Pecan Pie Predicament

by Addison Moore

  They pull out their treats at the very same time, and a laugh gets caught in my throat.

  “If the Moon was a Cookie!” I sing. “Two copies!” I pat both Noah and Everett on the knee. “Hey? Great minds and all that stuff, right?”

  Everett grunts, “I’ve got my receipt. Let’s see who bought their copy first.”

  “Everett,” I say his name in my lower register.

  Noah sighs. “I was hoping to read to the baby tonight.” He glances down to where Everett has his hand on my belly.

  Everett pulls back and sighs as he stares Noah down a good long while. “I think that’s a good idea.” He gives a long blink Noah’s way. “I’ve got a few emails I need to respond to.” He pats my knee. “Take your time.” He takes off, and Noah purses his lips my way.

  Noah shakes his head. “I guess that makes him the bigger man.”

  “If it means anything, you’re both equal in my eyes.”

  Noah’s dimples press in. “It means everything to me, Lot.”

  “Good.” I take a sip from my cider and cozy up next to Noah. “Now let’s get reading.”

  And he does. Noah reads the story with such tender conviction, tears stream from me by the time he gets to the last page.

  “Whoa.” He wipes my cheeks down quickly. “That was not meant to upset you.”

  “You didn’t,” the words croak from me lower than a breath. “You’re going to make a wonderful father, Noah. I never doubted that, but tonight you simply confirmed my suspicions.”

  “Thank you,” he whispers. “You don’t know how much that means to me to hear that.” He touches his head to mine. “We already know Everett’s got this father thing on lock. He’s great with Evie. I have no doubt he’ll be great with the baby.” He pulls back, and his gaze presses into mine. “My dad isn’t going to win any awards for his parenting skills. I’ve already followed in his footsteps as far as screwing up relationships.” His lips turn down. “But I will be damned if I follow in his footsteps when it comes to being a father. If that baby is mine, Lot, I’m going to try to be the best father that child could ask for.”

  “You won’t have to try, Noah. It’s obvious it comes naturally to you. You’re already a great father.” I pick up his hand and give it a squeeze. “You will never be your father. What happened between us was far different than any of the scams Wiley has pulled. Unless, of course, you’re planning a financial coup that I don’t see coming.”

  “Nope, I can assure you I wouldn’t hurt a hair on your head, nor glance twice at a dollar in your bank account.”

  “I don’t doubt that, Noah Fox.”

  His lips twitch side to side. “Have you thought about surnames for the baby? I mean, I’m okay with whatever you deicide.”

  I take a deep breath, my eyes never leaving his. “If this baby is yours, Noah, it’s going to have your name, I can promise you that. It’s the least I could do. You may have put me through some things, but I’ve put you through enough as well.” I take his hand and place it over my belly. “You’re a part of this, too.”

  “This is the part where I would offer up a passionate kiss.” He blinks a smile. “But Everett was respectful while you were with me—outside of marrying you on the sly under the guise of his trust fund. And, until I can drum up a precarious trust fund of my own, I’m on the sidelines.”

  “You’re never on the sidelines, Noah.”

  He shakes his head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were gunning for a kiss.”

  Noah wraps an arm around my shoulder, and we turn on the TV and watch a mystery together as the fire crackles and pops.

  “I’m sorry I accidentally took a hit out on you,” I say.

  “No problem, Lot. I’ve been known to dodge a bullet or two.”

  “I may have requested a poisoning. I wouldn’t leave your coffee unattended if I were you.”

  “Good to know.” He gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Speaking of which, I’ll talk to Brit soon and see what she knows.”

  “Sounds good.”

  But not if I get to her first.

  Chapter 14

  Fanatical Fitness is booming this, the morning after I accidentally put a hit out on Noah. I told Meg to keep an eye out for the mad Mad Hatter and to tell him to call it off. The last thing I want is to land Noah in the grave and me behind bars.

  But I’ve put it out of my mind for now, or at least as much as I could. At the moment, I’m taking over an entire heaping platter of deep-fried butter pats, dusted with powdered sugar as a part of my scheme to pull all of the info I can out of Britney Fox.

