Poison Apple Crisp

by Addison Moore

“What?” My voice hikes to its upper register. “Carlotta, Noah is naked and he was firing a gun. That’s hardly plausible.”

  “That’s where the kink comes in,” she growls back.

  “Carlotta”—Everett narrows his eyes over hers—“you lied to her.”

  “She’s a kid. Who do you think lies were invented for?” she fires back. “Besides, she was afraid twelve ways to Sunday out there at the thought of a masked lunatic running around the neighborhood. I’d better get next door before they hit that house next.” She darts off, and I’m a bit relieved on many levels, but mostly so Evie won’t be alone.

  I pull Everett in. “You should go, too.”

  “I’m not leaving you. We’ll get back to sleep.”

  “There’s no way I’ll get back to sleep.” I check the clock on the wall. “Besides, my alarm just went off. It’s time for me to head to the bakery.”

  Noah and Everett exchange a silent nod, and I take a moment to note they’re both in their skivvies. It’s an honest look at this time of night, but with their hair mussed, their muscles flexed at attention, and both men wielding weapons in their hands, it’s a mighty tempting look, too.

  I can’t help it. It’s like I’ve got an electrical charge coursing through me just begging to be expelled in some manner—the very same way I got into this debacle. I blame it all on the extra helping of hormones.

  “All right, you two,” I say. “What gives?”

  Everett glances out the window a moment. “I’m not needed on the bench until two. I’ll go to the bakery with you.”

  “You mean you’ll babysit me.”

  “No,” he’s quick to disagree with my more than accurate assessment. “I am babysitting our child. Lemon, as much as Noah and I love you, we love that baby.”

  “And you think I can’t be trusted.”

  Everett’s jaw clenches before he closes his eyes. “I’ll concede.”

  “What?” Noah goes off in a panic. “I knew you’d cave. I’m not relenting. In no world do I want you chasing after criminals. Lottie”—his tone softens as he presses those verdant eyes to mine—“I promise you I’m going to track down whoever broke in here tonight. I love you so much it hurts. On an ordinary day I don’t want you working on a case. I know what can happen. I’ve seen it get ugly—for a trained professional—and I don’t want that for you. And I sure as hell don’t want that for my baby.”

  “Fine,” I snip. “I’ll make the two of you a deal. You let me open my bakery, and I’ll take one of you with me when I’m ready to question a suspect.”

  Everett’s lips tick upwards a notch. “Deal. I’ll go with you.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Noah snarls. “I’m the only one that has any business doing it anyway.”

  “Exactly why you shouldn’t come,” I say. “At least not all the time. Everett is more inconspicuous.”

  Noah bites down hard on his lip until it turns white. “Lottie, what if whoever broke in here tonight shows up at the bakery?”

  “I guess it’s a possibility,” I say. “After all, I don’t think they got what they came for.” I pull out that envelope I found and hand it to Noah. “That was tucked in the back of the book. And I’m betting it was exactly what they were looking for.”

  Chapter 7

  Noah stayed at the bakery with me until Lily showed up, while Everett stayed with Carlotta and Evie. I tried to tell Noah that Ginger was there and that he was free to leave, but he pointed out that a ghost couldn’t protect me. I knew that, but at the moment, Ginger was all I could work with.

  The morning rush just seemed to roll into the afternoon rush. It turns out, people really crave a sweet treat once the weather begins to change. We’ve already sold out of our apple crisps twice today, and I have three more batches in the oven. Apparently, the scent of warm cinnamon and sugar is wafting all the way down Main Street, herding people in with a hypnotic look on their face. We’re selling out of pumpkin spice cupcakes, apple turnovers, apple pies, pumpkin pies, pecan tassies, and my famous, or rather infamous, caramel apple cutie pies as well.

  Yes, fall is in full swing, and just about everyone in Honey Hollow is getting into the spirit of it—including Ginger who thinks my apple crisps are worth coming back from the dead for.

  The crowd finally dies down, and Lily lets out a horrid groan.

  “I’ve got an idea for you, Lottie. How about you don’t kill anyone with one of your desserts next month? Don’t you think this little slaughter and upscale marketing plan of yours is growing a bit stale?” She snorts. “And funny how it all came about at the same time you put both a homicide detective and a judge in your back pocket. I guess you proved that airhead theory I had about you wrong.”

