“Law of deduction.” He shuffles us to the side of the ballroom. “Who was she?”
“It was a he and I don’t know exactly, but I have a pretty good idea.”
A heavy sigh expires from him as he considers this. “Maybe it was her father or a grandfather?”
“Or maybe it was your father?” I shrink a little as I say it. “You wouldn’t happen to have a picture of him on your phone, would you?” The lookalike specter walks up and stands shoulder to shoulder with Everett, and their resemblance is uncanny. “Never mind. I don’t think I’ll need it.”
Everett leans in, his eyes narrowed over mine. “Did you say my father?”
“That’s right. I can’t be a hundred percent certain, but I’d bet a soul or two.”
The wily specter gives a barely-there wink, and I gasp.
“It is him!”
“Geez,” Everett exhales in exasperation and pinches his eyes shut.
“I’m sorry.” No sooner do I land my arm over him than I spot Noah’s eyes popping in this direction, so I pull my arm right back as if snatching it from a fire. “It must be very hard to hear that. I don’t know what’s going on. This is certainly breaking protocol with everything I’ve ever known, which wasn’t much to begin with.”
He glares at the air around him for a moment. “You can tell my father to go away. I don’t want him here.”
My mouth falls open as I look to the seemingly unmoved poltergeist amongst us. “I’m sure he heard, but nonetheless he’s not going anywhere.”
“Then I will.” Everett takes off for the hall, leaving me standing there staring at his ghost of a father.
“You heard him.” I try to shoo him away with my hands. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?”
He shakes his head, slow and serious. Dear God, he’s just as ornery as his son.
“Is Everett in danger?”
He studies my features, one inch at a time, as if there would be a quiz on them later. Not one spooky visitor from the other side has ever spoken to me—and for the most part, I’m thrilled about it, considering the fact I learned in Sunday school that mediums were heavily frowned upon at Honey Hollow’s Covenant Church. And then an idea hits me. We could play a quick game of charades, and I could guess what his mission might be. That’s totally different than communicating with the dead—oh, wait…
“Look”—I sigh just as heavy as his son did—“I don’t know what you want, but your son didn’t die today. Someone else did.” I turn a bit so that I’m facing the wall in the event Ivy Fairbanks spots me chatting away with myself and escorts me straight to the psych ward. “If you have unfinished business with your son, I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. I’m no expert in living relationships let alone ones that are well past their prime.”
He glowers at me, and those eyes of his beacon out bright as warning signals. He lifts his arm and points hard my way before pointing to himself, then in the direction Everett took off in. And just like that, he evaporates.
A tiny whimper escapes me. It’s unnerving enough when an animal pulls a disappearing act like that let alone a once-upon-a-human.
Me, him, and Everett.
I wonder what that means?
Something tells me I’m about to find out.
Chapter 4
Noah Fox presses his hooded gaze to mine, those hypnotic marbled eyes taking me in as if we were about to indulge in a feast of flesh.
“Right hand,” he says, helping me hold my fingers over the small device that lights up neon green as it captures my prints. “Thumb.” I’m quick to comply, and we do the left hand, too.
The Ashford County Sheriff’s Department is a boxy white building with white linoleum floors, plain black desks, a few cubicles, a few mysterious halls, and a holding tank somewhere in the back.
“So, am I getting thrown in the pokey?” I can’t help but take a stab at humor. Although, I’m not laughing, and I don’t suspect I will be for some time to come. Just because I didn’t see eye to eye with Collette doesn’t mean I wanted her dead. Come to think of it, I probably should have said that out loud.
“Don’t worry.” Noah pulls my hand forward and lands a kiss on my fingertip. “Nobody thinks you’re guilty.”
“Except for the people who think I did it.” I hold my phone up for him to see. “This is a picture Keelie sent me. Apparently, the bakery is under siege. Dozens of sheriff’s deputies are currently sweeping through the place, and word on the street is they plan on being there well into the morning.”
