But I figure at this point it’s useless to hide anything from these ladies.
Connie tears the sheet of paper we’ve all but colored in with our theories and crumples it into a ball.
“Never put anything in writing.” She pitches it into the fire. “The feds can use it against you.”
“Connie”—I stare at her in disbelief—“we happen to be on the right side of the law with this.”
Rudolph raises his head from the corner of the living room. “I’ve always been attracted to dangerous women.”
Cat lets out an obnoxious chuckle. “I guess this is a good time to confess I have a thing for antlers.”
Connie jolts as she picks up her cocoa. “Did you say the right side of the law? That’s not my forte. It can feel a bit disorienting for me.”
I should say.
I was feeling a little disoriented myself on the drive home as I tried to calmly explain to Noah that Everett agreed to look the other way with Connie so that the Canellis would leave me alone.
His face was turning every shade of purple, and I was positive I’d have to take over the wheel and drive us straight to Honey Hollow General Hospital. But, as my own little Christmas miracle would have it, he hoisted my tree into my living room, gifted me a kiss goodnight, and said he couldn’t legally stay another minute. He asked sweetly for me to join him across the street and spend the night, and I’m still thinking about taking him up on his tasty offer.
Everett, of course, went straight into his own house and never looked back. And judging by the slam of the door, he wasn’t too thrilled with the fact I’d be running with a wild Canelli crowd for the rest of the evening.
But both Connie and Cat are pleasant to be around and have a wicked sense of humor. Strangely, it feels like a girls’ night, and I haven’t had one in so long I’ve secretly been craving it. The only time that Keelie and I have spent together lately seems to revolve around a case—one that usually lands us at some dicey dive bar with men in banana hammocks. But not tonight. Tonight we’re staying put watching Christmas movies and sipping cocoa while discussing an active homicide investigation, just the way it should be.
A thought comes to me. “Girls, get your snow boots on. We’re heading out for a spontaneous night on the town.”
Rudolph springs to his feet, and the lamp next to him begins to wobble. “I’m in! There’s nothing like flying over Honey Hollow in December.”
Cat slaps her hands together. “I knew it. You’re one of Santa’s reindeer! Can we go to the North Pole tonight, Lottie? Can we? Can we?”
“No. But where we’re going it will be cold enough to qualify.”
Carlotta hops up and puts her jacket on in a hurry. “Where are we off to, Lottie?”
“Main Street. Do you have a key to the Enchanted Flower Shop?”
“Are you kidding me? Felicity doesn’t trust me with a key to that place. I’m shocked she lets me work there.”
Connie and Cat nod my way.
It’s a wonder anyone has ever let Carlotta work anywhere.
“I’ll text Felicity and tell her I need access to it asap,” I say, pulling out my phone, and Cat places her hand over the screen.
“Let’s call that plan B. It’s been an ice age since I’ve done a little breaking and entering. Let me put my skills to the test. You can consider it a Christmas gift from you to me.”
Connie nods. “She’s really good. She can disable the security alarm once we arrive and get it working again when we leave. People will never suspect a thing.”
I think on it for a moment. “Oh, what the heck. Merry Christmas, Cat. Get in the car. We’ve got a burglary to partake in.”
Should we get caught, I’ll simply say I was at the bakery and saw a light on across the street. Carlotta and I went over to shut it off and BAM! We ran into a wanted fugitive and her crazy aunt.
Of course, I don’t share my quasi-alibi with present company. But let’s face it. Their track record with the law isn’t so great, and mine’s not looking so great either.
Main Street is still lit up with twinkle lights that wrap around miles and miles of garland that runs up and down both sides of the street.
Carlotta had the brainstorm that we should all wear our Santa hats, so that if we get caught, we could tell the cops we were simply caroling—at eleven o’clock at night in our pajamas. You have to give her an A for effort.
I park in front of the bakery and the four of us traipse across the street, whispering and giggling—because half of us are still working off a whiskey bender.
