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

by Addison Moore

  He takes a breath, and his chest expands twice its size. “Married two years. Anniversary April fifteenth.”

  “Tax Day,” I point out. “And the day the Titanic sank.” I wince. “Just an odd bit of trivia I happen to know.”

  “You’re right on both counts. It’s the day Brit and I sank, too. This time last year I shot out those tires. Lost my job the very next day and I left Ohio and came back to Vermont. As for how Brit and I met—it was through mutual friends, who were notoriously bad matchmakers, by the way. And to be honest, I’m not sure what I saw in her. What I really saw. I’ve thought about this long and hard. I don’t think I really knew myself at the time enough to discern what I wanted.”

  “And now?”

  “And now I’m all grown up. I know exactly what I want and who. That’s you, Lottie Lemon.” He swallows hard. “I love you like I never knew I could love anyone in my entire life. You are my world. You own me. You are my everything.”

  A breath escapes me. My heart pounds fiercely in my chest. Those are powerful words, and Noah is a handsome, powerful man. If only things had been different. If only my faith in him, in us, hadn’t been shaken to its core.

  “You could have avoided this.” My voice trembles without meaning to. “You could have laid it out for me the day we met. You did mention your wife, but you made it sound as if that part of your life was far in the past. I certainly didn’t expect to have her set foot in my bakery trying to claim her husband.”

  “Valid.” He raises his hands as if surrendering, and in doing so Toby takes off like a bullet for the field laden with plastic eggs. “Aw, crap. He’s going to be unstoppable. Wish me luck.” He starts to take off. “To be continued, Lottie Lemon! Just like you and me!”

  A laugh tickles its way up my throat. I make my way back to the covered buffet tables, only to find Felicity, Rigby, and Willow each carrying a giant floral arrangement in their arms. Trailing behind them is Curtis with two tiny bud vases in each hand, looking as if he just ran a marathon.

  “Can I help?” I try to ease Felicity’s load, but she spins it away from me. “We have this, Lottie. Don’t worry. You’ve done enough for the festival already.”

  Curt grunts, “I can use some help.”

  I take a bud vase from him, and he sighs as if I just extracted a bowling ball from his hand.

  Willow groans, “No. We left the tray of lilies back at the shop.”

  Rigby raises a hand. “I’ll get them.”

  “No way.” Willow points her to the flowers they just set down. “We need to get these tables decorated. The lilies can wait.”

  “I’m headed back to the bakery to pick up a few things I left behind. I’ll get them,” I offer.

  Felicity glances my way, her fingers still furtively working through the flowers they just hauled over. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.” I head for the sidewalk.

  “Thank you, Lottie!” Rigby calls out.

  “That’s my girl!” Curt bellows, and I turn in time to see Rigby swatting him. He did deserve it.

  “Hey, Lottie!” Willow chimes. “Go in through the back. I locked the front door.”

  “I will,” I say as I start in on a light jog.

  I am headed to the bakery first, but it’s not to pick up a single sweet treat. It’s to get those books Willow lent me. I have to take a quick look at them again.

  Something about this isn’t sitting well with me.

  And I need to get to the bottom of it right this minute.

  Chapter 17

  The bakery is buzzing, and Lily gives me a quick rundown on all the sugar cookies we’ve sold thus far. We had made a bet which would sell best: the decorated Easter eggs or the adorable bunnies with a carrot tucked in their mouth. So far it’s a draw. My bet is the bunnies will outshine the eggs, but I don’t waste any time taking stock of inventory to win some silly bet with Lily. Instead, I grab the books and make a beeline for The Enchanted Flower Shop.

  The back door is closed, but thankfully unlocked, and it’s eerily quiet inside. The lights are off, and the sun hasn’t crested this side of the building yet.

  A horrific scream comes from somewhere near the ceiling, and I do my best to jump right out of my skin.

  “Lottie Lemon! Lottie Lemon!” Macon’s plumage glows a luminescent shade of blue.

  “That’s a fine welcome—if you’re trying to give someone a heart attack. You do realize I’d like to live.”

