Murder in the Mix (Books 1-3) Read online

  Everett pushes out a quiet laugh. “That’s Noah in a nutshell.”

  Just as I’m about to grill him into tomorrow with all the hellfire of a prosecuting attorney, Keelie steps in.

  “Is this a private party? Or can anyone deliberate in your honorable presence?” Her teeth glitter as she bubbles with laughter. Keelie is adorable, and for whatever reason, every adorable ounce of her is annoying the heck out of me.

  Neither Everett nor I bother to answer. Instead, I continue my interrogation of the questionably honorable judge.

  “Is Collette Jenner the one who invited you tonight?”

  “That she did.” He rocks back on his heels while scanning the room as if looking for her.

  “I thought you said she was your ex? It sure doesn’t sound that way to me.” I shoot Keelie the side-eye. We’ve never been good at maintaining a relationship with our exes, seeing that the original relationship didn’t work out to begin with.

  Everett grunts as if my line of questioning offends him on some level. “I’m on good terms with all of my exes. Collette invited several employees from the courthouse. The PR firm she works for is here in number, too.” He openly glowers into a crowd of suits.

  “Do I sense a smidge of jealously?” I relish the thought. Even though I’ve only known him for a short time, I’m reveling in the fact something has gotten under his skin. Everett has been one hundred percent stoic and impossible to read since the beginning. I suppose that’s why his profession suits him so well.

  “Not a smidge, not a drop.” He gives a dark chuckle as Noah steps into our small circle.

  “What are you laughing at?” He takes an angry bite out of a bright orange maple leaf-shaped cookie. Fall is tied with spring as my favorite time of year. One of my favorite things to do this time of year is make a leaf cookie bouquet and pass them out to friends. I even gave one to Mora Anne and Merilee last year. Not because we were friends. Mostly I felt sorry for them, two spinster-like women holed up in that apartment of theirs all the time, but apparently Merilee was having a merry time with a married man no less.

  Everett maintains his amused demeanor, which only seems to infuriate Noah. “I’m laughing at the fact you’ve already managed to tick Lemon off. Are you going for a record? Because I think you just broke one.”

  Noah ceases chewing his cookie, still shooting that death glare his way. The tension rises, as does the volume of the music once again, and I’m quick to jump between them in the event things decide to escalate quickly.

  “Before you do something rash like slug him—Everett here happens to be a judge.”

  Noah gives one of those slow blinks that lets you know he’s beyond exasperated. “I know all about him.”

  Keelie gasps, “How in the world? Let me guess. You landed yourself in a heap of fun-loving trouble and wound up in the honorable judge’s courtroom?” The entire left side of her body takes the opportunity to lean against Everett’s rock-hard body, and I can’t help but frown.

  We look to Noah awaiting a reasonable and perhaps slightly above the law response.

  “First”—he stabs Everett with his glare—sorry analogy on my part, but accurate nonetheless—“why are you always around?”

  Everett scowls ten times harder than before. “I’m an invited guest. I’ve bid on half a dozen items. Be glad I’m around.”

  “Around Lottie?” Noah doesn’t relent in that heated stare.

  Keelie ribs me, and I can’t help but press my lips tight. I can’t recall a single time when I’ve had this much testosterone-based attention paid to me. Not in Honey Hollow. For sure not in New York.

  Everett pushes his tongue into his cheek, and you can practically see the steam rising from his ears. “What’s it to you?” He takes a step in.

  “Hey?” I push my hands between them. They’re so close I can’t help but land my palm over each of their chests. I can feel their heartbeats vibrating right up through my arm, and it tickles just enough. More importantly, I’m able to securely say that Noah Fox’s chest is just as rock-hard as Everett’s. Hey! Maybe they go to the same gym?

  Everett leans in close, his attention still one hundred percent on the obnoxious PI. “Look, I’m not seeing Lottie, and I’m not out to steal her from under you.”

  Noah’s cheek flickers as if he were embarrassed on some level.

  “I’m not seeing anyone,” Everett continues. “And I certainly don’t want to see you. Why don’t you leave? You and I both know you’re not parting with one red cent to help that poor woman bury her sister.”

