Meg takes a sip of her cocoa. “So who’s going to Mom’s one-stop jingle hop?”
“Are you talking about that speed dating thing?” I glance over my shoulder to find Mom and Chrissy Nash cavorting with Mayor Nash near the tree we’re all here to set ablaze with a million white-hot twinkle lights. “I don’t know what she’s thinking.”
Lainey huffs, “She’s thinking she’s going to get lucky—in love.”
Meg snarls, “More like dumped a hundred times in a single night.”
“Meg!” I say her name in protest with a laugh in my mouth. “We would be so lucky. The sad truth is, all one hundred creeps will want her number. Every man she meets seems to magnetize to her, and they’ll be wanting a conversation in the least.”
Lainey nods at something behind me. “Speaking of wanting to have a conversation with someone. Here’s your chance.”
I look back and a breath hitches in my throat. “They’re here.” Scott and Stacy hold hands near the forty-foot noble just as if they were any other couple. “So weird. Why are they holding hands? I’m not even sure why Stacy is here with him to begin with. She made it sound as if they were over.” Stacy glances this way and does a double take once she spots me staring. “I’d better go say hello.”
Lainey latches onto my arm. “I’ll go with you.”
We head on over as an icy breeze picks up, causing everyone to pull their coats just a little bit tighter. It’s dark out, save for the streetlamps, and each one of them is entwined in garland and dotted with a big red bow. The holidays are the most festive times of the year, and it saddens me that Tamara isn’t around to enjoy them.
“Stacy, Scott,” I say as we come upon them.
Scott offers a meager smile but Stacy all out scowls.
“Lainey, I could use some cocoa. Would you mind coming with me?” Stacy speeds off with my sister before I can blink, and soon enough it’s just Scott and me standing here awkwardly.
I wince over at him. I’ve known Scott forever it seems. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m not holding up, Lottie.” He lifts his chin toward the overgrown tree in our midst, and I can see the scruff on his cheeks. Scott has always been clean-shaven, so I suppose this isn’t a purposeful disheveled look, more like a genuine one. “It’s been hell.” He cranes his neck just past me. “And something tells me it’s about to get a little bit hotter in my corner of the universe.”
I glance back, only to find Noah popping up in our midst. “Lottie.” His voice is curt, and that wide look in his eyes lets me know he’s not pleased with the fact I’m standing here with a suspect he’s about to book for murder. “Hello, Scott.”
He reaches over and shakes his hand. Noah has on his dark wool jacket and his hands covered in thick leather gloves. His green eyes catch the light and look as if someone turned a flashlight on in his skull—they’re just that bright tonight. Too bad they’re not liking what they see.
Scott frowns over at him. “What’s going on? Did you bring those silver bracelets everyone in town thinks I should be wearing?”
Noah gives a long blink. “No, Scott. I’m here for the tree lighting with everyone else.”
“Sorry.” He takes a step back. “I probably shouldn’t be here at all. Stacy talked me into it.”
Something doesn’t settle well with me about that. “How are you and Stacy doing, anyway?”
“Not good,” he’s quick to answer. “But then, things aren’t generally good in my life, so I don’t see why that would be any different. She thinks I pushed Tamara. She wants me to confess. She thinks I can cut a deal with the prosecutor or something.” He ticks his head back in a fit of frustration. “But I don’t want a deal. Heck, I don’t want to be prosecuted for something I didn’t do.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say, pained by his palpable agony. “Scott, can I ask what happened that night in the woods?”
He inches back and stares at me as if I just sprouted another head. “You shouldn’t have to ask. You were the last to speak with her.” He looks to Noah. “Sorry, Lottie. I don’t mean to out you in front of the homicide detective. My head is all over the place, and I just want to get to the truth.”
Noah shoots me a look. “Lottie? Did you speak with her in the woods that night?” His forehead creases, thick with worry.
“No. It’s news to me. I saw Bonnie and Joyce head in that direction.” I look to Scott. “And you and Stacy, of course.” A thought comes to me. “But you know what? You’re not that first person to tell me that.” My mouth falls open as I look to Noah. “Joyce mentioned it the other day.” My fingers fly to my lips as Noah gives me an accusatory look. “Keelie and I happened to try out her new gym. We’re looking to stay ahead of the caloric curve this holiday season. Anyway, Joyce said she distinctly heard Tamara having a conversation with me.” I shrug. “I don’t get it.”
Noah sighs as he looks to Scott. “You don’t have to answer without an attorney present, but I am curious as to what you saw.”
“I don’t need an attorney, Detective. Tamara and I exchanged a few more words regarding the land we share. I told Stacy I needed to get out of there before my blood boiled over and I left.”
I nod. “You and Stacy left.”
“No, just me. Stacy said she has something she needed to discuss with her, and I didn’t want anything to do with it.”
