Devil's Food Cake Doom

by Addison Moore

  Tim staggers back this way, reeling like a drunkard, moaning and groaning as if he were about to regurgitate every last slice.

  Tim clutches at his stomach first, then his heart, then his throat before spinning in a dizzying circle, his limbs flailing in every direction until he trips and knocks over the table with my three-tiered devil’s food wonder. The cake topples unceremoniously to the floor and Tim dives right after it, landing face-first in the chocolate confection.

  “Tim,” Noah barks as he kneels beside him. But Noah ends up doubling over in pain himself.

  Everett kneels down and checks the man’s pulse. He looks up at me and shakes his head.

  Tim won’t be enjoying any more of my devil’s food cake, or any other cake for that matter.

  Tim Troy is dead.

  Chapter 10

  There is an odd pause that seems to take place right here in Mendelsohn Hall. It’s as if all of time has slowed to a crawl—as if the crowd around us has become muted and slow. And then, just like that, life speeds up again, perhaps too fast as the sound of shrill cries, and screams go off around me. A crowd instantly grows as plainclothes medics are on their knees assessing Tim Troy, reaffirming the fact he is very much dead.

  “Noah,” I pant as I fall to his side.

  He winces as he rises to his feet. He’s sweating, breathing heavily as if he just ran a marathon.

  “I’m fine, Lot.” He grimaces because clearly he’s not. “I think I just need a glass of water.”

  Everett nods. “I’ll be right back.”

  I look over to see both Nelson and Leslie being tended to by a medic, each with their own glass of water already in their hands.

  A barrage of firemen enter through the side of the building just as a familiar leggy redhead makes her way over. It’s Detective Ivy Fairbanks, Noah’s partner down at the homicide division. Her hair is pulled tight in her signature bun, and her lips are painted a slash of burnt orange.

  “Ivy.” I just about shout her name. “Something is happening. Noah and his friends, they’re not feeling well. And Tim Troy is dead.”

  “Tim?” Ivy heads over to where he’s lying.

  “Noah, what’s going on?” I ask as I wrap my arm around his waist.

  “I don’t know.” He wipes the sweat from his brow. “It’s like my heart is racing a million miles an hour.”

  Everett comes back and Noah takes the water from him and chugs it.

  “Thank you,” Noah gasps.

  Meg and Hook run up. My sister looks fit to kill, and Hook Redwood, her longtime boyfriend, looks as if he could join her in the endeavor. Hook is classically handsome, wavy brown hair, serious eyes. He used to be the Wolf of Wall Street before moving back to Honey Hollow and taking over his parents’ real estate business. He also started a finance office with Alex, Noah’s brother.

  Hook groans at the sight behind us, “What the heck happened?”

  Meg’s mouth falls open. “Another one, Lot? Really? That man looks as if he took a bath in your chocolate cake.”

  My fingers touch my lips as I look his way. “He sort of did.”

  Alex runs up with Naomi Turner glued to his side. Naomi is Keelie’s twin. The only real difference is that Naomi dyes her long hair black and it looks stunning on her.

  “Noah,” Alex barks as he wraps an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “You look like hell. You’re paler than the walls. We need a medic,” he shouts into the crowd.

  “No,” Noah coughs into the crook of his arm. “I’m fine. I’ve got to talk to the coroner.” He starts to take off, and Everett holds up a hand to stop him.

  “Whoa.” Everett shakes his head. “You’re not going anywhere, buddy. I’ll drag you to the hospital myself if I have to.”

  As odd as it sounds, I find it incredibly evocative whenever Everett shows Noah an ounce of human kindness. Usually it’s all grunts and threats between these two. And for good reason. There’s only one of me to go around. Kidding. Sort of.

  “Fine.” Noah pushes Everett’s hand away. “I’ll see someone.”

  Alex stretches his neck to get a glimpse of poor Tim. “Geez. I don’t want you to be next, buddy. Let me find someone to help.”

  Mom and Wiley run up.

  “What’s happening?” Mom looks past me and lets out a cry. “Oh, Lottie, that man is wearing your chocolate cake like a dress.”

