New York Cheesecake Chaos (MURDER IN THE MIX Book 8)

by Addison Moore

  Something tells me they want far more from their members than their enlightened minds. They want their wallets, too. I’m beginning to understand why Rags Bojangles looked as if he didn’t have a dime to his name. He didn’t. And I’m betting that’s where Rhonda and her creative loans came into play. Who knew I’d glean so much without even speaking to Rags.

  Macon lets out an earthshattering cry from somewhere deep in the room.

  Well, what do you know?

  I have a distinct feeling I’m going to get a chance to speak to Rags after all.

  Chapter 9

  The music starts up, something melodic that the couples around us have decided to slow dance to. We follow the others back down the altar and into the crowd as Everett wraps his arms around me and we begin to sway to the music. His thick cologne envelops me, and I’m intoxicated by his scent, those hypnotic blue eyes, the feel of his strong as steel abs rubbing up against me.

  Our feet are still firmly planted at the Seekers of the Light’s not-so-secret facility which parades around as an innocent church. Their fearless, and oddly glowing leader, just wrapped up an initiation pep talk, then quickly encouraged us to mingle with the brainwashed masses. If Everett is right, and this vexingly sexy man has yet to be wrong, this is all a part of the grand initiation scheme where they steal our wallets and our minds—I’m sure our souls won’t be far to follow.

  I give the sly judge a quick wink. “So, what was it you were going to do to me tonight?”

  His chest rumbles silently against mine. “Are you looking for a preview?”

  “I’m looking to find out if I should limber up beforehand.”

  A dirty smile flickers across his lips quicker than lightning. “I’ll make sure you’re good and ready, Cupcake.” His fingers press in over my back and do a little massage maneuver that makes what just happened up on that altar look as if a drunk toddler danced over me. “I don’t believe in making you cry out in pain. I believe in making you cry out with—”

  Noah pops up and gives Everett a hard tap on the shoulder. “Sorry, buddy, I believe this dance is mine.” Noah edges his way in, and before I know it, Noah’s strong arms are wrapped around me and Everett is whispering something to Ivy that has her bubbling with laughter. I scowl over at the seemingly happy couple.

  Noah bows in as if he’s about to kiss me, his familiar spiced cologne calls to me as if it were home. His warmth, his granite-like body leashed to mine makes me miss him ten times more, and he’s right here in front of me. It sounds like an impossible feat but, believe me, it’s playing out in real time. I’m longing for the old us, back when I was blissfully unaware of the fact he had a wife—and I hate how horrible that sounds.

  “What do you think?” He ticks his head toward Twila and her wall of muscular men that look as if they double as bouncers at the strip clubs down the street.

  “I think we need to find Rags before I move in and eat five-star meals for free.”

  Noah’s chest bucks with a silent laugh.

  I’m about to say something else when a flicker of blue sparks emits from above, and Macon swoops in close just to the left of Noah.

  “What did you find?” I whisper with absolutely zero regard for Noah’s nosy assessment of my questionable sanity.

  Macon flaps his majestic wings, and they glow like a beacon of light in this dimly lit room.

  “Rags Bojangles! Rags Bojangles!”

  I grimace up at him. “Cut through the parrot speak and give it to me straight.”

  Noah glances over his shoulder before craning his neck around the vicinity. “Are you talking to me?”

  “Do you look like a parrot?” I hiss without meaning to before nodding up at Macon.

  “Filthy Rags is in the corner with his cohorts. His partner is a waif of a girl with braids, and he spoke of looking for work soon and leaving the Seekers’ life.”

  “No kidding!” A twinge of glee fills me over that one. Here Twila is spewing her twisted way of living at a bunch of fresh faces, and meanwhile the ones that have eaten all the five-star meals their bellies can handle are ready to ditch this den of depravity.

  “Lottie?” Noah whispers as he vies for my attention. “What’s happening?”

  Just as I open my mouth to say something, Twila clears her throat into a mic from over on the altar.

