Cutie Pies and Deadly Lies: Murder in the Mix 1

by Moore, Addison

  A dull laugh pumps from me with the epiphany. I bypass dozens of booths filled with oodles of people trying to check out the local flavor. Just about every business in Honey Hollow is represented here. Everyone but that fake one that belongs to that obnoxious fake investigator who probably got his PI license out of a vending machine that charged him a quarter.

  The booth at the end has a banner above it that reads The Busy Bee Craft Shop, and I don’t hesitate heading on over. The booth has a swarm of people in it ogling all of the knickknacks and potentially fun crafts projects poor Mora Anne hauled out on her own. But the table itself is left unmanned. Instead, a bright orange piece of paper sits neatly taped to the front. I step in close to read what it says, Bee sure to stick around! I’ll bee back in just a moment! -Mora Anne

  Wow, with all of those exclamation points and cutesy ways of spelling the word bee, you’d think you’d be treated to the warmest, bubbly soul on the planet upon her return. These people are in for a rude awakening.

  I’m just about to step away when something about that note jars me.

  “Wait a minute.” My heart drums into my chest as I inspect the sharp peaks and valleys of Mora’s neat penmanship.

  “Oh my God.” That threatening note I received tucked in my purse the night of the auction comes back to me. Whoever wrote that had the same jagged handwriting.

  I try to think back to any point in time where I could have been exposed to Mora Anne’s handwriting, but can’t think of a single instance. We weren’t that friendly in school. There was no passing of the notes.

  I glance outside the booth where the sky has suddenly taken on an eerie crimson hue, the color of blood, the color of certain dead.

  A flicker of a barely-there orange tabby cat garners my attention, and I gasp as I spot it twirling around the pole just outside of Mora Anne’s booth. It pauses lazily before looking right at me. Those glowing yellow eyes look so hauntingly bright, it almost hurts to look right at them. It twitches its head toward the orchard and heads out in that direction.

  So I do the only rational thing a person in my position would do.

  I follow.

  Chapter 16

  The riotous sounds from the crowd slowly fade away as a long, dead, rust-colored tabby leads me supernaturally to the right of the orchards where the sound of muffled voices comes from my right.

  A man shouts something explosively loud, and the woman shouts back clear as crystal, “You’ll live to regret it!”

  An angry, tall, and lanky man limps his way out of the orchard, and I hold my breath, waiting for the fallout, but he doesn’t even seem to notice me.

  That must be Travis Darren! Naomi nailed him to a T. How many other tall, lanky men with a limp could there be at the Apple Festival?

  I glance down to find the orange tabby circling my feet, and I give a little squeal of fear as I do my best to shoo it.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” I hiss. “Don’t you go rubbing off that bad juju on me. I’m not interested in having a knife stab me in the back seven times.” Even if that descriptor isn’t entirely accurate. I believe the coroner suggested there was at least one blow to the front, or was it two? Oh, I can’t even think about it being out here along in the dark with a ghost cat and—

  It jerks a moment, tipping his head up to look at me with those large, watery, lantern green eyes.

  “Oh my heaven.” I melt as I bend over and give it a scratch behind its supernatural ears. “Yes, you sure are precious.”

  A thought strikes me. Oh my God. What if that’s Mora in there that Travis just had that explosive argument with? What in the world would Mora Anne have to argue with him about so passionately?

  Those cryptic words she spoke about her family stealing what’s hers comes crashing back to me.

  Was Mora seeing Travis first? Can’t be. Merilee would never do that to her sister, would she? I mean, sure, they were sour apples to the rest of society, but alone they had a wonderful relationship, didn’t they? I freeze solid as it all comes together. Could Merilee have stabbed Mora Anne in the back like that? And could Mora Anne have quite literally returned the favor?

  Footsteps rustle in this direction coming from the orchard.

  Holy heck, I need to get out of here. But she’s close and my own feet don’t seem willing to lead me to safety at the moment, so I do the only thing I can. I pull out my phone and text Noah.

  Orchard. And hit send.