  Carlotta pops up from nowhere. “I’m betting Lot’s done it a time or two herself.”

  “Not funny,” I say. And not entirely untrue, but that’s beside the point. Everett blinks a short-lived smile my way because he happened to be my partner in chocolate crime. My lips twitch before I glance to Naomi. “Could you call Keelie and ask if she can get someone to open for me tomorrow? I need to be at the hospital with Noah.”

  Noah shakes his head. “It won’t come to that.”

  “That’s right,” Wiley barks it out like a threat. “You’ll be in the morgue if you keep up this macho act. Now, lie on the floor and play dead like the rest of them.”

  Noah closes his eyes a moment. “The man behind me is not playing dead, Dad. He is dead. Something you know very little about.”

  Mom inches back. “Oh, he knows all about it. In fact, you’re all invited to the séance we’ll be conducting at the B&B this Wednesday night. Mark your calendars. There will be a full bar.”

  She gives us all a quick wave. “Lottie, take care of that man.” She blows me a kiss before the two of them hightail it out of here.

  Meg slaps her hand on my shoulder. “Can’t take my sister anywhere, eh, boys? I bet you’re rethinking rescuing her from that rusty toilet.”

  “Bathroom,” I correct, although she wasn’t that far off.

  Hook leans in. “If it makes you feel better, Lottie, the same thing happened to me when I was seven. I cried for two hours before my mother found me.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re safe,” I say because really? What else could you say to that. Actually, I know exactly what I need to say. “The difference being is that I was being held against my will. Serena Digby is a witch, and I don’t know how she did it, but she prevented me from exiting that room. I’m lucky the hotel didn’t burn down around me.”

  “Serena Digby?” Meg squints at the ceiling. “Why does that sound familiar?”

  A thought comes to me. “I bet she’s a stripper down at Red Satin.” Red Satin is the gentlemen’s club where Meg teaches the dancers their fancy moneymaking moves.

  Meg snaps her fingers my way. “Nope. I’ve seen her now and again at the B&B. She hangs out with Cormack and Cresshilda.”

  “It’s Cressida.” I’m only mildly interested in correcting her. “And the B&B? The nerve of that woman.” I glower at Noah a moment. “I demand as soon as you feel better you arrest her.”

  Noah winces. “On what grounds? Honestly, Lot, I’ve turned this picture around every which way. Technically, she didn’t break any laws.”

  Everett leans in. “I’d arrest her for you if I could.”

  A smile floats to my lips. “You can still do it. A citizen’s arrest holds more weight if it comes from an honorable judge.”

  Everett frowns as if reconsidering his offer.

  “Oh, never mind.” I look to Naomi. “Next time you see her, feel free to unleash your fury. I have it on good authority she’s been seeing Alex on the regular.”

  Naomi gasps and I’d swear that Alex did, too. I don’t really mind throwing Alex under the bus. His two-timing routine is growing old and stale. Entertaining two women at the very same time is cheesy—and those two women would be Naomi and Serena since Lily officially took herself out of the raunchy race. Which reminds me.

  “Noah”—I wrap my arms around him—“you can’t die. You and Everett are my dates for the sheriff’s ball.”

  Noah chuckles as he closes his eyes. “I wouldn’t think of going anywhere.”

  A couple of EMTs arrive, and soon Noah is sitting in a chair as they take his vitals.

&nbs
p; I spot Carlotta off in the corner bending over, and for a second I think she’s about to get sick when I note a supernatural presence seated at attention before her.

  “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.” I head over to where she’s seemingly carrying on a conversation with herself. “Hello there,” I say to the oversized, tough-looking, handsome beast. His spiked collar looks menacing, but there’s something soothing in his eyes. His dark fur sparks with light, and he has a slight purple haze glowing around him. Now there’s something I’ve never seen before. “What’s your name, big boy?”

  Carlotta makes a face at me. “Careful”—she says to the gorgeous puppy before us—“Lottie is notorious for collecting handsome men. But I’ll be the last to stop her.”

  “Duly noted.” His voice is deep, yet warm, and I take to him immediately.

