A river of words dam up in my throat, and I gag on them for a moment. “And I’ve got an underused left hook.” My lips spread across my face like a rubber band, and even my smile looks like a threat. “Essex is off the market. He’s with me. It looks like you missed out on the heyday—and now that his oats are all sown up, you’re welcome to boot scoot your way to another pasture.”
Landon’s mouth falls open. “Is she speaking English?”
Blythe belts out a laugh. “She’s dating the man, Landon. My God, didn’t you learn anything from Nessa? You don’t proposition men just because you can. You have to learn to respect the boundaries of a relationship.”
I look to Blythe. “I’m starting to like you already,” I tease. “And I know what you meant about Nessa. I know all about her wicked ways to keep her friends in line. Stealing away whatever man met her fancy, taken or not. And to think of the repercussions if you didn’t go along with her evil game.” I pretend to shudder as Landon and Blythe stare at me wide-eyed.
Blythe takes a breath. “Who told you?”
“Please”—I roll my eyes—“more people know than you think.”
Landon gasps. “Oh my God. And to think Nessa thought our circle was water tight.”
A deep rumble comes from Everett’s chest. “So tight, someone thought the only way out was to kill Nessa.” He shakes his head as he bears hard into Landon’s eyes. “Who do you think did it?”
Landon bites down hard over her bottom lip until her flesh presses white. She takes a ragged breath as she looks to Blythe.
“I don’t know.” Her voice isn’t convincing at all, and a red flag goes up. My God, I think Landon does know.
Blythe shakes her head at Landon as if solidifying a pact. “I don’t know either, but I can tell you that almost all of us wanted Nessa gone—maybe not dead, but certainly we can all breathe a little easier without her.”
“I can see that being true.” I lean in toward Landon. “Did Nessa have something on you? I happen to have overheard her the day she was killed, saying something to the effect of I know what you did.” Truth be told, it was Max who heard it, but his ears are just as good as mine at this point.
Landon takes in a ragged breath, straightening in her seat as her body goes rigid. Her eyes close a moment. “Fine, I did do something, but it doesn’t leave this table.” She shoots a sharp look to Blythe. “I may or may not have coerced Vivian to seduce Clayton. I knew he was still sleeping with Nessa, and I didn’t want to use Nessa as an excuse for our divorce.” She snarls at Blythe. “I couldn’t turn a blind eye the way she wanted me to. None of us could. And if I couldn’t have that two-timing cad all to myself—she couldn’t either.”
My mouth falls open. “Did Vivian know about Clayton and Nessa?”
“Oh, who cares. We were all still on friendly terms. I was satisfied with that.”
I shrug over at her. “Now that Nessa is gone, do you think that tight knit circle will still remain friends?”
Blythe scoffs. “Are you kidding? Ryan and Clayton are inseparable. They will always be good friends. And that means Viv and I will see each other forever or as long as Clay and Viv stay together.” She shoots a glance to Landon. “As we’ve seen, he’s not the most loyal companion.”
“I’m more than fine with it,” Landon is quick to admit as her hand gently glides over Everett’s arm. “I’m much more eager to meet new people than ever before.”
Before I can remind her of the conversation we had less than two minutes ago, her phone buzzes over the table.
“It’s Cormack.” She quickly cradles her cell phone in her hand. “Again? She just received another one.” She gasps as she continues reading. “She just pulled up outside.” She yanks Everett to his feet. “You have to help us, Everett. You’re Cormack’s oldest friend.”
Everett winces as he looks to me.
“Go,” I say. “I’m more than fine with it.” I make crazy eyes at him as I subtly nod toward Blythe. “What a hurricane those Featherby sisters are,” I quip to her once they leave.
“Please, don’t I know it. Attention seekers at your finest. Do you realize that for all the years I’ve known Landon she has always relied on a man to rescue her? And not once was a man truly needed. It’s as if she didn’t feel worthy enough to find a man to love her without baiting him into it somehow.”
