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

by Addison Moore

  “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.

  “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.

  What kinds of things might happen there?

  I’m betting they’re all very, very bad.

  Chapter 39

  I t’s not until Tuesday that I’m able to reopen the bakery, and no sooner do I unlock the front door than a floodgate of tourists and morning commuters charge in. It didn’t take me long to realize that fresh baked cinnamon rolls and fresh brewed coffee acted as a siren song to those wandering up and down Main Street. The cinnamon rolls were gone in a flash, but I still have plenty of fresh croissants, apple turnovers, and red velvet French toast—which I am personally obsessed with. Honestly, sometimes I think I make most of the treats to please my own palate.

  By ten in the morning, my feet feel as if they’d voluntarily fall off if they could, my back aches, and my head is throbbing just begging for another cup of quick and dirty caffeination. I’d love nothing more than to fall into one of those pastel chairs Bear hand painted for me. Well, not for me per se, but the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery. With its butter yellow walls and nonpareil-colored mismatched furniture, the straggling oak limbs that stretch from the Honey Pot Diner next door and expand all across the ceiling of the café portion of this place, not to mention the fact each branch is wrapped in twinkle lights—this place holds a very real magic all its own. It was Bear’s idea to blow a hole in the wall and create a walkway from the Honey Pot to the bakery—and it’s safe to say it was his brightest idea yet.

  Mom’s travel club is just finishing up a meeting in the café, and I shuddered listening in on their enthusiastic conversations about visiting Manhattan in early December. Sure, the store windows are decorated like no other, there is typically a blanket of fresh fallen snow making the entire city feel like the inside of some magical snow globe, and the shopping—well, that’s to die for year-round—but my own memories of the years I spent living in the city, my college years and a little just beyond that, were fraught with horrific memories. I loved my roommate. I loved my boyfriend, Curt, who quickly became my fiancé. But then, I came home a little early one afternoon and found them loving one another quite aggressively and loud as a fire alarm. I thought my roommate was getting her head sliced off from the sound of it. And to be honest, for a brief moment, I thought she was being accosted, which had me fully ready to slice off a few body parts of her would-be assailant—but as soon as I saw my soon-to-be ex, I hightailed it out of there, out of the city, and straight back to Honey Hollow. It’s almost ironic how I let Bear’s indiscretions chase me out of Honey Hollow and Curt’s chase me right back in.

  The door to the Cutie Pie chimes and in walks Lainey looking every bit the fall princess in a burnt orange coat and matching lipstick. Lainey is gorgeous, and sweet, and I love her all the more now that we’re no longer roommates ourselves. We almost killed one another growing up. Especially when someone borrowed someone else’s sweater without asking. It was a three-way civil war among Lainey, our sister Meg, and me. Although, this last experiment in cohabitation seemed to go much smoother than the last.

  “You’re looking good today. Is there a special event at the library?”

  Her tiny comma-like dimples press in. “We’re hosting a field trip for Honey Hollow Elementary at one. We’re calling it the Cornucopia of Books Festival. I’ve spent all morning pulling out every book in the children’s section that might actually have
a fall theme. Do you realize there is a serious shortage of books with fall themes? All I could find were a dozen board books. Oh well. Variety is the spice of life. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.”

  “Do what you can with the Thanksgiving theme, but I’d show off the Christmas books as well.”

  Her light coffee-colored eyes light up. “That’s a great idea! Thanksgiving is Christmas’ underappreciated cousin anyway. That’s all any store in town has been pushing since September. It’s like Halloween jumps straight to Christmas—and, oh yeah, let’s eat a turkey in November to strategize our Black Friday plans.”

  I slide a chocolate-filled croissant her way, and she hums with glee.

  “There are definite benefits to having a sister who’s a baker.” She gives a cheeky wink as she deposits money into the tip jar. Lainey tips regularly because she knows I won’t charge her for a thing. “So, how’s the investigation going?” She makes a face as she takes a bite, and her affect is quickly restored.

  “I’m not sure. Noah has been so busy we haven’t had a second alone together.”