  It’s all I have time to say before Mora Anne is staring me in the face with that long, dark, stringy hair of hers, that pale skin that practically glows in the dark, that slit of a mouth that looks like a bloodstain.

  “It was you,” I say breathless. “You did it, didn’t you?” The words come from me stunned as she backs me into the trees. “Why, Mora? Was Travis Darren really worth it?”

  She shakes her head in disbelief. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” Her eyes widen, hot with rage. “You had to keep pushing and pushing. It wasn’t good enough that you would never have been prosecuted for killing my sister. You simply found her. You had nothing to fear. But you’re a ninny and you couldn’t even figure that out.”

  Something next to her thigh catches a glimmer of moonlight, and as soon as I spot it, I can’t seem to take my next breath. A long, slender knife, big enough to butcher a deer with gleams by her side, and she raises it as if to allow me to further inspect it.

  “I had to bring it with me tonight just in case I saw her.”

  “Merilee?” My God, Mora Anne’s sanity really has flown the coop.

  “No, not Merilee, you idiot. My cousin.”

  “Cascade? Why would you want to hurt her?”

  “Why would I want to hurt her?” she shouts so loud her voice echoes throughout the orchard. “Why would she want to hurt me?” she riots, and I can feel the blowback on my face.

  I bump into the branches of an apple tree from behind and come to a full stop. A thicket of trees surround me in every direction. There’s nowhere for me to go except past Mora.

  “Nobody wants to hurt you.” I slip my phone into my pocket, and I can feel it vibrating with a message as soon as I tuck it into my jeans.

  “You want to hurt me. Admit it.” Her voice shakes as she dances the knife between us. “Cascade wants her money. And as long as I’m alive, she can’t have it. Because it’s mine. My uncle left everything to me. That will she has is a fake. He would never intentionally give that brat a dime.”

  “But she’s blood, right? Maybe he changed his mind?”

  A crazed cackle bounces from her. “I’m so damn tired of my relatives changing their minds.” She shifts from foot to foot as if acting it out.

  “Is that what happened? With Merilee? She changed her mind and didn’t want Coach Hagan anymore?”

  She chokes on another laugh. “She never wanted him until I pointed out how attractive and astute he was. Merilee could never see the good in anyone for herself. She was too consumed trying to keep me boxed in by that shut-in lifestyle she demanded we have. And once she started to date, I thought I could too, so I found a gentleman of my own. But no”—silver tracks stream down her face as tears make their way to the ground—“she decided she liked Travis better and set out to seduce him herself. She convinced me to wait until my wedding day, but all the while she was using everything she had in her arsenal to secure Travis for herself. They spent afternoons sleeping together at the Evergreen while I worked to the bone at The Busy Bee.” She lifts the knife and wipes the tears from her face with the back of her hand. “Sleeping together! She just put herself out there like some common street whore just to keep me from being happy.” Her voice ticks up in a violent manner, her words garbled with agony. And as much as my heart breaks for her, I can’t seem to take my eyes off the shiny blade of that knife she’s wielding.

  “Why would you kill her, though? And here at the orchard on one of their busiest days instead of somewhere secluded?”

  She scoffs at the acc
usation. “You think I set out to kill my own sister? I was raging for months. And, believe me, I’ve thought about how much easier this life would be without her. I wanted her gone for a very long time, but not even I thought I could do it. And in a way, I didn’t. All I remember is that Coach Hagan’s wife came by and had it out with her. Told both my sister and me to stay out of her family right in front of Eve, that ridiculous book lady, and the mayor’s wife. It was ugly and humiliating. Once they left, I had no choice but to confront my sister. I told her she needed to leave the coach once and for all. And that’s when she informed me she had already left him. She was committing to Travis. My Travis. I told her she needed to leave him alone, that he was mine. But she just laughed and said she would get a proposal out of him by midnight. I just saw red. And the next thing I knew, I had a knife just like this one in my hand, and I was standing over my sister’s dead body. I dropped the knife and ran into the restroom. I was hysterical after that.”

