Raspberry Tart Terror (Murder in the Mix Book 30)

by Unknown

  Juliet laughs at the thought. “Oh, I do enough damage online. Believe me.”

  Lainey turns her way. “And I bet with that employee discount, on top of their eighty percent off sales, it practically feels as if you’re stealing from them.”

  “That is exactly what it feels like I’m doing.”

  Lemon hands the woman a cup of coffee and a small bag full of treats. “Are you heading to the Rendezvous tomorrow night for their big Valentine’s Day bash?”

  Juliet nods. “It’s a tribute to one of my best friends in the world. I wouldn’t miss it for anything. I’ll see you all there.”

  She takes off, letting in an icy breeze, and a woman with an equally icy heart steps inside, but then, that icy heart is exactly why I’ve selected her to represent me.

  “Essex,” she calls my name out and nods to a table by the window, and I dutifully follow her over. Fiona has her hair, lips, and demeanor in a knot.

  “Well?” she asks as we take a seat. “I need to let the DA know if you’re going to accept the deal. We have two hours left, Essex. I don’t appreciate working this close to the wire. But for you, it appears, I make concessions.”

  Lemon shows up with a plate full of raspberry tarts and a cup of coffee for each of us.

  “What’s happening?” She takes a seat next to me, and I take in her sugary scent.

  I’ve been memorizing everything about her these last few weeks—her scent, her different smiles, the way she looks up at me as if I were an immovable boulder she found safety in. I might need to remember it in the event they cart me off one day soon.

  “Well?” Her eyes enlarge as she looks my way. “One of you, tell me what’s happening?”

  I take a deep breath. “Today is the deadline to give the DA his answer.”

  Her lips part, and I can see them trembling. “For the deal?”

  Fiona nods. “He’ll get half the sentence, Lottie. And with good behavior, he’ll get out in half that time as well. Four years, tops. Your kid won’t even be in kindergarten yet. Tell him to take the deal. If the trial goes south, we’re looking at fifteen years minimum. There’s no reason for him to lose that much time. This isn’t the hour for a flight of fancy. The feds don’t pursue a case unless they think they can win. We’re not just looking at an uphill battle—we’re looking at a trip to the dark side of the moon. It’s going to take a miracle to survive this.”

  “Oh, Everett.” Lemon takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. Her eyes swell with tears. The pain on her face isn’t something I’d like to memorize, but unfortunately I have a feeling I’ll be seeing it for the next fifteen years every time I close my eyes. “What are you going to do?”

  “What do you want me to do?” I say the words carefully, not wanting to influence her in the least.

  She shakes her head slightly.

  “Then it’s settled.” I breathe a sigh of relief, but only because I know this option buys me a little time with Lemon on the front end.

  If things go wrong, as they’ve been prone to do, I’ll pay for it in spades. I look over to Fiona. “Tell the DA we’re not taking the deal. Let’s get a trial date.”

  Fiona lulls her head back and glares over at Lemon as if this were all her fault.

  “As you wish.” She scoops up her things and takes off without so much as a goodbye.

  Lemon wraps her arms around me and plants a kiss to my lips.

  “We’re going to get a miracle, Everett. Just you wait and see.”

  “Good.” We’re going to need it.

  The birthing class across town is filled with women with round bellies, their respective coaches, and a lot of love and joy—two things my world will be devoid of once I hit Fenwick in my spiffy new orange suit. I won’t lie, a part of me is kicking myself for not taking the deal. But another part of me wants to believe that I’ll get my miracle, just the way Lemon demands to believe it.

  Class has just begun, and I’m seated behind Lemon while she uses my body as a backrest and I give her a massage over the shoulders as Lainey and Serena instructed the class to do.

  Noah speeds in late and lands next to us.

  “Sorry, Lot.” He picks up her hand and gives it a kiss.

  Funny. I don’t remember being so routinely physical with her when they were together, at least not in front of Noah.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Lemon moans. “Everett has it all under control.”

  “Don’t I always?” I tease. Because it might become very apparent that I have nothing under control. I nod over to Noah. “So what did you glean?”