A strange light glows inside the oversized window of the Enchanted Flower Shop, and I’m secretly pleased. At least if I end up going under oath, I won’t be lying about that part.
But it’s no light any human eye can see. It’s strictly visible to the supersensual of the bunch, aka Carlotta and me.
“Rudolph’s already in there,” I whisper as we head around the back.
“Wait here.” Cat darts off ahead and shimmies up the side of the building like a spider monkey before landing back in the snow with a thud. “Camera’s off. I’ll disable the one inside once Connie picks the lock.” She gives her niece a shove. “Come on, kid. Let’s see what you’re made of.”
Connie pulls a hairpin from her dark tresses and gets right to work.
“I can’t do it,” she hisses and grunts. “I’m getting rusty.”
“My sister ain’t raised no quitter. Bust through that door or I’ll bust your—”
“I got it!” Connie shouts, and her voice echoes over Main Street like a warning siren.
“Dear God,” I shush her as Cat makes her way inside, crawling on her belly and it’s a sight to behold. About a minute later, she walks right back and widens the door for us.
“Welcome, ladies”—Cat extends a hand into the store—“there are refreshments in the fridge in the back—and a register full of cash. Please help yourself to both.”
Carlotta rolls up her sleeves. “Dibs on the cash.”
“What?” I slap her wrist. “Do not even think about it! We’re here on a mission. Correction, I’m here on a mission. You ladies find some catnip to sniff or sweep the floors. You do work here, Carlotta, remember? I’ll be at the computer.”
Okay, so I might have conducted another investigation here a few months back when poor Felicity’s mother was murdered. In fact, things almost ended badly for me right in this very room, and I’m starting to wonder if that was just an omen for things to come—like, say tonight.
Rudolph follows me over as I wake the monitor next to the register. The computer is on. It’s always on from what I’ve gathered, and the screen prompts me for a password.
“I actually know this,” I whisper to Rudolph. “It’s the name of the deceased owner’s old pet macaw, Macon.” I type it in, and sure enough the screen brightens, revealing a number of folders right there on the desktop.
“A macaw?” he muses. “That’s an annoying bird, isn’t it? How about we hit a drive-thru on the way home and pick up a bucket or two of its relatives? I’ve got a sudden craving for deep fried macaw.”
“Oh, stop it.” A morbid giggle bounces from me. “Macon was just the best.”
“I bet he tasted good, too. My apologies. Don’t fault me, Lottie. I’ve had a rumbling tummy for quite some time. As soon as my hooves landed in that ballroom the night my poor Larson was murdered, I had an awful hankering for Yule log.”
My heart wrenches at his words. “You really cared about Larson, didn’t you?”
“Oh, yes. And Shelly, too. They were the sweetest little girls. Their father gifted them an entire fleet of reindeer one Christmas morning. They loved us the entire day long.”
“Just a day?” I wrinkle my nose. “On second thought, don’t answer that.” That twenty-four hour span of affection might have been all that Larson was capable of.
I hit a file that reads Old Records.
“Look at this,” I say, clicking. “Ha! Rhonda has this cate
gorized by year. Rhonda was the old owner.” I nod over at him in the event he was wondering.
“I take it she’s with Macon now.”
“Yup. And I’m betting they’re pretty glad about being together. There’s just something special about a bond with an animal. Sometimes I think my cats are closer to me than my own family. Heck, they are my family.” I count back six years and open the file. “Noah said Isabelle was killed in August. That would mean the flowers were sent starting in July, I guess?”
I scroll up and down the excel file. “Bingo! Look at this. It’s a whole slew of items marked B. roses. I bet the B stands for black.” I follow the thin line to a row marked payment. “And would you look at that? They paid in cash.” I scoot the cursor a few inches to the left under the column marked Customer. “There’s nothing but initials here.” And I gasp at the sight of them. “Oh my God. I think I know who sent the flowers.”
Chapter 17
When making a Yule log, you need to bake the chocolate cake until it springs up in the middle and then carefully turn the pan upside down and lay it over a kitchen towel sprinkled with powdered sugar.
