Christmas Fudge Fatality

by Addison Moore

  “Wow,” I say as we watch her take off. “Now there’s a twist.”

  “No, it’s not.” Lainey shakes her caramel waves. She’d donned a bright red sweater with a reindeer on it and its nose blinks on and off. “Everyone knows Scott did it.”

  Meg leans in. She’s got her jet-black hair ironed out straight, a tight leather dress with a row of spikes over her shoulders, and matching spiked heels.

  “Do you think Scott did it?” Her icy blue eyes sear into mine like a threat. Meg can make a simple hello sound like a menace.

  “No, I don’t.” I’d fill them in on what I know, but I have a feeling whoever is responsible for Tamara’s death is standing right here in this room with me.

  Noel lands on my shoulder and it feels as if a ham hock just did a hard landing.

  “Lighten up, will you?” I whisper as I try to adjust myself to accommodate him and both my sisters scoff at me.

  Lainey makes a face. “You’re the one that needs to lighten up, Lottie. It’s like this case has you twisted up in knots.”

  “Speaking of the case”—I look to Lainey—“is there anything at all that you can remember from that night? Did either Joyce or Bonnie say anything that could lead you to believe they were at their wits’ end with Tamara?”

  She shakes her head. “I didn’t spend much time with either of them. I was too busy trying to help Stacy. She was so focused on her camera. She wouldn’t stop talking about it. She does photography on the side. She made it sound like that camera was her baby.”

  The lights flicker on and off, and the entire room lets out a chorus of oohs.

  Lainey cranes her neck past me. “It’s time to start the shenanigans. I’d better help Mom get that microphone working or we’ll all grow old and die here.” She winces. “Bad analogy, I know.” She gives my shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll be back.”

  Meg scoots in. “So? Who did it?”

  “I don’t know.” I glance out into the crowd and spot Joyce spontaneously dancing to the Christmas carol belting out its cheery tune overhead. “Joyce has full ownership of her business now that Tamara is gone. She certainly had a motive.”

  “Joyce has always been a go-getter. If she wanted Tamara dead, I wouldn’t doubt she could do it.”

  I make a face as Bonnie just about attacks Everett at the registration table.

  “Bonnie certainly goes after what she wants. In fact, she’s addicted to just doing that.”

  Meg belts out a laugh. “That woman practically lives at Red Satin.”

  Noel barks just shy of my ear. “Which one is it, Lottie? Which one has the greater temper?”

  “I guess anyone could get riled up,” I say. The crowd only seems to grow more congested just as a photographer squeezes in front of us and snaps a candid shot. He takes off, but my gaze lingers in his direction. He turns his enormous white lens to the side and it’s a foot long at least, with the letters DSLR written across the side.

  DSLR.

  I let it ruminate in my mind a moment, and then, just like that, my heart stops cold.

  I know who the killer is.

  Chapter 10

  The music turns down a notch while my mother steps up to the microphone and begins laying out the ground rules for the matchmaking melee about to ensue.

  Meg says something about ducking for cover and does a disappearing act into the crowd, but I’m not too interested in anything going on in this room. Instead, Noel and I head out of the conservatory and straight into the kitchen.

  “Oh, thank heavens, Lottie.” Stacy slides a bag of chopped carrots my way. “I could really use your help, after all. It turns out, everyone from the office is in the next room and completely unwilling to give up their coveted spot in the little mating dance about to take place.”

  Noel hops up onto the kitchen island—floated up to be exact.

  “Ask her, Lottie! Ask if she killed my Tamara—my best girl.” And then as if the tiny pup were coming to an abrupt epiphany, he stops cold. “The camera, Lottie. That’s what you were looking at in the next room. It’s what made you think to come here, isn’t it?”

  It wasn’t did he sell are I heard. It was DSLR.

  “That’s right,” I whisper, carefully pulling the bag of carrots my way. “It sure is busy in there. I guess everyone wants to find love during the holidays. It would be nice anyway.” I swallow hard, examining her as she works to stack the celery onto a three-tiered platter.

  “Well, they’ll be hungry for something to snack on in just a few minutes. Not that my veggies can compete with that fudge of yours. You’ll have to give me the recipe.”