  I know for a fact he was in Ashford toying with that phone the sheriff’s department is holding as evidence. Evidence of what nobody is certain, least of all not the sheriff’s department themselves.

  Lemon snaps her head in his direction. “Well?”

  Noah gives an impish grin. “It worked. Teddy, along with the number nine, was her password. Chad was right. It was easy to hack.”

  Lemon glances back at me. “I guess he could be the one texting Evie.”

  “And he could very well be the killer.” I nod.

  Noah blows out a breath. “I reached out to Insta Pictures and let them know the sheriff’s department needed the records of all the messages that were being sent this month. If we can get the phone number of whoever is behind this, things might come to a close a lot faster than we anticipate.”

  “Noah.” Lottie gives his hand a rattle. “You are a genius.”

  “I am, but it’s still nice to hear it from you.” He offers her a sly wink, and he’s very much flirting.

  Noah never stops. Heck, Lemon has never stopped loving him. I know this. In fact, I know that if I’m not around for the next fifteen years, Noah Fox is the only man I’d approve of filling my shoes.

  Of course, once I got out, I’d have to give him the boot again. But by then, there will be another person among us—one who will be very much used to having Noah around as his or her father. And he might just be that to them, their father.

  No, I couldn’t give him the boot. I need to face it. Once they slam the cell door behind me, they’ll be slamming the door on my relationship with Lemon forever.

  I’m not toying with her heart in fifteen years, destroying the family she would have built with Noah. I would never allow myself to cause that kind of pain to anyone. Not to Lemon. Heck, not even to Noah.

  There might be other children involved by then. Lemon can’t wait for me. Her birthing years are here, in front of us. In fifteen years, that too might be in the rearview mirror. And I would never want to rob her of the joy of expanding her family. And if Lemon tries to remain loyal to me, holding the rest of her life at bay—that is exactly what’s going to happen—I’d be robbing her of everything.

  “Okay, mamas and coaches.” Serena steps into the center of our circle with Lainey by her side. “First thing’s first. If you haven’t already shored up your birthing plan, this is your final opportunity. If you plan on having an epidural, now is the time to ask your doctor about the risks. If you’re determined to go at it naturally, then you might want to have your coach commit to keeping you on track.”

  Lainey shakes her head over at Lemon.

  When Lainey had her baby, she had done exactly that, and as fate and horrific birth pains would have it, she had to threaten every person in that room within an inch of their lives until she got something medicinal to take the edge off.

  I should know, I was one of those people.

  “Coaches”—Serena points over to Noah and me—“your mother-to-be is going to rely on you exclusively to cheer her on. Now is the time to think up clever little motivational sayings that go above and beyond you can do this. Get creative! You want to jar your partner emotionally with the wonderful things you can come up with to spur her on. You’re a team. If she’s unhappy, you’re unhappy. The entire emotional state of your partner rides on your shoulders.”

  “Don’t worry, Lemon,” I whisper in her ear. “I’m goi
ng to be your biggest supporter. I already know you can get this done with ease. You’re the smartest woman I know, and you’re tough as nails.” I land a kiss to her earlobe, and she bubbles with a laugh.

  “You keep that up, Baxter, and I might just start believing it.”

  Serena and Lainey come around and teach us a few controlled breathing techniques. They let us know it’s best to focus on one object in the room while riding the wave of the contractions, and breathing slow, even breaths until the pain has subsided.

  Something tells me I’ll be implementing these breathing techniques for the next fifteen years if things go south for me.

  Serena and Lainey go around the room once again, teaching each set of partners the various birthing positions available.

  “I draw the line on getting on all fours,” Lemon says as Lainey struggles to contort her into yet another uncomfortable position.

  Noah chuckles as he leans my way. “She never said those words to me.” He flexes a short-lived grin at the thought.

  “I’m not laughing.” And I’m certainly not telling him about my experiences with Lemon in that position. Some things aren’t meant to be shared.

  My lips purse as I watch my sweet, beautiful wife.