That’s when the real fun begins. Carefully roll the cake lengthways along with the kitchen towel until you have the cake and the towel completely molded to one another and as tightly coiled as you can get it. You need to be in control. One wrong move and you can suffer a disabling setback. You need to know what you’re doing. It’s calculated, well-thought-out, and very much premeditated.
“There she is,” I whisper to Everett. “The killer.”
Everett grunts. He’s made his opinion very clear. He doesn’t believe me.
It’s the day of Larson Rosenberg’s funeral. The fashion fiasco in the sanctuary has already taken place. True to her word, Cressida had Larson wrapped in couture.
And shockingly? What Cressida put her in looks exactly what Shelly described that she’d put her in later—a giant black garbage bag. It’s almost amusing.
The funeral went off without a hitch—mostly. There was a brief and unfortunate incident when Rudolph whinnied on his hind legs in grief. And when he came down from his rather unnatural position, his front hooves sent the bottom of Larson’s casket to the floor and the top of it into the air, and for a moment it looked as if she were rising right up out of it.
The crowd thought it was some spectral stunt, seeing that it happened right after the pastor wished Larson nothing but the best eternal rest. An applause broke out and several people congratulated Cressida on a well-timed illusion.
We’ve all migrated to the hall conjoined to Honey Hollow Covenant Church, in Carlson Hall, the ample reception area that plays host to events such as these.
But this is far from any other funeral gathering we’ve ever had. There’s a live band playing in the corner, a champagne tower and a vodka luge made of ice, a sushi chef and enough caviar to cover all of Honey Hollow. And let’s not forget my dessert platters. Cressida insisted I have enough Yule log sliced up for everyone in attendance. She said it would be a sweet way to pay homage to her dear friend. More like a nod to the killer.
Everett leans in, looking dapper as can be, with his hair slicked to a mirror shine and his dark suit making his shoulders look like a linebacker’s.
“Cressida is not a killer.”
“Oh, Essex,” I say it with a mixture of disdain and disappointment.
Noah clears his throat.
“I apologize,” I say, wrapping my arms around my handsome ex-husband. “But the judge had it coming. You and I both know he’s way too biased to believe she could do any wrong.”
“Not true,” Everett is quick to refute it. He winces into the bustling crowd of beautiful people, and honestly, they all look as if they’ve donned their finest couture. There must be at least a billion dollars worth of diamonds circulating in the room. “I see my mother. I’ll be right back.” He takes off, and I link my arms behind Noah’s neck.
“How are you feeling?”
“Great. In fact, I have a check-up with my neurologist next week, and if all goes well, I’ll be in the clear.”
“Noah, that’s great!” The smile quickly fades from my face. I promised myself I’d tell him everything the second he could take it, and unfortunately for me that sounds like it’s about to line right up with Christmas. I can see it now. Merry Christmas, Noah. I’m not having your baby, and I’m not your wife.
Perfect. He’ll break up with me by New Year’s.
“Why the long face?” He dots my cheek with a kiss and warms me from my head to my toes. Noah has ignited a fire in me like never before. There’s something incredibly sexy about a man who caters to you day and night because he thinks you’re having his baby. I should never have had us use protection. It could have been true by now. I could have tricked him into doing a “vow renewal” and he would have been no worse for the wear. Everett and I would have had a dark secret that we cradled forever.
I glance back at the bustling crowd and spot a couple of bleached blondes, looking as if they just stepped off a catwalk in Milan, head this way.
“Big Boss!” Cormack shouts up over the music as she quickly and expertly pulls him out of my arms and into her own.
Cressida brays like a dolphin. “Where’s my Essex?” She shifts and the fabric of her satin skirt swishes audibly as the song dies down. “I’ve got our signature drink here, a vodka gin and tonic called—wait for it”—she leans my way with a deranged look on her face only a killer could have—“a Cressex! Even our names dovetail nicely.” She ticks her elbow into Cormack’s rib. “Just as nicely as our bodies.”
