Greer nods. “Thank you, Lottie.”
“You’re welcome.”
Georgie bucks. “I heard her! I heard a ghost!” she howls at the top of her lungs and I swear someone in the grand room just broke out into applause.
I nod. “Greer is a brunette with long dark hair that looks as if it’s holding an entire constellation of onyx stars. She has glowing eyes, and glowing skin, and she’s as sassy as she is gorgeous.”
Winslow chuckles.
“And then there’s Winslow Decker.” I offer him a quick wink. “He’s her two-hundred-year-old boyfriend who doesn’t look a day over thirty. He was a pig farmer on the land right over the B&B. He’s a cutie with his dark blond scruff, boyish face, and dimples. Oh, and he dresses about as dapper as a farmer can with a white buttoned-down shirt and spaghetti thin bowtie. His rugged jeans have seen better days, but he wears them well.”
Greer licks her finger and presses it to his bottom as she makes a sizzling noise.
“That’s right, ladies.” Greer bumps her hip to his. “This sexy specter is mine all mine.”
Little Lea raises the blade in her hand. “I’m next, Lottie!” Her voice comes out dark and deep, and those of us who are still living shudder.
“That’s Lea,” I say. “She’s about six. Stands at three and a half feet tall, has her shoulder-length hair combed over her face, wears a dirty pinafore and scuffed Mary Janes, and wields a machete in her hand. Her family was slaughtered over this site and she’s still trying to drum up some revenge.”
Georgie tosses up her hands and screams before hiding behind Carlotta.
“It’s okay, Gray,” Carlotta whispers. “I scream a little on the inside each time I see her myself.”
Lea belts out a harrowing cackle.
I take a breath. “I do believe she enjoys this.”
Thirteen’s fur electrifies a brilliant shade of lightning white before reverting back to its natural ebony state.
“Do tell them how handsome I am.” His whiskers twitch in time with his ears.
“Come here, you,” I say and he leaps right into my arms. “And this is Thirteen, a beautiful black cat if ever there was one. He might have used up his nine lives, but he’s got one fantastic afterlife. I’m not sure why these four fantastic phantasms get to hang around and others don’t, but I’m not complaining.”
Lea slashes the air with her weapon. “We’re not either. Now that we can eat, there’s a little cheer in our otherwise dreadful lives.”
Thirteen swipes at her. “Dreadful? Speak for yourself. The rest of us are rather pleased with our deadly disposition.”
Lea roars like a lion, and Thirteen’s fur stands on end before they take off down the hall with Lea in chase.
Greer shakes her head. “Don’t mind them. Lea will have his tail chopped off in five minutes flat. It’s practically her bedtime routine.”
Bizzy gives a nervous glance my way. “It was nice meeting you all,” she says to the seemingly empty space before her.
“Yeah,” Georgie calls out from behind Carlotta. “If you’re in the mood to put on a good haunting, head over to room sixteen tonight.”
Bizzy shakes her head. “Georgie, you’re not in sixteen. That’s Macy’s room.”
“Precisely.”
A tiny chortle works its way up my throat. “It was nice seeing you guys. We’re actually here to speak with a friend of my mother’s.”
Winslow groans, “Word of warning, Lottie. There’s a naked man being burned alive in the conservatory. I had to leave. I just don’t have the stomach for that sort of thing.”
“What?” I barrel right through them as Bizzy, Carlotta, and Georgie follow suit. The conservatory is a large glass room that was added onto the B&B about a year ago. It’s been the pièce de résistance ever since. During the day you can see the evergreens right outside the glass walls. And at night the woods are backlit an ethereal shade of blue, giving off a fairy-tale appeal.
We’re about to crest the entry to the conservatory when Greer barricades it with her ghostly body and I pause.
Greer makes a face. “Let the record show, I tried to stop her.”
“Oh God,” I say as I walk right through the shivering spook, only to find a large black backdrop erected in the back of the room lit up with those over bright floodlights photographers use. I spot my mother first in what looks to be a flimsy black negligee as she places her hand above her eyes and squints our way.
“The conservatory is closed for a private party,” she shouts in her friendliest, albeit annoyed, voice. “Feel free to take your lunch in the dining room!”