  I wasn’t always able to hear the dead. At first, I could simply see them. Then they garnered the ability to move objects in the material world. Then they spoke. And as of late, they can enter into the holy of holies—the refrigerator. Basically, they can eat.

  “My name is Rex. I belonged to Tim.” He lets out a sharp bark and my eardrums vibrate in response. “Who did this? Where can I find them? I’ll take them to paradise with me so they can apologize to Tim himself.”

  Carlotta shakes her head. “As convenient as that sounds”—she hitches her thumb my way—“this one needs to bumble around for a week or two. And—well, she does have someone trying to kill her, so that might slow her down a bit. It’s no picnic being Lottie Lemon these days. In fact, I might just move out of her place before a Molotov cocktail lands in the living room.” She leans in. “Lot is a bit of a bad luck charm.”

  A growl emits from me at the thought. “I don’t believe in hexes. I don’t believe in hexes,” I repeat the words to myself. Okay, fine—I’m beginning to believe just a little. Serena cast a mean spell on me last month, threatening every angle of my life lest I give up Noah and Everett to Cormack and Cressida. And as much as I want to think Serena Digby is about as real a witch as a three-dollar bill, my life is certainly in an upheaval.

  Carlotta slaps me on the back. “You keep saying it, kid. But just remember. Just because you say it, doesn’t make it true.” She takes off and Rex lets out a sharp bark in her wake.

  “I’m going to find the killer, with or without you.” He takes off into the crowd as aggressive as a roaring lion.

  Rex is determined to find the killer.

  And so am I.

  Alex waves me over and lets me know they’re going to take Noah to the Ashford Medical Center, and I make sure I’m right there with him.

  Someone killed Tim Troy.

  Someone attempted to kill Noah and his friends and perhaps many more people here tonight.

  This might look like an accident to the untrained eye, but thanks to Rex—you can bet your life it’s murder.

  Chapter 11

  The Ashford Medical Center released Noah just a few hours after he arrived. We didn’t get back to Honey Hollow until after midnight, so I was glad that I asked Keelie to help find someone to open for me.

  Of course, Noah wanted to head back to his place and we found a rather unpleasant surprise on his sofa.

  No, it wasn’t a special brownie deposited by Toby—although that would have been far more welcome. It was Cormack Featherby wrapped in a pink silk robe.

  I wanted Noah to arrest her for breaking and entering—and she was breaking and entering, considering the fact she no longer has a key to his place—but he was too exhausted to think about it, so I had to shoo her away myself.

  A few days later, the lab work finally came in for Noah’s strange malady—and for lack of a better word, it was every bit as strange.

  Caffeine poisoning.

  Yes. Caffeine. As in the innocent stuff we ingest in our coffee every single day. But I guess in large doses it’s not so innocent. And according to Noah, he thinks toxicology will soon discover Tim died of the very same thing.

  It’s Wednesday night, the evening of my mother’s latest, yet definitely not greatest, idea to turn a nickel. Although I guess the blame can’t be placed squarely on her shoulders—after all, Wiley is the evil mastermind.

  My mother’s B&B has a country cottage feel. That is, if that country cottage was enormous both inside and out. It’s an oversized white haunted mansion—the haunting being literal. And outside of the Evergreen Manor, my mother’s B&B is the only place for tourists visiting Honey Hollow to stay.

  Once my father died, my mother purchased this place and it became her baby. She managed to put her three girls through college and has made a nice living for herself in the process. And when things got a little rough last year financially, she had a brainstorm to profit off the haunting that seemed to be overtaking the B&B, so the Haunted Honey Hollow B&B Tours were born. And after she’s through scaring the socks off innocent tourists, she sends them my way for what she’s dubbed as The Last Thing They Ate Tour. And no thanks to that devil’s food debacle that ended in death—my devil’s food cakes and cupcakes have been selling out each and every day ever since.

  Morbid. I know.

  Everett and I drove over to the B&B together and he’s helped me set out a few platters of cookies and treats—along with my infamous devil’s food cupcakes as well. My mother’s conservatory is already brimming with a good number of bodies. And there’s an enormous round table situated in the center of the room just waiting for the horror the evening has promised.