  “Let us commune as one. Pour your love into one another. Drop your worldly selves and open wide as the light rains down over you and fills your souls.”

  Couples all around us start in on one big make-out session, and quite frankly something about the mass lip-lock repulses me.

  Noah leans in with a devilish gleam in his eyes. “When in Rome.” He comes in for the kill, and just as he’s about to get to first base, I’m twirled around from behind and right back into Everett’s arms where I started.

  He leans in, his blue eyes unnaturally illuminated. “I heard his name whispered in the crowd. He’s definitely here.”

  “Macon says he’s in the corner dancing with a girl with braids!”

  “I don’t think they’re dancing anymore, Lemon.” He nods at the moaning masses as we glide our way over.

  “Keep an eye out for the dirty unkempt one,” I whisper.

  Everett frowns as he scours the crowd. “That would be all of them. I’m thinking these dormitories aren’t fitted with showers.”

  I give a discerning look and, sure enough, he’s right. All that free living means not utilizing the wonders of modern hygiene. I’m guessing the trips to the pool are limited, too.

  No sooner do we sashay our way to the corner than I recognize the ratty looking man with shaggy hair down to his back. Those grimy looking features stand out even in this low light.

  “Hang on.” Everett moves us over, and in one fell swoop he’s dancing with the girl with braids and I’m in the gangly arms of a man who smells like a sewer.

  “I’m new.” I shrug. “I’m just so over society and all of its horrific anxieties.” I figure a quick and dirty confessional is a good start—even if the confessional is the furthest thing from the truth.

  “Where are you from?” Rags gives an ear-to-ear grin because either he’s really glad to see me or he wants to take a bite out of my newness. I’m guessing it’s the latter.

  “Honey Hollow. We just had another homicide—at the public library of all places. Can you believe it? There’s a killer on the loose, and they’re picking off their victims right out in the open. I don’t think I can stay in town much longer.”

  He shakes his head and blows out a breath. “I was at the library that afternoon. In fact, it was my ex-girlfriend’s mother who was killed. I still can’t believe it. Good ol’ Rhonda finally bit the big one.”

  “Finally?” I inch back, incensed. “Doesn’t sound like you cared for her much.”

  “I didn’t.” He flashes that smile once again, and his teeth light up the darkness. “She was a suppressive person who kept my one true love apart from me. She put a wedge in so deep, my girlfriend actually started dating my old roommate.”

  My mouth falls open. Simon Warwick was his old roommate?

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Did her mom approve of your old roommate?”

  “Are you kidding? That woman didn’t approve of anyone.” He glances over my shoulder and smirks. “Don’t say anything, but I work as a bouncer part-time at a strip club down the street.”

  “You don’t say?” Knew it.

  “I like the money.” He shrugs as if he were guilty. “And I happen to be a huge fan of Pepper Patrick, but they don’t believe in books here unless they’re written by our supreme leader.”

  My lips twist in a knot as if I might be sick. Anyone who doesn’t believe in books needs to be banished from the planet.

  “That day at the library?” I lean in. “Did you see anyone around your ex-girlfriend’s mother who was angry enough to do her in?”

  He belts out a laugh. “My ex herself should be the prime suspect. But if she did it,
they’ll never catch her. She’s smart as a whip.” He gives a wistful shake of the head.

  “How about you?” I shrug. “Did you do it?” A part of me can’t believe I just asked a suspect point-blank if they did it, and yet I’m thinking Rags here might actually cop to it if he did.

  “Not me, but I thought of it. Felicity, that’s my ex, she let me know the old bat was strangled. That’s not something I’d have it in me to do. When you get down to it, I’m a lover, not a fighter. Someone would have to be overcome with rage to pull something like that off in public. Nope. I would have gotten her alone. Made it look like an accident. Maybe something self-inflicted.” He glances to the ceiling as if considering his options. “But I’ll tell you this. When and if they catch the real killer? I might just shake their hand. Felicity has been coming by the bar almost every night to talk to me. It’s the most contact we’ve had in months. See that? Her mother really was an oppressive person.”

