Pecan Pie Predicament

by Addison Moore

  “A spa! A spa!” Keelie claps and jumps up and down. “I’ll be your first customer, Aunt Carlotta. I want the works. Little Bear never sleeps, and every single day it feels as if a truck ran over me.”

  Lily leans back, most likely in the event Carlotta’s madness is catching. “Carlotta, you’re not thinking about picking up people on the side of the road, are you? This could be dangerous.”

  “Not could be,” I correct. “It will be.”

  Keelie moans while swallowing down another bite of pumpkin cheesecake. “But think of how exciting it will be. A perfect stranger. A lonely highway.”

  “A very sharp axe.” I don’t mind pointing out the obvious homicidal detail. “Carlotta, not only will your body be chopped up into pieces, but you’ll be on the news as a cautionary tale.”

  Carlotta waves me off as she pulls out a stack of bright orange paper from her tote bag.

  “I’m not going anywhere dicey. I’m parking my patoot right here on Main Street. I’m going to squat it out in front of the bakery. See this?” She holds up what looks to be a flyer our way and Lily squints to read it.

  “A Whole Lotta Touchin’?” Lily giggles and not in a good way. “Carlotta, is that the name of your business?”

  A sickly moan comes from me. “It’s a hard no to the squatting of the patoot.”

  “Oh, it’s happening, Lot.” Carlotta fans herself with the stack of parchment that clearly demonstrates the fact her ability to humiliate me knows no bounds. “I’m running a special. Buy any bakery item and bring your receipt for a half off massage.” She leans in. “There is no half off. I’m jacking up the prices. I didn’t need to go to no fancy college to teach me how to run my business. I’ve got street smarts.” She taps a finger to her temple and nearly pokes an eye out when she turns her head.

  “Do not drag my innocent bakery into this, Carlotta.”

  “Too late.” She jockeys around the café and plops a flyer down on each of the tables in front of my poor, unsuspecting customers. “Besides, you owe me, Lot. I had hard labor with no drugs—not any legal ones anyway.”

  “Good Lord. That might actually explain a few things.”

  “Oh hush, you.” She rolls her eyes. “Trust me, once that sugar booger starts to claw its way out of your fun zone, you’ll be sending me to Leeds on a run for Brown Sugar.”

  I squint over at her. “Why would I want brown sugar?”

  Lily chuckles. “It’s the street name for a hardcore drug, Lottie. And from the horror stories Lainey and Keelie have told me, you might want to keep Carlotta’s offer on the table. Lainey said the hospital was stingy with the good stuff.”

  Keelie shakes her head. “I didn’t have my baby at the hospital.” She looks to Carlotta. “But had I known you had connections, I would have sent you on a Brown Sugar run. And don’t judge, Lottie. You’re going to want to pull your hair out, and maybe your eyeballs, too, once you see what labor is really like. And don’t think just because Dr. Barnette gets to call your hubby Essex that she’s going to juice you up with the good stuff. Lily is right, Lainey said she was stingy with the meds.”

  I scoff. “That’s because Lainey foolishly made Dr, Barnette sign a pact that under no circumstances was she to be medicated. Lainey wanted a natural birth, and if it wasn’t for those death threats she doled out to the hospital staff, she would have gotten her way, too.”

  Lily shudders. “My sister had a kid last winter. She said it would have been less painful to have someone chop off her leg and club her with it.”

  Just the thought has me recoiling. “I guess I’ll have to think up a birthing plan. One that involves a steady drip of Brown Sugar.” I take off my apron and scoop up my pink box of delicious delights that I boxed up for myself. “Lily, would you mind manning the fort?”

  “Ooh.” Keelie waggles her brows. “Where are you off to, Lot? Got a suspect to case? Need a sidekick?”

  “Not for this one.” I bite down on a naughty smile. “I’m paying Everett a visit at the courthouse. I happen to know he has a two-hour gap in his schedule coming right up.”

  The three of them howl and cackle.

  Carlotta slaps her hand over the counter. “Sounds as if Lot Lot is about to sneak some sexy time into her day.”

  “You got that right. It’s been one long dry spell at Noah’s, and Everett and I are both feeling it.”