Noah and I exchange a quick glance.
“That’s right,” I say. “I remember Stacy pulling Tamara away to talk to her earlier as well. I bet she was trying to have a conversation with her about something. Lainey was with them.” I shrug up at Noah.
Scott waves it off. “Just ask Stacy herself. She’ll tell you. Anyway, I took off and the next thing I knew Tamara was dead.”
“Scott”—I lean in—“what made you think Tamara was talking to me?”
“I saw a couple of girls headed toward her. It was dark. The next thing I knew she was saying your name like she was having a conversation with you.”
I can’t help but grimace. “I think it was Bonnie and Joyce with her—and, of course, Stacy. But oddly enough, it wasn’t me.”
Mayor Nash’s voice booms over the speakers, and soon our attention is drawn to the oversized evergreen in the center of the square.
“Welcome one and all to the Honey Hollow annual tree lighting ceremony! On behalf of our little town we want to wish each and every one of you a happy and safe Christmas season. Let’s count down from ten, and start this holiday season off with an illuminating bang!”
We do just that, and at once a burst of light ignites over our world in one shocking fit of splendor. A couple of overgrown sparklers go off on either side of the tree, much to the delight of the crowd, and an applause breaks out at the sight.
“That was spectacular.” I clap while looking over at Scott and Noah, but Scott is nowhere to be seen. “I guess he left. I hope I didn’t offend him.”
Noah wraps an arm around me, and I warm myself next to him.
“I think you’re the least of his worries, Lottie.” Noah takes a deep breath. “Lottie, you did speak with Tamara that night?”
“Yes, earlier. But I wasn’t the last to see her. I was with you when we found the body, remember?”
He thinks on it a moment. “You disappeared for a time. I was in line and you took off. Theoretically, you could have done this and then came back to get me. You led me right to the body.”
“What are you saying, Detective?” My voice grows with both panic and irritation.
“I’m saying exactly what Ivy will be saying once she hears of this.” He wipes his face down in frustration. “Look, I don’t think you’re a killer. But if you had an argument with someone, I would sure as heck like to know about it.” His voice softens. “It’s me, Lottie. You can trust me.”
“Wow”—I take a quick breath, stunned at the turn of events—“I guess I know how blindsided Scott must feel. I’m starting to feel the same way.”
“I promise, I’m
not trying to blindside you. Two people think that you were the last to speak with Tamara. I’m sorry, Lottie, but I’m going to have to note it.”
“Don’t worry, Noah. I’m noting this myself.”
Right after I get to the bottom of why they believe it.
8
Noah Corbin Fox.
I shake my head just thinking of the ornery detective. How dare he all but accuse me of murder.
Okay, so he didn’t quite do that. He was just doing his job—worse yet, following his instincts. And his natural instinct was to question whether or not I was a killer.
Everett is my alibi for that night.
Wait a second. I seem to remember I drifted from Everett at some point, too, and left him wading in the deep end of the Honey Hollow single ladies scene.
“Great,” I say out loud while standing in the middle of the kitchen of the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery.
“What’s great?” says a deep voice from down below, and I spot Noel scuttling his way into my line of vision. His little brass nametag swings back and forth, twinkling like a star.
“The fact that I’m moving up the suspect list in Tamara’s murder investigation.” I don’t mind saying it so freely since it’s just Lily and me in the bakery. We closed an hour ago and the rest of the staff already left to get ready for my mother’s mass dating debacle in the making. Apparently, all of Honey Hollow is invited, and every last single soul has accepted her invitation.
“You are a suspect?” Noel lets out an egregiously bark—so loud I’m shocked Lily didn’t hear it.
“But”—I hold up a hand—“I didn’t do it. I just need to know why two different people thought they heard Tamara talking to me that night. And they both claim I was the last person they heard doing so.”
Lily strides in while taking off her apron. “I’ll tell you why.”
I take a quick breath.
Okay, so I may not have counted on the fact Lily might have been listening in on my private, personal conversation—very personal if you count the fact I was basically talking to myself.
“What do you mean you can tell me why? Don’t tell me you heard Tamara talking to me, too.”
I know for a fact Lily was nowhere near the vicinity of the woods when Tamara was pushed to her death.
“I sure did.”
Noel barks up a storm. “Are you the killer, Lottie? Did you do this?” His mouth latches onto my heel and I quickly lift my foot.
“Lily, explain yourself before the dead themselves come back to haunt me—not that they haven’t already.” I make a face at the adorable pooch.
“Well, here, I’ll show you.” Lily leads me into the office and clicks on the ancient answering machine I keep around, only because I haven’t gotten around to switching to a digital service just yet. But in truth this is so much easier. “She called that night. I figured you knew. I heard her mention she just talked to you about it, so I went back to the registers.”
“Oh my gosh!” I dash over to the answering machine, but she beats me to it.