  Noah flinches. “I’ll have you know I just bid two hundred dollars for the sundry basket. It comes with toothpaste, and mouthwash, and a boatload of toilet paper. You never know when you’re about to step in a pile of bullshit. Or in my case, run into one.”

  Keelie and I gasp in unison.

  “And on that note”—I spot Chrissy Nash standing next to the oversized picture of Merilee, and she looks as if she’s about to be ill—“I’m leaving. Until you two can grow up and, for the love of God, tell me how you know each other—the two of you can have at it.” I pull Keelie along with me, not giving her a say in the matter.

  “Hey!” she’s quick to protest. “It was just getting to the good part.”

  “I need you to help me solve this case. Noah wants me to stay out of the investigation, but it will be over my dead body.” I grimace as soon as I say it. For sure I’m not telling Keelie about the note. The note may as well not exist as far as I’m concerned. I need to solve this mystery or in the least put the white-hot spotlight on some other unfortunate soul. I’m their only suspect for God’s sake.

  “Chrissy!” I muster all the enthusiasm I can before realizing something far more somber would have drawn less suspicion. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages.” I offer an impromptu embrace.

  “I’m fine.” She casts a glance to Merilee’s picture. “I just wish Merilee was fine, too.” She pushes a tissue to her nose as her eyes swell with tears. There are bags under her eyes, and her face is blotchy as if she’s been weeping for hours.

  “You don’t look so fine. And understandably so. It’s terrible what’s happened.”

  She nods while swallowing down her grief. “I just wish we had left off on better terms.” She waves it off. “It was a stupid little squabble about a parking space.”

  “Is that what you were arguing about that day at the orchard?” The visual comes back to me—Chrissy Nash, Eve Hollister, and a third woman I couldn’t identify. They all looked a bit frazzled that day. Mora Anne included. “And who was that woman standing with you? Was that Laurie Ackerman from the library? She works with my sister.” I know for a fact it wasn’t Laurie because she’s due to have a baby any day now and is on bed rest. Lainey mentioned last week she couldn’t find a replacement for her.

  Chrissy opens her mouth as if to speak, then promptly closes it. “Um, yes, I guess that was Laurie.” She shakes her head as if her own body were protesting the words that just flew from her mouth. “Like I said, it was just a silly argument over a parking space.” She speeds through the hall and into the lobby.

  Keelie blows out a breath. “Well then. That wasn’t suspicious at all.” She ticks her head to the exit. “I think we have a suspect, Detective Lemon.”

  I spot Everett and Noah speeding this way.

  “And we’re not going to say a word to anyone else.” I manufacture a smile just as they close in on us.

  Noah takes a deep breath, and his chest expands for a mile. “We’re ready to tell you how we know each other.” He pushes each word out as if he were moving a boulder, and my curiosity is piqued twice as much as it was before.

  Everett’s shoulders sag as if he too were acquiescing. His serious eyes settle over mine as if he were about to deliver devastating news. “We’re brothers.”

  A hand pulls me from between the two of them and whisks me into the thick of the crowd, past the tangle of endless bodies, and right into the cente
r of the dance floor.

  A pair of arms wraps themselves around me, and I look up at that familiar devious grin as we begin to sway.

  “Otis Fisher!” I playfully tap his foot with mine. “You have always had the worst timing.”

  His lids turn to slits as he breaks out into a lazy grin. “It’s the first slow song of the night, and you promised me a dance.”

  I’m about to correct him but then remember his kind offer to help me with the office furniture. “I guess one dance couldn’t hurt.”

  “That’s better.” He touches his chin to the side of my head. “And it’s Bear to you.”

  “You got it, Bear.” It comes from me lackluster as I look to the spot where I was standing just a few moments ago with Everett, Noah, and Keelie, and now all three of them have dispersed. I do a quick scan and spot Keelie speaking with Lainey, the two of them glancing my way with disapproval.

  But Everett and Noah are nowhere to be seen.

  They’re gone.