  Keelie ticks her head to the side. “It’s all those hormones, Lottie. I couldn’t get enough of Bear while I was knocked up. And that best part? You don’t have to worry about getting knocked up.”

  “Amen to that,” I say as I cinch my purse over my shoulder.

  Lily waves a kitchen towel my way. “Have fun, Lot. Boy, I miss me some Essex time. If you ever decide to ditch him and go back to Noah, I’m calling dibs.”

  Carlotta snorts. “Lot doesn’t ditch ’em. She simply rotates the team. She knows how to keep the players both nimble and hungry. Come on, Lot, I’ll walk you out.” She pulls out her phone. “I need to take pictures of my new flashy signs.”

  We head out into the crisp fall air together, and an all too familiar sight catches my eye from across the street in front of Fanatical Fitness.

  “Oh my stars.” I nearly toss my box of cookies into the air. “Carlotta, take a picture of that man before he gets in his car—the man with fedora.”

  Carlotta steps up and snaps one just before he ducks into a red sedan. He makes an illegal turn in the opposite direction and speeds off with a squeal of his tires before we can get a shot of his license plate.

  “That was him,” I pant.

  “Who’s him?”

  “That’s what I’m about to find out. Text me that picture. I’ve got a two-hour window with the sexiest husband alive, and I’m not going to miss it.”

  I might be taking off for Ashford on the hunt for some loving, but every last part of me is keeping one eye out for the killer.

  The Ashford County Courthouse holds a special place in my heart, not just because of the naughty trysts I’ve delved into with Everett in his chambers, but because this is pretty much where the party started for the two of us. My old landlords were suing me for some nonsensical reason, and Everett wisely sided with me.

  But Everett and I didn’t get along too well in the beginning—not by a long shot. He was ornery and stubborn, and all-around grump. Okay, so not much has changed on that front, but Everett has definitely shown me his softer side, but mostly he’s shown me his naughty side, which is exactly what brings me here today.

  I speed my way down the marbled halls and into the dark enclave of heavily carved wooden walls that leads to his office. His secretary gives me a knowing wink as I head to the door, and she kindly offers to hold all of his calls—so, of course, I reward her with a couple of cookies.

  I give a gentle knock before I head on in and Everett looks up from his desk. He doesn’t move a sexy muscle, just lands those blue eyes over mine with a pensive look on his face. His cheeks are covered with dark stubble, the bona fide beginnings of a full-blown beard, and it brings out the delicious danger in his blue eyes. No-Shave November is definitely working out for Everett.

  “Judge Baxter, I’m here to plead guilty to having lewd and lascivious thoughts about you.”

  It takes less than three seconds for him to speed over, lock the door, and land his lips over mine with a heated kiss before pulling back.

  “Lemon, I find you guilty of looking too beautiful to ever be safe in my chambers.”

  “Let the punishment begin.”

  But Everett doesn’t punish. Instead, he aims to please, and he does so again and again and again.

  Afterwards, we cuddle on that sofa of his, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket he was wise enough to keep on hand while munching on that box of cookies I hauled over.

  “I miss this.” I sigh as I give his chest a scratch.

  “Don’t worry, I spoke with the landlord again today, and he said as soon as the house is empty, he’ll need a week to repai
nt and recarpet, then it’s all ours.”

  “Repaint and recarpet, huh? It’s still the best news I’ve heard all day. How about you and me and Evie gather around my laptop and buy a few things for the new house tonight, like tables and chairs and maybe a couch? We’ll probably have to actually go out and lay on a few mattresses.”

  “We can make a day out of it. I’ll buy you a meal.”

  “If there’s food, I’m there.”

  “That’s one of the many reasons I love you.”

  “Lucky for you there’s going to be a whole lot more of me to love,” I say, shoving another cookie into my mouth.

  Everett warms my belly with his hand. “I bought a book.” A sly grin rides up his cheek.

  “You bought a book?”

  He nods. “To read to the baby. It’s called If the Moon was a Cookie.”

  “Aww!” Tears come to my eyes as I snuggle into him.