“I’m sorry.” He glances past me. “Look, you answered all the questions we had for you. And we now have your fingerprints on file. How about I give you a ride home?” His lids hood slightly once again, and my heart thumps hard against my chest. Noah Fox is a ball of testosterone, and he can’t help but permeate the vicinity with it.
“It sounds perfect. I’d love nothing more than to spend some serious alone time with you.”
An icy breeze slices through my clothes as Ivy Fairbanks whisks into the room and hastily takes off her jacket.
“I’m glad you’re here, Fox. I’ve got an entire list of suspects we need to comb through. Starting with”—she spins on her heel and stops short when she spots me—“Carlotta Lemon.”
“It’s Lottie, please. Nobody calls me that.” There is not a person in my life who refers to me as Carlotta. I’ve been Lottie since the day I landed in the Lemons’ arms. “Carlotta is more or less a formality.”
She folds her arms across her chest, that smug look riding high on her perfect little face. “And these are formal circumstances.” She looks to Noah. “Has she undergone questioning and been fingerprinted?”
“Yes and yes.” He winces my way because we both know what’s coming next.
“Then she’s free to go. You, however, are not. We need to sift through the suspect list. Our chances of catching the killer is best within—”
“The first twenty-four hours,” Noah finishes for her. “I know.”
“I can help,” I gladly volunteer. “I mean, I was there. I heard and saw everything.”
“No.” Ivy doesn’t even bother to look up at me. “The last thing we need is a civilian tainting the case. So, unless you have a confession ready to bubble out of you, I suggest you leave the premises.”
My mouth falls open. “Confession?” I practically mouth the word to Noah as he walks me to the door. “But you’re my ride. I’ll wait out in the hall. Besides, I need some of those soothing kisses you dole out if I’m ever going to fall asleep tonight,” I whisper that last part.
“I heard that,” Ivy chimes as she continues to busy herself with paperwork. I bet it’s all fake. Who works with paper anymore? The entire department has crossed over to software and computers. It’s like she’s living in the Stone Age.
Noah presses out a warm smile. “I’ll arrange for a car to take you home.”
“An official sheriff’s car? No way. Word will spread around town, and they’ll have me in stocks by noon. The people of Honey Hollow do not play games. The last thing I need is to be paraded around town in the back of a cruiser. It’s bad enough the boys in blue are pilfering the bakery. I’ll have to toss out half my stock just to rid it of their germs.” I run my fingers down his tie and look up at this gorgeous man before me. “I’ll wait.”
His dimples ignite with a grimace. “No can do. This could take hours, and I’d never want to steal a moment of sleep from you. Can you call someone?”
“To come all the way to Ashford?”
Noah tips his head with a look of remorse. “Everett will do it.”
“No way. No thank you.” Just the thought of Everett and his unhappy haunting makes me want to shudder. “I know just the person to call.”
“Great.” He presses a warm kiss over my lips, just enough to keep me wanting more. “Remember, Lot, stay out of my investigation. I need you safe.”
I tip my head back and withhold the urge to snarl. “Will do.” I head out o
f the station and into the night.
Keelie absolutely refused to drive to Ashford. Refused to pick up her very best friend. Although, in her defense, she did say she was close to getting a number from an exceptionally adorable sheriff’s deputy. It’s nice to know I come first except when I don’t. I’d call Lainey, but I know for a fact she’ll be getting up in three short hours. She’s always been an early riser—and she’s also the head of the Honey Hollow Library, where I happen to know she works a shift tomorrow. My mother would die a thousand deaths if I asked her to pick me up at the sheriff’s department. So that just leaves one person.
Otis Bear Fisher rolls up in his beat-up truck with a magnetic sign slapped to the side reading Fisher Construction. Repairs, Additions, and More!
