“Did I miss it, Lottie? Did you catch the killer? I ate almost all of the peanut butter cookies. Can I suggest you add a little chocolate to them as well? Chocolate and peanut butter was Norman’s favorite and I can see whyyy.” His tiny little legs float back and forth as if he were swimming through the air, and I’m about to either coo or tell him how precious he looks when one of his hind legs pelts me on the forehead.
“Geez.” I pause, stunned for a moment. “You do realize you can control that.” My hand drifts reflexively to my forehead.
“Ooh, sorry, Lottie. I have better traction while eating if I will my body into more of a solid state. I guess you can say I’m stuck in cookie mode at the moment.”
“Don’t change a thing. It just might come in handy.”
I quickly traipse over to where Brandy seems to be enjoying a quiet moment alone while gazing past the railing. I glance down at the ground from this height, and a dizzying spin pulses through my head. The mansion itself is built against a steep slope, which makes the drop-off from the patio fifty feet if it’s not a hundred.
“Brandy?” I smile as I say her name and she turns and smiles right back when she sees me. “You were probably expecting someone else.” I wince as I lean against the railing. “Sorry.”
She belts out a laugh and the marionette lines around her mouth indent, aging her severely. Come to think of it, she looks tired in general. Dark circles lie like bruises under her eyes, leaving the rest of her skin looking doughy and pale.
“Don’t worry, Lottie. I wasn’t really expecting Luke Lazzari. Honestly, I didn’t think anything would come of it.” She twitches her nose. “Although, I must admit, I have always been drawn to danger.”
Bruiser growls and sounds perfectly snuggle-worthy while doing it.
“Oh?” A thought comes to me. That baseball hat she was wearing the day of the shoot-out at the butcher shop, the notepaper she gave me—they both had the same initials on them, FFR. My God, Noah mentioned that the firing range Norman bought was in Fallbrook. Firing range in Fallbrook…
I clear my throat. “Danger, huh?” I take a quick breath. “I guess that makes sense. I mean, you were wearing that hat.” I shrug as if it were no big deal. “You know that day Luke’s men were being invaded by the feds? The initials were FFR—Fallbrook Firing Range, right?”
Bruiser yelps. “Good thinking, Looottie. We’ve got her now. Why don’t you sit on her now and scream for help?”
Brandy’s head inches back. “That’s right.” She shudders.
“But that day in my bakery—you said it stood for Fidelity Finance and Refinance. Which is it?”
Bruiser huffs, “That’s because she’s a liar. And she’s probably a killer, toooo.”
Her head twitches my way, and it’s safe to say I’ve got her full attention now. She’s not as mesmerized by the lake as she was a moment ago. Her dark eyes ride over my features as if she were trying to gauge my true intentions.
“I must have been mistaken.” She glances past me into the crowd. “I work long hours, Lottie. You’ll have to forgive the mix-up.”
She tries to step past me, and I block her path.
“Brandy, that day of the bridal boutique you said you were here looking for a bridesmaid dress. When is your friend’s wedding?”
Her eyes widen a notch. “I—um, next month.”
Bruiser chortles. “She’s flummoxed, as liars often arrre.”
“Where is she getting married?” I don’t let up.
She inches back once again, this time with a look of genuine anger in her eyes.
“That’s none of your business, Lottie. And I don’t know why you’re acting as if I made up the entire situation. That’s rude. You seemed so down-to-earth. I expected more from you.”
“This outfit you’re wearing. It’s the same one you wore the day Mr. Pemberley was killed.”
She gasps. “My goodness, you really are as bad as these socialites. I wouldn’t have thought a baker would care if someone repeated something as silly as an outfit. Boy, was I wrong.”
“No, that’s not it. I remember because I bumped into you and your champagne spilled. I pulled your pocket square out to dab your jacket. But you don’t have the pocket square anymore.” My eyes meet with hers. “You don’t have it because you dropped it the day of the murder.”
Her face bleaches white. “That doesn’t mean anything, Lottie.”
“It ended up in your pocket in haste and you must have dropped it when you ran for the front door.”