  I look to her hand and note the fact she’s wearing her signature long black gloves. “That’s why forensics couldn’t place you as the killer. No prints. You wore gloves.” A dull laugh pumps from me because I’m guessing she didn’t plan that brilliant move. “You killed your sister, yes, but it was a crime of passion. You were in a rage. I’m positive a judge and jury will take that into account. You can tell them all about how abusive Merilee was to you.”

  “No!” she shouts so loud my entire body flinches.

  Mora Anne raises the knife above her head. “It’s over for you, Lottie. I’m the one who’s sorry now. If you weren’t so damn nosy, none of this would have happened. You could have lived for years cuddled up to that stupid furball of yours.”

  My adrenaline hits its zenith. “Nobody calls Pancake stupid.” My foot sweeps the leaves she’s standing on, sending both her and the knife sailing to the ground. I seize the moment and try to make a run for it, but Mora snatches me by the ankle and reels me back in.

  “Let go.” I buck and kick wildly as she snatches the knife back up and wields it with aggression.

  This is the moment where I should probably scream my head off, but in reality it’s taking way too much energy to even think about. Besides, I need every last bit of it so I can do this—

  I reach forward and clasp my hand over her wrist as the knife dangles precariously over my head.

  “Stop this right now, Mora!” I howl into her. “I’ll tell the sheriff to go easy on you. It doesn’t have to end this way.”

  “You end this way!” Her voice rises into the night sky as she breaks free from my grasp, and the knife drops to the ground with an unceremonious thump.

  With all of my might I flip her onto her back and kick my knee into her gut as hard as I can.

  Mora attempts to groan, but the wind seems to be knocked out of her and the only sound emitting from her throat is a dull croak.

  I hop to my feet and step away from her, snatching the knife from a pile of leaves and breathing a sigh of relief. It’s over. I have the knife, and I’m safe. I turn to look at her one last time, and my own feet are knocked out from underneath me and the knife violently snatched from my hand.

  “Two can play at that game.” She laughs. “You don’t get to walk out of here tonight, Lottie.” The knife comes down fast just above my chest, and I roll to my right as it plunges into the ground.

  “Crap!” I try to roll away from her, but she’s on me and we’re wrestling once again, that knife diving around my head and chest as if it were alive.

  “Lottie!” Noah’s deep voice resonates from behind and Mora looks over. I push my elbow up and hit her square in the face, shutting her mouth by way of her chin with a loud, satisfying pop.

  “Lottie!” Noah roars as he pulls Mora Anne off me. “She’s over here!” he shouts behind him, and an entire fleet of deputies stream in to subdue her.

  Noah helps me to my feet, and I stumble backwards until we’re embedded between a pair of trees laden with fruit. The moon shines down over the orchard like a spotlight, and Noah glows with a silent rage that’s quickly diminishing to something just this side of relief.

  “Why would you openly go against the captain’s orders?” His voice is firm, yet layered with caring underneath.

  “Why would you demand I listen to you like you’re some authority figure in my life and I’m your subordinate?” I shout right back.

  “I was trying to keep you alive!”

  “Well, I wasn’t trying to die on purpose!” I pause for a moment, still trying to catch my breath. “Okay, so as far as comebacks go, that was pretty lame. But you just sailed into my life, so obnoxious in everything you said and did. And don’t you even get me started on that ego! You think every woman on the planet lives to—”

  “Kiss me,” he says as his cheeks twitch with the hint of a smile. And just like that, he presses those lips of his to mine and doesn’t break the seal for a solid ten seconds and neither do I. He pulls back, and I can still feel his chest pounding just as hard as mine. “You scared me.” His voice wavers a moment. “Don’t do that again. Please,” he adds softly, and a tiny smile flickers on my face.

  “Kiss me again and I’ll consider it.”

  He sheds that signature cocky grin as he takes me in like this. From over his shoulder I spot a shimmering orange ball of light move deep into the orchard in the shape of a beautiful little tabby. Its tail waves in the air as it takes off, and its body becomes clear as night until its all but evaporated.

  Noah lands his lips to mine one more time, and I grab him by the neck and press him in. I want to feel him, feel everything.