  “I will.” I clear my throat. “Did you see there was a photographer next door? I guess my mother spared no expense. That camera he had looked pretty expensive.”

  She scowls as she pulls a head of broccoli toward her. “Trust me. It was expensive. I should know. I’ve got my fair share of equipment. Or should I say had,” she grunts before bringing down a butcher knife over a head of broccoli in a violent thrust.

  Noel jumps straight into the air and keeps on floating. “Good grief. I think we should leave, Lottie. She’s armed and dangerous.”

  But I don’t leave. Instead, I make my way around the island as I inch my way over to her.

  “Is that what you were arguing with Tamara about? You were talking about a camera that night.” I know because Lainey told me as much. “And you accused Tamara of taking it.” I know because that conversation I was fortunate enough to digitally overhear told me exactly that. “It was a DSLR camera you accused her of taking, wasn’t it?”

  Stacy’s face bleaches out. Her mouth falls open as she lets the butcher knife slip from her fingers.

  “How do you know that?” She gives a few quick blinks. “I mean, everyone knows that. I was pretty upset that I had lost it. But no, I didn’t accuse Tamara of anything.”

  “Yes, you did. It was after Scott left. After Bonnie and Joyce left together as well. Tamara called me to put in an order for a party—a Christmas party she would never get to have because you pushed her. It wasn’t an accident.”

  “No,” Stacy says it lower than a whisper, shaking her head as she begins to back up. “This can’t be happening.”

  “But it did happen, didn’t it?”

  Her fingers clasp over the handle of the knife again.

  “Lottie!” Noel barks my name out in one vicious roar.

  Instinctively, my hand slaps over Stacy’s, and soon we’re struggling for the knife gyrating wildly between us.

  Stacy grunts, “Don’t do this, Lottie. It didn’t have to be this way.” In one swift move she has me in a headlock with my back tucked to her chest as she moves us toward the back door that leads to the woods behind the kitchen. “Why do you always have to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong? Scott was the perfect scapegoat. He exploded that night when he saw her. It was believable. I even had Scott doubting his own story at times.” She works the door open and the icy wind hits us with a blast. “Now look what you’re making me do?” She brings the knife to my throat as I writhe, trying my best to get out from her grip on me. “Stop struggling or this will get messy.”

  “Stacy, we’ve known each other for a long time. You’re good friends with Lainey. This isn’t you. This isn’t what you’re about.”

  “She took my camera, Lottie. I saved for months to buy that. I researched it for a year before I made the purchase. Tamara had everything handed to her. Scott and I did all the work on the farm while she did whatever she wished with her time. All she wanted to do was hurt me. Yes, I was with Scott. But not for long. Scott and I—we were going to get married as soon as his divorce was final. He promised me, no prenup. As soon as I get my name on the deed to that farm, I’ll take my half and leave him. I never wanted Tamara’s sloppy seconds. Tamara worked me like a dog for years. She thought she was better than me. But I showed her. I took what I could. Scott was ripe for the picking. Tamara treated him like the help. She made it all too ea
sy.” She pulls me past the walk and we stumble in the snow as we miss that first step on the way to parking lot.

  The knife slips from her, and I lunge for it.

  “Lottie!” Noel jumps past me and onto Stacy’s chest.

  “Oh my God.” She lets go of me and clutches at her chest. “I can’t breathe.”

  I try to crawl past her and she grabs onto my ankle. “I’m sorry, Lottie. This ends tonight. You end tonight.” She plucks the knife right out of my hand and thrusts it down over me just as I roll out of the way. But Stacy is relentless as she hoists the knife back up.

  “You’re going to die, Lottie. And don’t forget—you made me do it.”

  “Like Tamara made you do it?”

  Her eyes fill with rage. “Tamara lied to me! She took what belonged to me, and I was going to make her pay.”

  Noel growls like a hound from hell as he jumps onto her back and Stacy falls forward, landing on top of me.

  Noel barks, “I’m so sorry, Lottie! Oh dear, the knife! The knife!”

  “Where’s the knife?” I stop struggling to get out from underneath her in time to look up and see a shining silver blade right over my head, and before I can scream a shoe comes from nowhere and kicks the weapon out from her hands.

