Spooky Spice Cake Curse

by Addison Moore

  She didn’t mention that.

  “I’m sorry, Lottie.” She hikes her full skirt a notch as she sidesteps her way past me. “I’m afraid I don’t want to continue this conversation with you. I wish you and the new baby a good life.” She stalks off, and a part of me wonders if I just let the killer go free. Another part of me isn’t so convinced. Just because she caught her husband in the act, doesn’t mean she slayed him.

  I head back toward the party, and my phone chirps in my pocket.

  I’ve already missed three frantic messages from Everett and one from Noah.

  Everett wants to know where I am, and Noah says he’s almost here.

  I’m just about to answer them both when a woman dressed as a flapper trots by in a red sequin gown with gold beading.

  “Chardonnay?” I trot right alongside of the redhead until she stops and turns my way.

  “Lottie. You scared me.” She presses her hand to her chest and pants. “I wasn’t planning on staying—or seeing anyone. I was actually on my way to another party, but I couldn’t resist coming here one more time. It was here that I saw him last.” Her eyes fill with tears as she looks to the cavernous structure with people bleeding in and out of the entry. “If I had only known it would be the very last time I would see him. Of course, I didn’t know then what I know now.”

  “What do you know now?” Adrenaline surges through me as I anticipate everything and nothing.

  Her hand rises to her belly in the same manner that my own is doing—and I know.

  “Oh, Chardonnay.” It comes from me mournful.

  “I’ll be all right.” She gives a weak smile down at her belly. “We’ll be all right. It’s probably best this way. Cordelia—well, she would have never found out, I suppose. Ichabod once told me he shielded her from any knowledge of his illegitimate children.”

  “Ichabod has other children?”

  She nods. “From what I understand quite a few, but I don’t know if any have come forward.”

  “Cordelia mentioned that the Hearsts were forbidden from participating in those genetics kits that trace your ancestors,” I say. “I bet that makes it harder for those that think they might belong to the family.”

  “Impossible even. But I know who my baby belongs to.” She takes a deep breath as she looks back at the house. “And when the time is right, I might just cash in on this baby’s golden DNA. I won’t be able to do the cabaret forever. And I’ve got my child’s future to think about now. If I could just figure out how to go about it. There’s no way I’d speak to Cordelia about it.”

  “I can’t say I blame you.” I sigh. “If I were you, I’d get Trixie Pierce’s number. She’s just enough removed from the family but has all the right connections to them, thanks to the fact she’s Cordelia’s assistant. But she won’t be for long. You might want to act fast. I don’t know how much longer she’ll have the job.”

  “Trixie?” She rolls her eyes at the mention of the girl. “I went to school with Trixie up in Scooter Springs. I didn’t realize she got married. She was Trixie Mendelson when I knew her. She was always brooding, always angry. We stayed away from one another back then, just like we did when we crossed paths here. That’s why I was so surprised that she asked me to take part in the haunted house.”

  “Ichabod didn’t ask?”

  A tiny giggle strums from her. “Heavens no. But he came around pretty quickly. And Lord knows I made the trouble worth his while.” She takes a deep breath while holding her stomach. “You’ll have to excuse me, Lottie. I suddenly have the urge to pee and puke at the very same time.”

  “Been there, done that,” I say as she takes off in a hurry.

  “Oh my God.” I scan the crowd of bodies as my adrenaline goes into overdrive.

  I need to find Noah or Everett.

  Or perhaps I need to find someone else entirely—someone who has been playing fast and loose with their identity the entire time.

  The sky fractures with a spasm of light in four different directions at once and the crowd screams with delight.

  The icy wind picks up and I shudder.

  Nell was right. Something wicked has blown into Honey Hollow.

  And tonight, that wicked reign is about to come to an end.

  Now to find my prime suspect and cut this evil to the quick.

  Chapter 17

  I don’t have Ethel. I don’t have Noah or Everett.

  Deep down, I know all of these things should be considered before approaching a suspect—a potentially violent one at that—so I do my best to give great pause to the situation and soak in the Halloween festivities going on around me.