  Carlotta’s van is parked out in front of Fanatical Fitness, but it doesn’t look as if she has any takers at this early hour.

  I head on into the gym, which is a backward mirror image of its next-door neighbor, Swift Cycle.

  There’s a foyer once you enter with a registration table and the same bored looking teenager staring at her phone, a rack of workout clothes that claim to be half off, but according to the priced as marked items, they’re pretty much above and beyond what clothes like that should cost to begin with. To the right there is a cavernous room that is used for the aerobic workouts, and if I crane my neck just beyond that, there seems to be a few areas with equipment as well. The scent of cucumbers and melon permeates the air, and it all feels very much like a spa, only instead of pampering you, they torment your muscles until your entire body wants to cry uncle—or at least they did at Swift Cycle.

  The workout room is packed with women, and I’m shocked to see just how many I recognize, starting with Meg, Lainey, Keelie, my mother, and Carlotta.

  Britney and Reese hover around the front, flipping through a notebook and nodding incessantly. There’s a refreshment table along the back with a pitcher of ice water set on either side of it, and smack in the middle there’s a pumpkin dotting it as an homage to fall. None of the women in the room look as if they’ve broken a sweat just yet. For sure no one is sporting that melted candle appeal on their faces. You know, the one you get after a hearty workout with mascara and blush running down in nightmarish tracks and lips that look as if they’re slipping right off the face?

  Yeah. I’m not so familiar with it either. The last time I broke a sweat, it was the other night when I was steeped in a donut eating competition with Noah and Everett. Noah won hands down, but only because he’s had years of practice at the force.

  I head over and set my platter of goodies down onto the refreshment table as Keelie and my sisters trek over.

  “What are these?” Keelie pops one into her mouth without waiting for an answer. “Oh my goodness!” She moans so hard and loud every woman in this place flocks on over.

  “Why does this look like trouble?” Lainey pops one into her mouth as well, and her eyes roll into the back of her head.

  Personally, I’m shocked to see her without the baby, but no sooner do I have the thought than she turns to call out for our mother and I spot Josie strapped to her back.

  Meg comes over. “Good work, Lot. Get these women addicted to your buttered bits, and you’ll have a whole new homicide on your hands once the scales stop tipping in their favor. By the way, that homicide would be yours.”

  Mom waves her off as she gives my cheek a kiss. “Good work, Lottie.” She takes another bite of the morsel in her hand. “I think we should have a few extra platters of this on hand along with those extra pecan pies I ordered for Everett’s birthday party.”

  “Why would we need extra pies?”

  “Oh!” She touches her hand to her lips before craning her neck into the crowd. “Chrissy Nash just walked in. I haven’t seen her in almost a week. I have got to come up with a title for my new book, and Chrissy helped narrow down the field with the last two. Here’s hoping she has another title I can steal. She’s a good friend that way. Hey? Reckless Friendships!” She darts off. Chrissy was Mayor Nash’s wife for as long as I can remember, but they divorced a few years back. Fun fact: It was Chrissy he was marr
ied to while cheating on her with Carlotta, thus my conception. I sigh just thinking about the shenanigans that brought me into this world.

  Speaking of shenanigans, Carlotta trots up. “These are good, kid. I can use these to lure customers into my van. They’ll work better than the chocolate chip cookies. I’m putting in a triple order. Have ’em ready by the time the class wraps up, would you?”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Reese claps her way to the front of the room, and soon all of the women fall into neat little rows and begin to stretch their limbs out to her command.

  Britney comes my way, and her eyes bug out once she spots the butter sensations nearly depleted. Mind you, I can only see one of her eyes actually bugging out. The other is perpetually hidden behind that blonde lock that seems to be adhered to her forehead.

  “What in the fresh hell have you dragged in here?” she snips.

  Just as my mouth opens to answer her testy question, in stride Cormack and her equally ditzy bubble blonde counterpart, Cressida Bentley—Evie’s mother.

