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

by Addison Moore

  I take Everett by the hand and sail to the door. “Get that birthday suit ready. It’s almost showtime.”

  Thanks to Everett, he scored us another all-access pass to the Seekers of the Light catastrophe. As fate, and my lack of good fortune, would have it, we are just in time for phase two of their conversion therapy. And lucky for Meg, Keelie, and Hook—as soon as Hook Redwood got wind of the word naked, he appeared faster than an apparition—Twila and her horny henchmen are also open to entertaining naked newbies tonight. The sanctuary is brimming with bodies once again, milling around, having a good time until Twila calls her scary sect to order.

  The newbies are guided to the altar for the requisite sacrifice of our blood and bones, and most of all our dignity. I have threatened both Hook and Everett within an inch of their mortal lives if they so much as flick their eyes in my direction once the majority of my flesh became exposed. And I managed to threaten Keelie and Meg within an inch of their eager-to-see-everything existence not to shed one wayward glance toward Everett. Good thing the lights are dim, save for a wall of candles that could tip over like a set of dominos and send this whole place up in flames like a tinderbox.

  We stripped down in the back and donned our requisite white robes before gathering in a cultish circle holding hands while Twila stands in the middle and rolls her head from side to side as if she were trying to work out a stubborn kink. Her skin is once again eerily illuminated as if she were backlit from the inside. She’s droned on and on for the last solid hour about the renewal of our minds, how freeing it will be once we hand over all of our earthly possessions to the kingdom of light—i.e., Twila and her thug boyfriend that hovers in the corner with a bevy of beefy looking bodyguards.

  Macon flaps gloriously beside her, his blue and red plumage sparking every now and again as if he were about to short out. I’ve instructed him not to leave her wily, head-rolling side. If there’s dirt on Rhonda, this is my last chance to get it. I am not subjecting myself to another moment of this birthday suit voodoo that requires me to drop my drawers every ten minutes. If I’m going to drop my drawers, it’s going to be with Noah—okay, so Noah is indefinitely off the table due to his inconvenient matrimonial status, and I’m not sure he’ll ever get to see me drop my drawers again. No thanks. I will most definitely find someone else to drop my drawers with. I glance to my right, and Everett stands at a military stance with the stealth expression of an FBI agent and the body of a—

  “The time has come to free ourselves from these earthen chains. Arise to your truest self of all. Arise! It is time to enter into the light!”

  The soft sound of robes hitting the floor is actually a little mind-numbing, considering everyone realizes what that signifies. Here we are, an entire room of adults naked as the day we were born. It not only feels wrong and lewd, it feels downright illegal.

  Music filters over the speakers, something soft and light as couples begin to merge and sway to the smooth meandering rhythm.

  And dear God Almighty, it takes all I’ve got not to swing my head to the right and take in an eyeful of birthday suit clad Baxter.

  Macon screams at the top of his lungs, flapping his wings with excitement. “Naked Lottie! Naked Lottie!”

  He is such a boy.

  Meg stalks over, and I keep my eyes above her chin. There are some things I don’t care to know about my sister.

  Her eyes bug out. “Did you see the size of his gavel?”

  “Meg! Behave. Go dance with Hook and Keelie before someone beats you to the three-way.”

  I step over to Everett as a cool breeze touches me in places any current of air should never be privy to in a public environment.

  “This is our chance,” I whisper.

  “Follow my lead.”

  We head over to Twila who is still rolling her neck as if she were attempting to twist it right off the base.

  “Pardon us.” Everett leans in, and I carefully turn my head away just enough to preserve any surprises concerning his gavel.

  Twila blinks to life. “Ugh. I’ve got a kink in my neck.” Knew it! “How I hate when that happens.” She looks right at Everett, takes him in up and down, and her mouth falls open. “What may I do for you?” She gives her shoulders a shake, and there’s a ripple effect among her perkier parts that I’m not so interested in witnessing.

  I clear my throat. “My boyfriend has a question for you.”

  “Boyfriend!” Macon shrills with laughter—Rhonda’s laughter—and it’s downright creepy. “Lottie has a boyfriend!”

