says it sweetly enough, but it puts a pin in an ego I didn’t even know I had. “You keep baking pies, and brownies, and every cookie under the sun. You’re good at it. That’s what you do. This homicide investigation is what I do. And I’m good at it. So please, trust me to catch the bad guys and don’t go looking for them yourself. And I know you don’t care to hear that, but I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.”

  Every last ounce of me sighs with defeat. A part of me wants to push aside the investigation for the night, push aside our differences in how that investigation should be run, and by who, and just take in the splendor of this god before me. I want to do a million carnal things with this beautiful man, but I can’t run away from this. Hunter meant something to me, and just because I’ve been bested doesn’t mean I’m going to let it go.

  “Okay, you are a professional, and my time and talents are better served mixing up cake batter and putting your favorite chocolate chip cookies in the oven.” I give a cheeky smile, and it’s genuine. “And thank you for sharing that tidbit with me. I know it’s not easy for you to share information, especially now that Detective Fairbanks has taken a blood oath from you.” I glower at the mention of her name.

  “Good.” His hand presses into my lower back, closing the distance between us. “If we weren’t having such a big day tomorrow, I’d invite you to my place right now.” There’s a glint of something decidedly naughty in his eyes, and I’m suddenly ready to eschew anything on my calendar tomorrow to explore the night in the Fox’s den.

  Then it hits me, and I tip my head back and groan.

  “I forgot all about the funeral in the morning.”

  “And I hope you didn’t forget about my real estate agent.”

  I suck in a quick breath, hopping up on the balls of my feet with excitement. “The rentals! I did forget all about them. But now that you’ve reminded me, I’m thrilled about it.” I cringe a moment. “It feels so wrong to be excited about anything tomorrow.”

  “I know.” He brushes a quick kiss to my lips, and my heart slaps hard against my chest as if it were trying to get out and get a kiss for itself. Noah Fox has pillow-soft lips, and I could eat them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

  I’m not sure why, but there is a very real soul-crushing need for me to ask him about us, who we are, what we mean to one another. It sounds so silly, so schoolgirl to ask something as ridiculous as are you my new boyfriend? But inquiring minds would like to know if he’s interested in something more than just a few kisses.

  “What are you thinking?” he whispers into my ear, his lips softly outlining my temple, and the sensation alone has me outright moaning.

  “I’m thinking if you keep doing that I’ll need to take a dip in the fountain to cool off.” I pull back and look into his heated gaze. Noah is feeling something primal for me, and every last part of me is right there with him. “And I was wondering if”—my mouth remains open, but the words get lodged in my throat—“um, maybe we could grab lunch tomorrow. I really do enjoy spending time with you.”

  “That sounds like a perfect plan.”

  Lunch? That’s the best I could do? I frown over at him without meaning to. At least I’ll get to eat one of my favorite meals, and if Noah takes me to his place, I might get to take a bite out of something else my mouth is watering for.

  Noah cups my cheeks and pulls me in gently while landing those magic lips over mine. There is a sweetness to Noah’s kisses, a willingness to linger, and we do. Noah and I kiss in front of that fountain as if we were offering up a nonverbal proclamat
ion to the townspeople of Honey Hollow. We are saying here we are, together, and that’s how we’ll remain. We are real. We are falling hard for one another. The only thing I can’t say with certainty is whether or not we’re officially together. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and seeing that I’ve been engaged before, that’s saying a lot.

  Noah has blown the doors off any expectations I might have had for the opposite gender. He’s blown the doors off what I thought I knew about the boundaries of my feelings, and that closed door to my heart has been taken right off the hinges.

  Yes, I will give Noah his space as far as the investigation is concerned, but only so he doesn’t bump into mine.

  Noah mentioned that Martinelle Finances may be dealing in dicey waters. And if he’s not looking to assist me in delving in further, I know a certain judge who owes me a favor for wrangling out the deepest, darkest secret from me.

  Noah is right. He can ask me a lot of things, but it doesn’t mean I’ll listen.

  And when it comes to solving Hunter’s murder, I sure as heck won’t.