  Brothers.

  I can’t seem to comprehend it. That solves the surface mystery, but there is a fissure between them that runs much deeper—something damaging that has absolved any outward sentiment of brotherly affection.

  Everett is stubborn. Cold as iron.

  Noah is most definitely stubborn. Ornery as hell.

  I’m going to get to the bottom of the rift that’s torn them apart.

  Just like I’m going to get to the bottom of whoever slipped that note into my purse so brazenly. I’m betting they’re the same person who killed Merilee Simonson.

  I’m not staying out of Noah Fox’s investigation because, for one, it never belonged to him. I found the body. I’m the number one suspect. It’s up to me to clear my name.

  I’m kick-starting my investigation bright and early tomorrow morning, and I’m starting with Eve Hollister. If Chrissy won’t tell me the truth about that mystery woman, maybe Eve will.

  After all, why would Eve lie to me?

  Why would Chrissy?

  Chapter 12

  The Honey Pot is filled to the brim with my mother and her cohorts as their cheeky book club commences for the day. The air in the Honey Pot is thick with the scent of fresh morning coffee, and the sweet scent of syrup permeates the room as patrons fill the seats in hopes to fill themselves with one of our scrumptious breakfast selections.

  The book club peeps are a riotous bunch with their explosive bouts of laughter and their just as sudden pensive lulls. This month’s literary selection has a woman in a billowy dress on the cover while a villainous looking man with a sharp goatee chases her through a valley. The Viscount’s Wench was my mother’s saucy pick. I know so because she furnished both Lainey and me with fresh copies from the bookstore right after she chose her spicy selection. My copy is sitting at the bottom of a box in Lainey’s garage without much hope of retrieval. I can hardly think of unpacking, let alone reading. For sure I can’t wrap my head around moving. All I can think about these days is who killed Merilee Simonson. You might say it’s consuming me. And it’s probably a good thing too since I was most likely threatened by the killer myself last night.

  That note comes back to me, bright yellow, tucked aggressively into my purse, my personal property. That clear invasion of my personal space let me know they’re not afraid to get in my face, without actually revealing theirs. Before I left, I asked Naomi if the Evergreen Manor had security cameras in the ballroom and was met with an enthusiastic no. Shutting me down in any capacity has always been Naomi’s favorite thing to do, so the enthusiasm in general didn’t surprise me.

  “More coffee!” my mother sings as she flags me down. Since my mother’s club is close to thirty strong, and they seem to require more attention than your average customers, I usually make it a practice to tend to them myself, freeing up the waitresses to focus on the tourists and regulars alike.

  I do a quick round of refills as the women chatter among themselves. Most have already leashed their purses to their shoulders signifying an upcoming mass exodus. Eve Hollister and Chrissy Nash hold what appears to be a casual conversation with a couple of women on the end. I’m secretly hoping Chrissy will leave so that I can corner Eve before she takes off, too. I have to get to the bottom of this and find out who that mystery woman was that day at the orchards. I couldn’t believe my ears when Chrissy entered into a blatant lie about Laurie Ackerman. I had Lainey call to confirm the fact she was still in fact bedbound.

  “Lottie!” Mom claps her hands together dramatically, and I can feel the onset of a ripe embarrassment coming as sure as a thunderstorm. “Your pumpkin spice coffee cake was to die for! Do tell us your secret.” She gives a playful wink. My mother’s mission in life is to praise and uplift her daughters, but as it stands, that often goes hand in hand with a mingling of public humiliation.

  My cheek flinches as she lets the morbid analogy fly, and at least a handful of women offer sideways glances in my direction. It’s no secret that I’m the one that found Merilee. It’s also no secret that I was taken to court by the sisters and brutally evicted the morning before her body was discovered. I’m not too sure anyone in Honey Hollow thinks I’m capable of murder, but considering the fact that it was most likely someone from our sweet town who plunged the knife into Merilee, I’m as good a suspect as any.

  “Thank you, Mother.” I offer the ladies around her a crimped smile. “My secret is there’s love in the mix. I can’t imagine a day without baking. It just makes me happy.”