  Stacy’s body is yanked off mine, and I see Everett’s handsome stone-cold face as he pulls her to the side.

  Noah and Ivy come running out the back door of the kitchen, and soon Stacy is in handcuffs and I’m in Noah’s arms.

  “Lottie, you could have been killed.” He presses a heated kiss to my forehead. “I’m so glad you’re okay. What happened?”

  “She confessed. She did it. She pushed Tamara off the embankment,” I pant.

  “Let me take care of this.” He steps over to where Everett and Ivy work to subdue Stacy.

  Noel runs up. “Good work, Detective Lemon.” His body lights up an eclectic blue hue, and tiny sparks of light that look like miniature stars spray all around him in a supernatural display of glory. “I’m afraid it’s time I return to paradise, to my Tamara.”

  Tears come to my eyes. “I’ll miss you, Noel. Have a wonderful Christmas with your best girl.”

  Slowly, Noel begins to fade into the background until there’s not a trace of him left.

  “Merry Christmas, Lottie Lemon! I will never forget you.”

  “I’ll never forget you either.”

  Everett comes over, and soon I’m in his strong, capable arms. I press my ear to his chest and listen to the quickening of his heartbeat.

  Everett pulls me in tight. “You got another one, Lemon. I’m proud of you. How about we put a moratorium on finding any more bodies until after the holidays?”

  I pull back and bite down on my lip as I look at this beautiful man. “Deal.”

  And just like that, it’s all over.

  “Tamara can finally rest,” I say, wiping the tears from my eyes. “And so can we.” I wrap my arms around Everett as I watch them take Stacy away.

  It’s all really over—just in time for Christmas.

  Chapter 11

  It’s Christmas Eve, and my mother’s B&B is just as festive tonight as it was during that dizzying dating fiasco. The grand dining room has a feast fit for a king set out—a turkey with all the trimmings and enough mashed potatoes and sweet potato pies to feed all of Honey Hollow. My sisters, my mother and her friends, Keelie and her family, Noah and Everett, we’re all here together celebrating the holiest day of the year—I’ve even brought Pancake and Waffles over to celebrate the joyous holiday.

  Stacy was arrested for the murder of Tamara Gray. Scott felt like a fool after he was filled in on Stacy’s true intentions with him. He denied Stacy’s accusation that he was siphoning funds from the farm and keeping them from Tamara. I guess we’ll never know for sure. But it turns out, Stacy’s anger toward Tamara had been festering for years. And that missing camera that Stacy accused Tamara of stealing? It was discovered in the trunk of Stacy’s car in a bin filled with old produce. Stacy forgot all about it. All of it was for nothing. Murder usually is.

  The friendly ghosts of the B&B, Greer Giles and Winslow Decker, take turns swinging from the chandelier up above, knocking over glasses, and rattling the presents under that behemoth tree my mother has bejeweled with the ornaments I remember from my youth.

  After dinner, Noah, Everett, and I congregate by the fire as we reflect on this dizzying month.

  “Mmm,” Noah moans as he holds up a piece of my chocolate walnut fudge. “I don’t know how you do it, Lottie, but this is the best fudge I’ve ever had.”

  “You’re just saying that.” I wave him off, secretly thrilled to have heard him say exactly that.

  “He’s right.” Everett wraps an arm around my shoulders. “I’m putting in an order for a boxful.”

  “I can arrange that,” I say as I give his svelte red tie a tug.

  “How about a delivery to my place later tonight?”

  Before I can answer the quasi-bawdy proposition, a loud howl comes from the entry to the room and we turn to find a man dressed in a Santa suit.

  “Ho, ho, ho!” he bellows, and his fuzzy white beard slips down a notch, exposing the fact it’s Mayor Nash himself.

  Mom quickly ushers him to the green velvet lounger, and soon everyone in the room is angling to snap a picture with him.

  “Oh!” A thought comes to me. “I need to get my furry boys! Pancake and Waffles missed out on a chance to take a picture with Santa that evening because—well, you know.” I can’t bring myself to repeat anything else that happened that night.

  “Good thinking.” Everett looks around the room until he spots my sweet piles of fluff convalescing near the Christmas tree. “I’ll grab Pancake.”