  “Thank you, I think. But it’s all some odd cosmic coincidence. I’m not plotting anyone’s demise—except maybe Carlotta’s.” I narrow my gaze over at Meg, Evie, and Carlotta as they huddle together in the corner, noshing on a platter of fresh from the oven double chocolate brownies. “What do you think they’re talking about?”

  “You’re the investigator. Go over and investigate.”

  “I tried on three different occasions, and each time they clammed up and gave me the stink eye.”

  Lily puts together a plate of fresh baked cinnamon rolls and slides it my way.

  “It’s time to play dirty, Lottie. You’ve got questions. They’ve got answers. If they want a bite of this ooey gooey treat, they’d better cough up the truth.”

  I scoop up the plate of warm treats and make my way over.

  “Hello, ladies,” I say. “I thought you might like something fresh out of the oven.”

  The three of them all reach for the cinnamon rolls at once, and I pull the plate back a notch.

  “Not until you tell me what you’re conspiring about.”

  Meg grunts. Meg is my younger sister by a year. She has jet-black hair, pale blue eyes, and a moody disposition. She used to be a part of the wrestling circuit down in Vegas, knocking down bodies as Madge the Badge, but she’s been back in Honey Hollow for some time teaching the dancers their moneymaking moves at Red Satin Gentlemen’s Club.

  “Lot, take a load off.” Meg pulls out a seat for me while Carlotta hisses a threat her way.

  I shoot a sharp look to the woman who birthed me. “What’s the matter, Carlotta? Afraid Meg is going to rat you out? If that’s the case, you must be up to something you know I won’t approve of.” Never mind the fact Carlotta is always up to something I don’t approve of.

  “Please.” Carlotta elbows Evie. “Hear that, kid? She actually thinks I’m afraid of her.”

  Evie shrugs. “Then we should totally tell her what we’re—”

  “No!” Carlotta all but bites her nose off. “Lot Lot is in a delicate state. Her hormones are going off like fireworks, and not the good kind. We’re talking an explosion at the fireworks factory—mass casualties. She’s losing her mind and her temper. Her sanity is beginning to teeter, and that’s one boat we don’t want to rock.”

  “Meg.” I give my sister the death stare as she pulls a cinnamon roll onto her plate.

  “First, tell me how you and the baby are doing.” Meg takes a bite, and I can see my little cinnamon-based ploy of manipulation has already backfired.

  “Yeah, Mom.” Evie gives my foot a light kick from under the table. “How’s the tiny troublemaker?”

  “The baby and I are doing great.” My chest bucks because I do believe that’s the very first time I’ve said those words. The baby and I. How precious is that?

  “Oh, Lot Lot.” Carlotta shoves a cinnamon roll my way, and I take it. “Now look what you’ve done, Meg. You worked her up. Didn’t I tell you she was in a delicate state?”

  “I’m not in a delicate state.” I make a face at the master manipulator. “I feel just like myself, with the exception I’ve gone to the bathroom sixteen times already today, I get green around the gills if I even glance in Mangias’ direction, and every day at about two o’clock I hit a
wall and want nothing more than to curl up with my cats and fall into a coma.” I leave out the little detail about me chucking my cookies in the bathroom this morning in the middle of whipping up a chocolate cake. If word gets out around town that the baker is prone to puking, I’m guessing business will die down real quick.

  “So what gives?” I flash a tight smile to Carlotta and Evie. “What’s the big plan? I already know it has something to do with the supposed mean girls at Honey Hollow High and how Carlotta said she was going to put you”—I nod to Evie—“large and in charge of every teen queen in Vermont.”

  Evie clucks her tongue. “Carlotta, you told her? She’s like one degree of separation from my dad. And have you met my dad? He’s the roughest, toughest judge in all of Vermont. When he wants to cheer himself up, he adds ten years to a prison sentence. Just think of what he’s going to do to me when he finds out. Think of what he’s going to do to you.” She juts her head toward Carlotta before turning to Meg. “Or you.”