  “Like to live! Like to live!” He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Wouldn’t we all, sister.” He lands softly onto the register just as I make my way behind the counter. “What are you doing here?”

  “I told Willow I’d return the books. And on my way out, I’m supposed to grab a box of lilies they forgot.” I plop down on the barstool next to the computer and reopen those accounting ledgers Willow lent me. “The funny thing is, the books make it look as if everything is rolling along nicely for the shop, financially speaking. But my aunt just let me know the rent hasn’t been paid in a year. Not only that, but if everything was so great at the shop, I can’t understand why Rhonda’s personal bills were going unpaid for the last few months. I mean, you’d think that if her business were in the black, she’d have enough money to live off. Right? Did you ever hear her complain about the bills?”

  “Bills, bills, bills!” Macon screeches while doing a perfect impersonation of Rhonda herself.

  “I see. So she did have a disdain for them altogether. But, then, so does the rest of the population.”

  “Rhonda managed her finances a little more artfully than others, I suppose.”

  “If by artfully you mean illegally, then you hit the nail on the mobster’s head. What else do you know? I’m dying to figure this one out. I just can’t let it go, Macon. I have to know what’s going on here.” I tap my hand over the mouse next to the keyboard, and the computer screen lights up in front of me.

  There’s a picture of Macon in the background, and it melts my heart. I’m about to say something when a small white box pops up and requests a password.

  Password? I bet it’s something simple like Felicity—but it’s not. And it’s not Alice McDade, or Pepper Patrick, or any combination of them all. Macon squawks, and I practically choke on a laugh. Of course. My fingers tap away without giving it a second thought, imploring the screen to blink to life once again, and this time I’m staring at all of the shop’s files right here in front of my face.

  “Would you look at that?” A congratulatory laugh bubbles from me. “Your name is the password, and I’m in like a ruby red Sunday sin!” I spot a file that reads Accounting. “Accounting? Huh.” I click on in, and my adrenaline rushes, my ears pulsing with their very own heartbeat. “Wait a minute. Willow said Rhonda was old school, that she jotted down her accounting. What am I looking at here?”

  Macon hops onto the counter and turns to face the screen. “How can you look at those ants on the screen?”

  “They’re words, Macon—and numbers, very, very scary numbers. And, sure enough, according to this spreadsheet, Rhonda hasn’t paid her rent in close to a year. The only thing she is paying for is the electricity and water. And would you look at this?” I say, pointing to a row of red bars. “There are six different suppliers she owes heavy debts to. The flower shop is running on fumes. I don’t get it.” I pull one of the books Willow gave me off the counter and thumb through it quickly, and none of the debts match up to the dates she has written, and then it hits me. “Oh my God. She cooked the books. Willow looked right at me and lied to my face when she said everything was fine at the shop. But why? What would she have to gain by not telling the truth? Poor Felicity doesn’t—”

  “Poor Felicity, nothing,” a female voice chimes in front of me, and I look up to find myself staring down the barrel of a gun. Willow Lancaster hovers in a defiant stance with her feet parted, her hands both secured over the handle of what looks to be a Glock just like the one that
Noah has.

  My hands float slowly into the air as I rise up out of my seat, and Macon lets out a shrill cry that is sure to permeate the membrane of this earthen plane and the afterlife.

  “You did it.” I swallow hard as I scrutinize her. Willow is short, a strong woman though, pretty too in a girl-next-door kind of way. So very unassuming. Her dark glossy hair is knotted up into a bun, and her floral dress makes her look like a caricature of herself because I do believe this is the first dress I’ve seen her in. I can use that. She’ll move more lethargically in it. But then again, so will I in my own floor-length number constructed from what feels like acres of fabric.

  She squints over at me as if taking aim for my forehead. “Yes, I did it, Lottie. You’ve been breathing down my neck from the beginning, but I expertly dodged you at every turn.” A nefarious laugh gurgles from her. “And you bought everything I could sell you.”

  “But I’m not buying it anymore.”

  Her finger taps over the trigger as if she were testing it, and my heart palpitates with such violence I’m half-afraid I’ll vomit it out.