She turns her head slightly as if trying to follow along. “That’s right.”
“But when I met up with you again after the murder, you said you had just come upon the scene. You said you saw a man in a dark suit running out the door and you ran the other way.”
She swallows hard. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I think that is what you meant. You meant to lie. You ran out the door and dropped your pocket square, which puts you in the path of the killer.” She flinches when I say it. “Your name isn’t Brandy Hildenbrand. It’s Brandy Hilden. Your Peter Hilden’s daughter, aren’t you?”
Her lips part as she takes a breath, but she doesn’t deny it.
“I’m right.” I nod. “And you had a vendetta against Norman Pemberley.”
“Lottie”—her voice trembles—“Norman Pemberley was a wicked man.” She shakes her head. “He killed my father. He forced his hand to sell. My father wanted to keep that land. He practically lived at the gun range.”
“Brandy, your father was in dire straits. Norman was throwing him a lifeline.”
“No! My father had a real financial lifeline. He was about to refinance, and Norman threatened to step in and destroy my father’s business, after which he would never be able to rebuild again. He gave my father no choice. Norman was a terrible man. My father was in anguish during his last days. You wouldn’t want to see your own father that way. It was terrible, Lottie. He was a shell of the man he once was, and then he died.” Her voice fades to nothing. “He had a heart attack, and then he was gone. It was all Norman Pemberley’s fault. Norman had killed my father. My father needed justice, Lottie.”
Bruiser shrieks, “She did it! Knock her off the balcony, Lottie, and be done with iiit.”
I nod over at the startled woman. “And you were the one who made sure your father got the justice he deserved. You administered it yourself. You’re a good shot, aren’t you? You aimed for Norman’s chest, for his heart, and you hit pay dirt. It didn’t matter how many other people were around. You knew you wouldn’t fail. You had all the practice you needed—from your father’s firing range.”
A silent smirk crests her lips. “You’re good, Lottie.” She shakes her head. “You have all the answers, don’t you?”
“I don’t know why you wanted to pin the blame on Jenson.”
Her cheek flinches. “He was just as guilty as Norman in my book. He was facilitating the sale.”
“He was trying to stop it,” I counter. “But you were so locked up in anger, you couldn’t assess the facts properly. And you almost sent an innocent man to jail because of it. I don’t know why you felt desperate enough to kill Mr. Pemberley. What about your own life? Was this really worth prison?”
“No.” She grabs ahold of my arms.
“Looottie!” Bruiser does an odd little backflip that a part of me wants to coo at despite the escalating situation.
Brandy pants so hard I can feel her breath on my face. “Lottie, I’m not going to prison. This isn’t something I should have to pay for. This was revenge. He had to pay. Not me.” She gives my shoulders a squeeze as she presses against me and my feet slip out from underneath me.
A sharp groan evicts from me as I reach up to steady myself, and before I can latch onto anything, she’s flipped me over the balcony.
“No!” I cry as my fingers clip onto the edge of the railing. Every instinct in me says don’t look down, but in that microcosm of a moment I do just that. The
ground seems to zoom in and out as my adrenaline kicks in, and my entire body pounds like a heartbeat.
“Looottie!” Bruiser floats down, and I can feel him trying his best to propel me upwards. He butts his head against my bottom again and again, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. For sure I’m going to bruise. He’s really living up to his name.
My other hand searches for the railing and manages to grab onto it before slipping right off again.
Screams come from somewhere behind me at the lake, and I can only assume I’ve been spotted.
I try to scream myself, but my fingers slide back a notch from the effort, and I’m too afraid to catch my next breath.
“Bruiser,” I whisper. “Go get help. Find Carlotta. And if you can, stop Brandy from leaving.” And just like that, the tiny ghost zips on by, screaming Carlotta’s name and sounding very much like a little girl who’s about to have her toes chopped off.
The quickening of footsteps rustles beneath me and I glance down as a figure runs up the embankment.
“Lottie!” a familiar baritone voice bellows.
