Lottie peers into the bowl. “Carlotta, all you have is maple syrup in there.”
“We’re keeping it simple.” Carlotta gives a cheesy wink.
Georgie hops over with a chef’s hat hanging precariously over her gray wiry locks.
“Lookin’ good, sister! Bring that over and we’ll add it to the dry ingredients. After we’re done here, I’ll treat both of you ladies to a nightcap at my place.”
Mom groans, “Word to the wise, Carlotta. Don’t drink anything that comes from a funny vase. Come to find out it’s called a bong. And whatever she has lurking inside it is most likely illegal.”
“Ooh!” Carlotta does an odd little hop. “I’m in like sin. Let the good times roll. I’m all for funny vases.” She gives a thumbs-up to Georgie. “You’ve got a friend in me.”
Before I can apologize to Lottie, the sound of voices escalating from behind garners my attention.
“Excuse me,” I say as I thread my way through the crowd gathered near the judges’ table.
I find Celine Harrison locked in an argument with a shorter brunette.
A woman with a pink silk scarf and pretty cinnamon-colored hair bumps into me.
“Sorry!” She turns my way, and I can see my own reflection in her oversized sunglasses.
“Hey?” I grip her by the wrist before she can leave. “You wouldn’t happen to know what’s going on, do you?”
Her bottom lip quivers as she glances back. “I’m sorry. I’m here for the Lobster Festival. I just…I just thought this would be fun.” She darts off into the crowd before I can ask another question.
Trevor does his best to intervene with the bickering women, and the shorter woman gives him a shove.
“You are a liar!” she bellows at him. “Do you hear that?” she shouts into the crowd, and I spot Lottie ushering Everett and Noah this way. Jordy and Jasper just stepped onto the scene themselves. “This man is a fraud! He’s no more married to this woman than I’m a sea turtle. Trevor Harrison is my husband. I’m Anna Harrison, the one and only Mrs. Harrison on record!”
Celine looks as if you could blow her over with a feather.
“Oh goodness.” I push my way forward. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” I say to the woman. “My name is Bizzy Baker and I run the inn. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to step outside. The contestants need their peace.”
“I’ll give them their peace,” the woman grunts as she looks back at Trevor. “But you won’t get any peace. Not from me.” She takes off and Jordy follows her out.
Jasper comes over with those silver eyes sharpened over mine.
“Bizzy, are you okay?”
I just love how Jasper’s concern is always first for me.
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “Maybe you can make sure that woman leaves the building?”
“You bet.” He takes off, and I head over to Celine and Trevor.
“How are you doing?” I ask, picking up a platter of Lottie’s soft and chewy maple white chocolate chunk cookies. “Here, take one,” I say, prodding Trevor and he quickly scoops up a fistful.
Celine shakes her head. “I don’t think I’m all right. In fact, right now, I’m questioning who I am.” She looks over at Trevor with fury in her eyes. “I guess we have a lot to talk about.”
Trevor lifts a hand. “And we’ll do just that. Right after the bake-off.”
“Trevor,” she barks. It’s clear Celine is at the end of her rope. I doubt she cares too much about a silly baking competition anymore.
“Celine.” He glowers over at her and she lifts her chin. That’s my girl. A tiny smile curls on his lips. Now to figure out a way out of this mess. I’ve got excuses to come up with, and the clock is ticking.
Soon enough, the competition is back on track and the entire ballroom is alive with the scent of fresh baked cookies, breads, and pies.
Lottie heads my way, the exact person I’ve been meaning to speak with.
“Bizzy”—she shakes her head with a look of worry in her eyes—“there’s something I have to tell you.” How do I put this? I’ve never actually told anyone that I’m supersensual. It’s not like the world understands what it means to be transmundane.
I gasp. “Did you say transmundane?”
Lottie clamps her hand over her mouth a moment in horror before letting her fingers slide.
“Wait a minute.” She leans in. “Did you just read my thoughts?”