  “I figured Sugar Cookie would love it. And I would love it, too.”

  “Well, I certainly love it. And I can’t wait to hear you read it—tonight before we go to bed, please.”

  “Done deal.” He lands a kiss to my cheek. “Anything new with the case?”

  “Ooh, yes.” I suck in a quick breath as I reach past him for my phone. “Carlotta and I were just walking out of the Cutie Pie this morning—I was on my way here and she was, well, she’s started that twitchy fingers salon in the back of her van called A Whole Lotta Touchin’. Anyway, I’ll have Noah write her a ticket later. Look at this.” I pull up the picture of the man in the fedora and enlarge it until we can partially make out his face. He looks to be somewhere in his thirties, has facial scruff, high cheekbones, and thin lips. That’s the same guy we saw roughing up Hannah the day she was killed.”

  “Let me see this.” He takes the phone and holds it out a notch. “I think I’ve seen this man in my courtroom.” He shakes his head. “Actually, I know exactly who this is.”

  “We have to find him, Everett. It’s pertinent we speak with him as soon as possible.”

  “Sorry, Lemon. But I don’t think you want to be anywhere near this guy. He’s dangerous. He’s not just a suspect. He just might be the killer.”

  Chapter 12

  Everett wouldn’t offer up a single detail about the mysterious man in the hat. And believe me, I tried all of my dirty tricks to get the info out of him.

  He was worried that I would take off after the guy before he had a chance to finish up at the courthouse and he still had a long day ahead of him. Although, he did inadvertently offer up two clues. He said the man was dicey, and that he was well-known for his underground activity.

  Honestly, that’s all he needed to tell me. I no sooner jumped back into my minivan than I drove down to Leeds, right to that dicey club Meg happens to work at where there is more than its fair share of underground activity.

  Red Satin Gentleman’s Club is the last place I want to be today, but no sooner do I pull up than I find a familiar van parked out front with a line of men ten deep just waiting to get their turn at the massage of a lifetime—as advertised off the back.

  “Oh my sun and moon above Honey Hollow.” I can’t move fast enough as I elbow my way to the front. “Carlotta!” I pluck her out of the van without bothering to look inside to see what’s going on.

  Her face is red, her hair is mussed, her hands are dripping with oil, and she reeks of patchouli.

  “Lot?” She staggers a moment as if she was stunned. “What’s happening? The last thing I remember is I was taking a magic carpet ride.”

  A man with a hairy chest steps on out, buttoning his shirt before landing a roll of twenty-dollar bills into her hand.

  “Good work, twitchy fingers.” He winks before making his way into the seedy establishment.

  Why do I get the feeling he was the aforementioned carpet?

  “Twitchy fingers?” I called it. A growl emits from me. “All right, everyone, Twitchy Fingers is taking a twenty-minute break.”

  The crowd moans and groans, but eventually makes their way inside, and I pull Carlotta with me as we do the very same thing.

  Inside, Red Satin lives up to the lusty hue in its moniker. The walls, the floor, the stage, the lights that offer this place a smidge of incandesce—they all share that tawdry shade. The women are just about nude, save for star-shaped pasties, short shorts, and high heels. And the men are drunk, drooling, and begging to part with their money. The music is loud, and the girls shaking their stuff up on stage don’t have nearly enough clothes.

  “What did you do that for, Lot? I made two hundred dollars in the last two hours. This isn’t a bad gig, you know. I got the feeling you didn’t want me in front of your prissy little bakery, so I followed my instincts all the way down to Leeds.”

  “Yeah, well, your instincts are going to lead all the way down to the cemetery. You’re going to get yourself killed one of these days. It’s not safe to invite strange men into your van and oil them up for money. You’re just asking for trouble.” I crane my neck a moment. “There’s Meg by the bar. I’ve got an important question to ask her. Stick with me, and I’ll buy you something to wet your whistle.”

  Meg teaches the dancers in this sleazy joint their moneymaking moves. She’s so good at it, other sleazy gentleman’s clubs have requested her services, and now she teaches classes on a rotation. I always knew she’d make a unique contribution to society one day.