  “Sorry to hear it. Tanner took me to the movies last night, and we ran into Forest. It’s like no matter where I go, there he is.”

  “That’s because you’re meant to be together. You and Forest—not you and Tanner.” Lainey dated Forest Donovan for as long as I can remember, and the two of them called it quits last summer over some silly dispute. And to make things even sillier, Lainey had the bright idea to land Tanner Redwood by her side in an effort to make Forest jealous. Everyone knows Tanner is a notorious playboy. Even Lainey knows that. But she doesn’t care. There’s a man to be made jealous and, by God, she’ll stoop as low as needed to get the job done—all the way to the movies apparently.

  Mom and her good friend, Eve Hollister, step up to the counter.

  Eve twirls into her green wool coat. That emerald color reminds me of Noah’s eyes, and I miss him all the more.

  “Thank you for letting us linger, Lottie.” Eve presses out a pleasant grin. My mother once told me that she and Eve were the same age, but it’s hard to believe. Eve looks every bit your typical granny with white permed hair, heavily etched face full of soft wrinkles, and a judgmental disposition in general about life. She’s been windowed for a while, has three kids who never visit, and has undergone every renovation known to man at that mansion of hers that sits like the odd man out at the edge of town.

  Mom, in contrast, is fit for her age, her arms are well-toned, her hair cut to her shoulders in a wavy blonde bob, not a gray hair in sight thanks to her weekly trips to the Shear Beauty Salon, and she happens to have a penchant for dressing young and acting that way, too. My mother has been my role model for as long as I can remember, and I certainly hope I have her vitality and zest for life when I’m her age. Not to mention the fact she too has been a widower for years.

  Eve leans in. “You’re welcome to join us next month in Manhattan. Your mother says no one gives a tour quite like you.”

  “No thank you.” I shoot a look to my mother. That woman knows I’d rather chop off both hands than head anywhere near the city. “But with my mother as a guide, I’m sure you’ll have a good time.”

  “Of course, we will.” She nods to my mother, forlorn. “Jackie Jenner was supposed to lead the group. Who would have thought that such a tragedy could have struck someone so young at that? Poisoned!” Eve bellows, and half the patrons look my way.

  “Well, she wasn’t poisoned by me. The bakery received the all clear.” I haven’t officially yet, but there are some details that simply aren’t needed.

  Mom pats my hand. “That’s right, dear. You’re innocent until proven guilty. That’s how our country works.”

  “I won’t be proven guilty. I didn’t do a thing wrong.”

  Eve lifts a finger as she turns to go. “Anyhow, the funeral is Saturday, and I don’t have a thing to wear. Funerals in Honey Hollow are becoming quite the social events. I’ll see you girls there!” She gives a cheery wave as she speeds out the door.

  Lainey makes a face. “I hate funerals. Hey? Do you think we’ve got a serial killer on the loose? I mean, three deaths in three months. Maybe those other people you caught were the wrong people!”

  “Stop,” I hiss. “Customers are leaving.” I nod to a crowd ambling their way to the door. “See what you did? Nobody wants a little conversation about a serial killer with their morning pie.”

  “Speaking of pies.” Mom rubs her hands together in anticipation, and my stomach sinks because I know where this is going. “Tell me when and where they’re hosting that pumpkin pie contest in Ashford. I plan on being there with bells on. I heard last year they had a panel of ten judges. Six were male and three were widowers!” Her shoulders do that annoying shimmy thing that makes my stomach turn. Rumor has it that three-time winner Crystal Mandrake not only won the prize last year but she won a husband right off the judging panel as well. So I guess my mother isn’t all that far off.

  “Hey, wait a minute.” I pick up the carafe and pour her a fresh cup of coffee. “What happened to Wallace Chad, the man with two first names? Don’t tell me you’ve given him his walking papers already.”

  Mom waves him off as she takes a careful sip of her coffee.

  “You didn’t hear?” Lainey scoots in with an undeniable excitement tittering in her voice. “He got a job in Leeds working for a certain questionable financial institution.”

