Everett? I don’t dare say his name out loud. Instead, I rise to my feet.
“If you’ll excuse me, girls, I think Detective Fox and I have some business to tend to.”
Keelie raises her hand impatiently as if we were in class. “We’re still down for pole dancing later this week, right?”
“I’m in.” Meg is quick to lockdown a spot on the Leeds Express.
“I’ll call you,” I mouth as I lead Noah right back out of the Cutie Pie Bakery.
* * *
“So this must be Toby,” I say as I motion permission to take the leash from Noah, and he gives it. “I’m far more comfortable with animals than I am with humans, and that’s a well-documented fact.” As noted by the dead, but I leave that little tidbit out.
“This is Toby, and I’ve told him all about you, Lottie. He’s been dying to meet you,” Noah says as he tries to keep pace with me. The wind is blowing so hard it’s practically pushing me from behind, and my hair is flying every which way and doing its best to both smother and blind me. “So I’ve got news on the case.”
“If it implicates a certain ex-stepbrother of yours, then I’m not interested.”
“Lottie”—Noah steps in front of me, his chest rioting far too close to mine—“do you want to step in somewhere? I’ll show you the evidence I came across. I meant what I said. I want to team up with you.”
“Admit that it’s nothing but a lame attempt to spend time with me.”
His dimples press in deep, and his eyes glint with that mischief look they’d get right before things would take a turn for the serious between us.
Noah takes a breath. “It is exactly a lame attempt to spend time with you.”
“Fine, but make it quick. I didn’t tell Lily I was leaving.”
The wind picks up ten times more violently than before, and I end up scuttling my way right into Noah’s chest. His body feels warm and familiar, and it makes me want to weep rivers over how terribly everything went down for us.
A sweet smile presses from him. “You want to step into Mangia?”
“I’m pretty sure they’d turn Toby away.” I frown at the thought of anyone giving his handsome beast the boot. “But I know a certain flower shop that I’m betting won’t mind.”
We ditch across the street into the protective shelter of The Enchanted Flower Shop, and both Carlotta and Rhonda Gilbert quickly hijack Toby from me and take him over to the large marble island to make a floral wreath for his head, whatever that might be.
Noah steps in close, his thick cologne hitting me for the first time like an old friend coming in for a tackle hug. Those lips I’ve kissed at least a hundred times look just as kissable as they were the first day we did exactly that, only now they feel oddly off-limits.
“Let’s see what you have, Fox.”
Noah pulls out his phone, his thumb gliding across the screen every now and again.
“So, you really kissed Everett?” he says it low as if he wished he could keep it under wraps forever.
My lips part as I look up at him. A part of me wants to apologize for hurting him, and yet another far more vindictive part of me wants to rub it in his face.
“You don’t have to say. I heard it the first time.” Noah opens his mouth and closes it as if struggling with his words. “Do you really think this will go anywhere?”
“That’s between Everett and me.” There it is, the knife in his heart, and I never meant to plunge it. “I’m not looking for a ring—like I foolishly was last month from you.” I shake my head at the thought. I’m so angry with myself I could scream.
“I would have given it to you, Lot. I would marry you in a second. As soon as I untangled myself legally, I was going to drop to one knee. There wasn’t a thing that could have stopped me.”
“Yes, well, your wife stopped you. What did you have to show me?”
Noah winces as he holds his phone out between us. “This is footage taken from Heritage Hall the night of the murder. You said you heard Judge Shumaker arguing with someone just after eight.”
“That’s right. I had just checked the time. I’m really diligent about refreshing the baked goods every half hour.”
“Take a look at this. It’s the corridor just in front of the kitchen, so it would put you in the vicinity at just about the right time.” He hits play on the black and white footage, and I lean in to get a better look. Judge Shumaker is facing the camera, and a man in a dark coat is gesticulating in front of him.
“There’s no way I can tell who that may be just based off his jacket.”
