Murder in the Mix Books 1-3 (Murder in the Mix Boxed Set)

by Addison Moore

  A breath hitches in my throat. “How dare you insinuate that I’m a liar.”

  He leans in with those serious eyes. “I never called you such thing. I just so happen to be very good at reading people—and I have my ways of getting information out of just about anyone. It’s my gift.” His brows twitch. “You saw that squirrel again, didn’t you?”

  My hand clamps over my mouth, and I hop back a step in the event I need to bolt from this human lie detector machine. There’s no way I’m telling Everett about my gift—or curse as it were. And at this point, I think it’s a little too late to convince him that there was a real squirrel in question. The best thing to do is drop it.

  Noah heads over and wraps his arms around me, dotting a gentle kiss over my forehead, and I take in his spiced cologne, allowing myself to relax over his rock-hard chest. I’m so exhausted from everything that’s transpired tonight—this entire last week. The nonstop baking alone is enough to make anyone delusional. I’m hoping I’ll wake up tomorrow morning to find my sweet cat Pancake curled up in my arms, and this will have all been one long nightmare.

  Noah gently lifts my chin with his finger. “Captain Turner wants us to speak with him.”

  No sooner do I look over than Jack, Captain Turner as he’s known to everyone else, is upon us. Jack is Keelie’s dad, and since I’ve grown up with him as a second father, I’ve only ever called him by his proper name. Next to him stands a tall woman in a dark pantsuit. Long amber hair parted straight down the middle hangs over her shoulders. Her face is pale and offset morbidly by dark crimson lipstick. On anyone else it would look like a disaster, but she looks every bit the supermodel and pulls it off effortlessly.

  Jack nods to me. “Lottie, this is Detective Ivy Fairbanks. She’ll be asking you a few questions.” Someone calls for him from behind, and he gives a quick bow. “I’ll be right over here if you need me.”

  “Detective Fairbanks.” Noah extends his hand, and she glares at it as if it were a rodent. Noah drops his hand. “My name is Noah Fox. I’m a private investigator myself, licensed in the state of Vermont.”

  She gives him a quick once-over. “Did you find the body?”

  Noah turns to me. “No, actually—”

  “Then you’re dismissed.” She tips her nose toward Everett and me. “Which one of you found the body?”

  I clear my throat. “That would be me. And if you don’t mind, I’d prefer we address him by his name, Hunter.” My gut wrenches just hearing his name sail from my lips. “He was my friend.”

  “Very well.” She pulls out a notebook, looking perennially bored. “What happened?”

  I quickly relay the chain of events, sans any mention of Hunter’s pet squirrel. For a moment, I wonder what Hunter had named him. He was so cute and fluffy. It was obvious anyone could have fallen in love with the tiny creature. I bet it was something cute and clever like Acorn. Hunter always did have a soft heart.

  “So, that’s it?” She blinks up at me with those dark coffee-colored eyes, and a chill runs through me. Sure, she’s beautiful, but she’s equally as intimidating, and it has nothing to do with her beauty.

  “That’s it.”

  “You were just coming out for some air?” She glowers over at me. “With a bakery full of people and six batches of cookies in the oven? Hmm.” Her lips crimp into something that looks like a smile while she simultaneously stares me down. It’s an unnerving feat, and coming from her, it feels like a mental interrogation. “I’ll be speaking to you again soon. Hopefully, something else will come to mind.”

  Noah wraps his arm around me. “I’ll try to jog her memory. If anything new crops up, I’ll let you know as soon as possible.”

  Detective Fairbanks straightens a moment, looking at him as if he were a vagrant who wandered onto the scene. “Have the Fishers hired you for your services?” There’s a mocking undertone in her voice, and instantly I don’t appreciate it or her.

  A breath expires from him as he relaxes against me with an air of defeat. “No, they haven’t.”

  “Then stay out of my investigation.” She stalks off, and my jaw roots to the ground.

  “How dare she speak to you that way,” I say as I give his chest a light scratch. “I’m going to have her fired.”

  A deep rumble of laugh lives and dies in his throat as his eyes sparkle my way.

