“You bet. I wouldn’t miss it. And who knows?” he says, swinging his jacket back on. “Maybe the killer will be there, too.”
“I’ll pass on the side of homicide, thank you.”
Noah pulls me in, his body warming mine, that look of longing still in his eyes. “I’m hungry for another meal altogether myself.”
“Solve this case, Fox. I’ve got more to offer than a couple of cookies.”
He winces. “That shower just got a heck of a lot colder.”
“I’ll join you when you get home, and we can roll around in the snow together.”
I walk him out, and he points to the night sky, navy velvet with crushed diamonds glistening above.
“There are a lot of stars out tonight. Maybe make a couple dozen wishes.”
We say a quick goodnight, and I watch as he takes off for Ashford.
I glare up at the sky a moment. “Come on, Tanner,” I whisper into the frozen night. “Tell me who killed you. It’s time to put both you and this case to rest.” There’s a holiday to be had—and a boyfriend to feast on.
A tiny spear of red light comes from down the street, past Everett’s house, like twin taillights traveling in reverse. Only they’re too small to be taillights. They look more like—
“Eyes!” I hop up and down as Dutch bounds his way back to me, up my walkway, up my porch, and right into my arms, feeling every bit solid and real. “I missed you!” I kiss his fuzzy forehead as he tries his hardest to lick up a storm. “Don’t you dare do that to me ever again. The least you can do is say goodbye.”
We head in and he hurdles his way to Pancake, and they’re both fast asleep before the fire goes out.
It’s just me awake with no boyfriend to warm me, and no prime suspect to put an end to this misery. All night I ruminate on the things Noah and I talked about. There are so many moving parts to this case. So many viable suspects. Maybe he should arrest them all and be done with it. In the least put them in a holding cell for three days straight so Noah and I can get the edge off.
But that’s not the way it goes. The truth is, one cold-blooded killer equals one too many cold showers and lonely nights.
I’ve never wanted to solve a case so bad.
I’m going to find that murderer, and then I’m going to kill them myself.
And just like that, I fall asleep with a smile on my face.
Chapter 18
The Evergreen Manor is decorated to the hilt with live garland trimming every inch around the room, hanging from every doorframe, and lying over the marble counters of the reception area. A sign posted at the entry of the main hall reads Welcome to the Evergreen Manor Annual Honey Hollow Christmas Party and Tree Auction! Every penny earned from the auction goes directly to the Children’s Hospital. Bid generously and win a beautifully decorated tree!
Dutch dances a jig by my side as if he were happy to be here, and I’m sure in his present state, he’s happy to be anywhere.
“Well, buddy, let’s do this thing.”
The Evergreen Manor itself is a beautiful inn. It’s no wonder this is a tourist favorite among those who visit Honey Hollow. Mom’s B&B gets the overflow, and with that she’s plenty busy. But as beautiful as the garland is, and that magical pine scent it expels like the finest perfume, as adorable as the wreaths are, dotted with their cherry red bows, this place still gives me the shivers after poor Collette bit the big one right here not more than a month ago. It was all because Patricia Rutherford wanted her husband dead and buried. But he’s neither of those things. In fact, he’s very much alive and grinding his hips into my mother as they dance side by side.
The music pumping from the speakers is a touch too loud. Most likely because the maintenance manager at the Evergreen is playing Christmas carols from off his phone. Mutton O’Grady has been known to play DJ on more than one occasion.
“What are they doing?” Lainey hisses into my ear as we scowl at my mother and her newfound beau.
“Enjoying themselves?” It makes my stomach churn to think just how they might be doing so when in the confines of a secluded space. I know for a fact Mr. Rutherford has a penchant for all things kinky. Come to think of it, I’d better look into getting my mother a stun gun for Christmas to go along with that ring of my father’s. I haven’t told Lainey about it—the ring, not the stun gun. It’s just as much a surprise for her as it is our mother. If only Noah were here, I might just forget all about Mr. Rutherford for the night. But Ivy insisted he work late.
I bet she did. She just loves having my Noah all to herself.
