“You mean what did they try to give me?” A husky laugh comes from her. “I’m not taking meds, not now, not ever. After the surgery, I relied on teas and herbs. So far so good. I’m as strong as ever.”
“Wow,” I say, lackluster. “I’m glad to hear it.” And I’m confused to hear it as well.
Wait a minute. It makes perfect sense. The bottle of fentanyl in her room was made out to someone else. A friend probably gave it to her.
What was his name? I try to rack my brain, but I pull out my phone and quickly thumb through my pictures until I come upon it. That’s right.
I clear my throat. “You know, my friend Charles Nelson, he had to take medication for an injury.” I give a frantic nod as her mouth falls open.
“You knew Charles?” She cranes her neck past me. “So sad, right?”
“Sad?”
“You didn’t hear?” She inches back. “He died shortly after his accident.”
“Accident?”
“Big ski accident. I guess his binding broke loose and he twisted his leg pretty bad. Anyway, I’m not sure what happened exactly, but they think it was a heart attack related to his meds. His fans were really torn up about it.”
“His fans?”
“Oh, he was a huge author. You must have not known him that well if you didn’t realize that.”
I suck in a quick breath. “That book! That’s where I know his name. He wrote The Horseman.”
“Yup. Oh, Hannah was a huge fan.” She averts her eyes a moment.
That’s where I saw the book! In her desk back in her home office. He made it out to her. Hang on…the photo of that fancy horse—there was a note on it from a man named Chuck. Chuck as in Charles?
“Hannah knew him well, didn’t she?” I offer her a scrutinizing look.
A throaty laugh bumps from her. “You can say that. Hannah was all but a kept woman, and he did the keeping.”
“Interesting.”
“It was very interesting until he bit the big one. That’s when Hannah had to move out of that fancy lake house. She finally managed to settle in near you. She still had some cash he left her, so she was going to stay there until the money ran out.”
Hannah was a kept woman. I’d better find Noah.
“Speaking of money running out,” she leans my way, “I had to check out of your mother’s B&B this morning. Let’s just say my sister isn’t too thrilled with the fact she’s about to have a new roommate, but I can’t afford that place forever. Your mom is really nice, Lottie. You’re really lucky.”
Brit calls for help at her booth, and Reese excuses herself as she heads that way.
I stumble back into the flow of the sea of people as a spray of stars appears by my side and Barry Honeycutt appears fully formed.
“You missed it,” I hiss his way.
“Nope.” He shakes his head, and I can’t help but note his neck is the size of a tree trunk. “I was there. I just didn’t want to distract you. There’s something fishy going on. She said she didn’t wear extensions; therefore, the hair that was found at the scene couldn’t have been hers.”
“And she said she didn’t take any medications.”
“I believe it,” he says. “I once tweaked my rotator cuff pretty bad and wouldn’t take any of that junk the doctor wanted to give me. It’s not uncommon in the fitness industry to eschew big pharma.”
“Well, Charles didn’t. We should look him up.” I pull to the side and quickly do a little research on my phone. “A picture of him pops up, linking to an article discussing his health. It’s a headshot of him. He’s handsome enough with dark eyes and a knowing smile. “It looks as if he was still married at the time he passed away, and he had been for eight years.”
“Lottie!” My mother’s voice trills from up ahead, and by the time I look that way, she’s upon me. “Oh, thank goodness. Autumn Frasier was just looking for you. She says she’ll do an article on the B&B once she’s through with your interview. Isn’t that great? Now we’ll both get the exposure we need just in time for the holidays.” She looks past me and her lips knot up. “I’d better go speak to Reese. She checked out this morning, and I made a billing error that I didn’t catch until after I charged her card. I forgot that she and Autumn switched rooms. Her bill is much higher. She is not going to be happy to see me.” She takes off before I can interrogate her.
Barry and I exchange stunned expressions.
He leans in. “Did she say they switched rooms?”
“She did,” I pant as I glance down at my phone. I scroll through the rest of the article and note the name of Charles Nelson’s wife.