  Cressida does a double take and trots my way. “Well, if it isn’t my stand-in. I hear you’ll be ousted soon enough.” She motions to Cormack, who waves over at me with that clipboard in her hand, otherwise known as my supposed undoing.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I tell them.

  “You keep believing that.” Cressida’s lips twitch as if she were in on some great big secret. “See you at the party, Lindley.”

  “What party?” I ask as she slithers her way to the front of the class.

  Cormack dips my way. “Never you mind. Let’s just say there’s nothing available in Honey Hollow for you to buy, rent, or lease. You’re practically run out of town already.”

  “I guess I’ll have to live with Noah forever.”

  Her mouth opens wide just as Reese shouts for everyone to officially begin the torment, and Cressida appears once again to yank her into the thick of it.

  “I can’t stand her,” I growl.

  Carlotta chuckles. “I think you’ve found your next victim, Lot.” She snaps up a few more buttered bits and stalks the heck out of here.

  Figures. When the workout gets tough, Carlotta gets going.

  And to be truthful, I’m not that far behind.

  Britney hitches her head toward the moaning melee.

  “You’d better get out there or you’re going to miss it. Now that Hannah Banana is gone, this is the only show in town.”

  I take a moment to scowl at the thought.

  “Britney, you do realize I consider you a friend. I would refrain from saying things like that because it only makes you sound guilty.”

  “I didn’t do it. Besides, had I done it, I would have poisoned her shake. That booty-ful nightmare is still haunting me. Do you realize Reese and I had recently developed an entire line of power bars as well as our very own shakes?”

  “Reese brought it up the day Hannah died.” I cinch my lips. “Britney, how well do you know Reese?”

  “She’s a good friend. She’s staying with me at your mother’s B&B while her condo complex is undergoing some exterior modifications. And before you go accusing her of this nonsense, I can tell you emphatically she’s as innocent as I am.”

  “Hannah cost Reese some customers. And both you and she were saying some dicey things before and after Hannah was murdered.”

  She inches back as if she took umbrage with the accusation. “Such as?”

  “Really? You want to go there? Britney, you threatened the poor woman with the words, ‘You are going to pay for this, Hannah Beckham. You haven’t seen the last of us yet. Expect my attorney to be contacting you soon.’ Of course, Reese accused Hannah of being an outright thief. And not only that, but after she turned up dead, Reese said something to the effect, ‘It was done.’ And then she suggested the two of you go for drinks. It was all very fishy—very celebratory.” Another thought comes to mind. “And let’s not forget one of her pink extensions was found floating near the body.”

  Britney glances to the ceiling. “It was found next to the reception desk. I saw the crime scene photos myself. And Reese was at that shop as much as I was. It proves nothing.”

  “Maybe not.” I square my eyes over hers because I’m about to pull out my big gun. “But why would Reese lie to me about knowing the man in the fedora?”

  “The who in the what?” She squints over at me as if suddenly she felt the need to put on a pair of readers to see me better.

  “There was a man who was wearing a fedora here the day Hannah was murdered.” I watch her intently for signs that she might have been the one that hired the Mad Hatter, but she seems unfazed. “Everett and I saw him shaking Hannah behind the alley.”

  “There’s your killer. Let’s get Noah on the horn right now.” She turns as if she’s reaching for her phone.

  “No, I don’t think so. I mean, sure, he may have done it. But it turns out, the guy is a contract killer. Someone hired him to take out Hannah’s kneecaps. They didn’t want her dead. They simply wanted to eliminate the competition.” My shoulders bounce. “Sound like anyone you know?”

  Her eyes widen to new heights. “Wait a minute. Was he tall, dark hair, and had some peach fuzz on his face?”

  “I wouldn’t call it peach fuzz. Do you know him?”

  “I think he came in the other day. He must have taken off his hat. He was asking for—” She looks to the front of the class and inhales hard.

  Either Reese is guilty of hiring the Mad Hatter or Britney is giving an Oscar-worthy performance. Although it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had someone pulling my leg with a good game face.