  Chapter 10

  Honey Hollow Covenant Church is packed to maximum capacity as the entire town shows up to bid farewell to one of its own. The funeral is brief, and both Bear and his mother offer up moving eulogies. But once they roll that video montage of Hunter’s beautiful life, there isn’t a dry eye in the house. Then just like that, the service is over.

  Keelie threads her arm through mine as the bodies disappear and the sanctuary begins to drain. “That was beautiful, Lottie. If by chance I happen to die before you, please make sure to vet any photos my mother is willing to toss into the pictorial. That picture with Hunter’s bedhead made me cringe. Rest assured, if anything untimely should happen to me and things at my funeral do not go as instructed, I’m not above ditching paradise to commence a good old-fashioned haunting.”

  “Duly noted, and, might I add, more than a little morbid considering the venue.”

  Keelie openly scowls at someone seated near the back, and I crane my neck to get a better look. “Can you believe he brought her?”

  “Who brought whom?” No sooner do I say it than I spot them, and my heart lurches in my chest.

  Noah offers a quick wave, along with what looks to be an apologetic smile, as a very unimpressed Detective Fairbanks stands dutifully by his side.

  “That’s funny. He didn’t mention anything about her last night.”

  A light tap lands on my shoulder, and I turn to find the good judge nodding solemnly my way. Keelie spots her sister and takes off singing hello in such an alarmingly cheery tone half the congregation turns to inspect her. But that’s Keelie. Nell always says you can’t keep a good Keelie down. And she’s definitely right about that. Knowing Keelie, she’d come back to haunt us just to say hello.

  “Everett! What a surprise.” And as quick as the joy of seeing him comes, it dissipates once I realize what he knows. My cheeks heat on cue.

  “Lemon.” He bows slightly. “My condolences.”

  “Accepted.” I frown up at him because a part of me is waiting for him to whisk me away to some psychiatric facility for a prompt and necessary evaluation.

  “Collette asked me to join her. She was extremely distraught so, of course, I couldn’t say no.”

  “I bet she was.” That woman never had a kind thing to say about Hunter. She’s simply using his funeral to get into Mr. Sexy’s pants. “So? How are you doing with the news I shared?”

  He pulls back with confusion, and regret takes over his features. “Honestly, I don’t know what to make of it. And, that’s why I was hoping to talk to you this afternoon. I think I need you to elaborate.”

  “So you can firm up the case against me to have me committed? No thank you.” I glance back to where Noah and his date were just a few minutes ago, but they’ve done a disappearing act. Probably outside inspecting the casket for clues before they bury poor Hunter. “But since you pulled something so intimate from me—a feat no other human has ever achieved before—” I told Nell myself, and that was willingly. Everett offers the hint of a smug grin. “I’d like to ask a favor of you. I need you to meet me in Ashford sometime this week.”

  “Stepping out for a clandestine meeting behind my stepbrother’s back so soon? I’m intrigued. Where are we meeting? Just a heads-up. I prefer hotels to motels.”

  “Ha-ha. You’re not funny. I’ll text you with the details. Do me a favor, though, and try not to look so official. You’re downright intimidating in a suit.” He breaks out into an outright grin. “We’ll have to pretend to be a couple going in for a loan. And it has to be believable.”

  “A couple looking for a loan?” Gone is any trace of a smile, and he’s right back to being his intimidating self. “It sounds like you’re investigating. What’s in this for me?” He folds his arms across his chest as if we were suddenly in the boardroom going over hostile negotiations.

  “This is a prepaid venture. I handed you the secrets of my soul on a silver platter, remember?”

  He leans in, stern. “I want more. A full and thorough examination from A to Z. I need to know when this began, how often it occurs, and if you’re hearing voices.”

  “Oh? Is that what the psychiatrist you contacted suggested you look for?”

  A twinge of guilt erupts over his face. Everett knows I’ve got his number, and I’m petrified that I ever gave him mine.

  Noah crops up and saves both Everett and me from any further hostile aggression.