“Noah!” I cry and my body jerks, loosening my hold. My fingers begin to slip, one by one, and a slight moan comes from me as the inevitable approaches.
No sooner does my last finger slip than a hand appears over the railing and catches me by the arm. The next thing I know, I’m looking into eyes that rival the hypnotic hue of Honey Lake.
“Everett!” I gasp for air as if he were pulling me out of the deepest end of the ocean.
An expletive flies from his mouth as he grits his teeth and latches onto me with both hands. A crowd has amassed on the patio, and soon I’m back on board with everyone else and an enthusiastic applause breaks out.
“Everett!” I dive over him with a herculean embrace before kissing him on the mouth—a heart pounding, heart-stopping, dizzying, electrifying kiss that has us both moaning into one another at the very same time. “Wow.” It’s all I can say just before I bolt from his arms and I thread my way through the crowd at an alarming pace as I make my way back into the crowded ballroom. I spot Brandy’s crimson pantsuit as she nears the exit.
“Stop that woman!” I shout, but not a person bothers to break away from their conversation. “She’s a killer!” I howl at top volume, garnering only a handful of glances. “Nell!” I riot out her name and she appears instantly. “Stop Brandy!”
“I’m on it!” Her ghostly frame speeds that way and she leaves a trail of glittering stars in the wake. But she doesn’t have to stop Brandy. The crowd parts just enough for me to see Brandy flying backward and landing on the floor just as the cutest little goat you ever did see runs right over her torso and holds his little head up high.
“You did it!” I cry as I come upon the scene. And just like that, Bruiser begins to fade away. “Bruiser!” I call out.
“Goodbyyye. Until we meet agaaain!” He blips out of existence in a single spasm of light.
Noah runs into the room, red-faced and panting.
“She did it!” I point down at Brandy as she struggles to get up. “She confessed. She killed Norman Pemberley.”
Everett grabs me from behind and I spin in his arms.
“Lemon,” he hisses deep into my ear. “You have no idea how much you scared me.”
I pull back and look deeply into his stormy eyes. “And you saved me.” My chest bucks with emotion. “Thank you.” I give a shy smile, a stark contrast to the steamy kiss we just shared.
Everett nods as if acquiescing to something that was mortally wounding him on the inside.
“You’re welcome, Lemon. I’d do it again and again.” His cheek rides high on one side. “But let’s not have to do that again.”
“The rescue or the kiss?”
A dangerous smile plays on his lips. “Do you have to ask?”
A scuffle breaks out and we turn to find Noah leading Brandy away in handcuffs, and she’s fighting him tooth and nail with every step.
Norman Pemberley’s killer was brought to justice—and just steps from the same place she took his life.
“It’s over.” I wrap my arms around Everett and feel his heart pounding up against me.
The homicide investigation is over, but why do I get the feeling something new is about to begin?
Chapter 20
Keelie Turner is officially off the suspect list.
It’s the day before Keelie’s wedding, and I have baked and candy-coated a million and one cake pops for the big event. My soul sang through every second of it. Yes, it was exhausting, but this was for Keelie—my Keelie—and for Bear. It was indeed a labor of love.
Once I finish up, Lily volunteers to watch the bakery for me while I pack up a box of cake pops in hopes to garner the bride-to-be’s approval and take off for Keelie’s new home. She and Bear just got the keys to a rental a few blocks from Country Cottage Road, and I’m thrilled my bestie and her new hubby will be within walking distance.
Nell pops up next to me in the passenger seat, and I nearly have a heart attack.
“Geez!” I press my hand to my chest and nearly run us off the road. “You scared me. The passenger seat of my car isn’t exactly a hot spot for paranormals. I guess you can say I have to get used to it.” I will admit, I’ve had a few poltergeists hitch a ride now and again, but most of those were of the furry variety, and they sat in the back—out of habit, I’m assuming.
Nell chuckles. “I have a mission for you.”
“Does it involve hunting down a killer? Because if so, I’d really like for it to wait until after Keelie’s wedding.”
“No, but it does involve Keelie’s wedding.”