  I shoot him a disparaging look.

  That lascivious smile melts from her face. “There is no ownership of people here in the Light. My lover is your lover. My child is your child.” She reverts to Everett. “Please, feel free to ask me anything”—she slinks forward and sucks in her bottom lip—“and I do mean anything.”

  “My great aunt passed away, Rhonda Gilbert.” Everett doesn’t miss a beat.

  Her mouth falls open once again, her eyes agog for the briefest of moments. “Now did she?” A brief smile crests her lips.

  “She mentioned you.” Everett tips his head back as if he were hedging his bets. “She spoke highly of both you and the people of the Light.”

  Her shoulders sag, and her expression sours as if she just took off her pretenses as easily as slipping off her robe. And, honest to God, that otherworldly glow that illuminates from her just dimmed a notch.

  “I bet she spoke highly of me.” She rolls her eyes, and I can’t help but think she just took the tone of a sarcastic teenage girl. “She didn’t think so highly of me when I was ready to take over.”

  Macon flaps his wings ten times harder than before as if he felt it was coming.

  Everett slips his hand over mine. “That’s right—the big takeover.” He gives a thunderous chuckle, and I almost want to giggle myself because I happen to appreciate those vocal vibrations of his that are few and far between.

  Twila scoffs. “You think it’s funny, do you? Your aunt did, too.” She gives a wistful shake of the head.

  “Her version was a classic.” Everett’s voice is deep and sober once again. “Why don’t you share yours?”

  “Please.” She flicks her wrist at the idea as if she and Everett were suddenly good friends. “When Rhonda left, it was quite the kerfuffle.”

  “Kerfuffle! Kerfuffle!” Macon flies in a dizzying circle overhead, and a rainbow of light tracks in his wake. It’s such a beautiful, mesmerizing sight, it feels selfish that I’m the only one privy to it.

  Rhonda left? As in she was a part of this madness? How could that possibly be?

  Everett nods as if he were in the know. “Yes, she left, but the aftermath—”

  Twila growls, “And we’re still living with it. Wilhelmina was even worse than your aunt, but she did instill a few new rules that are still in play to this day.” She holds out her hands.

  “So, it was Wilhelmina who dreamed up this naughty birthday suit soiree?” I ask as if I too were in the know. “Who’s Wilhelmina?” I never was good at pretending.

  Everett looks right at me—eyes wisely pressed to mine. “Willow?” He inches his head back as if he were just as stumped as I was.

  My mouth falls open. “Both of them were a part of this?”

  Twila grunts, “Oh, they’ve always been thick as thieves. They’re practically sisters. But—I was more than glad to get rid of them. Of course, I was just a teenager when I came on board. Rhonda was ready to have a baby by then.”

  A wild thought crosses my mind. What if Felicity’s father never died? What if he was some sicko Seeker who abided by the my lover is your lover not-so-golden rule? Ick and yuck. No wonder Rhonda ran far and fast.

  Twila shakes her head, lost in thought. “How is Wilhelmina? It’s been a good long while since we’ve crossed paths.”

  I shrug over her. “She’s alive, which is one up on Rhonda.”

  Twila belts out a belly laugh on poor Rhonda’s dead behalf. “That’s a
good one. And Rhonda’s precious daughter?”

  Macon squawks obnoxiously loud, and I jump, which in turn causes the rest of me to jiggle and wiggle.

  “Precious daughter! Precious daughter!”

  Everett nods her way. “My cousin Felicity is holding up as best as she can.”

  “Are you kidding?” Twila practically gags on a laugh. “The girl should be dancing on her mother’s grave. She’s finally free of that—” Her mouth squares out. “I’m sorry. That was disrespectful of me.” She glances past us. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d better tend to the neophytes.”

  Everett leans in, his eyes respectfully fixed on mine. “What do you think?”

  “I think I’ve heard enough.” I glance up to Macon. “Stick around for as long as you can, would you?”

  Macon lets out a menacing rawr that could compete with anything Pancake and Waffles could ever muster. “I wouldn’t think of leaving.”

