Everett leans in. “What kind of ups and downs?”
“Silly things, I don’t know. Who had a better look that day? Whose waist was the tiniest? Nessa was notoriously jealous. She had a bit of a mean streak, too. Always taking what didn’t belong to her.”
Everett gives a slow blink. “Is she the reason Landon divorced her husband?”
“No, that was Viv.” Cormack thinks on this for a moment. “Come to think of it, Nessa was friendly with Clayton, too, but Nessa was friendly with everyone. She had to be in order to stay at the top of the food chain. Personally, I’m convinced Lindie Holland did her in.”
I perk to life. “She’s the artist, right?” I’ve tried my best to keep those introductions straight.
“That would be her. The art thing doesn’t pay the rent just yet. She works for Nessa’s father’s advertising firm. Lindie was the token urbanite in their social circle. Scholarships and hand-me-down clothes all the way back to secondary school. But Nessa really took to her. And rumor had it, no one knew how to keep Nessa on a leash like Lindie.”
My gaze gravitates to Everett then Noah. “It sounds like Lindie knew Nessa’s darkest secrets—and if that’s true, then Nessa probably had the dirt on Lindie, too.”
Noah taps his fingers on the table. “And that could be a very real motivation for murder.”
“Ha!” Greer high-fives Max once again. “Told you Lottie is just that good. She’ll have this case wrapped up in no time.”
Max doesn’t seem too surprised. “It’s no wonder that detective wants her back like yesterday.” He turns his attention my way. “And he does, Lottie. He’s got it bad.”
Everett growls because obviously he heard. “I’ve got it bad, too.” He gives a sly wink my way.
Cormack moans as she presses her hand to her stomach. “I know exactly what you mean. Excuse me while I hit the little girls’ room.”
She takes off, and Noah leans in. “This is the perfect time for you to share your secret with me, Lottie. We’re all here.”
I glance back at Cormack threading her way to the front.
“I’m glad it’s just the three of us, but not like this.” I take a deep breath as I cast a quick glance to the spooks to my right. “I’ll need far more time to explain.” And convince him of my sanity.
Greer and Max offer up a spontaneous applause.
She preens my way. “I can’t tell you how good it feels to be acknowledged. It’s horrible sometimes being a ghost. People just treat us as if we’re invisible.”
Max opens his mouth to say something then thinks better of it. “What she said.”
“You’ll both be there.” I nod to Greer as I glance Noah’s way. “And bring your boyfriend, too,” I try to whisper it without moving my lips, but it only inspires Noah to lean in and squint at me.
Everett gives a devilish grin to Noah. “You heard the woman. Bring your boyfriend.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I’m quick to correct.
“That’s what you said.” Everett doesn’t mind pointing out my verbal blunder.
Noah drills those verdant green eyes into mine. “That is what you said. But not what you meant.” He nods as if silently assessing the situation. “You’re doing it again, aren’t you?”
“Can you blame a girl for multitasking?”
Cormack comes back, and we wrap up our meal. Noah pays the bill, and Everett tips a wad of cash in what’s quickly becoming an expensive tradition.
Everett drives us back. I let him inside, and we share a breathtaking, magical, dizzying, melt-your-soul kiss goodnight.
But Maximillian Finmore’s words haunt me. Noah still has it bad for me. Sometimes I wish that Noah and I never happened. But we did. And we still both have it bad.
I pull Everett to me with a marked aggression because I just so happen to have it bad for the naughty judge, too.
My kisses float to his ear as I hike up on my tiptoes. “Rumor has it, the kisses are even hotter in a judge’s chambers. I might be moved to bring a box of cookies to the courthouse one day. Would you like that?”
“Lemon,” Everett groans as if I injured him in the very best way as he pulls back to look at me through heavily slotted lids, the look of desire ripe on his face. “I’ll hold you in contempt if you don’t.”
Everett and I resume our hot and heavy kisses. We will have our date down at the courthouse, right after we have a little date with Lindie Holland.