“And you seem the opposite.” She does. In fact, everything about Blythe oozes a genuine self-confidence. Her hair looks soft and natural, not over processed, not overly dyed, she’s nearly makeup-free sans a few strokes of mascara, and if she is exorbitantly wealthy, she’s understating it by a mile. Whereas Landon stacks the rings and bling, Blythe seems to have ditched it for the day. I’m getting the feeling Blythe is the real deal. I can see why she would be fuming regarding Nessa’s nest policy. Blythe seems completely sane.
“I guess I don’t feel as if I need a man.” She leans in, and her cheeks pinch pink. “I mean, I have needs, so for that I need a man, but financially I’m going to be okay. I’m sure you’re rolling your eyes because I haven’t worked a day in my life, and that’s true. I’m a trust fund baby. I can’t help it. I was born into it. But I’ve never felt the pressure to fit into this plastic society that seems to be a part of the package. Landon does and so does her sister. That’s why I’m a little surprised that she’s hot for some detective who makes less in a year than her interest yields in a month. But to each his own. Who knows? Maybe she really does love him.”
My stomach churns at the thought of Cormack genuinely loving Noah. That’s the last thing I wanted to hear.
“You must really love Ryan.”
“I do.” She checks her phone. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with a dress shop downtown. Scarlet Sage is helping outfit everyone for the masquerade next weekend. Will you be there?”
“I will. I’m catering the event, too. But I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Blythe wishes me a good afternoon as she takes off, and I sit there for a good long while wondering how I let two prime suspects get away with nothing more than some minor chitchat.
A couple of male voices escalate from the hall just outside the conservatory, and their conversation carries into the glass room as if it were a microphone picking up on them.
“You’re damn lucky that nitwit pulled the fire alarm. Where are the receipts?”
“Cashbox under my desk.”
“Dump them.”
“What about the electronic copies?”
“Trust me, nobody is going to look for those.”
Their voices begin to dim, and I tiptoe my way to the entry of the conservatory, only to find Clayton and Ryan heading upstairs.
“Oh my God. They have something to hide.” It bubbles out of me in less than a whisper.
My phone buzzes, and it’s a text from Noah. Everything working out at the B&B?
I text right back. All done here. I’m headed to Fallbrook.
Do not go alone. Do you hear me? Is Everett with you?
My stomach churns at the thought of Everett getting busted breaking into a law office. That, right there, will end his own legal career.
No. Meet me at the bakery. We’ll go together.
It takes less than a second for Noah to text back.
I’ll go anywhere with you.
Chapter 18
Fallbrook has always been heavily associated with Everett for me, so the fact that I’m here with Noah makes me feel as if I’m cheating on Everett with him. My, how the tables have turned. Noah asked Everett to drive Cormack down to the Ashford Sheriff’s Department to turn in that faux threat she received. And I’ve filled Noah in on my conversation with both Landon and Blythe.
The entire office building of Becker and Becker is empty save for a custodian at the end of the hall vacuuming up a storm.
Noah nods and takes me by the hand as he leads us to the offices in the back. We come upon the one marked Attorney Ryan Holland, and he pulls a metal pin ou
t of his pocket. Noah lands us on the other side and pulls me close to him in the dim light, his chest palpitating in and out wildly, the way it used to when we shared some of our most intimate moments.
“Under the desk,” I whisper.
A quiet laugh bounces through him. “Honey, I will take you wherever you wish.”
“And I know what you mean by take.” I swat him on the arm as we peer under the massive mahogany structure, but there’s nary a trash bin.
“Clayton’s office?” We head farther down the hall, and Noah reprises his lockpick routine. Inside it’s far more spacious than Ryan’s office, and the desk feels about a million miles away. We head over and find a treasure trove of boxes.
“Crap,” I whimper. “This could take weeks to excavate. “What the heck kind of filing system is this, anyway?”
Noah’s dimples flirt with me as he gets right to work. We plow our way through box after box, each of them filled with receipts of some kind or another.