“You won’t have to.” He points to the screen and, sure enough, the men trade places, and it’s Everett’s face I see shouting something at Judge Shumaker.
“Oh my God.”
Noah lets the feed run out until the screen goes black. “He didn’t mention that run-in to you, did he?”
“No, he didn’t.” A thousand thoughts sail through my mind as I head for the door.
“Lottie?” Noah calls out. I turn to face him, my every nerve jangled by the latest revelation. “We’re not arresting him—yet.”
My heart feels like it’s shattering all over again as I give a slight nod.
“And just so you know”—a slight crooked grin takes over—“the pole dancer in Leeds? She teaches at Red Satin.”
“Figures,” I say as I speed back out into the blustery day. I should have deduced the fact that all things downright deviant take place at Red Satin.
But what I couldn’t have deduced is the fact Essex Everett Baxter could be keeping a very real secret from me—one that might just pan out to be downright murderous.
Chapter 11
It takes four text messages and three county lines to track down that wily judge. That man has some serious explaining to do, and I don’t care how stunning his blue eyes are, I’m going to shake the truth out of him.
Mooney’s Roadhouse is a desolate looking ramshackle building that looks as if it’s constructed from rusted tin cans. There’s an oversized neon moon the shape of a pizza that hangs above the establishment and a silhouette of a cowboy with his gun drawn at it as if he were about to shoot it out of the sky. Inside, it stinks of sweaty drunk men and booze, there are peanut shells strewn over the floor, and the house band is honking out a rowdy tune while a couple of girls in cut-off shorts and skintight T-shirts jingle-jangle what their mama gave them all over the dance floor.
I do a quick sweep of the vicinity and spot the ornery judge and his go-to legal eagle seated in a murky corner. Everett has his traditional suit on, and Fiona Dagmeyer, aka The Dagger, a stunning brunette as sharp as those razor teeth of hers, is styling in her jet-black power suit and a pair of witchy looking four-inch stilettos that have rows of spikes coming off the back that scream she means business. She really does look fierce, I’ll give her that.
“Everett,” I hiss as I take a seat in the booth next to Fiona. “I just reviewed evidence that shows positive proof it was you I heard arguing with Judge Shumaker the night he was murdered. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Everett takes a moment to glare at something over my shoulder, and I turn just to make sure it’s not Greer Giles. God knows I hear that catty cackle of hers going wild in the distance. I’m guessing she has a thing for the boys in the band.
“I apologize, Lemon. But you were upset and I didn’t want to make things worse. My exchange with Sterling meant nothing.”
“Then you should have brought it up. This looks bad.” I glance to Fiona who casually plucks the cherry from her daiquiri and pops it into her mouth stem and all. A few seconds later, she spits the stem out in the shape of a heart with devil’s horns. Impressive in a scary sort of way. “I take it she knows.” I look to him, incredulous. “How could you keep something so vital from me, and yet you shared it with her?” My voice breaks, and I hate that it betrayed me that way. “Just FYI, I’m far from soaking my pillow with tears. I’m downright pissed. When were you going to tell me?”
“I wa
sn’t.” His expression smooths out, and it seems he’s actually entertaining the beginnings of a smile. How dare he.
“Great. Because I love it when men keep secrets from me.” I look to Fiona. “Do I have idiot stamped across my forehead? Don’t answer that.” My rage percolates twice as hard as it did when I stepped in here when I look back his way. “What were the two of you arguing about? I don’t want there to be any secrets between the two of us. You’ve seen what’s happened to the last man who kept secrets from me.”
Fiona bubbles with laugher. “Do tell. Is he still able to walk, or did you go for his primal apex when you set out to maim him?”
“I broke up with him,” I spit it out without bothering to take my eyes from Everett’s.
She gasps so loud, I’d do a head count of cherries if I cared at all that she might gag to death. “Are the two of you dating?”
“Everett doesn’t date,” I answer for him to spare us both the humility. “The argument? What was it about?” In a brief moment of paranoia, I think that maybe Fiona is helping her ex avoid the question.