  Dear God, she is not meant to be shared. But perhaps the noblest thing I can do for her is give her away.

  My heart physically aches at the thought.

  I’d rather be in the morgue than in that cell. Either place is interchangeable at this point.

  But I will survive this. I have to. For Lemon, for Evie, for the baby. Even if Lemon isn’t mine anymore after all is said and done, we’ll always be family.

  Noah kicks his foot to mine. “Hey, wake up, old man. Lottie gets one last massage out of this. It’s called the slow dance.”

  I look up to see Lemon doing a macabre sort of slow dance with Lainey as they practice their methodic breathing.

  “Why don’t you take this one?” I tell him. “I’ll cut in soon enough.”

  “Like you always do,” he says, jumping to his feet, and the next thing I know, he’s got Lemon in his arms as they get their breathing in sync.

  And soon enough, they just might be getting their lives in sync, too. My heart breaks just witnessing it, but I might as well give them a head start.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket. It’s a message from Evie.

  Get home quickly. Verity just sent me another message. I’m scared, Dad. I’m really scared. I need you.

  Lemon and Noah insisted on taking off early with me, and seeing that there were only ten minutes left in the class I didn’t put up a fight. Besides, Evie needs all of us. And I need Noah to be a part of her life, to fill the void I’m about to leave in it.

  But regardless of having Noah in her life, Evie still needs me. Lemon and the baby need me, too. And I will do everything in my power to fight for the right to remain right here in Honey Hollow, in their lives.

  We need each other.

  Our happily ever after is just within reach. I can’t let anything stand in the way of that.

  But then again, there is that bullet to the heart Jimmy Canelli wants to gift me and the fifteen year extended vacation at Fenwick the DA has planned for me—something is definitely standing in the way of that happily ever after.

  And maybe, just maybe, Lemon, Evie, and the baby get that happily ever after with someone other than me.

  Noah

  Lottie’s new rental is lit up like a beacon in the night. A crowd of women is staked out on the frosted lawn, sitting around the trunks of their cars, sipping from thermoses and snacking on cookies as if they were tailgating. They scream their heads off at us as if we were rock stars as we make our way into the house.

  “Evie?” Everett riots as he charges into the living room, and out she springs from down the hall, along with Carlotta.

  “Dad, it’s, like, super terrible!” Evie wails. “This is getting weird. I want off this ride.”

  She thrusts her phone at him, and he glances at it before closing his eyes.

  I snap the phone out of his hand, and Lottie and I read the message for ourselves.

  You didn’t listen to me. Now you must pay. The next body buried in your uncle’s backyard will be yours.

  Carlotta grips Evie by the shoulders. “No one touches my Evie Stevie! Someone is going to pay for this. Call the sheriff’s department, Foxy.”

  “I am the sheriff’s department,” I say as I flick through the previous messages sent from this monster. “Ivy just texted me a few minutes ago. It turns out, a representative at Insta Pictures confirmed the messages were indeed coming from Verity’s account but via another host than Verity was using.”

  Carlotta gasps. “Way to go. Did you get their phone number? Let’s ring this sucker up and tell ’em they’re going to be buried behind bars for the rest of their lives.”

  “Ivy didn’t get a number, but I got an IP address.” I look to Lottie and Everett. “All I know is, they’re in Honey Hollow. It’s time to do a deep dive. Lottie, where’s your laptop? I’ll dig into it right now.”

  In less than a minute, I’m settled on the couch with Lottie and Evie on either side of me while Everett starts a fire before heading over.

  “What did you find?” he asks, inspecting the screen.

  “Honey Communications is the service provider.”

  “Hey”—Lottie pulls back a notch—“that’s who we use at the bakery. I mean, we’re practically forced to use it. They have a monopoly on Main Street.”

  Carlotta clucks her tongue. “You should switch to Com Link like we have at the house. I bet you’d get a discount for having two accounts.”

  “I wish.” Lottie looks my way. “Honey Communications practically owns all of downtown. There aren’t any other options.”

  “Okay,” Everett says. “We know they either live or work downtown. What else can the IP address tell us?”