  “Don’t worry about her. She doesn’t have the power to slow me down.” He glances to our left a moment. “Hang tight. I’m going to talk to Bear and see what I can glean.”

  Everett pops up just as Noah takes off. “Now that we’re alone, I think you owe me an explanation regarding that squirrel you claim to be chasing.”

  An incredulous laugh strums from me. “I owe you no such thing, Judge Baxter. Like I said, it was nothing.”

  Everett folds his arms across his enormous chest, his suit drawing tight around his elbows. “It was something, Lemon. And if you don’t tell me, you’ll have to tell Noah or Detective Fairbanks. Like it or not, whatever you saw led you straight to the scene of a homicide. You don’t want to be guilty of withholding evidence, do you?” His tone drops several octaves when he says that last part, and you would think he were fifty years older than me rather than simply half a decade.

  “Withholding evidence?” I practically mouth the words.

  “That’s right. People get sent to prison for it all the time.”

  A dull laugh expels from me in a powder white plume. But Everett isn’t laughing. He’s dead serious.

  “Prison.” I gulp at the thought of being forced to wear orange for years at a time. That alone sounds like a punishment. “Everett”—I plead with him—“I can’t—”

  “You can and you will,” he says it stern, and a moment of thick silence bounces between us. “Fine. If you don’t tell Noah or Detective Fairbanks by the time the night is through, I’m afraid I’ll have to bring this information to light. I hope you don’t take offense to it. It’s simply my civic duty. My duty for justice doesn’t end when I leave the bench.”

  My heart strums wildly in my chest. My entire body slaps with heat from embarrassment. I can’t imagine me ever telling Everett something that sounds so insane. Something that is so insane.

  My mouth opens and not a sound comes out. I glance over to Noah as he’s comforting Bear, and my heart aches for the both of them. For Bear because he lost someone he loved like a brother. And for Noah because he’s about to wish he never met someone as certifiable as myself.

  “Hey”—Everett leans in with heavy concern in his eyes—“I don’t want to upset you any more than you already are. I can see this is hard for you.”

  “Oh? Because you’re good at reading people?” I can’t help but smear it with sarcasm.

  “Yes.” He frowns. “Okay, here’s the deal. You don’t have to tell Noah or Detective Fairbanks for now. I’ll come by the bakery some time this week, and you can fill me in once you’ve had a moment to relax. I wouldn’t pry so hard unless I thought it was important. A man died, Lemon. Believe me when I say even the smallest shred of evidence can help put away whoever did this.”

  “Fine.” I swallow hard, trying to push the next words out. “I’ll tell you. Sometime this week.” Maybe.

  “You will.” Everett looks every bit as intimidating if not more than Detective Fairbanks could ever hope to be. “And, Lemon?” he says as Noah heads back in this direction. “I’ll know if you’re not telling the truth.”

  “Yes, sir, Judge Baxter.” I look up at him sternly from underneath my lashes. “I promise to tell the truth and nothing but the truth.” I’m not crossing my fingers. I’m crossing my soul. I hope to God I don’t accidentally spew the truth his way at any point during this next week or ever.

  “Good. I’m counting on it.”

  We look back at the crime scene just as the area is cordoned off with caution tape, a blinding shade of yellow in this dim light. A photographer circles poor Hunter as men with plastic gloves begin to comb every inch of t
he alleyway.

  I will tell Everett the truth.

  Just as soon as I come up with some other truth to tell.

  Poor Hunter is dead. And I’m more than positive that feral, long-dead creature won’t add anything worthwhile to the investigation.

  There’s not a ghost of a chance.

  Chapter 21

  Honey Hollow is robed in fog this early Monday morning. All of Main Street is blanketed in cardinal maple leaves, a red carpet fit for royalty, and yet here we are, grounded common folk blessed with the honor. It might still be early in October, but the Halloween spirit is alive and well with every last nook and cranny of this tiny town dotted with bright orange pumpkins in every shape and size. Just down the street in the town square, there’s a heap of pumpkins surrounding Honey Hollow’s enormous three-tiered stone fountain, and just beyond that, Founders Square Park has a friendly looking scarecrow staked at the entry that every tourist stops by to take their picture with. That’s the thing that I have always appreciated about Honey Hollow. It’s a warm, comfortably cozy small town that makes any and everyone feel right at home. I used to add that it was safe—that I felt much safer here than in the big city, but after everything that’s transpired, I’m not so sure about that.