Lainey swats me. “Hey, have you checked out the trees for auction yet? They’re so cute!” she trills those last few words out. “There’s one with all these beautiful feathered masks dripping from it like jewels. I’ve already placed a bid on that one. Oh, and there’s another one with nothing but baking goodies all over it. It’s totally to die for. I bid on that one too just in case you didn’t get around to it, but you should totally go ahead and outbid me. Lord knows I can’t afford to win two trees tonight.”
“I have a tree. But I suppose if it’s for charity. Hey, maybe I can win it for Noah? Looking at all those baking baubles might actually remind him of me.”
“Ha. You’re a riot.” She makes a face. “Still no cookies, huh?”
“It’s the frosting I’m missing.” I may have shared my quasi-raunchy convo with my sweet sis.
Forest comes up and wraps his arms around Lainey from behind before I can answer, and I can’t help but think how intimate it looks. Lainey and Forest seem to have picked up right where they left off.
“Hey, Lottie,” he says while twirling my sister in toward him. “How are things with you?”
“Just keeping busy with the bakery.” And the latest fantastic phantasm I’ve seemed to attract. I glance over at Dutch who’s running circles through the crowd on the dance floor. “In fact, I catered all the desserts here tonight.”
“That’s why they’re so delicious.” He grins at my sister. It’s odd to have a conversation with someone who is only partly in tune to you or the rest of the room. It’s adorable how into one another the two of them are.
Lainey pecks at his lips. “You’re delicious.”
“You’re delicious,” he counters with a guttural laugh, and soon they migrate onto the dance floor, feasting off one another’s flesh for all to see.
A strong, spiced cologne comes up on me, and I know who it is without having to turn around.
“Lemon.”
“If it isn’t my favorite judge.” I turn with a giddy grin already pinned to my lips. “Rumor has it, you still live next door to me.”
“Does that rumor also relay the fact every other judge at the courthouse is somehow out sick this month? I’m a one-man show these days, and I’m not happy about it.”
“Ooh, an unhappy judge does not a light sentencing make.”
“That is correct. They don’t call me the Grinch for nothing.”
Naomi struts over in her ultra-short red velvet dress, her long black boots that cover her knees, and a sequin Santa hat pressed over her long dark hair. “Did I hear a handsome someone referencing himself as the Grinch?” Her finger flicks over his chin, and something in me burns with the seemingly innocent action. Most likely because I know Naomi all too well to realize there isn’t an innocent bone in her body. If only she were a suspect in Tanner’s murder, I would have this case on lock and I’d be happily bouncing on a mattress with Noah, getting my cookies frosted real good.
Her mouth falls open as she offers him a coy wink. “You’re not the one responsible for all those package thefts, are you?”
A rumble comes from his chest, no smile. Everett really is a master of maintaining that stone-cold mystique. It’s more than his charm. It’s a part of his soul.
“Not I,” he says before nodding my way. “And I’ve yet to thank you, Lemon. Noah called and let me know what you did. That was admirable. That package was for you, by the way. I’ll come o
ver with some wrapping paper, and it can reside in its proper home until Christmas.”
“Aw, thank you. Hey, I thought they caught the people?” I look to Naomi. “You haven’t had any recent thefts, have you?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve heard of them as recent as this morning. Mutton says there were three on his block alone.”
“That’s terrible. That’s criminal.”
Lily comes up, looking like a naughty Mrs. Claus with her short frilly red dress with its white feathered boa trim.
“Do you know what’s criminal?” She sashays right into Everett’s arms. “The fact you’re not dancing with anyone—namely me.”
Lily looks like a supermodel on any given day, but right now, with her hair wild and curled into her perfect little ringlets, her makeup sparkling as if she were an extraterrestrial inspecting our planet, well, it only magnifies her beauty. As much I appreciate her help around the bakery, I don’t much appreciate her helping herself to Everett so liberally. It’s like every time I look out the window at night her car is tucked in his driveway. If he trots her off to the dance floor, I might just vomit. Everett doesn’t strike me as one who likes to trip the light fantastic.