“It’s an expense account,” Noah whispers as he combs through the massive stack in his hand. “It looks as if they’re getting ready for a quarterly return.”
“Why don’t they just ship this off to their accountant?”
“I don’t know, but I’m betting they’re altering a few facts before they land this pile of debris anywhere.”
I come across a manila folder marked Bismarck. “Found it.” I wave it at Noah, and we pull the stack out and begin pilfering through it.
Noah filters through his half quickly. “On the back of each one there’s a note—meeting with clients. Bars, restaurants, the hotel café. Looks legit.”
I spot one familiar word and point to it as my heart stops beating. “How about the bungalows?”
“Bingo.”
Noah and I take a picture of every receipt we can from a bungalow rental. I spot a familiar date and gasp.
“Noah, April sixteenth. That’s two weeks before Nessa was killed. That was the same date on Nessa’s final sketch. I bet these dates all line up.”
“I’ll be damned.” Noah and I put everything back the way we found it and hightail it out of the building as if it truly were on fire.
By the time we get back into his truck, we’re breathless.
“Noah, aren’t you afraid that the security cameras caught us?”
“Nope.” His dimples press in as he grins at the road ahead of us. “I happen to know that the water from the sprinklers short-circuited the security system, and it’s not getting an overhaul for another week.”
A laugh bucks from me. “You wouldn’t have done that otherwise, would you?”
“Not a chance.” Noah looks my way as a sly smile creeps up his face. “With the exception of for you. I’d break every rule twice for you, Lottie Lemon.”
A moment of contented silence bounces by.
“Do you think Clayton is our killer?” I ask, shuddering at the thought of being in the killer’s office, rummaging through his things—the thought of the killer visiting my mother’s B&B.
“I’m not sure. But we’re close, Lot. And I think they know it. We need to be extra careful with this one. I have a feeling they’re not going down without a hell of a fight.”
“They never do.”
Ain’t that the truth.
Chapter 19
The Saturday of the masquerade ball all of Honey Hollow is aflutter. It seems Cormack had the bright idea to turn it into a charity event and charge an exorbitant attendance fee. All proceeds will benefit the Honey Hollow Art Center, so it’s a winning proposition. Plus, I’m betting she’ll haul in an entire slew of wealthy prospective husbands for Landon as well. On second thought, the event should come with a warning label.
Outside, the air is warm, and the hills are verdant green and speckled with bright yellow daisies. The sky is clear, and the maples are budding young, tender leaves. After I finish catering the masquerade ball tonight, the next big thing on my list is Lainey’s bridal shower next month. I’m so excited about it you’d think it was my bridal shower.
A deep sigh expels from me as I finish replenishing the lemon bars into the refrigerated showcase. I indulged this morning and had as many lemon bars as I wanted once they cooled and after I doused them with powdered sugar. I’ll admit, I was thinking about all things bridal at that moment, too. In the back of my mind, I wonder if marriage is something I see with Everett or Noah. Of course, if either proposed, I’d say yes in a heartbeat. Well, perhaps not Noah. I’m afraid polygamy is heavily frowned upon in the great state of Vermont.
But Everett?
I wonder if the thought would ever cross his mind. Not in my wildest dreams did I ever envision myself married to a judge. Judges in general sound old and stuffy, angry at best. But Everett is the complete opposite—drop-dead gorgeous, dangerously sexy, determined to do what’s right, pensive, and loyal to a fault— the fault being putting his own career in jeopardy for those he cares about—in other words, me.
In that respect, I don’t deserve him. In no way should I ever haul him into half of the harebrained ideas I lead us into, and yet he never wavers. He volunteers. And my God up in heaven, the mattress moves that man is accomplished in. How on earth is he capable of executing half of those stunts I will never know.
The bell to the bakery chimes just as I take in a deep breath of fresh squeezed lemon. There is no better scent in the spring than that of lemon and sugar.