  It’s getting late, the air is chilled and wet with dew, and the youngest children are quickly dissipating while older, far more scantily clad teenagers and adults arrive on the scene.

  The Hearst haunted house looks to be a huge success this dark and eerie night. The twinkle lights glitter like orange and purple jewels up against a bruised night sky, thick with clouds that look ready to pour their fury over Honey Hollow. Jags of lightning go off intermittently, followed by deep roars of thunder, so loud and venomous it sounds as if it could peel your skin off.

  I texted Noah first and told him that I thought I had a lead on the case. And he texted right back and let me know that his truck was having problems—that he was calling the auto club, and that under no circumstances should I speak to any suspect.

  I’m pretty sure he assumed I was with Everett, but I can’t find my handsome husband to save my life, and he’s not responding to my calls or texts.

  And while I’m holding my phone in my hand, I decide to do a little research. I look up Cassie Mendelson, and the page populates before me. She was a nurse in Scooter Springs with several honors attached to her name, and the few scant articles regarding her are all tied to the medical field.

  Next I look up Trixie Mendelson but come up empty. Huh. Chardonnay said she knew her as such. And then it hits me. Trixie must be a nickname of some sort.

  What’s the formal name for Trixie?

  Is there a formal name for Trixie?

  Another jag of lightning goes off and touches down right onto the Hearst haunted house, and I watch in horror as that lavender aura pulsates around the cavernous estate like a halo born of darkness.

  The Hearst house…

  And just like that, I see that the answer to Ichabod’s murder was right in front of my face all along.

  It’s as if my legs take on a life of their own, and as I walk toward that haunted house, a spray of stars fills the space to my right as Duke appears in all his dark glory.

  He lets out a howl of a bark. “I see that look in your eyes, Lottie. You’re onto the killer, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe,” I pant. “And where were you?” I ask with a touch of irritation in my voice. “I just spoke to four potential suspects—one of which I’m almost positive is the killer. Let me guess—” I say out loud as I thread my way through the masses of people who have descended at the Hearst Estate in hopes to have a devilishly good time. “You were with that Butt Nugget of yours.” I’m not afraid to turn that disgusting nickname Carlotta has for Duke right back on her.

  “And if I was?” A deep-throated maniacal laugh belts from him. “I don’t see the harm in me enjoying myself while on this nefarious plane, do you?”

  “It depends on how you define enjoy.”

  “Carlotta loves me. She loves to snuggle, and I love to kiss her. She says I understand her like no human is capable of.”

  “That’s funny, I’ve said that about my cats more times than not. I guess she really does feel connected to you. A part of me wishes you could stay forever just so that Carlotta wouldn’t get her heart broken.”

  “I would never break her heart—not intentionally.”

  “Well, you’re bound to—” I stop cold when I spot the exact woman I’m looking for.

  There she is, dressed like the wench she is, and I catch her as she attempts to pull a tarp ove
r a table laden with props—masks, an array of weaponry, large plastic gallons labeled blood, and heaps of spare body parts, legs, arms, heads.

  I won’t lie, it’s an unnerving sight.

  “Trixie?” I call out as I step in her midst, and the petite brunette looks up and offers a toothy smile with cherry-stained lips.

  “Oh hey, Lottie. Don’t mind me. I’m still trying to preempt that storm that’s headed this way. Cleanup doesn’t start until tomorrow, but judging by the sky and this strange electrical storm, it’s going to take a few precautions to keep things dry. What’s going on? Can I help you with something?”

  Duke lets out a deafening growl. “Is this her—the killer?”

  I don’t dare answer, only because I’d like to be certain before I unleash the beast within him.

  “Trixie—” My chest palpitates as I struggle to catch my breath. A thousand thoughts sail through my mind, and all of them make me question if I should back up and run for the sake of my baby.

  My hand lands protectively over my belly.

  Her brows furrow as she takes a few steps over.