“I was just thinking the same thing.” Everett’s lips curve with devious intent. “But Lemon begged me to save the first dance for her.”
He takes ahold of my hand and I’m whisked to the dance floor, our bodies so close you can’t squeeze a thin dime between us.
“Sorry,” he whispers, his hips moving in time with mine.
“For what? My hips haven’t had this much action in years.”
He belts out a short-lived laugh on his ex-stepbrother’s behalf. “I’m glad to oblige.”
My favorite red-eyed pooch swoops his way over, his thick, glossy blond hair billowing behind him, and soon he’s on two legs trying to cut in.
“Dutch is insistent that I dance with him.” I nod over to where he is, and Everett offers a wry smile.
“Tell him to wait in line.”
“Very funny. So that big box is really for me? You didn’t have to do that.”
“Don’t thank me yet. It’s not entirely for you.”
“Ooh, now I’m intrigued. Is this for Noah, too? Are you bequeathing us our first couples gift?”
Before he can answer, Lily taps me over the shoulder, and I’m booted to the side like a cold slice of three-day old pizza.
That’s fine. I have cookie platters to replenish. My mother’s instincts were on point. Those Christmas tree crunchies have been a mega hit, but they still pale in comparison to how fast those gingerbread men are moving.
I bump into a body on my way out and end up twirling back to the dance floor in Hook Redwood’s arms.
“Fancy meeting you here, Lottie.” His chest thunders with a dull laugh, and I can feel the rhythm permeating me. Hook is a looker on a regular day, but wearing his Sunday best, his hair slicked back to perfection, he looks as if he should be right back in New York City—modeling underwear in Times Square.
A bubbling laugh escapes me. “Yes, well, I am in charge of the evening’s desserts. Have you had one of my cookies?”
His brows lift an inch. “That sounds far more enticing than I’m sure you meant it. Rumor has it, you’re taken. Tell me it isn’t true.”
Another chortling laugh brews in my chest. “It’s as true as the truth can get. If only we could find the time to see one another. So, how’s the real estate world treating you? Is it a big adjustment?” Hey? Maybe if I can get Hook to cop to his brother’s murder, my calendar might actually see Noah’s name on it in the very near future. I wince at the thought. Nothing would be more tragic than if Hook did the deed.
“It’s going. I guess I have a knack for pushing houses after all.” He shakes his head with a faraway look in his eyes. “I just wish my brother was around to help out. When we were kids, we used to pretend we were large and in charge, and now that the reins have been handed to us—I just wish he was around to see it. Rachel has decided to help out. Once she has the baby, she wants to be hands-on.”
“Really? What about your father? I thought he had a sons-only policy that you needed to adhere to.”
“He did until he was suddenly down a son. But he wants to retire. He made sure my sister was fine with being a working mother. As horrible as his sons-only policy was, he didn’t want Rachel missing out on her child’s life. But she assured him she was fine with it.”
“That’s great. I’m sure the two of you will set the world on fire.”
A hard tap lands over my shoulder, and I turn to find a scowling Naomi Turner glaring at me.
“You’ve met your quota on handsome men. Now scoot!” She gives me a hearty sway of the hip, and I end up stumbling my way toward the exit.
The hallway just outside the main hall is nothing more than a dark corridor that leads to the rear of the establishment and the kitchen. I’m about to head over when I spot Ned Sweeny and that creepy kid he keeps stapled to his arm. Next to him stands Bella Carter, whom I now know is his stepdaughter.
Maybe I should go over and say hello? Maybe I should shake them both and have them confess to Tanner’s murder whether they did it or not so Noah and I can get on with our nonexistent sex lives. I’m about halfway there when Bella’s voice hikes to its upper octave.
“Now that I know the truth, I’ll make sure my mother does, too.” She darts past me into the crowded room, and my heart thumps wildly. I bet that was about his affair with Kelly! Ned Sweeny is such a moron to think he wouldn’t get caught.
I take a few steps in his direction, but he still looks pretty steamed, so I decide to take a right instead.
“Ms. Lemon.” His voice reaches out and touches me in every creepy way you can imagine.