“Mother!” I take a step deeper into the room, only to see a woman rising from a crouched position with a camera in her hand, but if that we’re the only malfeasance. “Is that…?” Lying on some kind of a mat is a bare-chested man that looks far too much like Noah Corbin Fox for it to ever be safe.
He hops to his feet, and I spot the gray in his hair, both on his head and his chest—albeit slightly wrinkly with a little loose flesh around the edges.
“Well, if it isn’t my very first fan club.” Wiley flashes that killer Fox smile, unleashing those deep-welled dimples, and a choir of sighs emits from my right.
Carlotta and Georgie eat up every inch of skin he’s doling out as they barrel to the front of the room, whooping it up as if we had walked into a bona fide male strip club.
Georgie points to a crock pot in the corner. “Is that hot wax?”
Bizzy groans, “Good Lord, let it be a vat of beef stew.”
Mom gives a knowing nod to Georgie. “You better believe it’s hot wax. We’re doing a quick photo shoot in hopes to save my dying book. If it wasn’t for Jessie here, I’d just be standing here watching my hard work get flushed right down the toilet.”
“Jessie?” I perk up just a notch as I turn to the woman holding the camera. A burst of light appears in the space between us as Bingo materializes about head high before sinking slowly to the floor.
The portly piglet belts out a snort. “I’m just here for the food, Lottie. Good luck with the investigation.” She trots on through me and I sway on my heels. “And for the record, I’ve never tasted anything like your flag cake. If my nose is correct, your mother has enough of that whipped delight in the kitchen to fill a trough. Here’s hoping I’m the only swine in the vicinity.”
Nope. I see another animal just a few feet away.
I narrow my gaze on Wiley as both Carlotta and Georgie offer him a spontaneous massage.
Mom gets to the business of batting them away just as Bizzy pulls me close and navigates me to Jessie.
Bizzy leans her way. “How are you doing?” Her concern sounds genuine. At least one of us has our eye on the prize—winnowing down our suspect list. Unlike Carlotta and Georgie, who seem to have their eye on the boobie prize, taking selfies with Wiley’s bare chest.
Jessie rakes her fingers through her tousled blonde mane. She’s donned tight jeans and a clingy white T-shirt, which only elongates her thin, tall frame.
She blinks back as if she were surprised. “I just came to see your mother in hopes to talk about cover models and this happened.” She laughs as she holds out the camera in her hand. “Mirandy is determined to fix her flat sales asap. And I can’t blame her. Authors work hard to put out their books. They need all the pieces in place to make their marketing efforts run like they’re supposed to.”
My nose twitches. “It’s just Miranda. Mirandy Lemonade is her pen name.”
Jessie waves it off. “Oh, I know. But it’s just easier for me to remember it that way. I’ve been working with authors for years and pen names reign supreme when it comes to communicating with them. You may have a hard time getting used to it, but she will. She’s a natural. And I read the book.” She dips her chin. “Your mama has one spicy imagination.”
Bizzy and I give an easy laugh.
I nod. “She’s made no secret of it.”
Jessie ticks her head to the sid
e. “And good on her. If she keeps this up, she’s going to make a heck of a name for herself.”
“She’s making something,” I agree.
A yelp comes from our right, and we look to see Carlotta and Georgie dipping their fingers into the tub of hot wax while they dance around in what looks to be pain.
Mom unplugs the crock pot. “I think we need to let it cool.”
A pink ghostly aura trots back this way, and soon Bingo is standing before me. I casually rub my wrist against Bizzy’s so she can hear anything Bingo has to say, too.
“Lottie!” Bingo gives an adorable snort. “There’s an emergency!” A few more snorts escape her. “There’s not a crumb of flag cake left in the kitchen! There’s bound to be a riot. You must do something.”
Bizzy bites down on a smile as I nod to the hungry hog.
“I’ll get right to it.”
Jessie blinks my way. “What’s that?”
“I’ll get right to supporting my mother.” I expand a tight smile. “So you run a PR company, right?” I ask as I look her way.
Jessie shakes her head as she puts my mother’s camera down on a nearby table.