  “Macon, get Noah.” I’d suggest Everett, too, but I don’t want Everett barreling in here unarmed. Macon takes off as he’s told, but I have no idea how he’ll possibly accomplish the task. If there is a way, I’m hoping he’ll find it.

  Willow takes a careful step in, her left eye inadvertently winking at me. “What did you say?”

  “I said, my God, I need Noah.”

  “Ah, the bumbling detective boyfriend of yours. Ex-boyfriend.” She waves the gun around as she says it. “Believe me, Lottie, you’re with the right person now. Too bad it all ends for you. That lawyer is one hot commodity.”

  “Judge. Everett is a judge,” I say as I search the ceiling for signs of Macon and suddenly feel so very alone. “Why? Why kill Rhonda? She took excellent care of you.”

  “Oh, she did. We were practically blood.” Her eyes enlarge as if there were no denying this. “In fact, I made sure she took excellent care of me.”

  My mouth falls open. “You were blood. Rhonda took out a loan for you, didn’t she?”

  Willow gasps, “How did you know that?”

  “She took out one hundred thousand dollars and said it was for her daughter, Felicity. That was the only way she could get that kind of money. And when you didn’t pay her back, she had to start making payments for you to the crooks at Martinelle Finance. That’s why she was letting the shop and her home go—to preserve her kneecaps, her life. Rhonda was in over her head.” A sad laugh lives and dies in my throat. “And now, so are you. But why kill her? Why not skip town? Why not do anything other than take her life?”

  Willow squeezes her eyes shut hard. “How do you know all this? I didn’t think you were this close to me, Lottie. Who else knows? Those boyfriends of yours?” She shakes her head as she looks to the ground. “I have to contain this. I can’t go to prison. It will kill my mother. Do you hear me? It will kill her!” she shouts so loud the windows vibrate.

  Her mother?

  “Why did you kill Rhonda?”

  She smirks over at me, the gun wagging in the air. “You’re the smart one. You tell me.”

  “You owed her money.” My brain quickly starts doing the homicidal math. “She couldn’t get it from you so she…” Think. Think! “So she threatened to tell your mother!” Why do I feel like I’m playing some demonic game show? Win or lose I die.

  “You’re good, I’ll give you that. But it wasn’t the debt I was afraid of her exposing. You don’t know my mother, Lottie. She is a very wealthy woman, and if one of her children disappoints her, she will not hesitate to write us out of her will. I’m due for a windfall, and I’ve been waiting patiently. Did you really think I wanted to spend the rest of my life wilting away in this hothouse? I’m just buying time. My mother is frail, but she is still of sound mind and has her lawyer’s number on speed dial. She’s already written my sister Patty out of the will for having three divorces under her belt.” Willow shivers as if a mean breeze just chilled the room. “The first one she could tolerate, the second she tried her best to overlook, but three strikes and Patty was out. That’s the kind of pressure I’m under here.”

  And yet it never crossed her mind that murder was a far greater offense than a couple of measly divorces? Wait a minute… she just said that she wasn’t afraid of Rhonda exposing her debt.

  “You did something.” I nod as if finally catching on. “And Rhonda knew it. Something bad. Something so shameful your mother would erase you from her will without hesitating. It must have been a doozy.”

  She hacks out a laugh. “Oh, it was a doozy. It was such a doozy it was almost unbelievable. I thought of feeding my mother a bunch of lies if word ever got out. Tell her that it was a lookalike, that Photoshop was involved, but my mother is slow to believe lies no matter how efficiently they’re delivered. She would smell the truth on me, and that would be the last time she would ever want me in the room with her.”

  Photoshop? Pictures? As in racy pictures? Why would Willow pose in the nude?

  A breath gets caught in my throat.

  “The Seekers of the Light!” I blurt it out as if it were the winning answer.

  Willow rolls her eyes. “I am so glad I’m ending your life today, Lottie Lemon. Carlotta is right. You really are too smart for your britches.”

  “Aw? Carlotta said that? And to think I thought I’d die before I heard that woman utter a single kind word about me.” Ironic since Willow here is determined to make my death a soon-to-be reality.