I pivot slowly on my heels and offer a meager wave.
Ned’s lips expand a moment. The dummy on his wrist slumps as if Ned forgot he was there. “Good evening.”
“Hi, Ned. It’s nice to see both you and Darjeeling here tonight. Will you be performing?”
His eyes widen a notch. “We were, but Darjeeling isn’t feeling well.” His features harden.
Oh crap. Why do I sense trouble?
Dutch bounds over and weaves between us as if he weren’t feeling well either.
I clear my throat. “I saw Bella storm away. Is everything okay?”
His eyes remain trained on mine a moment too long. “Everything is fine.” He lifts his chin, and his arm bucks as he struggles to readjust the doll. A tangle of fine silver tinsel catches the light as it dangles from the fabric that connects his suit with the matching one that Darjeeling wears. He showed it to me that first night at the community center, a piece of cloth that covers the fact his hand is traveling up Darjeeling’s back. He described it as an extra coattail that attaches to the dummy’s matching suit.
I take a step forward. “I’m afraid you have a bit of a tinsel ball forming.” I lift my fingers to free it and gasp. That’s not tinsel. That’s white curly hair from a very bad wig— A very bad wig? Perhaps even the wig that Tanner was wearing that night!
I look up at him with a breath caught in my throat. His eyes are still trained on mine, just as wide and wild as we each have our own revelation.
“You did it,” I whisper, and just as quick as the words leave my mouth, Ned Sweeny leaves the Evergreen.
Dutch lets out a riotous bark, and Ned pauses and jerks as if he heard it, too.
I follow him through the crowded entry and into the great white tent with all of those beautifully decorated trees being inspected by potential bidders.
My fingers quickly work over my phone as I put a call into Noah. Music blares from a set of oversized outdoor speakers as “Jingle Bell Rock” vibrates its cheery tune through the night at top volume. I can’t hear a thing on my phone, and I’m starting to lose Ned, so I tuck my cell back into my pocket.
I spot Ned’s dark hair bobbing through the thicket of people streaming their way into the tent,
but he shoots past them and heads for the parking lot instead. Behind the lot the woods lie thick and dark. He could run miles in just about any direction and never get caught. Or at least until the spring thaw. It’s a death wish if he tries to run. I do my best to navigate past the crowd, panting as I race into the lot, but I don’t see a sign of Ned anywhere.
The sound of incessant barking lights up the night. It’s Dutch. I do my best to follow it along and, sure enough, I spot Ned weaving his way through the back of the parking lot.
“Ned, wait,” I shout as he pins himself between a black sedan and a silver Buick.
A silver Buick! It looks identical to the one the package thieves used as a getaway car. But that’s for another day.
Ned Sweeny and I stand within ten feet of one another. The holiday music is so riotously loud it vibrates the windows of the cars surrounding us, but it’s dampened enough for me to hear Ned’s own erratic breathing.
“You didn’t stab Tanner with that icicle that night. I know that you’re innocent of that.” My heart slams against my chest like a convict whose prison cell just caught fire.
His forehead smooths away its wrinkles, and he takes a quick breath of relief.
“It was Bella, wasn’t it?”
He inches back as if I caught him off guard. “Bella?” He looks to the Evergreen Manor as if he were seeing it for the very first time. “It wasn’t Kelly?”
I suck in a sharp breath as the pieces start to fall together. “You thought it was Dr. Ferdinand?” I look to the acrylic hair still clinging to his jacket. The last part of Tanner that can speak from the grave. “You—you had that cloth close enough to his wig to pull the hair right off. My God, you smothered him with it—didn’t you?” I point to the elongated coattail floating down the dummy’s back. “You killed him after you thought Kelly killed him. But it makes no sense.”
“It makes sense.” He closes his eyes a moment.
I suck in a quick breath. “Because she didn’t kill him. She tried, and if he survived, he would have implicated her”—my mouth widens—“and outed you. But it wasn’t Kelly. It was Bella. Would you have done it for her if you knew?”
Murder in the Mix (Books 4-6) Page 14