  “I thought you said she had another boyfriend?” I happen to know she has two.

  “Simple Simon?” He gives a quick chuckle. “If you think this is nutty, you should meet my old roommate. His world makes mine look like the nexus of sanity.”

  Lovely. I can’t wait.

  “Hey? Maybe Simon did it!”

  He cringes. “Simon’s not quite a lover like myself, but he’s not a killer either. Besides, he’s too busy to off anybody. He opened up shop right here in Leeds not too long ago—some comic book/UFO treasure hunter mash-up. He let me know it was Rhonda who gave him the loan.”

  “Rhonda? But I thought—I heard she was broke.” Come to think of it, Felicity mentioned something about Rhonda creatively loaning people money. Maybe that’s how she got into debt herself?

  “She was broke—as in a broker. Let’s just say Rhonda had ties to resources that could benefit just about anyone financially.”

  “What?” I squawk in disbelief.

  The music dies down, and a spotlight falls over Twila standing on a pedestal on the altar.

  “The time has come to free ourselves from these earthen chains. Arise to your truest self of all. Arise!” She drops her robe, as does the rest of the crowd, and suddenly I’m surrounded with far too much flesh, and it leaves me wanting to crawl right out of mine.

  Rags Bojangles holds his arms open wide, and the only thing he’s wearing is that megawatt grin.

  So I do the only thing a good girl like me can do—I run.

  Chapter 10

  The next day, the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery is operating at capacity all morning and well into the afternoon. The entire place holds the thick scent of vanilla and rich buttery goodness thanks to the madeleines I’ve just pulled out of the oven, and the rush of tourists have already gobbled up more than half. I’ve been waiting for a lull so I could go visit Simon’s shop down in Leeds. Alien Encounters, Comics, and More! It sort of reminds me of the sign that hangs just below the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery signage that reads, Fine Confections, Coffee, and More! I suppose we both felt that the “and more” catch phrase would really bring the crowds in through the door. And it has for the most part, for me at least.

  After last night’s eye-opening experience, Everett and I hustled to the parking lot, only to meet up with Noah and Ivy. They asked me to spill anything I garnered, and I did. Ivy then alluded to the fact they had their own dirt on Rags but wouldn’t expound on it. Figures. I knew I was being used, but in the least they could make me feel like a part of the team. That’s exactly why I decided not to enlist Ivy or Noah when I head down to Leeds this afternoon.

  As I’m just about to take off my apron and head out the door, in walks a wall full of trouble. Curt Vanderlin, my ex who put a hex on my last two years at Columbia. What could have, should have, been the best time in my life was strewn with heartache and misery, no thanks to the tub of trouble headed in my direction.

  Instead of heading to Lily at the register, he makes a dash my way.

  “Hey, Lot.” He forces a smile to take over, and his cheeks fold in on themselves like an accordion. The faint smell of his expensive cologne migrates my way, and it takes me right back to that tumultuous time in my life.

  I’m ashamed to admit I fell in love with that wavy hair, those mesmerizing eyes, and that body made of steel, but in comparison to Everett or Noah, Curt hardly has hair, his eyes certainly aren’t the verdant green of Noah’s or the ocean blue that Everett’s hold, and Curt is the Pillsbury Doughboy when juxtaposed against those hard bodies I’ve grown accustomed to. Not that I’ve grown accustomed to Everett’s body in the carnal sense. But he’s held me enough times that I certainly had an appetizer. And how my body is craving the entire meal.

  I’ve convinced myself that one night with Everett might just have the power to make all of my troubles and heartaches go away. And not even the logical side of my brain seems able to protest that theory.

  He plunks his elbows down on the marble counter. “Did you like the flowers I sent?”

  “Ugh,” I openly groan without meaning to—heck, I meant to. “Don’t send me flowers, Curtis. It’s not fair to the flowers that I’m sick every time I look at them.”

  That smile disappears, and he’s frowning right along with me. “But I’ve missed you. Being apart from you all these years has made me realize what a treasure you were.”