“No, actually, I’m really just a volunteer. I’m a bit author-obsessed. I’ve put together a few signings for them, and make sure things run smoothly. Ever since the whole indie movement, authors have been determined to make themselves a lot more accessible. It’s been wonderful for people like me who just love to interact with authors and other readers alike. I’ve met the greatest friends through all this. And to think it all came from my love of reading.”
“Oh, that’s great.” Bizzy turns her ear toward Jessie. “So what do you really do for a living?”
“I’m the secretary at Curb Masters out in Hollyhock. It’s a landscaping company. They mostly do that whole mow, blow, and go routine, but people will hire them for landscape design every now and again, too. Your mom has a great floral design out front.”
“Thank you. Her horticulture club has had a hand in it.” I bite down hard on my lip. “I really admire your dedication to authors. I can’t believe you volunteer your time out of the goodness of your heart.”
She belts out a laugh. “I wouldn’t paint me as a saint. But yeah, books are my passion. I share my favorite authors on all my social media sites as often as I can. I understand how valuable word of mouth advertising can be.”
Bizzy leans in. “Jessie, you’re in the know with these authors and their lives. Who do you think could have done this to Ambrosia?”
Jessie squeezes her eyes shut tight. “It’s awful, I know.” She takes a deep breath. “I shouldn’t say anything, and believe me, I’m the last person to start rumors, but this is no secret in the book world. Jackie Hart and Ambrosia had a very real beef.”
My adrenaline spikes a notch. “About what?”
She shakes her head. “That’s not my story to tell. Nobody really knows the nitty-gritty details, but Ambrosia once mentioned something about a project they once worked on together that went south. Anyway, after whatever the inciting incident was, Jackie badmouthed Ambrosia at an event and word got out. Before you knew it, Jackie’s readers were upset with Ambrosia and vice versa. It’s been a heated situation for some time now.”
Bizzy and I exchange a glance.
Bingo snorts. “My Valerie could write up a storm. She wrote a story about me once. In fact, I believe I was her very first story.”
A thought comes to me. “Jessie, have you ever tried your hand at penning a novel?”
She cringes. “Yup. I’m guilty. It didn’t go so well. Thankfully, I could see the awful writing on the wall. I thought of hiring a ghostwriter to implement my ideas, but it turns out, my ideas weren’t so great either. My mom was the creative one in the family.”
Bizzy’s face brightens. “Is she a writer?”
Jessie glances to the ceiling as if she didn’t quite know how to answer.
“She’s put pen to paper once or twice. But life had been hard for her for the most part.” She pulls out her phone and checks the time. “Speaking of family, I’m supposed to see my sister this afternoon and I’m running late. She’s in Burlington, so it’s a bit of a drive.” She waves to my mother. “Good luck to you, Mirandy! And thank you for the opportunity to work on your cover!”
Mom runs over with her hands held out, a residue of sticky goop on her fingertips.
“Thanks to you, too, Jessie!” She makes a face at her hands. “Don’t forget about the signing do-over in two weeks. We’ll have it right here in the conservatory. Wiley thinks we need a snazzy name for it.”
“I agree,” Jessie says. “How about the Summer Sizzler? You can use the tagline, Things are about to heat up in Honey Hollow.” She looks my way. “I may not be able to pen a novel, but I can hammer out a hell of a tagline.” She gives a hard wink.
Mom coos, “That is brilliant! If you don’t mind, I’ll be calling you if I need any advice.”
“Please do.” She nods to Bizzy and me. “I’ll see you ladies at the Summer Sizzler!” She speeds off and Bingo charges after her. Something tells me Bingo will make another pit stop in the kitchen before coming back.
A dark figure heads into the room, and I’m shocked to see I recognize his handsome, albeit somewhat irritated, looking face.
Noah blinks back as he spots us. “Bizzy? Lottie?” He shakes his head in dismay. “I’m sorry you have to witness this.” He nods over to where his father is currently being quasi-assaulted by Georgie and Carlotta—and what is my mother doing with his feet?
Ugh.
Something tells me I don’t want the dirty details.