A loud bang emits from the left, followed by gasps and screams, and we look over to find Trevor Harrison flailing, one hand gripping his throat, the other holding Lottie’s cookies. He trips, knocking the entire judges’ table over on its side.
A crowd quickly gathers with their wild cries of distress just as Trevor falls to the floor, a fistful of Lottie’s cookies spilling over his chest. His eyes stare vacantly up at the ceiling, and Jasper quickly kneels to his side and places his fingers over the man’s neck.
Jasper looks my way and shakes his head.
“Oh my God,” I whisper.
Trevor won’t have to worry about coming up with any excuses.
Trevor Harrison is dead.
Chapter 3
“He’s dead!” Celine Harrison screams as she falls over his body.
Jasper carefully pulls her off and both Emmie and Celine’s friend, Melina, help her to a seat.
Lottie covers her mouth. “Oh, Bizzy. I feel terrible.”
Everett swoops to her side. “Lemon? Did you?” He tips his head to the side and Lottie nods as if anticipating the rest of his question.
Yes, I found another body. But in this case I guess we all found the body. But it was my cookie he was eating last. And how I hate that the culinary coincidence keeps repeating itself, homicide after homicide.
Noah pops up. “Everett, why don’t you help secure the exits until the sheriff’s department can get here. Lottie, are you okay?” He bears his eyes sternly into hers, and I get the feeling he, too, is communicating with her on another level as well. She nods and he gives her a simple kiss before taking off.
“Lottie, we have to talk,” I say, taking her by the hand.
A deputy hops up on a chair and it just so happens to be Deputy Leo Granger, Jasper’s old friend—the exact one who shares my strange gift of prying into other people’s minds.
“Everyone, listen up!” he calls out over the humming crowd. “We’re going to ask you all to please give us some space. And do not leave the ballroom until someone from the sheriff’s department has cleared you. It’s simply routine. Deputies will be arriving momentarily.” He hops down, and I take him up by the hand as well and lead the three of us straight out of the ballroom via the nearest exit, outright defying the very words he just uttered.
“Bizzy, I have to get back there.” He tries to break my hold on him, but I pull us into a corner in the foyer by force.
“Leo!” I hiss. “Lottie is transmundane.”
“Oh my God.” Lottie yanks her hand from my grasp as if she were pulling it from a fire. “What exactly is going on here?” She takes a full step back, the look of worry rife on her face. I bet Carlotta ratted me out, trying to show off to her new friend. Good Lord. She’s going to get the entire lot of us arrested—or worse.
“No.” I shake my head furtively, half-afraid she’ll bolt. “Nobody outed you. I’m transmundane, too. And so is Leo. We’re actually telesensuals. And I don’t think that’s your classification. I believe you mentioned, sensuous something or other?”
A choking sound evicts from her. Lottie looks from Leo to me, her mind buzzing with a thousand lightning quick thoughts not even I can keep track of.
“Oh my God.” She staggers back. “I mean, I knew there were others out there. Heck, I’ve been to a convention or two, but I didn’t realize.” She points my way. “Bizzy?”
I give a slight nod. “It’s true.”
Something just shy of a groan expels from her, and she quickly offers me a warm embrace. She pulls back with tears in her eyes.
“I had no idea.” She winces. “Can you really read my thoughts?”
“Yes,” I say. “But I promise I wasn’t trying to pry.”
Leo blows out a slow breath. “I’d better get back in there. Lottie, you’re a supersensual?”
She nods over at him. “I can see the dead. And when I do, it almost always means something ominous for someone around me. Most of the time, I see pets that have passed on, coming back to help solve the murder of their previous owner, but sometimes I see people, too—and this afternoon I saw the ghost of a woman.”
“I heard you thinking about her.” I cringe. “And to be honest, I was worried for you in an entirely different way. Is the woman still here?”
She glances back at the entrance to the ballroom. “I don’t know. I’ll have to get back in there and see if I can find her. But don’t you worry. She’ll show up. And she won’t be leaving until the case is solved.” She looks to Leo and me.
Leo leans in. “Lottie, can you communicate with the dead?”