  I pick up my robe and Everett’s off the ground in haste.

  “For some odd reason, I always seem to find myself naked around you. And I bet you’ve heard a woman or two say those exact same words.”

  A dark laugh rumbles through his chest, no smile. “They sound better coming from you, Cupcake. I’m getting rather fond of our new routine.”

  My lips twitch with devious intent. “Well, then, maybe this is one habit we’ll have to keep up.”

  “Feel free to drop by my place anytime you wish and drop your robe to the floor. It’s a good look on you, Lemon.”

  I lean in and press my gaze to his. “A look you haven’t seen just yet,” I say it like a threat, and his lips curl at the tips because we both know he’s guilty of employing that peripheral vision of his.

  “When I do get a good look—I plan on getting an eyeful, a handful, and a mouthful, too.”

  My own mouth falls open.

  We pry Keelie, Meg, and Hook off one another and head back to Honey Hollow still down one killer.

  If this goes on any longer, someone will undoubtedly get away with murder.

  Chapter 16

  “He is risen!” Mom shouts as she waves from Town Square. The rolling green lawn behind her is peppered with colorful plastic eggs. She’s donned a flowing robin’s egg blue dress and a matching bonnet with a three-foot circumference wingspan.

  “He is risen, indeed!” Keelie and I shout in unison as she helps me set up the dessert buffet. We’ve each donned a pastel dress ourselves, Keelie in mint green and me in blush peach. But we’ve opted to forgo the bonnets as we have since we were seven. It’s mostly my mother and her friends who partake in the tradition. Plus, it’s not too practical when you’re doling out the desserts.

  Mom scuttles over, her heels digging into the grass with every other step. “Girls! You look beautiful.” She pulls the two of us in for a quick embrace. “I have to go finish setting up for the big egg roll. The kids will be here soon, and I still have dozens of eggs to hide.”

  Keelie wrinkles her nose at the hundreds of neon colored eggs as far as the eye can see. “You keep trying.”

  “I will, hon!” She starts to trot off. “Oh! Before I forget, you’re both invited to dinner tonight at the B&B. And bring friends. The ghosts and I would love to have you!”

  “I’ll be there,” I assure her. “And I’ll bring friends.”

  Keelie pours us each a glass of the Honey Pot Diner’s famous Sunday brunch punch. The Honey Pot donated dozens of glass decanters full of the fruity delight that people actually storm the diner for, just so they can imbibe the refreshing elixir after church.

  She bumps her hip to mine. “Speaking of friends, did you see Judge Baxter’s gavel?”

  “Keelie Nell Turner! No, I did not see his gavel.”

  Keelie belts out a husky laugh. “Lottie Lemon, I suggest you tell that man to take me to court and sentence me to an all-night punishment—and by me, I mean you.”

  “Very funny,” I say, setting out the tiny delicate paper cups in every shade of pastel. Each one has a creamy cheesecake bite nestled inside it. Thankfully, there’s a canopy providing shade over the buffet table, and there’s still a crisp morning chill in the air. That, coupled with the fact I have each batch set out on refrigerated trays, should ensure that the residents of Honey Hollow get a quality bite.

  “So, what’s going to happen with you two, anyway?” Keelie shovels a cheesecake morsel into her mouth, and just before I can answer, her mother, my new aunt as I’ve come to find out, Becca Turner, pops up in a pale yellow bonnet and a long floral dress with buttery tones to match. Becca is a knockout, as are her daughters, with dark honey hair and high cheekbones like that of a model. Becca and my mother have been friends for years.

  “I’ve got news!” she sings just as a small breeze picks up and nearly carries off her hat. “William’s lawyer sent over some documents this morning, and he said I could share them with you.” William, as in her brother, my new uncle, was not happy one bit when their mother Nell left me the lion’s share of her fortune, which included just about every bit of property she owned in Honey Hollow along with a nifty house in Nantucket. He’s taken the matter to court, and he’s been contesting the will for months.

  A breath hitches in my throat. “Are we all through with probate?”

  Becca glances to the sky. “Not quite, but it’s heading in that direction. I’m afraid we still might have to wait several months.”