The two of them bray out a laugh in unison.
Good God. It’s attack of the killer dolphins—or donkeys. Take your pick.
Speaking of mammals, Rudolph clip-clops his way over.
“The killer is here, Lottie. I can feel it.” His large brown eyes look around quickly.
“Don’t I know it,” I whisper. “And she’s standing right in front of me.”
“Come now.” Rudolph rolls his eyes dismissively. “You can’t possibly think this dimwit cobbled together a murder or two.”
“You’d be surprised what someone who is used to getting her way is capable of.”
Both Cressida and Cormack are promptly ignoring me, which lets me know that I can freely talk to the dead in their presence.
But Everett and Noah don’t look amused.
Everett’s gaze wanders, and he inches his head back as if he sees something that surprises him. I glance in the general direction he’s looking at and freeze.
“Everett, it’s him!” I hiss. “It’s the guy who’s been following you.” I try to say the words without moving my lips.
Noah pats his back around the waist—a reflex of sorts when he’s checking on his gun. “I’m going to do a quick sweep of the room. I’ll be right back.”
Sure enough, Cormack hangs on for the ride and flies behind him like a cape.
From the left I spot Everett’s mother, Eliza, heading this way. I’m about to say hello when Everett abruptly excises himself, and he and his mother walk out of the hall together in what looks to be a heated conversation.
I wonder what that’s about? And she made a funny remark that night in Fallbrook. Something isn’t right between them. I hope they can get it settled soon. It’s breaking my heart to see discord between them. Hopefully, it’s something silly that will blow over quickly.
“So here we are,” I say to the killer before me as I cross my arms over my chest. “So sad, isn’t it?”
Cressida is twitching to the music, rolling her head back and forth as she inspects the crowd, clearly ignoring me, but I don’t let this detail deter me.
“You know, if I wanted to send flowers to someone anonymously, I’d pay in cash and use my initials if the shop insisted on my name.” I openly glare at her, and she casually glances in my direction.
“That’s nice.”
“Do you want to know what kind of flowers I�
�d send?”
She gives a bored sigh. “Let me guess, carnations?”
I scowl at her. “I happen to love carnations, but I can see that someone as snobby as you would find them less than desirable. I bet someone like you would much rather send something classically elegant yet morbidly threatening, like, say black roses.”
“Tilly!” She hops up and waves with glee as she floats over to her friend.
Lovely.
The crowd only grows more boisterous as Noah comes back, and I convince him that I need to get home to get my rest. Of course, he agrees as he warms my belly with his hand.
“Lottie”—his eyes widen a notch with anticipation—“I think you’re starting to show.”
I suck in a quick breath and fight the urge to swat him. I suppose it could be worse. He could have said he felt the baby move.
“I think it’s more Yule log, less baby.” I offer a forlorn smile. “Let’s get out of here.”
Noah and I head out of the noisy hall and into the icy outdoors where the deafening silence feels like a respite to my ears.
Noah wraps an arm around my waist as we head toward his truck. “How about I start a fire and make us some hot cocoa?”
“A fire and cocoa? I think someone is gunning to get lucky.”
A dark laugh brews in his chest. “And that’s exactly why I’m taking you to my place. I do my best work without the prying eyes of convicts in the vicinity.”
“Careful. They’ve been known to pick a lock or two.” I didn’t dare tell Noah that I broke into the Enchanted Flower Shop. Instead, I just made up a lie to add to the running list of lies I’ve been spewing like oil all month. I hope once this is all said and done he can find it in his heart to forgive me.
Honestly? I don’t know if I can forgive myself. I’ve clearly gone too far in every direction. I’ve clearly—
Noah and I stop abruptly and gasp as we come upon a man lying facedown in the snow.
I recognize that dark inky suit, that gorgeous black hair.
“Oh my God, Everett!”
Chapter 18
Yule Log Eulogy Page 16