“What’s up, Lot?” He nods as I get in and buckle up. Bear is my ex and for good reason. Sure, he’s a gorgeous fair-haired surfer type—without a single wave to hit in the great state of Vermont—but he cheated on me something awful, and it’s an experience I never want to repeat. Columbia—and what I lovingly refer to as the New York debacle—runs through my mind, and I let it run right back out. Lord knows I don’t have time to ruminate on how all of my exes have done me wrong. Especially not while Noah is trapped in that Ivy tower. I’m sure she was counting the seconds until she was alone with him just to hogtie him with those long red tendrils of hers.
“So, did they throw the book at you?” He chuckles as we head onto the highway.
“Very funny. You know I didn’t kill Collette.”
He shakes his head wistfully. “It’s Hunter all over again. I’d worry about a serial killer, but thankfully Stella got put away.” Stella Morgan was the stripper who happened to have Hunter’s baby and then killed poor Hunter as a means to keep him from his child. I’m just glad she’s getting the help she needs. “I can’t believe Collette’s dead. I’m in the middle of replacing her water heater. I still need to get some of my tools out of her house.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I’ve got a key.” A sly smile rides over his face as he gives a slight chuckle into the road.
“Why are you laughing? Oh my God!” It hits me like a ton of pornographic bricks. “You were with Collette, weren’t you?”
“Long after we were through. Besides, that’s been over for a while. But yeah, she gave me a key. Said I could come over whenever I wanted.”
“Whenever you wanted?” Something quasi-illegal is brewing within me. I can feel it. “So, the neighbors are used to seeing you walk in and out of her home?” A rush of adrenaline kicks in right along with what I’m guessing is a very bad idea.
“That’s right. And no, I’m not taking you. I’m sure the sheriffs will have that place on lockdown come morning.”
“True. But they’re sort of busy at the bakery at the moment.” I glance over to Bear and shrug as he looks my way.
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes. They’ll be there in just a few hours. You said so yourself. We’ll be in and out, I promise.”
“What?” He wheezes as he leans toward the wheel. “What in the heck are you looking for?”
“I don’t know. But I do know that someone is setting me up, and I need to get to the bottom of this before things escalate. Maybe she left a note, a to-do list, or maybe she has a casserole she forgot in the oven, and I can turn it off before the entire place burns down.”
“First, we both know Collette has never eaten a casserole let alone baked one. Second, every last list she ever wrote was on her phone, and I’m pretty sure she had it with her tonight.”
“Fine.” I fold my arms over my chest in a fit of desperation. “Then I’ll just help you pick up your tools and we’ll leave. Once they have that place under quarantine, it might be weeks before you see them again.” He starts to say something, and I hold up a finger. “Do not argue with me, Bear Fisher. In the event you’ve forgotten, I helped track down Hunter’s killer. You owe me.”
“Fine. But if I get arrested for breaking and entering—”
“It’s not breaking and entering if you have a key.” I hope.
“Let’s just say I’m not opposed to throwing you under the bus if we’re caught.”
“We never were much of a team to begin with.”
Collette Jenner lives in a densely populated neighborhood filled with professionals who regularly commute to Ashford. A few years back, Honey Hollow was pegged as a desirable bedroom community for those looking to reduce their housing costs. But what they save in housing they lose in gas. Ashford is still a decent ride away.
The streetlamp above Collette’s tiny Tudor blinks on and off every few seconds, giving the neighborhood a haunted appeal. Her house is shrouded with mist, the walkway damp and slippery as Hunter leads us around back and lets us in through a door that opens into the kitchen. He flicks on the lights, and my stomach explodes in a vat of acid.
“What did you do that for?” I bat my hand at him.
“Because if we walk around with flashlights, I’m pretty sure that suggests we’re doing something wrong. I’m just here to get my tools, remember?”
“Oh right,” I say, casting a quick glance around. Her cabinets are bone white, and the counter has a dark green slab of granite sitting over it. It looks staged, cold and sterile, like a showroom you might see at a hardware store. There’s not one sign of human occupation in sight, and I can’t say I’m too surprised. “I’ll be right back.”
“Lot?” Bear calls after me. “I’m getting my tools!”