He grunts, “Well, Lottie, I think we need to get back to your booth.”
“You’re right,” I say, looking in that direction. “I have an interview to tend to. And perhaps—a killer to catch.”
Chapter 17
Clouds move in quickly, dark purple welts, and the wind picks up as all of Honey Hollow darkens a notch.
The leaves rise from the ground and swirl up toward the sky before flying off toward Honey Lake as if they had something to fear, and they just might.
Winter is licking at the heels of fall. The chill in the air lets us know the season is ready to hand her crown over to the ice queen that comes next. There’s even talk of snow hitting Honey Hollow as early as Thanksgiving.
Barry and I make our way back to the booth where Lily is selling pecan pie by the slice at dizzying speeds. And that’s exactly where we find Autumn with a slice of pie in her hands, hopping from foot to foot as if the chill in the weather was getting the best of her.
“Autumn.” I try my best to sound cheerful, but her name came out more of a threat. “I’m ready to answer your questions for the interview.”
Barry’s chest pumps. “Let’s hope she’s ready to answer our questions, too.”
Something tells me she won’t be.
Autumn’s face brightens as she bubbles with a little laugh. “Let’s do it! I’m hoping you can tell me what makes your pecan pie so delicious. I hope you’re up for divulging a few secrets.”
“Only if you are.” It sounds a lot like I’m teasing although I’m anything but.
The wind licks by, and I rub my arms. “How about we head into the bakery?”
“Sounds perfect.” She heads that way without hesitating, and I give a quick look around for Noah or Everett.
“Lily.” I give her a somber nod as if speaking in code. “I’ll be in the bakery. If Noah or Everett come by, please send them in.” A part of me wanted to throw Ivy into that roll call. Lord knows Detective Ivy Fairbanks is packing heat. Not that I expect trouble from Autumn, but I’m fairly certain if I begin to question her, in the least things could get heated. It’s happened before.
Barry stops cold, his eyes growing wide as he looks at something down at the other end of the street.
“Aw, man, Greer just showed up.” He grimaces. “Sorry, Lottie. I can’t help you. I’ve been looking for her all afternoon.”
“What?” I hiss without meaning to. “You can’t just leave me because you’re hot-to-trot for some girl. I’ve got a suspect to question. The suspect to question.” I do my best to say it all in less than a whisper, but I catch Lily giving me the stink eye.
“Fine,” he bleats. “But let’s make it snappy. I’ve got a girl to get.”
“That girl is very much taken, in the event your sudden captivity these past few days didn’t make it clear. And believe me when I say, Winslow was just getting started.”
He makes a face. “So am I, Lottie.” He sheds an easy grin while looking at the ghostly girl in question. “So am I.”
I lead us into the bakery where the chill immediately fades and gives way to the warmth and the highly aromatic scent of cinnamon and vanilla. It’s the first thing that enlivens my senses in the morning when I step into the bakery. And once I get those baked goods into the oven, the entire street falls under the sweet spell of my bakery.
“Oh, it’s really
getting cold out there,” I say, noting there’s not another living soul in here outside of Autumn and me. The kitchen staff is helping next door at the Honey Pot because their productivity has shot through the roof. It’s just the two of us, and one very reluctant ghost. “Can I get you some coffee?” I ask, floating behind the counter as Autumn takes a seat next to the register.
“Yes, please. A pumpkin spice latte if you don’t mind. I’ve been craving it since I’ve had it last. Your blend is amazing.”
“Thank you.” I can’t help but shed a genuine smile. “Every year I give it a little tweak, and I think I’m sticking with this one from here on out.” I quickly pour her a mug before sliding it her way.
Autumn’s red hair is windblown, and her cheeks and nose are pink from the icy breeze. She takes off her plum-colored wool coat and lands it on the stool next to her, revealing a cozy brown sweater with an orange and yellow silk scarf tied neatly around her neck. She’s certainly living up to her name, and if this windblown season had a human likeness, I’d imagine it would be her.