  Keelie wraps an arm over my shoulders and gives me a squeeze. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do with all that money?”

  “I’m not doing anything with it. I’m not even sure it should be my money.”

  Becca waves the idea off. “It will be, Lottie. And just so you know, you have wonderful tenants. Every business on Main Street is just about up-to-date on the rent.”

  Keelie snarls, “Just about? I heard that tone in your voice, Mother. Spit it out.”

  I did too, but I didn’t want to peg her with it.

  She winces. “The Enchanted Flower Shop is woefully behind.”

  “That’s totally understandable,” I’m quick to say. “Felicity is probably still trying to figure out what goes where. And Willow is overwhelmed herself.”

  Becca shudders. “It stems back over a year ago. I’m not sure what went wrong, but it looks as if my mother was giving Rhonda a free pass.”

  “That can’t be right. I mean, I saw the books. It looks as if the shop is well in the black.” It was her home that was in peril from what I remember with all of those unopened bills.

  Becca bites her lip as she studies the sky. “Come to think of it, the store next door is connected. It might have been The Busy Bee Crafts Shop.”

  “Figures. The Simonson sisters were broke. And ever since their cousin Cascade took over, things haven’t really picked up.” I feel a sense of relief. For a moment, I felt the nagging urge to run back to the bakery and look at those books Willow lent me.

  Becca takes off for my mother, and Keelie wastes no time in leaning in.

  “So, did you or didn’t you? I’m your best friend on this planet, Lottie Lemon. You don’t get to pick and choose what info you tell me. I get it all. The dirtier, the better.”

  “I—” Just as I’m about to tell her everything about nothing, I see a handsome familiar face coming this way with a Golden Retriever so beautiful that he brings tears to my eyes. “I’ll be back. Man the fort?”

  She makes a face. “Get out of here.”

  I make a beeline for Noah, and his entire countenance lights up.

  “Look at the handsome devil,” I purr as I bend over and embrace Toby with all my heart.

  “Can I get some of that?”

  I pop back up and look the dapper detective in the eye. “You’ve donned your Sunday best”—I say, observing his pale blue shirt and matching tie—“ I don’t see why not.” I offer him a quick embrace, and his spiced cologne does its best to seduce me.

  “It is Sunday. Happy Easter, Lottie. You look”—he
shakes his head as he takes me in—“like an angel.”

  “Thank you,” I mouth. My face reddens with heat because I don’t feel like one. After that naked fiasco with Everett, I spent the next few days avoiding him out of sheer embarrassment. And Noah? Well, I’ve been artfully avoiding him ever since the funeral.

  His dimples dig in deep as his verdant green eyes search my features. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too.” I shrug as we head over to a stone bench next to the three-tiered enormous fountain with a cascade of crystal blue water running softly over the edges. “I miss the old us. The one that technically never really existed.”

  “Lottie,” he takes my hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss over the back of it, “we existed, and it was beautiful. We’re still happening.” He nods as we take a seat, and Toby curls up in a ball and sits at my feet.

  “What happened with you and Britney? I don’t know anything about your relationship. I mean, I know about the fact you found her with some guy and you blew out his tires and then lost your position on the force. But what really happened? How long were you married? What’s the day of your anniversary? How did you meet? What did you see in her? Scratch that. I know exactly what you saw in her.”

  Noah gives a soft chuckle. “Britney and I imploded under the weight of our expectations. And yes, I blew out her boyfriend’s tires because I didn’t care for the guy. But Britney and I were basically over when that happened. He was my buddy on the force. It didn’t feel good. What really happened was that we fought. A lot. Britney wanted an extravagant life that I couldn’t give her. She wanted to mold me into someone I wasn’t. We didn’t fit.” He gives my hand a gentle tug, his eyes pleading for me to understand. “You and I fit, Lottie. We’re good together. I promise, you will not get that with Everett. He’s the guy girls have a good time with. I’m the one you settle down with.”

  My lips quiver. Noah is expertly piquing my emotions. “Continue with your story. Britney? The one you couldn’t settle down with?”