  Meg stands and straightens her apron. “I’ve got a restaurant to manage.” She starts to take off before looking to Carlotta. “We’ll talk.”

  “Just what will you talk about?” I snip over at my older, questionably wiser look-alike.

  “About Evie Stevie’s sweet sixteen,” Carlotta snips right back. “If you must know, we’ve been dreaming and scheming behind your back.” She gives a hard wink to Evie.

  “That’s right,” Evie says it a touch too loud, a touch too exaggerated, and a touch too dishonest. “We’re talking tattoo bar and everything. My cake needs to be mega, and it has to be OG. Oh, and I totes want to have a piñata filled with goodies from Tiffany’s.”

  Tiffany’s? I’m pretty sure that’s not happening. More like Target.

  Evie made it clear she just wants to have a few friends over at Everett’s house for cake and punch. All she asks is to have the house to herself for a few hours.

  Everett and I weren’t born yesterday. We know she’s probably plotting to have the world’s biggest rager. We’ve already decided to hang out across the street at Noah’s and keep an eye on things. Her birthday isn’t until the end of the month, so we still have plenty of time to shore up the details.

  “Evie.” I pick up my sweet daughter’s hand. “Tomorrow is your first day of school. Are you excited?”

  “Not really. I still haven’t picked out what I’m going to wear.”

  “Why not, kid?” Carlotta snatches another cinnamon roll off the plate. “Your daddy pitched for an all new wardrobe. And I saw your closet. You’ll never wear anything twice.”

  “Yeah, who cares?” Evie looks indifferent. “Besides, I don’t want to go home. It’s my last day of summer. How about we chase down a suspect, Mom? You never let me have any fun like that. I saw you running around in your underwear last night with Uncle Noah and Dad having a shootout in the middle of the street. Now that’s living. I’m basically rehearsing for my sarcophagus. Every day is exactly the same.”

  A dark laugh pumps from Carlotta. “Your mama is living enough for ten women. What I wouldn’t give to have a good old-fashioned shootout in my underwear at midnight. If that didn’t work those boys up, nothing will.” She slaps her hand over the table. “I just thought of something, Lot Lot. Who’s gonna watch the kid while you go out on your investigations?”

  “I’m not an investigator,” I’m quick to tell her. “I’m more worried about what will happen to the bakery right after I have the baby.”

  “Please.” Carlotta sniffs. “You come and go around here like one of the customers. Slip that woman chef next door a cool ten dollar bill and have her run the bakery while you’re kicking your heels up at home noshing on bonbons. Everyone knows Lily is the backbone of this place.”

  I glance back at Lily. “You’re not wrong,” I say. “And the name of that woman chef at the Honey Pot is Margo. You’re right, I’ll probably ask her. But it will take a lot more than ten bucks.”

  “Hear that, kid?” Carlotta swats Evie on the arm. “She knows how to grease a palm. That’s a good detail for the head babysitter to be in on.”

  “Me? Babysit?” Evie scans the ceiling before looking my way. “Wait a minute. You said you’re not having this baby until early next spring. That’s like almost my senior year. Sorry, Mom, but it’s a no-go. I’ve got both Conner and Kyle to think about.”

  Conner and Kyle are Evie’s two self-professed boyfriends. Suffice it to say, Everett and I aren’t too thrilled.

  She shrugs. “Cheer practice is every day after school, and I have to make the squad. Conner is on the football team, and Kyle is on the basketball team. Tryouts are in a week. And if Dash and I make it, we’ll be integrated into the squad and debut at our first game in two weeks.” She turns to Carlotta. “Speaking of my best friend, I’ll need to have a special place in that plan of ours for Dash.”

  “No can do, little miss,” Carlotta says with a shake of her head. “There’s only room for one queen bee at the top. She can be your number two.”

  “Sounds good. I’d better let her know.” She pulls out her phone and falls into that old familiar cellular coma.

  Carlotta leans my way. “Let’s ditch the kid and go hunt down a suspect. Who’s next on your list, Lot?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I should talk to Rachelle next? Last night Cokie mentioned Rachelle and Brenda were thick as thieves.”

  Carlotta nods. “She also mentioned a woman by the name of Alyssa Thomas.”