“Then I’m all in.”
Nell instructs me to head over to the storage unit just past Main Street where I stashed all of her belongings. After Bear found black mold in her old home, a team of us, mostly family, gathered all of her things and put them in an oversized storage unit.
Once we arrive, Nell instructs me exactly which bin to place into the trunk of my car, and I do as I’m told. Of course, I ask a million questions while doing so, but Nell insists the end game here is a surprise.
I drive to Keelie’s and lug the bin into her house. And once Keelie is done giving me the tour of her new little love nest, we end up in the master bedroom, staring at ourselves in the oversized mirror leaning against the wall.
“How did we grow up so fast?” Keelie sniffs as she grips her round belly.
“To be fair, I don’t think I’ve grown up yet. Grown-ups know how to make decisions, like who to marry and when to have a family. And I’m still stuck in the I-can’t-choose-between-two-boys phase.”
Keelie belts out a belly laugh, and her tummy ripples like jelly.
“Is it safe to laugh like that?” I say, placing my hand on her stomach. “The baby isn’t going to fall out, is it?”
Keelie makes a face at herself in the mirror. “Nope. And with my luck, this one just might decide to stay put until he or she is eighteen.”
“I may not know a lot of things, but I do know that’s not going to happen. And do you know what else I’m sure of? I’m helping host a double baby shower next month for both you and Lainey.”
“Really?” she squeals. “Does that mean our mothers have decided where to have it?”
“They’re still working on that little detail, but I know for sure I’ll be baking up a storm for both of you. So, how did wedding dress shopping go yesterday?” I cringe a little. “Sorry I couldn’t make it.”
“Don’t worry, Lot. I’m just glad you survived that celebration of life party and you got me off the hook with the sheriff’s department.”
“I would have done it again and again to ensure you walked down that aisle without a cloud of suspicion. There’s no way I’d let my best friend amass a reputation as a potential killer. That kind of a thing has a way of overshadowing your wedding day.”
She chuckles at the thought. “Lottie, in the event you haven’t noticed, I already have a
reputation.” She gives her belly a pat. “And you know what? I don’t give a pig’s arse what people think about me.”
We share a belly laugh together.
“Where’s the dress?” I say, wiping the tears from my eyes. I haven’t had a laugh like that in a good long while.
“What dress?” She tosses her hands in the air. “I came up empty, as usual. Face it, Lot. I’m wearing my bathrobe. I couldn’t pick a dress. Bear and I can’t pick where to go on our honeymoon. Everything is still up in the air. And when it all falls on its face, it will be a disaster.”
Nell walks right through the wall and into the room, landing before us in a dazzling display of lavender stars.
“Come now, Lottie. It’s time for the box.”
I gasp. “Wait here, Keelie. I need to get something.” I trot out to the living room and lug the giant plastic bin into the bedroom. “I think you’d better open this.”
She waddles over and snaps the lid off. “It’s nothing but a bunch of Grandma Nell’s old sweaters.”
“It is?” It comes out a touch disappointed as I look over to Nell herself and she simply shrugs.
“Dig deeper,” she instructs.
“Dig deeper,” I parrot and we do just that until we hit gold. Both Keelie and I gasp at the very same time.
“What is it?” Keelie asks, clipping her fingers to the piece and pulling it slowly out of the box.
A white gown floats between us like a ghost, an irony that isn’t lost on me.
“Nell?” I shake my head at her. “What is this?”
Keelie pulls the dress to her chest as her eyes grow in size. “You just said Nell. You are talking to Grammy Nell, aren’t you?”
“What? No.” Oh my God, I’ve just been found out. “I mean, yes, in the spiritual sense. I mean, it’s almost as if I felt her prodding me to go get this bin out of her storage facility.” I shrug because I feel terrible lying to my bestie. Although I’m not even sure if what I just said qualifies as a lie. “Don’t you see, Keelie? Nell wanted you to have this gown.”
Tears stream down her face, and she looks to the wad of fabric in her hands before she shakes it out.
Murder in the Mix Boxed Set 8 Page 17