She gives a cautious nod. “In the beginning I couldn’t even hear them. But as my powers grew, they garnered the ability to speak, move things in the material world, and lastly, my powers have gifted them the holy grail—food. As in they can eat. Oh, and not only could I hear them, but if you hold my hand, you can hear them, too. I act as a sort of conduit.”
“Wow,” both Leo and I say in unison.
Leo gives a wistful shake of the head. “I’d better get back in there before I lose my job. I’ll be in touch.” Leo heads off just as Sherlock and Fish hop over.
Bizzy! Fish lets out an ear-piercing meow. Is it really happening again?
“I think so,” I whisper, quickly scooping her up as an entire barrage of sheriff’s deputies and firemen stream their way into the ballroom.
“Lottie”—I lean her way—“there’s something I have to tell you about my gift.”
Sherlock lets out a quick bark, and Lottie gives him a hearty scratch behind the ears.
Lottie gives a soft smile his way. “I think I’ve fallen in love with both of your fur babies, Bizzy. If you ever come to Honey Hollow, you’ll have to bring them, too. I can tell you love them as much as I love my sweet cats.”
“I’m glad you love them, because while you’re with me, not only can you talk to them, but they can talk right back.”
“What?” she hisses with a hopeful look on her face. “You mean…?”
“Yes—I can read their minds, too. We’ll get together with Pancake and Waffles when everything settles down, and I’ll help the three of you communicate.”
Tears swell in her eyes. “Bizzy.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “You may never get rid of me.”
A tiny laugh bubbles from me. “In an odd way, I feel as if I’ve gained another sister. Now let’s get in there and see if we can figure out what happened.”
“Good idea.”
We’re about to head back in when that redhead with the scarf I bumped into earlier speeds this way.
“What’s going on?” She’s taken off her sunglasses and her eyes are wide with surprise. “Anna’s out front and she looks as if she’s about to bolt.”
I suck in a quick breath, and before I can answer, Jasper exits the ballroom.
“Jasper.” I run right over. “Was Trevor murdered?”
His chest expands as he gives a quick look around. “I don’t know. But the medical team just took a look at him. They think he might have been poisoned.”
I turn and offer Lottie an ominous nod. The redhead catches my eye once again and I turn back to Jasper.
“That woman who caused the ruckus is out front. The one who claims she was Trevor’s wife? Do you think she might have something to do with this?”
“I’d better have a word with her.” He takes off and Sherlock follows dutifully along—and the redhead is right on his heels.
“Come on, Lottie,” I say. “Let’s see if we can get to the bottom of this.”
“I’ll try my best to hunt down that ghost.”
“And I’ll try my best to hunt down the killer’s thoughts.”
We head back into the ballroom where the scent of fresh baked treats permeates the air. The sheriff’s department is busy quizzing the crowd, and I spot Celine up front near the area where Trevor Harrison lies lifeless on the floor.
Celine is huddled with her friend, Melina Cabot, one of the other judges in the competition.
I speed on over and try my best to hone in on Celine’s thoughts, but it seems as if she’s drawing a blank at the moment—not uncommon with grief.
“Celine,” I say as I come upon her. “Can I get you anything? A glass of water?”
“No.” She waves the idea off. “I’m going to be fine.” She turns and glares at the man she was so affectionate with just a little while ago. “He’s gone.” That was easier than I thought. I’m not sure I’ve ever wished anyone dead before, but I certainly got my wish, now didn’t I? Humiliating me like that, in front of the world. My God, once my mother gets wind of it, I’ll never hear the end of it.
Melina pats her friend on the shoulder. “I guess it was just meant to be.”
I blink back at her odd statement.
She gives a nervous laugh. “I’d like to think each one of us has a predetermined time to go and this was his. Sometimes people simply die.” She shrugs over at Celine.
“It wasn’t his time,” Celine says it incredulously. “Believe me, he was in perfect health. That man got what was coming to him.” She glares at something or someone at the back of the room before Lottie’s boyfriend, Noah, comes up.