  “She really cares about you.” She shakes her head as if maybe she didn’t. “She said you weren’t interested in really getting to know her. You should have done it. She was your mother. She gave birth to you! And she never judged you. She wouldn’t care if you started a nude movement in some stupid ridiculous cult.”

  “Is that where you met Rhonda?”

  She nods. “It was the tail end for her. I was her protégé. Rhonda found herself expecting and wanted to make sure she gave her baby the life she never had. The first thing she did to help get back on her feet was hit up some mob boss. He liked her. He really liked her, if you know what I mean. Back in the day, Rhonda was a hot little number. Anyway, that’s how she got in that mess.”

  “Loaning money? Working as a hotlink for Martinelle?”

  Her mouth widens with shock. “You really are good at this, you know that? It’s too bad it all ends here for you. The next time someone gets bumped in this town, that detective boyfriend of yours will actually have to step up and do some work. Who do you think those boyfriends of yours will end up with, anyway? Noah will probably go back to his wife. Britney is a brainy beauty, you have to admit that. And a tragedy like this one will likely be…” She pecks her gun in my direction. “I bet that will prove to be a bonding experience for the two of them. Grief will do that to you, make you latch onto what’s familiar. But what about the judge?”

  A horrible ache hits me at the thought of Noah running back to Britney, especially after he poured his heart out to me. And Everett? I hate the thought of him being with another woman. I realize that’s not fair. I can’t have two men. But I feel protective over their hearts, and selfishly I do want both.

  “Lily?” She twitches her nose at me. “Maybe Naomi. She’s prettier and she’d prove to be a challenge for him.”

  “Hey? I challenge him, plenty.” My lips quiver as I struggle to keep it together. The thought of momentarily being wiped from the planet is starting to take its toll. “Why did you kill Rhonda minutes before she had a chance to meet her idol? It was unfair. It was unusually cruel. It was cold and calculating, and I’m sure you rubbed her face in it, too.”

  She glances to the ceiling. “You do not miss a single beat. Yes, you’re right. I had my motives for selecting the time and place, but it’s not what you’re thinking. Yes, it was a tragedy within a tragedy that Rhonda never actually got to see Pepper—but don’t you understand? It’s the on
ly way she had a chance to live on through one of Pepper’s books. Pepper Patrick is notorious for writing ripped from the headlines stories. I thought if I laid one at her feet Rhonda would have a chance. I was going to kill her anyway. It was the best-case scenario for me to do it at the signing. In fact, while I placed the chloroform over Rhonda’s face, those were the exact words I whispered into her ear. Believe me when I say she faded with a smile on her face.”

  “And then you strangled her and took the necklace. You framed Simon Warwick.”

  “I framed everybody.” Her voice shakes as she pulls something out of her purse, a cloth and a bottle. Willow struggles juggling everything in her hands, including the weapon. “I’ve never had to do this while holding a gun, but I didn’t know how much you knew. The gun was necessary. I thought if I got too close you might bolt. I can’t risk losing you. If you try to run, I’ll gun you down.” She saturates the cloth and holds it up. “Believe me, Lottie, the alternative is a far more pleasant way to die. You’ll fall asleep so very gently.”

  I scan the area for a weapon and swipe up a slender glass vase.

  Her eyes flit my way. “Put that down, Lottie.” She drops the chloroform bottle back into her purse. “I’ve brought a bag to put over your head. You’ll fall asleep. It will be so much easier for the two of us.”

  “Is that what you told Rags? He figured it out, didn’t he?”

  “The only thing he figured out was that I was a part of the Seekers, and that was enough to land him in the morgue.”

  “Almost. He didn’t die.”

  Her eyes widen a notch as if she didn’t realize this.

  “But you will, Lottie.” She takes a bold step in. “You will.”

  I swing the vase like a baseball bat and miraculously connect with the gun. It discharges in her hand, and the entire shop lights up with the roar.

  Willow’s face is red with horror as she takes a staggering step back. “I’ll have to shoot you. There are no options left for me here.” She points the gun my way, squeezes her eyes shut tight, and that explosive pop goes off again, this time shattering the glass case behind me.