“You do that.” I quickly make my way into the living room. Not a pillow out of place, and the fireplace looks as if it’s never been used. It’s immaculately decorated with rustic furniture, clean lines, and leather sofas. No sign of a desk or even a briefcase near the door. I head down the hall, two spare bedrooms that look as if they were plucked out of a Pottery Barn catalog.
I head upstairs, and the trail of her perfume still lingers in the air. A pang of grief hits me because I know for a fact she’ll never be back in this house again. I turn on the hallway light with my sleeve and head into the master bedroom. A large king-sized bed takes up most of the space along with a headboard that stands at least six feet tall that leans against the wall. Her briefcase sits opened on a desk near her bed. I quickly shuffle my way over and turn on the flashlight on my phone to get a better look at it.
Flowery handwriting decorates a yellow legal pad, and I quickly snap a picture. Something about deductions. The name Jules is crossed out, and the words CALL BRAD are all in caps.
I move over to the side of the bed and open up the nightstand with the sleeve of my dress. No sooner do I flash the light over the contents than I suck in a sharp breath.
A whip, a rope, a ball gag, and a pair of handcuffs stare back at me looking guilty as sin, and I choke while ogling the goods.
“Collette Jenner,” I whisper as I carefully close it up again. I head into her bathroom and flash the light over the counter, exposing a basket full of cosmetics, a brush filled with red hair, and next to it sits a small orange Post-it with the words Jungle Room scrawled hastily followed by an exclamation point and a severe slash underneath it as if highlighting its importance.
“Lot?” Bear calls from below. “Time to head out.”
I take a quick picture, turn off the light, and head back down.
Bear picks up his tool bag and sags my way as if he were sorry he ever met me, and that might be true. “You find what you were looking for?”
“I wasn’t looking for anything, so I guess the answer is no. Hey, was Collette into kink?”
Bear’s eyes widen a notch as he leads me out the door and locks up behind us.
“So, you found the toys, did you?” A perverse laugh strums from his chest.
“Oh gross. You are disgusting.”
Bear drives me home, and all the way there I picture Collette wrapped up and strapped up, but it’s not Bear I envision hopping around on that mattress with her—it’s Everett.
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“Thanks for the ride,” I say, piling out and securing my purse over my shoulder. “How about we keep our last stop a secret just between you and me?”
His cheek flickers as he stares up at me. “Fine. But now we’re even. My family has been through enough grief this last month. The last thing I need to do is get in over my head in another murder investigation.”
Noah’s reprimand comes back to me. “We did not investigate,” I say as I wave him off and turn toward my brand new rental.
Next door the lights are on, and I note a silhouette in the bedroom window upstairs as well as one in the living room, and both of those familiar frames just so happen to be looking my way. I give a brief wave and head inside my own home and seal the door shut behind me.
Collette Jenner is dead, both the bakery and I are under suspicion, Everett has a ghost attached to his side that is far more ornery than he is, and I might have stepped into Noah’s investigation in a roundabout way.
And here I thought November was going to be all about baking a cornucopia of cookies and getting ready for the Thanksgiving Pumpkin Pie Bake-Off. I can think of very few things I’m grateful for at the moment.
Pancake struts my way, sleepy eyed and overall grumpy looking.
“Come here, my sweet cat.” I scoop him into my arms and press a gentle kiss over his forehead. “I’m thankful for you. Yes, I am.” I rock him in my arms as I look out my window and over to Everett’s home, now devoid of any light.
“I bet he was all too familiar with Collette’s freaky side.” I frown openly at the dark expanse outside my window. “I sure didn’t know Collette. I guess you can’t really know someone, know their deep, dark secrets, what devices and toys they have lining their nightstand. I am curious about the Jungle Room, though. It sounded important, like she was excited about it.”
I glance out into the cold, steely night as the fog rolls into the streets like a band of marching poltergeists.
I am staying out of Noah’s investigation. But that doesn’t mean I can’t start my own. And the first clue I need to detangle is the mysterious Jungle Room.
Pumpkin Spice Sacrifice Page 4