  She looks my way, her chest heaving. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re not going to come in here and accuse either of us of anything.” She gives a wide-eyed glance to Reese once again. “I have to go. The sheriff’s department just cleared my gym, and I’ve got a woman coming by to light some sage or some sorcery. My clients said they wouldn’t come back until I practically burned the place down.” She takes off in a daze.

  The session wraps up and the women flock right back to the refreshment table and finish out my butter bits.

  I head over and wave to Reese as she pats her face with a fresh towel. Her dark hair is in a high ponytail, and her pink streaks gleam like lightning across her scalp. She looks about as perky as can be, clad in black with the body of an athlete.

  “That was great. It was invigorating to watch. Once I have the baby, I plan on participating as well.”

  “Oh, you should, Lottie. I’ve got some special exercises that will tighten you right back up again. Believe me, your husband will be thankful.” She gives a deep nod, and suddenly I don’t think she’s talking about tightening my core.

  “I’ll take you up on that.” If she’s not in prison by then. “Britney just mentioned that you were staying at my mother’s B&B.”

  “I sure am.” She glances over her shoulder at my mother in the distance. “Come to find out, I really do think her place is haunted. At first, I thought it was a cute tourist trap, something kitschy this little town warranted to infuse it with a healthy tourist population. But after the things I’ve witnessed, there’s no doubt in my mind.”

  “I’ve heard it can be terrifying.” Speaking of ghosts, don’t think I haven’t noticed Barry Honeycutt’s absence from today’s suspect soirée. I bet he’s off trying to continue his pursuit of stealing Greer from poor Winslow. I’ll make sure to have a word with him the next time I see him. Just like he didn’t think I should get mixed up with a hitman, I don’t think he should get mixed up in a ghostly love triangle. Speaking of love triangles, poor Noah might just have a bounty on his head for all I know.

  I lean her way as she eyes a lone butter bit all but abandoned on the platter and scoops it up.

  She tosses that battered bit of butter into her pie hole, and her face rearranges into a state of heavenly bliss.

  “Lottie Lemon! You dirty dog. T
hat’s the best thing I’ve had since my grandma’s buttered biscuits. What kind of a cookie was that? On second thought, don’t answer. I have a feeling I just ingested a day’s worth of calories.”

  A tiny laugh bubbles from me. “This is the month for caloric splurging. You know what they say, all the calories on Sunday and in November belong to God.”

  She gives a hesitant laugh, mostly because we both know I just tacked on the tidbit about November just to fit the scenario—just like I’m about to make something else work for me.

  “Since you’re staying at the B&B, you’ll have to stop by a party I’m throwing there tomorrow night at seven. It’s a surprise party for my husband. Bring Brit. It’s going to be a blast.”

  “I sure will. Thank you for the invite, but I’ve already been invited. I guess I’ll see you there.” She gives a fluttering wave of her fingers as she heads deeper into the gym.

  Did she just say she already had an invite?

  Nevertheless, it’s perfect. Before I shake her down for info on her connection to the Mad Hatter, of which I’m certain there is one, I’ll be sure to distract her at the party while I run up to her room and personally leave a few mints on her pillow. Reese Underwood might want to hide her connections to underworld dealings from both the sheriff’s department and me, but the hard, cold evidence that I just might stumble upon won’t hide a thing.

  Here’s hoping I find the smoking gun that brings Hannah Beckham’s murder investigation crashing to an end.

  Or else I might just crash and burn this entire case instead.

  Chapter 15

  Mom! Just decorated Glam Glam’s glass room thingy. Hanging out with Carlotta now in her creepy van while she trolls for hairy men to accost. Can’t wait to see Dad’s face tonight. See you at seven!

  A groan works its way up my throat at the thought of poor Evie being exposed to whatever lunacy Carlotta is subjecting her to. A part of me wants to ask Noah to use his authoritative prowess and have Carlotta ticketed and sent home, but with my luck she’d end up assaulting the poor deputy and land both her and Evie in the pokey.