  The day wears on, and I’ve been at the bakery now for hours. I’ve made it a practice to show up at five in the morning just to get everything started. Keelie said she’d help me hire my own staff since most of the staff working alongside me is on loan from the Honey Pot.

  Margo and Mannon, the chefs next door, have been a godsend, utilizing their five-star superpowers to help streamline my baking and create a few marvels of their own in the process. I just finished with three dozen hazelnut bars, a dozen cutie pies, the famous, or perhaps infamous caramel apple treats that were served at the Apple Festival last month. I’ve filled the cupcake shelves with red velvet, French vanilla, and a devil’s food variety frosted in colors of green, purple, and orange, each with either a black tarantula made from licorice, a meringue ghost, or a tiny chocolate cookie cut out in the shape of a wizard’s hat, complete with candy stars. I kept the sign for Bear’s Brownie Bar and moved it into the casing where I have a variety of brownies and blondies to choose from. I made up an entire tray of cheese and raspberry Danishes, along with fresh croissants for the morning crowd, in addition to a couple loaves of crumb cake.

  When Keelie helped me order the coffee equipment for the bakery, I nearly passed out at the expense, but she promised it would be worth every robust drop, and once I learned to navigate my way around the steely beasts—and more to the point, now that I consider us friends, that beast is producing something magical that I never thought coffee could be. Suffice it to say, the bakery smells divine. I have no doubt the scent of rich, roasted java beans, coupled with the scent of fresh pastry dough baking has thoroughly permeated Main Street. I had the cinnamon rolls in the oven at about seven when we opened, and that’s what truly brought in the heavy morning rush. But now that most of the crowd has dissipated and my molasses spice cookies and pumpkin cheesecakes are still in the oven, I’ve decided to pull my laptop out and sit in the café among the customers while my poor, tired feet do their best to recoup.

  The bell on the door rings and in comes Lainey along with another small crowd. One of the girls from the Honey Pot motions for me to stay put while she takes their order.

  “Hey, hey!” Lainey takes a seat across from me. “How are you doing? I’m surprised you’re here. I thought for sure you would have at least taken a day off after last night.” She ticks her head toward the back where Hunter’s body was found.

  “It’s my official first day.” I make a face at the thought because yesterday felt far more official. “And there are no days off when you’re running the show. Nell expects me to be here. This is my baby as much as it is hers, and I’m going to make sure it succeeds.”

  Lainey waves me off. “That’s a given. But you need to take care of yourself, too, lady.” She peers over at my laptop. “Whatcha looking at? You weren’t serious about setting up a kitty cam, were you? Because if my house is going to be under surveillance, I want to know about it. The last thing I want you to see is me dancing around in my leopard print robe. It’s short, you know.”

  “Oh, I know it is.” I avert my eyes at the memory of it. “Which reminds me. I know what to get you for Christmas. The rest of that robe.”

  “Ha-ha.” She scowls as she leans in further. “What is this? Online classified? The real estate section?” Her voice pitches with the epiphany. “You’re not thinking about moving out so soon, are you?” Lainey whines in that adorable way only she can. My sister looks every bit the Kewpie doll with her bowtie lips and perfectly coifed curls. She’s head to toe in eggplant today, wearing a deep purple dress with a matching cardigan. Lainey always makes it a point to dress up for work. Nobody loves working at the library as much as my sister. Books are her passion as much as baking is mine.

  The bell rings behind us again and in strides Noah Fox clad in a suit, that naughty smile twitching on his lips just for me, and my stomach bisects with heat at the sight of him.

  “Hello, ladies.”

  Lainey pulls up a seat for him. “Please talk my sister out of looking for a place of her own. She’s hardly home as it is. Paying rent wouldn’t make sense at this point.”

  I can’t help but shoot my sister a disparaging look. She’s right, and I happen to hate when that happens, especially when I’m disagreeing with her.