  I survived. Merilee’s killer was caught in the most unfortunate manner, after exposing the most unfortunate circumstances. And I’m alive, standing here with gorgeous Detective Noah Fox with his heart drumming up against mine.

  Maybe, just maybe, there is someone out there who has the capability to want me in their life exclusively, perhaps even forever.

  Maybe, just maybe, that person is right here in front of me.

  I think he is.

  Chapter 17

  Fall in Honey Hollow comes in phases. First, there is the inkling of a cool breeze alerting summer that her seasonal duties are coming to an end. Next, comes the crisp, autumn wind that blow the dying leaves in all of their colorful splendor around town like confetti as the town itself becomes a parade of beauty on display for the world to admire. Finally, the frost becomes a permanent fixture as the season itself dies just like those leaves it so celebrated. The baton is passed to winter, and all things are once again discovered anew.

  And just like fall, one of my favorite seasons of the year, I too feel as if I came into my own right along with it. I had never realized how much I held onto the failures of the past, the rejection, the abandonment that plagues me had all become etched over my soul like a badge of dishonor, and unbeknownst to me I had worn it with pleasure. I think it’s time to remove the badge, remove the shame and the disgrace that others have inflicted, that I may have inflicted on myself. It’s time to discover a new version of who I am and all that I can be. Time, in fact, has been my greatest teacher, ushering me through each new phase of my being. The metamorphosis continues as I stretch my wings and fly, as I fly so high I touch the stratosphere with the new opportunities presented to me. And I look forward to each new discovery as I lift the boulders of the past off my spirit, brush the dust off myself, and enter into the light of this new life. It is a beautiful, beautiful thing to realize that you are not defined by who you once were, that life is ever-evolving around you, and that you, in fact, are along for the magical ride.

  A lot has happened in Honey Hollow this past month, and in order to move on from what was, Nell has decided to host an open house at the Honey Pot. All day and well into the evening, residents have been streaming as a show of community, to show the world that we are indeed family, that we are strong and celebrate one another’s victories, and just as easily mourn one another’s defeats. No one is
pleased that Mora Anne had a terrible life with her sister. Certainly an emotional imprisonment like the one Merilee imposed on her was painful to hear about and process. But we are all relieved that Mora Anne will get the help she needs. The psychological examination proved that the assistance she requires will be extensive although not impossible to achieve. Everett says she will most likely be sent to a place where there is a hospital-like environment, and each day she will work to restore herself, the true self she lost way back when all of that emotional abuse began. I’ve already resolved to visit her whenever possible. Yes, she tried very hard to kill me, but I believe in second chances and during her arrest Mora Anne has already quite sincerely apologized profusely.

  And per the rumor mill, as led by its most active member, my mother, Coach Hagan and his wife are officially in counseling. There’s no telling if they will ever truly restore what was lost, but at least they will be civil to one another for the sake of their children.

  Travis Darren, as rumor and confirmation of said rumor would have it, is now dating Naomi Turner’s best friend, Lily Swanson. Once word spread on the street that Travis was a well sought-after man, a fair amount of ladies turned up the volume and strutted their stuff in front of the leaf peeping guide. He had a bevy of beauties to choose from, and he happily chose the shallowest of them all. I suppose, in the end, he too received his just desserts.

  My mother has confided in me that both Eve Hollister and Chrissy Nash have taken a personal vow to never withhold anything juicy from her again. She really leveraged that whole my-daughter’s-life-was-in-the-bounds thing, and, suffice it to say, she will never be in the proverbial dark again.

  Keelie wraps an arm around me as we stare out at all the bodies circulating through the Honey Pot. There’s a buffet set up on the wall adjacent to what will be the official new bakery, and appropriately enough there are desserts for every and anyone who would like to partake. I gladly lost myself in the kitchen after that entire horror at the orchard. I still have nightmares about that steely blade slashing around my head and wake up gasping for air, so Pancake has taken up permanent residency on my pillow as opposed to near my feet where he usually slept. And those nightmares are becoming fewer and fewer. I couldn’t have asked for a better furry guardian angel.