Everett straightens, and he glances to Fiona and gives a subtle nod as if calling her off. Knew it.
“Lemon—Judge Shumaker and I had a disagreement on how a case we were both working on should have been decided. In brief, the defendant wanted to overturn a conviction that could land him in prison for a very long time, and Judge Shumaker wanted to bypass any additional time to process the case because he was leaving. It was unethical. It could have cost that man and taxpayers years of unnecessary prison time—which does not come cheap. Now that Judge Shumaker is gone, the case will be retired.”
The music hikes up to deafening decibels as I try to wrap my head around what he’s just said.
“Everett, maybe the man who was frustrated by the inefficient due process he was receiving was responsible for Judge Shumaker’s death? I think this is vital information we should share with Noah. The sooner you’re off the suspect list the better.”
Fiona lifts a blood red fingernail my way. “She’s right.”
Everett tips his head back a moment before he concedes. “Very well. I’ll contact him in the morning.”
My lips pinch in a knot. “If you’re not arrested by then.”
A wiry young man, with a muscle T-shirt and sinewy muscles to match, comes over and sets a beer down for Everett.
“Why so down, my man?” He flickers a smile my way, and it registers this is Mooney as in Mooney’s Roadhouse, as in the bartender from that horrible night at Heritage Hall.
Everett thanks him for the beer. “I’ve got two women warring over me. It’s never a pretty sight—it’s downright beautiful.” He tips the beer my way before taking a sip.
Mooney lets out a howl of a laugh. “Say, what’s the news on old man Shumaker? They nail the bastard who did it?”
Fiona huffs as she curls her drink in toward her. “With the Ashford Homicide Division knee-deep in the investigation, you can bet this case will grow cold as that booze you’re serving. Put this on my tab, would you?” She scoots me out of the booth until she’s standing tall and cinching her purse over her shoulder. “Call me, Essex.” She frowns my way. “If you get any new leads, please keep us apprised.” She takes off, and I slide right back into the booth until I’m seated square across from my favorite ornery judge.
“What was that about?” Mooney scoops up her drink and mops up the water ring left in its wake. “Are you one of the detectives she was picking on?” He winks as if he could commiserate with me on that.
“I’m no detective. I’m just a baker.”
“Just a baker?” Everett shakes his head, dismayed by my meager assessment. “Lemon here could give any baker in the country a run for their butter. She catered the desserts at Heritage Hall the night we lost him.”
Mooney’s mouth falls open. “Banana cake girl. Those were the best banana muffins I’ve ever had. Reminded me of the ones my mother used to make. My sisters and I wouldn’t let them cool before they were in our bellies. Of course, I’d make sure they got the lion’s share.” He shoots Everett with his fingers. “You got to treat the women folk right. But nobody knows that better than this man.” He slaps a hand over Everett’s shoulder before taking off for the bar.
“Nice guy,” I muse, still not happy with the seemingly nice guy in front of me.
“He is. I’ve sat on one of those stools right over there and told him far too many things on far too many occasions. In fact, I shared with him briefly about that case I was telling you about. Even he could see the injustice that was about to take place. Of course, no details outside of those on the periphery were divulged. I would never put my career on the line like that. But I’ll admit, it’s nice to have someone to talk to.”
I reach across the table and take up his hand. “That’s why I firmly believe you are far too valuable to be going through life on your own. And I’m not talking about with me per se. I mean in general. What’s keeping you from finding the one and settling down? You’re quite the catch, you know. And you can’t sow your wild oats forever.”
“I like my wild oats.”
“Is this about what your father did to you?”
Everett confided in me a few months back that his father left the family when he was young. I’m sure it devastated him on an intrinsic level.
His expression darkens. It’s clear I’ve crossed a line.
His entire person softens as he lands his elbows onto the table and leans in. “It used to be. And then my father came back and we made things right, but, truth be told, I guess old habits die hard.”