  The conservatory itself is mostly comprised of glass walls, but I did notice the lights she has in the woods behind the room are glowing an eerie shade of purple. I’m guessing once we turn out the lights it will give the exact spooky vibe she’s going for.

  Everett and I head back into the kitchen and I spot Greer Giles and Winslow Decker locked in what looks to be a heavy conversation. And they’re the exact ghosts I was hoping to see.

  “Everett, give me your hand. Greer and Winslow are here,” I say.

  We found out, quite by accident, that if I’m holding someone’s hand, they can hear the dead as well.

  Everett not only takes up my hand, but he kisses the back of it for good measure.

  I bite down on a smile as I bat my lashes his way. Everett might be letting Noah and me finish, or carry on indefinitely, what we started, but he’s never turned down the charm. I don’t think he’s capable of it.

  “Hello, Greer! Hey, Winslow,” I say, giving a little wave. “Are you excited about the séance?” I grimace as I ask the question.

  Greer flips back her long, dark, glossy hair and a dusting of sparkles floats through the air. She’s wearing the white ruched dress she was killed in, almost exactly one year ago, and it still looks just as daring as it did back then.

  “Excited?” Greer pokes her finger right through my chest. “Are you kidding me? Winslow and I broke our proverbial backs this afternoon knocking down books, flipping over tables and chairs.”

  Winslow’s lids hood over as he looks to Greer. “We did have a little fun swinging from the chandelier.”

  Greer gives a dark laugh as they share a private moment.

  I glance to Everett. “Well, that’s just great. What do the two of you have planned for tonight?”

  Winslow’s expression sours. Winslow is a hottie with his dirty blond hair and a prickling of scruff on his cheeks. His eyes glow a warm color and he always has an affable smile to give.

  “That’s the thing”—Winslow starts—“Greer and I, along with Lea and Thirteen, we’re sort of used to the haunting routine as it is.”

  Greer nods. “And now your mother wants us to work nights, too? She’s not thinking about what we might want. Ever since that man moved into her room, all that woman thinks about is the bottom line.”

  “What?” The word riots out of me. “Did you say that Wiley moved into her room?” Oh, good grief. My mother has no idea how to set appropriate boundaries with anyone, let alone con artists. “Excuse me, but
I’m moved to kill. Maybe Wiley can run the séances himself—from the other side.” I try to storm off, but Greer quickly steps in front of me.

  “Lottie, Everett, you need to do something to stop this madness. Haunting the halls is one thing. But we don’t want to spend our days and our nights chained to Miranda Lemon’s every whim.”

  Everett shakes his head. “How about you do your best to scare everyone’s socks off tonight? Lottie brought enough dessert to feed a small country. Maybe make such a mess Miranda will never want to think about hosting another one of these.”

  “Ooh.” Greer slides her finger down Everett’s tie. While she was alive, she very much tried to take a ride on the Baxter Express. “I like how you think, big boy.”

  Winslow nods. “I’ll make sure to cover every inch of that room with frosting. She’ll be washing windows until next fall.”

  Little Lea, a child of about six, appears from nowhere with her long, stringy hair combed down over her face in an eerie manner, a hatchet swinging from her wrist. “I’ll make sure there will be blood to be washed.” Lea’s full name is Azalea, but no one dares call her that lest they breathe their last. Apparently, her family—and I’m presuming Lea herself—was massacred right here over the B&B a couple of hundred years ago. Lea’s been haunting the vicinity ever since, trying to avenge their deaths. “Lottie, did you know there’s an old dog with nine-inch fangs roaming the halls?”

  “If you’re talking about a Doberman Pinscher, his name is Rex and he’s really sweet.”

  Lea huffs at the thought, “He ate Thirteen for breakfast and I haven’t seen the crafty cat since. I think I should like to keep the wicked dog,” she says it curt like a threat. “Try to take him away and see what fate befalls you. I’ll be in the conservatory, hungry for blood.” She takes a step away then stops abruptly. “And, Lottie? Thank you for the devil’s food cake treats. They are my favorite.”

  “You’re welcome.” I shrug over at Everett. “We’d better get in there. I bet Noah’s here by now.”