  An echo of coos circles around the table as the women surrounding my mother look up at me as if I just gave birth to a puppy in front of them. The funny thing is, I’ve never quite envisioned myself having a human child. Growing up, while my friends and sisters were playing mommy with baby dolls, I was the pretend mother to an entire litter of puppies and kittens. I always thought I’d end up with a dog one day, but when Nell said she needed to place one of the kittens she picked up, I took one look and knew he was the one for me. Pancake and I have been family ever since.

  One by one the women gather their belongings, and as fate would have it, Mayor Nash comes in for his morning cup of coffee and usual cowboy omelet. It doesn’t take long for Chrissy to notice her ex and bid a spirited adieu to her book-loving besties before dashing out into the brisk morning air. Eve says goodbye to a couple of women before leaning over to pick up her tote bag brimming with copies of The Viscount’s Wench. Most of the ladies have made it a habit to donate their paperbacks once they’re through. And I see this as my golden moment.

  “Are those books for the library?” I force my affect to brighten. Eve has always known me as a cheery person, and this isn’t the time to show my newfound suspicious side. “I’m heading that way in a bit to have lunch with my sister.” Sort of true. Although my cheeks heat as if brushed with brimstone. I have never been a good liar. There’s a reason I’m not starring in Hollywood movies.

  Eve bucks a moment as her fingers spread wide. Eve Hollister has always been an animated woman. She’s exactly my mother’s age but looks as if she has ten years on her easily. Her hair is a shock of white, the bags under her eyes have evolved to full-blown suitcases the size of water balloons, and she’s made a habit of wearing too much foundation to cover up the fact, but it only seems to make the lines on her face more prominent. Time and fate have not been kind to Eve. She lost her husband early in their marriage and spent the rest of her time focusing on her children. I think that commonality bonded her and Mother more than anything else. Then last year she had a health scare that had her name at the top of every prayer chain in the state, but she powered through that just fine.

  “Why yes, you may. That’s so kind of you.” She hands me the overladen tote brimming with remnants of a forest. “Have you read the book? Please feel free to take a copy for yourself and even a few for your friends.” She leans in and a silver lock of hair swings between her eyes like a sickle.

  “Oh, I have a copy and so does my sister, but I’ll ask around
in the back before I get the surplus to the donation center.” I bite down hard on my lip as she hastily puts on her chenille cardigan, a deep forest green. “Say, can I ask you a question?”

  “Anything.” Her head ticks back an inch, and there’s a sparkle in her blue eyes as if the attention were feeding some underlying emotional need and I have no doubt it is. Eve’s children all moved to Ashford years ago, and all she’s had to keep her company are the characters in the novels she reads. According to my sister, Eve is a voracious reader.

  I give a quick glance over her shoulder at my mother who seems to be engrossed in a conversation of her own. “Remember that day at the orchard—the day Merilee was killed?” I wince even bringing it up, as does she. As much as I want to come right out and ask her who that woman was standing with her that day, I don’t think it’s the best approach. “Someone said there was a woman asking the secretary about a cookie bouquet, and I think it may have been that woman you and Chrissy were with. Would you happen to know her name? I’d hate to have a customer upset with me because of a delayed delivery.”

  “What woman?” Her fingers claw at the gold chain around her neck.

  “You and Chrissy Nash were speaking to the Simonson sisters just as I arrived. It looked pretty heated.” Stupid, stupid me. Why would I bring that up? I’m sure Eve is working hard to forget the dirty details of that day just like everyone else. “Anyway, she was standing there with you. I thought it might be her.”

  Eve straightens, stiff as a corpse. Her baby blue eyes glaze over as if she’s just seen her dead husband pop up behind me.

  “Oh goodness, I can’t remember a thing about that.” She flings a black and white checkered scarf around her neck and weaves through the furniture. “I’ve got a doctor’s appointment in less than ten minutes. If you’ll excuse me, I need to make tracks.” She speeds out of the Honey Pot so fast you’d think I just threatened to set her hair on fire.