Bizzy looks to Noah. “Oh no, Jasper and Everett just went to see you at the sheriff’s department.”
Noah gives an apologetic smile. “They won’t find me there. As soon as my father asked for tips on shaving his chest, I thought there might be trouble.” He casts a glance my way. “And I thought maybe I’d drop by the bakery after. But I can see you’re already in hot pursuit of Valerie Nester’s killer.”
I crimp my lips. “I’m still referring to her as Ambrosia Whispers. It’s easier to remember. You have to admit, she had a catchy pen name.”
“Lottie.” Noah closes his eyes. “Even though I’m afraid my words will fall on deaf ears, let me handle this one.”
“Noah”—my voice dips as if pleading for him to understand—“this was clearly a crime of passion. The killer isn’t coming after Bizzy or me.”
Georgie lets out a whoop, her hands firmly plastered to Wiley’s gooped-up chest.
“Bizzy, get a picture!” she shouts.
“Excuse me. Duty calls.” Bizzy pulls out her phone and gets to work documenting the whole hairy ball of wax.
Noah sweeps his gaze over me. “What the hell is happening?”
“My mother is convinced that your father’s dad bod is about to skyrocket her book to the best-seller list.”
He offers a mournful smile, and a breath catches in my throat.
“Oh.” My fingers rise to my lips. “That’s not what you meant. Noah, I’m sorry.”
“No.” His eyes close once again. “It’s fine. You need to have a shot with Everett. I get it. I wanted this for you.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m just”—he gives the back of his neck a quick scratch—“an idiot.”
Mom screams, and soon Georgie and Carlotta are joining in on the horrific choir.
Noah and I hustle our way over to find all three women with their hands adhered to Wiley’s chest.
“Lot Lot!” Carlotta calls out. “Snap a couple of quick pics yourself. And be sure to get my good side. Ah heck, what am I saying? Every side’s my good side.”
Mom sucks in a quick breath. “Do you think this would work for the book cover?” She looks my way. “Lottie, Bizzy, take as many pictures as you can.”
Bizzy exhales as she looks my way. “I think I’ve got this.” She leans my way. “I’ll take one for the team.”
Noah and I take a s
tep back as she snaps away.
He rocks his arm against mine. “Where to next, Lot?”
“Jackie Hart.” I shrug. “How about you?”
His dimples dig in. “Jackie works at a restaurant called Ciao in Hollyhock. I know the place well. It’s dress to the nines fancy.”
“Hey, is that the Italian restaurant where they do the singing and dancing?”
“Yup! You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“I’m thinking it sounds like the perfect place to take our out-of-town guests for dinner one night soon.”
His dimples press in once again. “If it means I get to have dinner with my girlfriend, I’m all in.”
I bite down over my lip and nod.
“Is it weird I still consider myself your boyfriend?”
“Is it even weirder I do, too?”
Noah’s chest depresses as he sighs with relief. “Thanks, Lot.”
I offer a weak smile because I’m not sure he should be thanking me for anything.
My focus will be on pinning down Jackie Hart.
Something tells me Noah’s focus will be elsewhere.
Chapter 6
That night Everett and Jasper bring enough Chinese food from the Wicked Wok to feed all of Vermont and Maine.
Noah is working late so he couldn’t make it, but after we finish our feast from the East, Bizzy begins regaling us all with a little rendition of pet mind reading. Of course, Georgie, Carlotta, Jasper, Everett, and I all know she can truly read their minds, but Evie doesn’t. Evie doesn’t even have a clue about my own supernatural tendencies. And I do feel bad about holding that tidbit back from her. But the truth is, I’m just not sure she’s ready to hear it.
Regardless, Bizzy has been playfully interviewing Pancake, Waffles, her cat Fish, Jasper’s dog Sherlock Bones, and Noah’s sweet golden retriever Toby. It’s been a laugh a minute. Who knew our pets were so observant and insightful? And here I thought all they cared about was naps and food. It turns out, they very much care about the happenings in our lives.
Evie takes another bite out of her spring roll as we all congregate in the living room, sprawling over the sofas and the floor.
Flag Cake Felonies (MURDER IN THE MIX Book 23) Page 5