Chapter 6
Everett called at noon and asked if I had a formal gown I could wear to a spontaneous event tonight. I had to think about it for a moment, but before I could answer, he asked me to head down the street to the fanciest dress shop in Honey Hollow, the Scarlet Sage Boutique.
Seeing that Everett was kind enough to invite me to one of his events, a very big step in the relationship I’m still unsure we have, I took off as soon as I closed up the bakery.
The Scarlet Sage Boutique is indeed owned by Scarlet Sage, a heavenly looking woman with black hair that hangs down her back in spirals, ethereal lavender eyes, and a brilliant smile that can land her with a crown at any beauty competition.
As soon as I explained my situation, she waved me off.
“Essex said I should be expecting you. Follow me to the back. He picked out a few dresses for you. The man has exquisite taste in both women and gowns.”
I’m still stuck on the fact she called him by his proper moniker. It’s sort of a coital calling card at this point. I don’t see any good in getting jealous. I knew what I was signing up for the second I dropped my robe in his living room. Everett’s a man with quite a few notches on his proverbial headboard, and now I’m simply one of them.
“He chose three. A black, a red, and a white stunner that you would be foolish not to go with.” She pulls out a rolling rack with the dresses on it. The red is a floor-length beauty with a sweetheart neckline, long sleeves, fitted. The black dress is a short, beaded number. But the white—a color I have not made it a practice to wear in fear of ruining its pristine nature within seconds of putting it on—well, it is truly to die for.
I gasp at the floor-length, sleeveless white sequin number. Scarlet helps me pour myself into it, and I can’t help but admire it in the mirror.
“You have to take it.” Scarlet shakes her head as if its beauty stymied her. “In a sea of little black dresses, you’ll be a shining star.”
“How much does this cost?”
“Let’s just say Essex’s covered it. And who cares how much it costs? This dress was clearly made for you.”
She wraps it up, and I head home to pair it with a pair of white satin heels. Both of my sweet cats, Pancake and Waffles, belt out a rawr of approval in unison. And just after I fix my hair, touch up my makeup, and put on my last earring, Everett is at the door.
I let him in, and his eyes do that broken elevator thing and his lips purse with pleasure.
“Lemon.” His cobalt eyes hook to mine. His chin is still tipped down a notch, and it’s a vexingly sexy look on him. “You are a work of art.”
A bubbling laugh bounces through me as I wrap my arms around his rock-hard body and gift him a kiss to the lips. “And I think you look magnificent.” Everett has donned a crisp black tuxedo, his face is clean-shaven, and his spiced cologne makes me weak in the knees. Heck, everything about this handsome man makes me weak in the knees.
We head out, and I can’t help but give a guilty glance toward Noah’s place. Last fall I rented a home right across the street from him, and it just so happened that Everett rented the home next door to mine. Everett and I were just friends back then, and Noah and I were far more than that. And, now that we’ve had a bit of a role reversal, I’m sad that Noah gets front row seats to my new love life without him. But he’s not home at the moment, so I don’t feel too bad.
“Where are we going?” I ask as I slide into Everett’s fancy ride.
Everett gets in and starts up the engine. “To Fallbrook. There’s a gala at the a
rt center, and my sister just so happens to be a board member there.”
“That’s great! It sounds like it will be a blast. I love art. And I love your sister.” I met both his sister, Meghan, and his mother, Eliza, last January. And thanks to a little white lie Everett may have told them, they happen to think we’re engaged. “She’ll probably want a wedding date from us,” I tease.
Everett runs his gaze over my dress one more time. “She just might get one.”
A thrill runs through me at the thought.
Of course, it’s all in fun.
Everett isn’t really the proposing type.
Is he?
Chapter 7
The Fallbrook Art Center is set high on a hilltop. It’s a squatty square building constructed primarily from glass and steel. The entire street, in both directions, is lined with luxury cars, so Everett opts for the valet.
We head inside and are immediately each handed a glass of champagne.
“You know”—I lean into my handsome date—“this reminds me a lot of your sister’s birthday party. The one where I showed up in jeans and a sweater? Thank you for the dress, by the way. Whatever it cost, I fully intend to pay you back.”