  “You looking for a place?” Noah spins his seat around and sits on it backwards, and something about that boyish moves tugs at my heart.

  “Yes,” I say it low as if Lainey couldn’t hear. “And you look extremely dapper and handsome, might I add.” I can’t help but bite down a naughty smile of my own. “Where are you off to today?”

  “The office for now.” He ticks his head in the direction of the bank. Noah’s office is right next door to that financial institution. Actually, that’s how we met. I thought he was a part of the loans department and started right in on why I needed a loan for kitchen equipment. It turns out, Noah gifted me the money without me realizing it and copped to it once everything was firmly purchased and installed. The finances came from the money he received from his father’s estate. And since the money wasn’t earned with integrity—he pilfered Everett’s poor mother while during their short tenure together—he wanted to donate it to a good cause. Both he and Everett agreed the bakery was a good one.

  Noah’s cheek rises on one side as he sheds a crooked grin. “After our hand in Mora’s arrest last month, the calls started pouring in. I’ve got a few investigations going.”

  “Ohh.” I lean in, intrigued by this sexy detective seated before me. “Anything juicy?”

  “Yeah.” Lainey leans in as well. “Who’s having an affair with whom? Are you doing any stakeouts?” She jumps in her seat, practically foaming at the mouth wanting answers.

  Noah holds out a hand, his chest thumping with a laugh. “I can’t divulge the details of my cases. And, believe me, they are far from juicy. But I can say a few of them involve those garage burglaries.” He points to Lainey. “Be sure to keep a good lock on that thing. Most of these thefts occurred by way of garage doors that are operated with an electronic remote.”

  She gasps, “That’s all I’ve got. So not fair. It’s as if the thieves of this world are always one step ahead.” She looks at her phone in haste. “I’d better hustle. I’ve got to be at the library in a few minutes.” She glances my way as she rises. “Any recommendations on what I should have for breakfast?”

  “I put in a few chocolate croissants that—”

  “Ah-ah!” She holds up her hand and stops me. “Say no more. Sold. In fact, I’ll take two and have one for a snack later,” she sings as she makes her way to the counter.

  I give Noah’s sleeve a quick tug. “Any leads on who killed Hunter?” Thankfully, I’m not a suspect in this one despite the fact I found his bod
y. A thought occurs to me. “I’m not a suspect, am I?”

  He winces as he warms my hand with his. “It’s routine. But I promise, the captain doesn’t think you had anything to do with it outside of the discovery of the body.”

  “Oh, cheese balls,” I hiss as I snap my laptop shut. “Anyone else? Anyone who could have feasibly done this?”

  “There’s Bear.”

  “Bear?” I screech a little too loud, and a few women at the next table turn this way. They’re tourists and most likely have no idea what carnage took place here last night. “That’s terrible. Bear wouldn’t hurt a fly. That’s nothing but another dead end.”

  “Well”—Noah tugs at his collar—“he didn’t shed a tear last night, but he did look upset. In fact, if I had to guess, he looked fighting mad.”

  That argument I witnessed between Bear and Hunter just a few minutes before I made the gruesome discovery comes to mind, and a breath locks in my throat at the thought of it.

  “Lottie, what is it?” Noah leans in close, the tip of his head just an inch from mine, and his warm cologne permeates me with its warm scent.

  “I—” A part me can’t do it. I know for a fact Bear would never kill Hunter. Why arm Noah with false evidence? “It was nothing. I’ll do whatever I can to prove Bear’s innocence. It’s the least I can do after he moved heaven and earth to open this place in record time.” Even if it means keeping his dark, angry secrets.

  Noah squints into me as if prying into my thoughts. As if he could. But then, if I can see the dearly furry departed, and on occasion those once robed in flesh, maybe he can pry into my thoughts? I straighten in fear.

  “I’ve got a juicy tip for you.”

  “Oh?” I’m right back to leaning in and swooning into those key lime green eyes, those kissable lips just inches from mine.

  “I know of a couple of houses for rent side by side on Country Cottage Road.”

  “Ooh, that’s a nice neighborhood. It butts right up to the woods. I just love that— Hey? Isn’t that the street you live on?”