  “Are you okay, Lottie? Is something wrong with the baby?”

  “Oh no, I’m fine. I just—I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions if you have the time.”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve got all night. What’s on your mind? Does your mom want any of the props? If she does, she can have them. It’s my job to get rid of them, and I’d be happy to donate them all to her. Just have her swing by tomorrow, and she can take whatever she wants.”

  “That’s very generous of you.”

  “No problem. Was that your question?” There’s a general sadness about her. A hurt deep down in her soul that keeps bubbling to the surface without her permission. It’s hard to see, but with a discerning eye, it’s evident right there on her seemingly sweet, pretty face.

  “Ask her, Lottie.” Duke thunders and my body stiffens. “Ask her if she killed my Ichabod.”

  “I was just talking to Chardonnay,” I whisper. “She mentioned she knew you from Scooter Springs.”

  She swallows hard. “Yes, actually. We weren’t friends or anything. But weird, huh? Here I’m working for Cordelia, and she’s sleeping with the woman’s husband. Not really a shocker. Chardonnay had a reputation back in Scooter Springs.”

  “I guess some people never change.” I take a step her way. “Trixie? I’ve been thinking about names for my baby. I like yours a lot.”

  “Really?” She shrugs with a smile that alludes to the fact she’s humbled by the thought. “Thank you.”

  “Do you have a formal name?”

  “Beatrice.” She glances skyward. “I’m sorry, I was never crazy about it. I never wanted anything to do with it. But my mother said it was an ode to my father.”

  “Your father.” I nod. “Ichabod Hearst?”

  Her head inches back as she stops all movement, and her eyes lock with mine a moment too long.

  I have my answer. I should go.

  Her chest pumps with a dry laugh. “What makes you think Ichabod was my father?”

  “Because he had an affair with your mother—Cassie Mendelson.”

  The whites of her eyes flash as her features darken.

  I shake my head. “I should have put it together yesterday in my bakery when you were able to correct me on that name. Cassie was your mother and Ichabod loved her very much, but he couldn’t marry her—because his own mother, Beatrice, wouldn’t allow it. How is that for irony? You were named after the very person who turned your father against your mother. I bet that has a little to do with the fact you didn’t want much to do with that name.”

  Her mouth falls open, and a steady plume of fog emits from her.

  “Why?” She shakes her head. “Why are you doing this?”

  “You go first,” I say. “You killed Ichabod that day, right here in his family home—and you did it, I’m guessing, to exact revenge for his outright rejection of your mother and you.”

  “No.” She shakes her head as she steadies herself against the table.

  “Yes,” I whisper. “That night when Everett and I were telling you there had been an accident I saw dark spots on your glasses. You said it was paint, but I think we both know better now. It was his blood, wasn’t it?”

  She staggers a moment as she struggles to catch her breath.

  “You can’t prove anything, Lottie.”

  “That day at my mother’s book club, when I told you I was adopted, you mentioned that your own father wanted to put you up for adoption, but your mother couldn’t be swayed. I bet it hurt deeply when you found that out.”

  “It stung,” she breathes the words out. “He hated me. He wanted me to go away, Lottie. He was horrible to my mother. You can’t tell someone they’re the love of your life and then tell them to disappear off the face of the Earth. I have rights as his daughter. He should have been a real man. He should have stayed, but instead he was swayed by his horrible parents and his horrible grandmother. I hate them all.”

  “You tried your best to pin this on Cordelia. She was such a perfect person to push into the path of this investigation. You took her medication away, didn’t you? And then when she needed more, you didn’t bother to refill it. You sold her on some herbs. And according to Cordelia, they worked. But you didn’t care whether or not they were helping her. You just needed her to look as if she was out of her mind. Another component to the motive. I’m guessing it was no coincidence that Chardonnay’s room was next to Ichabod’s. You coordinated the entire layout of this haunted house. You invited her there, and then you planted her next to him because you knew they wouldn’t be able to resist one another. And then you brought Cordelia up so she could see them. Fester wasn’t there at all. You lied. How did you manage it all?”