Everett inches away, his lips crooked with disdain. “You’ll do no such thing. It was a gift. You deserve it. And just for the record, I think you look just as stunning in jeans and a sweater as you do that dress. If my memory serves correct, you brought along a box of cookies to my sister’s party. You were a hit.”
A gorgeous woman walks by as she makes her way to a crowd of men looking at the first installment—an enormous canvas covered with peach acrylic and gold foil. It’s pretty, but I’m betting it’s pricey, too. I’m about to comment on the fact I’m certain I can recreate it as a DIY weekend project after a quick trip to the Busy Bee Craft Shop when I realize that the woman looks shockingly familiar.
“Everett,” I hiss. “That’s Lindie Holland!” I recognize her dark wiry hair, her pale river stone skin. “She’s the one that Cormack said knew how to keep Nessa on a leash.”
“I realize that. You didn’t think I really dragged you out here to see my sister, did you?” He gives a sly wink, and I playfully swat him.
“You really know how to rev my engine.”
“It revs with justice, Lemon. The same key that turns mine.” He eyes the dress once again. “And that dress really does do you justice.”
A woman nearby squeals, and we look over to find his younger sister, Meghan.
“Well, look who the cat dragged in.” She’s all smiles as she comes our way with open arms. Meghan is wearing a little black dress with silver threads speckled throughout. And with her dark hair and Everett’s blue eyes, she’s basically her brother in female skin. “My, Lottie, aren’t you a vision!” She gasps as she takes a step back and admires my dress. “Essex, you really have a gem here. Do not screw this up. Lottie is destined to be a Baxter.” She embraces me tightly, and for a moment I’m smothered in her hair. Both Everett’s mother and sister call him Essex, but only because it’s his rightful first name. She steps back and swats her brother on the stomach. “So when’s the big day? I want nieces and nephews, lots of them asap, and first and foremost, we need to get you two kids hitched.”
I look to Everett and bat my lashes at him. “Go ahead and tell her.”
Everett offers that perennially bored look to his sister. “No date yet. But we’re closer than ever.” He pulls me in by the waist, and about five different women glance down at his arm disapprovingly. My dress might be stunning, but Judge Everett and his hotter-than-a-kitchen-fire good looks still command the attention of every estrogen-bearing female in the vicinity.
“Very, very close,” I say.
Meghan tosses her hands in the air. “It might kill my mother, but I wouldn’t care if you eloped. I’m baby hungry myself.” She presses out an eerie grin my way before grimacing at Everett. “Does she know?”
“Do I know what?” I blink up at Everett who suddenly looks caught off guard.
“No, she doesn’t know.” He takes a slow breath. “So, Lindie Holland…” He lands a sweet kiss to the top of my head. “I called my sister and asked what she knew about her, and here we are. It just so happened that the art center was hosting a charity event tonight, and some of Lindie’s work is being showcased.”
Meghan makes a face like she might be sick. “Vanessa St. James has a few pieces on display as well.”
“Really?” My curiosity is momentarily pulled away from whatever secret Everett might have. “I didn’t realize she was an artist.”
Meghan averts her gaze. “That’s debatable. It just so happens that her work strongly resembles Lindie Holland’s.” She wrinkles her nose and leans in. “Let’s just say rumors have been flying. Everyone knows that Lindie is the real deal. I’ll let the two of you deduce the rest.” She lifts her champagne flute. “I’m off to mingle. Do not leave before saying goodnight!”
“Will do.” Everett threads his arm through mine and leads us in the direction we last saw Lindie. “If I’m right, Lindie’s brother will be here. And according to Cormack, wherever Ryan Holland is, there you’ll find Clayton McDaniel.”
“Landon’s official ex.” I nod. “It makes sense they work at the same law firm, and I bet they were buddies before that. And Ryan is engaged to that blonde—Blythe something.”
“Blythe Bentley.”
“Ooh”— I wiggle my shoulders up at my handsome date—“someone’s been doing their homework.”
“Yeah, well.”—he smacks his lips—“I guess you can say I feel personally invested in this one.”