  “What’s going on?” Noah looks to the two of us with an affable smile, and I suddenly want to shake it right off his body.

  “Where’s the good detective?” I ask, looking past him and coming up empty of one redhead. “Off to interrogate the family, I suppose? She is a professional. I don’t see why the funeral should be off-limits.”

  Noah’s brows pinch together in the middle, forming a perfect V, and suddenly I’m hungry, but it isn’t for food. “She left. It’s not uncommon for a homicide detective to pay his or her final respects at a public memorial. Besides, you never know who might show up.”

  “Like you,” I muse, pulling him in and dotting his lips with a kiss. “I was just telling Everett about my little house hunt this afternoon.” I shoot a death ray over to the nosy judge. “I’m looking at two houses, and they happen to be side by side. You wouldn’t know anyone in the market for a rental, would you?” If Everett knows what’s good for him, he’ll go along with it. When he promised he wouldn’t tell a soul, that umbrella undoubtedly covered Noah. But in the event he needs a reminder, I covertly stomp my stiletto over his shoe.

  “Yes,” he says it curt and directed right to me. “I do know of a few people looking to relocate.” He looks to Noah with a glaring grin. “Lottie was kind enough to invite me to tag along. I’m ready as soon as you are.”

  “Great.” Noah glances around the vicinity. “My realtor gave me the combination to the lock boxes. Why don’t I meet the two of you out front and we’ll head on over?”

  “Perfect,” I say. “I walked from the bakery, so if I can catch a ride with one of you, that would be best.”

  Noah nods to his stepbrother in the way you do when you’re about to have an altercation. “You’ll ride with me,” he says before gifting me a kiss and speeding off in the direction of daylight pouring in from the front.

  “What are you doing?” I hiss to Everett as soon as we’re alone.

  “I collect payment prior to delivery of the goods. If you want me to go on some asinine undercover op, then you need to spill it, Lemon. I’m worried about you, and I don’t like that feeling.”

  “Why? Because you’ve never worried about anyone else before?” I’m betting not. But it’s sweet of him to venture into unchartered territories for me so soon into our questionable friendship.

  “Because I’m frightened for you.” It comes out kind, softer than any other words he’s ever spoken to me. “I’ll meet you out front.” Everett takes off, and I stand ther
e trying to process how I landed in a vat of boiling emotional oil and how Hunter Fisher ended up in a casket.

  I step out into the straggling crowd and note a woman hunched over near the front. She looks about my age, for sure a romantic contender as far as Hunter was concerned. A young man about the same age wraps his arms around her in an effort to comfort her. Although, judging by the way she’s batting him away, she looks far more hostile than she ever does grieving. But that man, there’s something about that dark head of curly hair that seems more than vaguely familiar, and then it hits me.

  “It’s him,” I say under my breath as I speed on over.

  The girl is pretty, long, dark, wavy hair and long, thick lashes that are most likely not from nature, but she’s able to pull it off. Her lips are painted a bold shade of red-blue that my mother keeps trying to push on me, but I’ve tried it and, believe me when I say, it just makes me look like a clown, and a scary one at that. There’s something theatrical about the girl in general, like she just stepped off a runaway to attend the funeral.

  I hasten my way over, clearing my throat as I close in on them. “Excuse me,” I say as I step in close. “I remember you,” I say to the young man, and his expression irons out. “The bakery. You saved my life about a week ago. The scaffolding?”

  He ticks his head back. “That’s right. That was a close call. I’d say it was your lucky day.” His skin is slightly pocked around his cheeks, and he’s got a tattoo on his neck of a bird in flight that I didn’t notice before.

  “Well, it wasn’t really. Hunter was gunned down behind my shop later that night. So it was a terrible day, actually.”

  The girl looks to her phone and flicks on her sunglasses. “I gotta run.” She pushes past the crowd without so much as a goodbye.

  “I’d better get her home. Glad to see you’re safe.” He takes off after her, and I’m left in their wake.

  “But I didn’t get your name!” I shout and suddenly feel like an idiot. I don’t need his name. Most superheroes prefer it that way.