  A laugh bubbles from her. “Easier than pie. All I had to do was let Chardonnay know that Ichabod was requesting to see her, that he mentioned she looked irresistible in that dress, and the rest, as they say, is history. I took Cordelia’s phone away earlier in the day, and then I told her I saw it in that very room. She made a beeline to Ichabod and caught them doing their thing. It was too easy to orchestrate.”

  “And once Cordelia left, you set the rest of your murderous plan into motion.”

  A wicked smile flickers on her lips. “While Chardonnay was away playing with the rat who spawned me, I outfitted that chainsaw with the very detail it needed to be lethal. And once she left for the restroom to compose herself, I made quick work of it. At first I didn’t think I could do it. I told Ichabod that I had a message from Cassie Mendelson, and he turned around with delight in his eyes—right before they turned to horror. I fired up that machine so fast, it was over before it ever began. I landed the chainsaw back in Chardonnay’s room before she ever got there, and I took off. I busied myself because I knew it was just a matter of time. And then you came along. You’re always coming along, aren’t you?” Her hand moves quickly behind her back, and before I can register what she’s reaching for, she catches me by the wrist with her other hand.

  Duke lets out a ferocious bark just as Trixie lifts the blade of the axe high into the air.

  “Is that a dog?” She turns to look, and I do my best to shove her away, but she has a death grip on me. “I’m sorry, Lottie,” she grunts as we struggle for the weapon. “But unfortunately, you’ll be another casualty of the Hearst curse.” A dark laugh expels from her. “But, then again, I’ve been the driving force behind that curse as of late. I pushed my grandmother off that ferry. I was there the day my grandfather overdosed on his heart medicine. In fact, I arranged for that very thing to happen. The power it gave me to take away their lives just like they did mine—it was sublime.”

  “They didn’t take away your life,” I riot at her.

  “They denied me my rightful place in this world!”

  Duke barks and snaps as he bites down on her skirt in an effort to pull her off of me, but she’s not budging.

 
The sky lights up like a shattered chandelier, followed by a deafening growl of thunder.

  “Duke!” I shout with all my might. “Do something. Find Carlotta.”

  Trixie brings down the axe and I duck to my right and she slices that blade so very close I feel the heat of its fury right over my thigh.

  “Trixie, stop! I’m a mother,” I plead with the woman as I attempt to wrestle her off of me.

  “You should have thought of that sooner!” She lifts that blade one more time and brings it down with such force it takes everything in me to duck and roll to evade it.

  Duke lands between us just in time to have his poor head sliced right off his ghostly body. I watch in stunned amusement as it rolls across the field. And just as fast as it rolled off, it zips right back where it belongs. Duke jumps onto Trixie’s chest, sending her crashing onto that pile of props, and the entire table tips backwards.

  “Lottie!” a deep voice riots from behind.

  “Lemon!” Everett tackles me and moves me away from the area just as lightning touches down onto the field next to us.

  Trixie scrambles to her feet in an attempt to run off, but she doesn’t get far as Noah quickly restrains her hands behind her back and cuffs her.

  “Duuuke!” Carlotta runs this way with her arms flailing just as the passionate poltergeist rises into the sky, his coat gleaming, illuminated from the inside like a jack-o’-lantern.

  He howls down at her. “Goodbye, Nookie Monster. Don’t forget me. I’ll be waiting for you. Until we meet again.”

  A sharp flash of lightning ignites, and as it dissipates, it takes Duke with it. The air grows unnaturally still and quiet for a moment as we all look up in wonder.

  Carlotta drops to her knees and howls to the sky, and it breaks my heart to see her in that much pain.

  “Lemon, are you hurt?” Everett leans his head in my line of vision, but before I can answer, a sizzle of lightning goes off and hits the roof of the Hearst mansion. Another bolt of lightning strikes the rooftop again, and another, and another until a ring of lightning bolts hover over the haunted estate like a nest composed of lavender fire.