  I twist my lips. “You were a good spy last night, weren’t you?”

  “Not that good. I still don’t know what Mr. Sexy does behind closed doors that makes you moo like a cow.”

  “What?” I crumple up a napkin and toss it her way. “I do not moo like a cow,” I whisper in the event Evie decides to snap out of her trance.

  “All right, you oink like a pig.”

  I scoff at the thought. “That would be you, Carlotta. And I don’t want to know what Mayor Nash does to elicit that sound in you.”

  “Fine—Rachelle it is.” She sags as if she were dejected by the thought. “But we’d better find her in some dive bar or nightclub. I want to go somewhere exciting for a change. A few months back, you took me to the mall. My free time is precious to me. Make it count.”

  “That’s all you have is free time,” I retort.

  “Not anymore. I’m house hunting.”

  I gasp with unmitigated delight. “You’re moving?”

  Carlotta has been living me with me while my Grandma Nell’s old house is being rebuilt from the ground up due to black mold. Carlotta was staying there after Nell died, and she ended up flooding the place. Then she moved in with me and ended up flooding her bedroom when she melted a hole in her waterbed. I’m sensing a watery theme here. Come to think of it, she should probably move before the baby arrives or I’ll have to keep it in a life jacket whenever she’s around.

  Carlotta sniffs my way. “The place next door just came up for rent, and I put in an application.”

  “That old empty house on the other side of me?”

  “Yup.” She nods.

  “Well, that’s a start,” I say. “That house has been empty for months, and the other tenants hardly made a peep.” I heard Noah and Everett say once that if someone didn’t move in soon the place would fall apart. Just the thought of living next door to a construction site sends my blood pressure soaring. “I hope you do get it.”

  Lord knows Carlotta won’t mind a crooked doorframe or two, and that way I can start turning her room into a nursery. I’ve already lost a few nights’ sleep worrying which way to go with the décor.

  Keelie’s nursery looks as if the circus just set up shop in her spare bedroom, and Lainey’s nursery looks as if she hired an interior designer to put it together with its deep gray walls and light pink accents.

  The bell on the door chimes and in walks a familiar looking woman with a blonde wavy bob, along with a teenage girl with her red hair in a ponytail. It takes a second to pl
ace the woman, and I gasp as I wave.

  “Rachelle,” I say as both she and the girl head our way.

  “Drats.” Carlotta slumps in her seat. “I guess that means the dive bar is out.”

  “Lottie.” Rachelle hikes a smile over her face. “This is my stepdaughter, Amber, the one who’s going to be a junior this year.”

  “That’s right, you mentioned her. Nice to meet you, Amber. This is my daughter, Evie. She’s going to be a junior as well, and she’s trying out for cheer.”

  The girl’s eyes expand. “I’m on the squad.” No sooner does she say it than she’s seated next to Evie, and they’re embroiled in a conversation as if they were old friends.

  “Please join us.” I laugh as I give the invite to Rachelle. “I was just about to refresh the brownies. I’ll get us some coffee.” I motion to Lily, and she gives me the thumbs-up.

  Rachelle lands next to me with her cherry red turtleneck with a plaid jacket pulled over it, and suddenly I’m craving a whole new fall wardrobe. I suppose that’s not practical in my condition. But, then again, it sort of does warrant a whole new wardrobe.

  “I heard what happened last night.” Her pale blue eyes are wide. “About the break-in,” she whispers.

  “You did?”

  A burst of pink sparkles erupts, bright and obnoxious, as if a glitter bomb just went off as Ginger comes to life before me. She prances her tiny feet all over the last of the cinnamon rolls on the table and leaves adorable impressions of her paws through them.

  Amber glances over at the sweet treat and gobbles it down paw prints and all.

  Rachelle nods. “Detective Fox came by the school, and I heard him telling Cokie all about it.”

  I make a face. I’m not too thrilled with Noah spending time with Kooky Cokie. It’s clear she’s hot-to-trot, and her hooves just so happen to be pointed in his direction.

  “We’re fine,” I say. “I don’t know if he mentioned it, but they were just after one thing.”

  “The book,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I knew it was valuable, but I had no idea anyone would do something like that to get their hands on it. Creepy.” She shudders.