“Well, you’re not getting any younger, and I have a feeling you’d make a great father.”
A laugh rumbles from him. “You’re subtle. That’s what I like about you, Lemon. You put it all out there. I very much look forward to having a family when the time is right. So, did Noah show you the footage?”
“Yes.” I don’t know why, but it feels as if I’ve betrayed Everett in some way by spending time with Noah. If it were anyone else, it wouldn’t matter, but Noah and Everett have such a sticky history, it’s impossible not to rub one of them the wrong way. “He knows about—” I tick my head to the side. “He overheard me. I may or may not have been bragging about your lingual abilities.” My face heats fifty shades of cherry red, and I hate that it gives away my emotions so easily.
“I’ll take care of Noah. He doesn’t have any right making you feel uncomfortable.”
I shrug in lieu of a response. “I think we both know I’ll be uncomfortable around Noah for just about ever. What was I thinking sleeping with him without doing a thorough and extensive background check? My God, he could have turned out to be a hit man for the mob for all I know. He could have been someone in the witness protection program with a hit out on him. He could have been a fugitive. I’m far too trusting, and that naiveté ends today.”
His lips pull back, no smile. “I’ll have my documents submitted by morning. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised with how milquetoast I really am.”
A warm laugh bubbles from me. “Please, there’s not a milquetoast thing about you.”
Greer pops up and lands right on his lap. An unnerving sight, considering half her body is embedded into the table.
“So, what’s next on your crime fighting agenda? Any more couples’ strip teases on the horizon?”
Everett inches back, wild-eyed. “I heard that.”
I bite down over my lip and give his hand a squeeze. I hadn’t even realized that I haven’t let go. I look to Greer, unsure of what the truth might inspire her to do. “Keelie, my sister Meg, and I will be taking pole dancing classes down at Red Satin later this week.”
Greer lets out a mean whoop, her right hand spiked to the ceiling, and it accentuates that crimson stain on her dress. “You really are a hoot, Lottie. Too bad we didn’t get the chance to hang out in the before life—but, to be honest, I didn’t like you much then. But I like you just fine right now.�
� She begins to scoot out toward the dance floor once again. “Hey? If you solve Judge Shumaker’s murder, what happens to me?”
“You’ll be back in paradise whooping it up with the rest of the saints.”
“No! I don’t want to go. You can’t solve that murder, Lottie. I won’t let you.” She takes off and bops her way between the girls losing it to the band.
“Did you hear that? Not only do I have a judge withholding evidence, but I have a ghost who has vowed to make sure things don’t tie off in a nice neat bow.”
Everett presses out a warm smile. It looks every bit genuine, and just like that, it fades away.
“I think you’re working too hard, Lemon. In fact, I think someone should take you out for a nice dinner, and that someone should be me. St. Patrick’s Day is coming up in a few days. Have any plans?”
“The Honey Pot Diner throws a mean Irish feast every year. How about I reserve us a table for two? There’s a huge buffet, and the entire world is invited.”
“I approve.”
The music takes a turn for the romantic, and Everett nods toward the dance floor. “Let’s do it, Lemon. I’m not getting any younger as you so kindly reminded me.”
Everett is just a few years older than I am, so I poked my own eye on the way to pointing out his soon-to-be geriatric standing.
We make our way to the dance floor, and he takes me in his arms.
Everett bears hard into my eyes. “I think we’re a good fit.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls before you take them back to your place.”
A dark laugh thunders through his body and vibrates right through to mine.
“No tricks here. I meant it. You’re easy on the eyes and easy to get along with. I appreciate both.”
“Thank you.”
“Just out of curiosity, what did you think of our meeting of the minds that night in Fallbrook?”
“If by minds, you mean lips, then I’m guessing I can trace your happy hormones all the way back to law school where your mind was being exercised liberally.” He lifts his brows as if to acknowledge I’m right. “But about that kiss. I think I’m going to need a reminder.”
Murder in the Mix Box Set Page 10