  I slap my hand over my mouth in shock. “No!” I told Mom and Lainey all about my adventures at the Martinelle Finance department where Everett and I posed as a couple last month to try to catch Hunter’s killer. And, believe it or not, they offered a vital clue in the investigation. “He’ll be in prison before you can say Thanksgiving dinner. I happened to know for a fact they’re being investigated. But don’t say a word.” I slip my finger over my mouth.

  Lily Swanson swoops in and grabs a couple of brownies out of the case. “Don’t say a word about what?” She lifts a villainous brow. Come to think of it, everything about Lily is villainous. She’s Naomi Turner’s best friend for starters, and one is just as wicked as the other. But since I’m still short on a crew of my own, Keelie who does all the hiring for the Honey Pot Diner next door, and now the bakery as well, brought her onboard to help out. As much as I hate to admit it, she does have a way with moving people through the line at lightning speed. She’s been a real godsend.

  “About the contest—” My mouth opens as I look to Lainey for help, but she just shrugs over at me while stuffing the rest of that croissant into her mouth. “I may not be eligible to participate in the bake-off.” I glower at Lily a moment for making me confess it in front of her of all people. “But if you want to keep your job, I’d keep that little bit of info close to the vest. I still have a healthy order of Thanksgiving Day pies coming in on the regular.”

  Her little pink mouth rounds out. Lily is a dark-haired, honey-skinned stunner who has made no secret about her crush on Everett. “It’s because of the poisoning, isn’t it?”

  I frown over at my mother. She and Lily have been vying for top spot on the gossip food chain for a while now, and here I am about to feed the frenzy.

  “Yes,” I say reluctantly. “But it has nothing to do with the bakery, so don’t go chasing any of my customers away just yet.”

  Lainey cringes. “Is it because you’re being investigated?”

  I nod just as another crowd waddles through the door, and a few golden maple leaves blow in right along with them. Fall in Honey Hollow is all about the magical show the leaves put on.

  Lily takes off to help them out, and I pull out a pumpkin pinwheel cookie and take an angry bite.

  Mom shakes her head at the thought. “Don’t you worry. Once you’re in the clear, they’ll have to accept you. You already filled out the application long before the deadline. This will all work out in the end, and you’ll be the owner of a brand new van for the bakery in no time!”

  “From your m
outh to—”

  “Meg’s ears!” Lainey’s phone blares a happy little song, and she holds up the screen where Meg glares back at us with her over-dyed black hair and neon yellow contacts, her blue nails exposed as she flashes a peace sign.

  Lainey picks up, and we FaceTime with our younger sister. Lainey fills her in on all the happenings at the library, and Mom regales us all with the tale of how she dumped Wallace—embellished as it were, it still brings me joy.

  Meg peers over at me. “And what about you, Lottie? Trip over any more dead bodies?” She chortles into her latte. Her hair is pulled back into a messy bun, and yet she still manages to achieve supermodel status. Meg is a stunner when she’s not trying to break anyone’s back on the female wrestling circuit in Las Vegas.

  Lainey and I groan in unison as our mother quickly rattles off all the gory details.

  Meg’s jaw unhinges, and it looks quite literal. “And she just dropped dead right there at the ceremony? After clutching her throat and screaming she was poisoned?” She looks over at me. “You’re my new hero, Lot.” She bursts out laughing. “Not only do you find the bodies but you’re giving the morgue a fresh supply!” Tears are actually spouting from the corners of her eyes.

  “Oh stop.” Mom holds up a finger, her very real threat whenever we FaceTime. Our mother is not afraid to shut us down by way of that looming red button.

  The door jingles and in walks a tall, handsome detective whom I might need to investigate to see if his pucker is still working. I haven’t had a single kiss since Saturday.

  “Noah!” I wave him over, and he’s slow to break into a smile, which only makes him all the more comely. Noah has the body of a football player, and he’s chosen to cover it with the suit of a well-dressed mobster. Noah is a god among us that accidentally escaped Olympus. Just having him in the bakery has caused every ovary in the vicinity to pop.