  Her dark hair is up in a knot, her eyes are heavily outlined in kohl, and she’s wearing black eye shadow to match, which makes her icy blue eyes glow like lanterns.

  We head on over and I order Carlotta a soda with a handful of cherries, and the way she’s squealing you’d think I just took her to an amusement park. At least she’s easy to please.

  Meg chuckles at the sight. “Hey, Lot. Carlotta told me you went out on a booty call down at the courthouse.”

  I frown over at Carlotta. “Like mother, like daughter. Carlotta was charging for her booty calls, right out in front. And apparently, that’s where the real money is.”

  Meg steps behind the bar and gets me a glass of ginger ale. The bar itself is strewn with silk fall leaves in orange and red, and there’s a miniature scarecrow sitting crooked at the end. It’s nice to see that even a place like Red Satin puts in an effort in the decorating department. Although, most likely, that was my sister’s doing.

  “You can always convert the bakery to a massage parlor after hours.” Meg shrugs. “You can call it the Cutie Pie After Dark. Keelie and Lily will probably run it with you, and the three of you will make a killing. I bet Noah and Everett will volunteer to be your very first customers. Although, you might get arrested for prostitution if there’s a cash exchange between the three of you. We all know what takes place after dark at Noah’s cabin.”

  “You would be wrong.” I pull out my phone and show her the picture of the man in the fedora. “You wouldn’t happen to know this person, would you?”

  She makes a face at the screen. “That’s the Mad Hatter. Don’t tell me you’re looking to put a hit out on someone, Lot.”

  “A hit?” I say a touch too loud and three different waitresses shoot me a look. “Meg, are you saying he’s a hitman?”

  “That’s what he is. He works for the Canellis.”

  I take in a quick breath. The Canellis is the mob family that happens to own and run this lusty operation. The Canellis and the Lazzaris are the two feuding crime families that station themselves in Leeds. I’ve had the misfortune to have run-ins with them both on more than one occasion.

  And Carlotta? Not only was Caterina Canelli her BFF growing up, but she used to date Luke Lazzari.

  Carlotta leers my way. “You’re not looking to take a hit out on me, are you, Lot? If you enlist a Canelli connection to try to take me out, that means I’ve got to get me a Lazzari to do the counterattack. I’d hate to see a turf war break out on my behalf, but it wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” I say.
“But I’d be the last person to hire a hitman. If I wanted you gone, I could off you with expert ease. It’s safe to say, I’ve learned a thing or two over these last few years while hunting down a killer. Putting a hit out on you could be messy. I’d have to make it look like an accident, like tossing some water onto the stairs when they’re covered with snow and getting them good and icy. You’d slip, crack your noggin open, and no one would suspect a thing.”

  Both Meg and Carlotta stare at me with their mouths hanging open.

  “Relax,” I tell them. “I’m totally kidding. I’ve never even thought about it.” Much. “Now where can I find this Mad Hatter? I’ve got a few questions I need to ask him.”

  Meg straightens stiff as a board. “He’s here.”

  “He’s here?” I brighten at the thought of getting my mitts on this man of intrigue.

  “Yup.” Meg’s cheeks rise and fall in a poorly executed smile. “He’s right behind you.”

  I spin in my seat, but it’s not the man in the fedora standing behind me. It’s Noah Fox with his arms crossed over his chest and that dark stubble on his cheeks looking soft to the touch because it’s longer than it’s ever been.

  “Noah!” I pop out of my seat and pull him into a hard embrace, but he’s slow to reciprocate.

  “Lottie, are you nuts?” he hisses. “Don’t answer that. Do you realize that you’re housing an innocent life who has zero say in the shenanigans you keep dragging them into? And seeing a hitman? This is going too far even for you.”

  I scowl over at him. “If you must know, I was saving Carlotta from a line of oil hungry hairy chests. And Meg was nice enough to hydrate me once we stepped inside to say hello.” I bite down on my lip a moment. “Oh, all right. I’m here for the Mad Hatter, but only because I’ve seen him coming back to the scene of the crime twice. Noah, I have a feeling he offed Hannah.”

  His dimples dig in as he searches my features with those deep green eyes.