She takes a sip and moans. “Wow. That’s all I have to say about that one.” She pulls out a small yellow notepad from her tote bag and a pen.
Barry floats over from the window. “Come on, Lottie. Greer just waved and winked at me. I think she’s flirting. And I’d love nothing more than to confirm this for myself.”
A part of me wonders why Greer just doesn’t float on in here if she wants to spend time with him so badly. And yet, I’m thankful she’s abstaining for whatever reason. I don’t need the distraction.
“So Lottie.” Autumn wiggles her pen my way. “I did a little research and found out that you used to be the head baker at the Honey Pot Diner before your Grandma Nell opened this place. And by research, I mean I had breakfast with your mother.” She laughs. “She really is so great.”
“She is.” I laugh along with her. “And that’s exactly what happened. And now I’m here, living my dream. I’ve wanted to open a bakery ever since I was little. I have to tell you it’s a lot more work than I imagined it would be. But then, I guess just about everything we want seems easier than it does when we really get in the thick of it.” My hand rises to my belly. I can’t help it. At this point it’s more or less a reflex.
Her expression dims a notch as she glances to my stomach.
“Like the baby,” she says softly. “But don’t worry, Lottie. So many of my friends back home are moms, and they all say the same thing. It’s hard work, but they wouldn’t trade it for anything. And you’re a natural nurturer, I can tell. This is going to come easy for you.”
“I hope so.” I sigh at the thought.
Barry motions for me to get on with it.
“And”—I clear my throat—“my marriage is sort of the same way. You know, when I was a little girl, I thought it would be so easy, and now I see firsthand exactly how complicated relationships can be.”
A tiny laugh bubbles from her. “I can only imagine. I hope you don’t mind, but your mother sort of spilled the beans on your dual relationship troubles, too. And believe me, I didn’t press her. She was sort of on a verbal roll.”
“I have no doubt. I have a feeling my mother was born talking.”
Barry nods. “Segue to her marriage. This is perfect,” he says, swiping a cookie from the shelf and popping it into his mouth.
Autumn gasps at the sight of the floating cookie. “I’d swear I just saw that chocolate chip cookie rise right up and disappear!”
I shoot the goofy ghost a look.
Way to go, Barry. One step forward, ten ghostly steps back.
“I get that all the time,” I wave it off as if it was nothing more than a supernatural nuisance, which it totally was. “It’s the reflection from outside. It bounces off the glass from the refrigerated shelves and basically creates an optical illusion.”
High-five to myself for thinking that little chocolate chip ditty on the fly.
“Oh, thank goodness.” She presses a hand to her chest. “I was beginning to think the entire town was haunted.” She shakes her head with a laugh caught in her throat. “And despite that, I’m going to miss the B&B. But alas, my own bed waits for me tonight. Better Homes and Calories was only willing to foot the bill up until the last day of the street fair.”
Barry growls. “The marriage, Lottie. The conversation is drifting. Ask about her husband.”
“Well, I’m glad you were here,” I say, and a part of me means it. “And speaking of marriages, can I ask if that’s why yours ended? You both had such different visions of what it would be like?”
Her lips crimp. “I guess you could say that. I thought things would be traditional in the sense of it would just be the two of us in the marriage. And let’s just say he thought otherwise.” She averts her gaze as if the thought still disgusted her, and it should.
“I’m so sorry to hear it. And did you say you divorced last summer?” I squint as if trying to recall the last conversation we had regarding her husband.
She sucks in a breath before a smile stretches across her face, and it looks forced, most likely because it is.
“Yes, we divorced.” She shrugs, avoiding the actual question as to when. “It’s not really important.”
My shoulders sag because I hate it when I catch someone in a lie. She and Charles weren’t divorced at all.
“Autumn.” Her name comes from me with great sadness. “You didn’t really divorce your husband, did you?”
Her eyes flash. “So you know?” Her entire demeanor dims. “I’m sorry, Lottie. I wasn’t trying to lie.”
“That’s okay. You caught him having an affair, didn’t you?”