“Detective Noah Fox.” He flashes his badge her way and offers a warm dimpled smile. “Detective Wilder asked me to temporarily aid in the investigation until he can step back into the room. Would you mind if I asked you a couple of questions?”
“Not at all.” Celine shudders as she follows him over a few feet.
“Poor thing,” I say, looking at the woman.
Melina sighs. “I don’t know about that. I’m betting Celine suddenly became a very wealthy woman.”
“Not if that other woman proves to be his legal wife,” I say.
A dull laugh pumps from her. “Trevor was a weasel through and through. And I’m not afraid to say it out loud.” But what I won’t say out loud is that the old rat got exactly what I was hoping for. She glances over at his body and a dark smile curves on her lips. “It was nice meeting you, Bizzy.”
She starts to take off, and I block her path without thinking.
“Um—the Lobster Festival,” I say a touch too loud. “Do you think we can put in an order of your hot cross buns for this weekend?” Something tells me I’ll be anxious to pick up on some more of her less than savory thoughts. Something is not right with this woman. She has one serious beef with Trevor—or had one serious beef—and I want to know why.
“Not a problem.” She shakes her head as if she couldn’t believe I asked. “I’ll give you a call in the morning and we can shore up the details.” She takes off and is intercepted by a deputy before she can leave the room.
I turn just as Georgie and Carlotta come upon me.
“Bizzy!” Georgie gives me a quick shake.
“Don’t worry, ladies. We’ve got everything under control,” I say, doing my best to calm them, but both Georgie and Carlotta wave me off.
“We’re not worried about that.” Georgie looks as if she’s about to leap out of her skin with excitement. “We did it!” she squeals and garners the stares of a small circle of deputies. “We really pulled it off!”
“Would you keep it down.” I lift my finger to my lips in the event my words aren’t processing. Who knows what funny little vases she has hidden in that kaftan of hers. “They’re going to think you’re confessing.”
Carlotta huffs, “We were too busy creating perfection to off some two-timing louse.”
Georgie waves her hands over her head. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you
. Our sticky maple monkey bread turned out perfect!” She kisses the tips of her fingers for effect.
“Oh good God.” I manage to squeeze a smile out for the two of them. “Do me a favor. Take your monkey bread to the café where you can both enjoy it in peace. And maybe take Sherlock and Fish along with you.”
Georgie snaps her fingers in my face. “Now you’re thinking! We’ll save you a bite. Bring Lottie and Emmie with you! Ten bucks says they’ll try to shake us down for the recipe!”
Carlotta honks out a laugh. “My Lot Lot couldn’t pry it from my cold dead hands.”
This time, half the eyes in the ballroom look their way and I catch Lottie’s horrified face as she mouths I’m sorry over to me.
I lift a hand as if to reassure her it’s fine. As much as Lottie and I have in common, it seems Georgie might have found her soul sister as well.
I give a quick glance around the room and spot the man that I met earlier in the afternoon, Trevor’s friend—Julian something. Julian Morgan, I think.
With measured steps, I make my way in his direction. He has his hands in his pockets and he’s staring over at poor Trevor, who’s lying there in the open for all to see while the coroner steps up to document the scene.
“Julian,” I say softly as I come upon him. “Is there something I can do for you?”
He startles a moment, and he has a hard time dragging his eyes from the deceased.
“No, I’m fine.” Better than fine, actually. He lets out a heavy breath. And I can breathe easy from here on out. He nods my way. “It was nice meeting you, Bizzy.”
“You’ll have to give your information to one of the deputies before they clear you. Just in case there was foul play.” I lean in as if expecting to hear a confession.
You say foul play. I say fair play. He blinks a short-lived smile. “Will do.”
He takes off into the crowd and a chill rides through me.
Everything’s set in motion. An inner voice goes off from somewhere in the room, but I can’t get a bead on exactly where it came from or who said it. The voices all sound monotone when I’m not looking right at the person.
Felines and Fatalities (Country Cottage Mysteries Book 6) Page 3