“It’s because of Cormack, isn’t it?” A twinge of jealousy ignites in the pit of my belly, and I hate it.
“Maybe. But I was in the room the entire time. You had already seen the ghost. I knew that a homicide was imminent. Lemon, I was trying my hardest to survey the scene. I’m a judge. I see shady characters all the time. I see people who you would never suspect of wrongdoing get nailed to the wall for heinous crimes. I pride myself on spotting them on every part of the spectrum. Of course, the jury decides who’s guilty and isn’t once they hear the facts—but I thought I was pretty good at weeding them out myself.”
“So who do you think did it?”
“That’s the frustrating part. Not one thing appears to be amiss. How could the killer have been that good?”
“Are you saying you’re afraid that someone might just get away with murder for once?”
“It happens more often than you or I would like to think. But with you at the helm, I don’t think that’s going to be the case here.” His brows bounce just as we come upon Lindie Holland standing alone in front of a small canvas. A couple is depicted hand in hand, they’re walking away, but the man has his head turned toward a redhead.
“Beautiful,” I say, striding up next to her.
Lindie startles for a moment as if we’ve pulled her from a trance.
“I recognize you,” she bleats it out, monotone, with the same lack of expression she had the afternoon of the party. Her entire body goes rigid as she inspects me.
Hey? Maybe she’s a psychopath? They say psychos have a very difficult time displaying emotion. Or maybe not. I seriously doubt this is the moment to play armchair psychiatrist, considering the fact she’s grieving her friend.
Everett extends a hand her way. “Everett Baxter, my sister Meghan is on the board.”
Her entire body relaxes as she shakes his hand. “Of course, it makes total sense that you’re here.” She grunts a dry laugh my way. “Cormack mentioned something about the fact you were a nosy wannabe sleuth.”
I suck in a quick breath, completely affronted by Cormack’s rude analysis of me.
Everett takes a slow breath. “Lemon here has helped solve more than a half dozen homicides in the past several months. And she just so happens to be here as my date.”
Lindie shrugs as if she were indifferent. “I want Nessa’s killer caught just as bad
as the next person. We may not have seen eye to eye, but I didn’t want her dead.”
I glance back at the piece we’re standing next to, and the plate card next to it reads The Wandering Eye by Vanessa St. James. It’s easy to guess who the redhead in the portrait would be.
“Hey”—I look to Everett—“this is Nessa’s work.” Meghan’s words come back to me, and I have an idea. “You know”—I tilt my head as if scrutinizing it—“if I didn’t know better, this looks a lot like your work, Lindie.”
A throaty laugh bumps from her. “You guessed it. Nessa always wanted what belonged to somebody else—their career, their boyfriend. In my case, it was my art. Right now, I’m working in the art department at her dad’s advertising firm—and ironically, that’s the one thing Nessa didn’t want. But my side gig? I illustrate children’s books. Nessa always thought it was cool.” Her lids lower as she takes a quick glance around. “I guess I can say this because she’s no longer with us, but, Nessa begged me to help her get a portfolio together. At first, she genuinely tried, but she couldn’t draw a stick figure, so I helped her out a bit—before I knew it, that was my work in her portfolio. With the help of her father, she landed a huge author and a three-book deal to do the illustrations for his books. But when push came to shoving a colored pencil across the page, Nessa freaked out. In the beginning I was willing to help out, but, yet again, it was me doing all the work. Do you know how long it took me? A year. A solid year where I couldn’t work on my own stuff because I had to slave over these illustrations that she was responsible for.”
Everett inches back, dismayed. “Did she pay you?”
An incredulous laugh belts from her. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t be complaining if she did.” She takes in a deep breath and glowers at the painting before us as if it were Nessa herself. “Let’s just say Nessa had ways of making people do things for her.”
Something doesn’t make sense. I thought Cormack said no one could keep Nessa on a leash like Lindie? Maybe that was it? Maybe she was able to blackmail her because Lindie knew Nessa didn’t illustrate the books?
Lethal Lemon Bars: MURDER IN THE MIX 9 Page 6