  Noah tips his head. “And I’ll get Waffles.”

  And they do just that.

  Pancake and Waffles finally get their picture with Santa. And as soon as that flash goes off, they both use that bright red Santa suit as a springboard and propel right out of the room.

  “Oh no!” My panic is short-lived as I give a sorrowful laugh. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

  Noah shakes his head. “Good thing it happened here and they didn’t take off in the woods that night. That tree lot spans for miles. They could have frozen to death.”

  Everett looks to me. “He’s not exactly a ball of sunshine, is he?”

  “I’m a realist,” Noah answers.

  Everett’s brows bounce. “So you must realize that some people are simply destined to be together,” he says as he picks up my hand and kisses the back of it.

  “I sure do.” Noah glides between us, and before I know it I’m in his arms as he spins me in front of the fire. “Merry Christmas, Lottie.”

  Everett shakes his head as he presses those glowing blue eyes into mine. “Merry Christmas, Lemon. I hope you get what you wish for.”

  I take a step back from Noah and look from him to Everett. “I already have it. In abundance.”

  Pancake and Waffles saunter back into the room and twirl themselves around my ankles.

  “Come here, you two.” I bend over and pick them both up at the very same time and press a kiss to each of their foreheads. “I really do have it all.” I turn until my sweet cats and me are facing the room. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”

  “Merry Christmas,” the rest of the room chimes back.

  “Merry Christmas!” Greer and Winslow shout from the chandelier. The bulbs blow out and we’re left with candlelight and the glow from that beautiful Christmas tree in the corner.

  And just like that, it’s a happy haunted holiday after all.

  *New to the series? Start at the beginning! Cutie Pies and Deadly Lies (Murder in the Mix 1) has you covered! Happy reading!

  Recipe

  Lottie’s Chocolate Christmas Fudge

  1 tablespoon butter (cold) Plus 1/2 tablespoon to coat the sauce pan with.

  1 can of sweetened condensed milk (14 0z.)

  1 ½ teas
poons of vanilla

  2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips (You can use butterscotch chips, white chocolate chips or peppermint flavored chocolate chips to mix up the recipe!)

  2 cups chopped and toasted pecans. (This is an optional but delicious ingredient.)

  *Line an 8 x 8 baking pan with parchment paper.

  Chop and toast pecans at 350° for about ten minutes.

  Melt ½ tablespoon butter in the bottom of a medium size sauce pan.

  Add in sweetened condensed milk, butter and 2 cups chocolate chips.

  Stir until the chocolate chips are well melted and smooth as silk.

  Turn off the stove, move to a cool burner or surface and add in pecans and vanilla.

  Pour into baking pan and let cool for fifteen minutes. Put in refrigerator for about 90 minutes until fudge is set firm.

  Cut into squares and enjoy with family and friends.

  *Lottie’s fudge makes a terrific holiday gift for just about anybody!

  Happy baking from Lottie’s kitchen to yours—and merry Christmas!

  Preview: Cutie Pies and Deadly Lies

  I see dead people.

  Okay, so I don’t see dead people—at least not on the regular—I see dead pets. Yes, pets. At first, I had no idea what these hologram-like beasts were up to until after an unfortunate run of something akin to trial and error that I concluded each dead pet was some sort of a harbinger for its previous owner, a very, very bad omen if you will. Sometimes I see them floating around willy-nilly in a crowd and it’s hard to decipher exactly who the bad luck is coming for. But on occasion, I see them attached firmly to the side of whomever the incoming disaster is set to strike. I’m not sure why this is my lot in life. In fact, my lot in life hasn’t been so stellar in general. My birth mother thought it was a brilliant idea to leave me on the floor of a firehouse, and that’s where a brave and thankfully curious firefighter spotted me, swaddled up and squirming. It just so happens that I was adopted by that sweet man, Joseph Lemon, and his wife, Miranda, and gifted a book-loving big sister, Lainey, currently Honey Hollow’s lead librarian, as well as a feisty and shenanigan-prone younger sister, Meg, who is also known as Madge the Badge on the Las Vegas female wrestling circuit. And being that Las Vegas and all of its glittery wrestling venues are a good distance from Honey Hollow, Vermont, we don’t see her very often.