Autumn freezes as she pins her gaze to mine. “Why yes, I did. I guess you did a little digging, too, didn’t you?” She rises from her seat and steps away from it, and without thinking, I take a full step back despite the fact I’m behind the counter.
“Autumn”—I shake my head—“your husband, he was having an affair with Hannah, wasn’t he?”
Her chest begins to heave as her expression grows dark.
Barry steps between us. “Fight-or-flight is setting in, Lottie. You’ve got less than a minute to confirm her as the killer.”
Autumn shakes her head in disbelief. “How did you know?”
“Hannah had a personalized copy of one of his books. He bought her a horse, too, didn’t he? And expensive paintings. He paid for all of her expenses, didn’t he?”
“He was a fool.” Her voice hikes a notch. “He had no right to do those things. That money was half mine. He was mine! He said he was going to divorce me. He wanted me gone as if I were nothing but the help he was dismissing. Hannah, that monster, she wanted to step into my shoes and take over my life. I hated her.”
I nod. “And you found out they stayed at the Maple Meadows Lodge, didn’t you?”
“That was our place!” she riots as she strides my way, and without thinking, I back myself into the kitchen. “He desecrated it with her. He didn’t care. Nothing was holy, nothing was sacred to him.”
“Is that why you decided to kill Hannah?”
She flinches as if I struck her. “Oh, Lottie. Why did you have to dig so deep? I can’t go to prison for this. I can’t let them have the last laugh.”
“You killed her.” I nod. “You poisoned her pie with the fentanyl pills left from your husband’s prescription. And you tried to set it up as if Reese did it. You found someone in town who had a beef with Hannah, and you ran with it to cover your tracks. You bought pink hair extensions and left one at the scene of the crime. Did you know Reese had a wrist injury? I bet you did. That would make her a good candidate to have access to the drug you poisoned Hannah with. But what I don’t get is why go down to Red Satin? Why hire the Mad Hatter to rough Hannah up? Was that just an extra step to make sure Reese was caught?”
A dull laugh rattles her chest. “Oh, Lottie. You are almost as brilliant as I am. I did hire a hitman, but not to kill Hannah. That was going
to be the fun part for me. I just wanted him to slow her down enough where I could get her alone. He was supposed to injure her weeks ago. I was going to pay her a visit in the hospital, make it look as if she got a lethal dose of her pain meds. It would have been so much neater that way. And yes, I had him visit Reese at her place of business. This town is laced with security cameras. I had to make it look good. But the Mad Hatter likes to take his time. Let’s just say I wasn’t nearly as patient as he was. He showed up the day of the street fair and told me he wasn’t going through with it. I told him that was fine, I’d take care of things myself. I just needed him to visit that stupid gym a couple of times. Walk in and walk out was all he needed to do, and he did it.” She shrugs. “And I did what I needed to do, just like I did with my husband.”
Barry howls. “She killed the poor guy, too!”
More like poor louse.
My mouth falls open as I inch my way toward the door in the back.
“You killed him,” I pant. “And you killed her. You really are having the last laugh, aren’t you?”
She snatches a knife off the counter and spikes it down near her thigh. Her jaw is tight, her eyes set to mine.
“I’m not laughing, Lottie. I can’t until I know you won’t say a thing. I didn’t want to do this, but you’ve left me no choice.”
She makes a dash in my direction, and I stumble toward the edge of the island and end up pinning myself to the wall in an effort to keep from falling.
Autumn raises the knife over her head as an anguished cry escapes her throat.
“Why?” she cries right into my face. “Why did you make me do this to you?”
“Barry,” I hiss. “Do something.”
Barry lets out a hard moan. “Lottie, if I intervene, I’ll miss out on saying goodbye to Greer.”
If looks could kill, Barry Honeycutt would have just died a thousand painful deaths.
“Do the right thing,” I hiss his way. “Or I’ll find a way to make you suffer.”
Autumn shakes her head. “Are you talking to me?”
The trampling of footsteps heads this way as two husky voices shout my name at once.
Pecan Pie Predicament Page 18