A crowd of customers makes its way out the door as a familiar blonde clad in spandex sashays inside. Her hair is swept up into a ponytail, and one eye is cleverly hidden behind a loose vanilla strand of hair. I’m beginning to think the universe would unravel if we ever saw both of Britney’s peepers at once.
“Well, if it isn’t Mrs. Fox.” I force a quick smile to bounce on my lips. “What can I get you? A frosted oatmeal cookie? A raspberry turnover? A new husband perhaps?” I’m only partially kidding. Although, I have no clue what I would do with Noah once he became available. I haven’t exactly waited for him. I was more than livid when I found out he simply forgot to mention the fact he still had a wife. I assumed she was an ex. Besides, I’m knee-deep in Essex and loving every carnal minute of it. A part of me feels terrible for admitting as much.
Her perfect pout expands a notch. “Just a cup of coffee. Black. And throw in a couple of lemon bars. So are you close to catching the killer?”
I glower at the coffee as I pour her a cup and slide it across the counter. “No. In fact, I think I’m being counterproductive in my pursuit.” I pluck a few lemon bars out of the case and plate them for her. “Any whisperings in your Swift Cycle classes on who may have done it?” At this point, a rumor in the wild is just as good a suspicion of my own.
“Cormack thinks you might be the killer.” Her bright crimson smile expands with a vindictive amount of glee.
“She’d be wrong about that. Just like she’s wrong about the fact the killer is sending her all of those cryptic messages.”
“I’ve seen them.” Britney averts her eyes as if she, too, knew they were nothing but fakes. “She received another one today. Something about she dies tonight.”
“Please”—I huff as I sling a dishrag over my shoulder—“she was supposed to die the other day. Obviously, I’m not that lucky.”
“Neither am I.” Britney bites into a lemon bar and moans. “Mmm, so good.”
“Speaking of good. How are things with Noah?” I offer an apologetic shrug for no reason, although sleeping with the woman’s husband is plenty reason enough.
“As if you care.”
Lily comes by and refills the napkin dispenser to my left, mostly because she’s dying to listen in. I refilled all the dispensers myself an hour ago.
“I do care.” About Noah.
She crimps a smile. “About Noah.”
Okay, so I might just like her a little bit more for reading my mind—and for sharing similar quasi-homicidal thoughts about Cormack.
Britney shrugs as her hard steel shell
seemingly melts away. “Therapy isn’t going how I wanted.”
“What did you want?”
“I don’t know what I wanted. That’s the problem. I think maybe I wanted to see this new and improved version that has you and Cor-Macaroni drooling all over your feet—but I got the same old Noah. Same Noah who can’t see that I want him to shape up and become the man I always knew he could be. Same Noah who refuses to admit that I can commandeer us into a future version of ourselves that can really take us someplace. Noah just wants to discuss our feelings. He wants me to see that I was trying to change him.”
“It sounds like you were—are.”
She blinks hard my way. “Excuse me? Wait until you get your claws into a husband one day. Trust me, you’ll be tempted to sand off a few rough edges, too. When you really love a man, you look into their soul and you realize who they are destined to become. It’s convincing them that’s the tricky part.”
“What exactly did you envision for Noah?” I’m equally curious and entertained at this point.
She scoffs as if it were obvious. “Noah shouldn’t be running around with a weapon strapped to his back. He should be commandeering an entire fleet of Boss Fit Gyms. And they should be planted right next door to each of my Swift Cycles. We should be creating a marketplace. The Fox family should have a conglomerate of physical fitness chains. Our children would have had a brilliant, not to mention fit, legacy.”
The thought of Noah and Britney having children makes my stomach roll hard. I don’t know why. I’m happy with Everett. It’s not like I’m going to keep both Noah and Everett on a string, marry them both, have both their children. But still, the thought of Noah having children with another woman grieves me, and I place the blame squarely on his shoulders. He toyed with my heart whether or not he knew it.
“So, Boss Fit? That’s where they flip tractor tires and document the entire event on Facebook, right?”
Lethal Lemon Bars: MURDER IN THE MIX 9 Page 15