  “Nothing,” I grunt. “I’ll need to talk to Honey Communications.”

  “Well, get on the horn.” Evie bumps her shoulder to mine. “Call them, like, right now.”

  “I can’t.” I sigh as I stare at the laptop before me. “Ivy has to do it, and she’ll need a judge to give her clearance to dig into their files.”

  “Dad,” Evie wails as she turns to Everett. “Make this happen. There’s a nutburger out there who wants to bury me alive.”

  “Nah,” Carlotta says as she scoops up Pancake and Waffles. “They’ll probably chop you up into teeny tiny pieces first. What sense is it to toss you into an open grave if you’re just gonna crawl your way back out? Unless, of course, there’s duct tape involved. Then we’re talking about a game changer.”

  “Mom”—Evie growls—“make her stop.”

  “Carlotta,” Lottie snips.

  “Fine, fine.” Carlotta lands a cat in Lottie’s lap. “I was just trying to cheer the poor kid up. I guess if you’re not gonna get a hacker to bust into Honey Communications, we might as well go to bed and hope to see our Evie Stevie come morning, safe and in one piece.”

  “That’s what we need—a hacker,” Everett says with a mark of urgency in his voice. “Noah, who does the sheriff’s department use to do their dirty work?”

  I shoot him a look. “No one. We follow the law, remember?”

  Everett’s brows twitch. “I put away more than my fair share of hackers.”

  “Call them,” Evie practically shoves her phone at him.

  “I can’t.” Everett frowns. “They’re all doing time.”

  Lottie glances back at Carlotta. “All right, Cadillac, do your thing.”

  I shoot Carlotta a text with the IP address and the server information, and she gets straight to making a couple of calls. Evie takes off for the kitchen to stuff her face with chocolate cake and Everett offers to join her.

  I put my arm around Lottie’s shoulders. “All right, let’s go over the suspects. Where should we start?”

  “I don’t know. I guess there’s Sugar Ha
rtley. She has a business on Main Street, the Head over Heels Bookshop. She’s the one that owned Teddy before Verity stole her from under the poor girl. Verity really was a bit of a bully.”

  “So Sugar was bullied by her,” I say. “Verity stole her beloved pet.”

  “And Verity all but shut down the grand opening of Sugar’s bookstore. Apparently, she lost quite a bit of cash in the process, too.”

  “Sugar is looking like a solid suspect. What about Juliet? She’s got a shop on Main Street, and she had a relationship with the deceased.”

  “That’s true. They were co-workers,” Lottie points out. “I don’t really know about a motive for murder, but I suppose she’s still on the board. And, of course, Bambi Bailey. Bambi and Verity were best friends right up until Bambi wouldn’t do Verity’s bidding anymore. And Verity made sure everyone knew that she was feeling harassed by Bambi the night she was killed when she threatened to slap her with a restraining order. Bambi herself told me that Verity was out to ruin her.”

  “She could have very well done this.” I take a breath. “Bambi had a career to protect, her reputation. Verity was a loose cannon.”

  “So was her boyfriend.” Lottie makes a face. “The night of the killing, he was heckling Verity in front of a room full of people. He did say Verity was trying to break things off with him. He also mentioned that it was the alcohol talking that night.”

  My lips twitch in her direction. “He could easily blame the alcohol for killing her, too.”

  “I got it!” Carlotta shouts as she runs into the room, and on her tail are Evie and Everett. “I got the address. It’s two, one, three, three Main Street. That’s the address where all this toil and trouble is coming from. Let’s go make an arrest, Foxy.”

  Lottie types the address into her laptop before looking up at Everett and me.

  “That’s the address of the Head over Heels Bookshop,” she says the words just above a whisper. “Noah, you have to arrest Sugar.”

  “I can’t. We need to turn this over to Ivy, and she is not going to like how we came about this information.”

  “Don’t worry, Uncle Noah,” Evie pants as if this new information has her blood boiling. I know it does mine. “I’m not afraid now that I know who’s behind this. And I promise I’ll stay far away from this Sugar person tomorrow night at the B&B.”