  “I’m still a treasure. I just don’t belong to you—or anyone else for that matter.” I pull a rocky road brownie from the shelf and hand it over to him like a chocolate covered peace offering. “Here’s something to console yourself with. I made it from scratch, by the way, as I did everything in this bakery. Taste it and weep. You could have had all of this if you only knew how to keep it in your pants,” I tease with a half-hearted wink.

  He takes a bite and, my God, I think he just whimpered.

  I consider my words a moment. “Actually, I take that back. It’s best you cheated or I wouldn’t have met Noah or Everett—despite the fact Noah and I ended on a somewhat sour note.”

  “So, you’re seeing that judge?” His upper lip tugs skyward as if it were a sickening thought.

  “Maybe. Maybe we’re just having fun and seeing where it takes us? I’ve tried to get serious on three different occasions. A casual man in my life seems to be working quite nicely.”

  Curt waggles his brows. “Got room for one more?”

  “Nope. There is definitely no room at the Lottie Inn, so you can boot scoot yourself back to that haunted house you came from.” I flash a quick smile. “How does it feel sleeping with a couple of creepy spooks?”

  “That’s no way to talk about your mother and her boyfriend.”

  “Ew.” I squeeze my eyes shut a moment and shudder. “I guess you’ve got a point.”

  “That guy really is a bit intense. I’m surprised he’s her type.”

  “You wouldn’t know her type because you don’t know my mother,” I say, heading through the kitchen and out the back door, only to find Curt bouncing by my side. “I’m leaving now.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m going to—” I pause a moment. Noah’s not coming to Leeds, namely because I didn’t invite him, and Everett mentioned he had to work late before I ever asked. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about comic books or UFOs, would you?”

  Alien Encounters, Comics, and More! is everything I had imagined it would be—dusty, musty, and rusty. And have I mentioned overladen with knickknacks and enough comics to wrap the world in twice?

  Curt leans in as we struggle to make our way to the front, no thanks to the boxes cluttered up the aisles.

  “This place is a tinderbox,” he whispers.

  “It’s nice to know we’re still on the same page about some things.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m shocked to realize you’re not going to be Mrs. Vanderlin one day soon.”

  “You mean the first ex-Mrs. Vanderlin.” I can’t help but blink a quick smile his way. “You have Rigby for that.”

&nbs
p; “She won’t mind holding off while we do the deed.”

  “That’s not how marriages work. Nobody should be holding off while other people do the deed. Marriage is sacred and should be treated as such.” Noah and Britney flit through my mind, and I nearly eat it as I trip over a small weighted box invisible to the naked eye.

  Curt catches me and helps me regain my balance. “So, who are you going to marry? Are you going to be Mrs. Cop or Mrs. Judge?”

  “It’s Mrs. Fox or Mrs. Baxter, and seeing that the first position is already taken, I—” A vision of Everett and me walking down the aisle hits home, and I can’t seem to catch my breath. Marrying Everett would be fun and exciting, and I’d finally get to take things to the mat with him—and by mat, I mean mattress. Not that the invite isn’t already there.

  “Can I help you?” a man calls from behind a glass counter, and we make our way over. Lo and behold, it’s Simon himself. I’ve seen him hanging around Felicity every now and again, but I doubt he recognizes me. He’s medium height, medium brown hair, medium build, and his personality, well, it’s sort of medium, too.

  I briefed Curt in the car about how important it was for him to hold the dumb end of the investigative stick and keep his lips zipped.

  Curt leans in. “We’re looking into a homicide that occurred last week and have reason to believe that you have information on the killer.”

  And there’s that. I should have known better. There is no zipper strong enough to seal his wandering lips. Something I should have learned years ago.

  Simon shakes his head as if he were sorry to hear it. “That was my girlfriend’s mother.” An all too familiar story at this point. “She had an interesting life, to say the least. Her husband died years ago. She started her own business without so much as a dime to her name and became a success at what she did.”