The sound of white noise rushing in the background fills the room with its static and sizzle.
“Hi, Lottie! It’s Tamara. I just spoke to you, but I thought it was best I call before I forget. I wanted to put in an order for enough of your chocolate walnut fudge to feed at least two dozen people. I have—” The sound of a muffled voice shouts something from a distance. Tamara says something unintelligible. It sounds as if the static increases. “I don’t have it, I said.” Tamara’s voice sounds strained as if she were pushing something—like an attacker away maybe? The sound of a female comes in clear, saying something at a quickened clip, her voice filled with annoyance.
Lily and I exchange a quick glance.
Noel leaps and pants. “It’s a woman, Lottie!”
I nod over to him just as both Tamara and the female speaking to her dive into a heated unintelligible exchange.
“Look wherever you want.” Tamara’s voice comes in clear. “You won’t find them because I don’t have them.”
The female with her says something garbled then something that sounds like did he sell our?
Tamara protests again, and the female shrieks and Tamara screams.
The sound of the phone dropping with a thunk takes over, and then it sounds as if it’s tumbling down the embankment right along with her before the line goes dead.
“Oh my God.” I can hardly breathe.
Lily plays it again for me, and this time I record it with my own phone. Both Noah and Everett are waiting for me at my mother’s, and I need them to hear every word.
Lily shivers. “Who do you think did this, Lottie? Who was she?”
“I don’t know, but whoever she is—I’m fairly certain she’ll be at my mother’s shindig tonight.” My own body shivers at the prospect.
Whoever killed Tamara is a woman.
I guess you could say it’s Scott Gray’s lucky day.
9
My mother’s bed and breakfast is lit up like a frosted gingerbread house with the twinkle lights woven in soft waves around the eaves.
Snow softly falls to the ground as Lily and I make trip after trip to carry in all the sweet treats we’ve whipped up for my mother’s speed dating debacle.
We still have about a half an hour before the trauma and drama officially gets underway, and both Lily and Keelie help me put the platters brimming with my sweet treats into the conservatory where the dating deception will take place.
My mother purchased this B&B with the insurance money after my father died. And it’s been every bit another child to her as are my sisters and me. The B&B is a stunning old mansion with plenty of rooms upstairs to house the masses. Downstairs there’s a grand dining room, a great room, and, of course, the glass conservatory which she recently had constructed. The conservatory is a large hall that has played host to many events, and unfortunately a few murders as well. And hopefully tonight it will play a factor in closing out a homicide investigation as well.
I glance around the blooming crowd of well-coifed and polished men and women as I search for either Everett or Noah. They both assured me they’d be here this evening, and I can’t wait to share the information I gleaned on that answering machine. No wonder both Joyce and Scott heard Tamara having a conversation with me—it’s because she was doing just that.
The conservatory is sprinkled with dozens of small bistro tables with two chairs apiece. And on every table sits a cardboard stand with a giant number over it. I suppose that’s how it will work. Everyone will move up a number as the night goes on until everyone has “dated” everyone. Creepy.
The lively crowd is dressed to the nines, already mingling and lighting up the room with laughter. In the corner I spot a couple of ghosts looking pretty dolled up themselves—Greer Giles and her boyfriend, Winslow Decker.
I offer up a cheery wave in their direction before ushering us out of the conservatory and down a dark hall where I can speak to them without people wondering if I’ve gone over the deep end.
Greer is a girl who was about my age when she was murdered just last year. She has on the very same white ruched gown she was killed in, and it’s still as stunning on her as it was the day she donned it. Her long dark hair and beauty queen features still serve her well on the other side as evidenced by the fact she scored a boyfriend not too long into her haunting stint here at the B&B.
Winslow Decker is a handsome twenty-something himself, with dirty blond hair and a toothy grin. Winslow used to have a pig farm out on the backside of Honey Hollow about two hundred years ago, and apparently he’s been haunting these grounds since he joined the great majority.
It’s funny how an age gap of just a few years can be cause for alarm among the living, but a couple hundred years aren’t a big deal once you cross to the other side.
Greer leans in. “There’s a ghostly little canine running around, and I’m madly in love. What’s he doing here, Lottie?”
Winslow grins. “Gre
er has asked to keep him.”
Greer nods furtively my way. “Oh, how I miss my purse puppies. Please, Lottie, please can I keep him?”
“I have no say over it. But his name is Noel and he’s trying to help me get to the bottom of a homicide investigation. A friend of mine was pushed from an embankment and I think they’re about to arrest the wrong person.”
Greer clutches at her chest. “That’s terrible!”
Winslow ticks his head to the side. “And that must mean that he’ll be returning to paradise upon the resolution of the case.”
I shrug over at the two of them. “I’m sorry. It always does. I’m not sure why the two of you get to remain, and yet those that come to help me always seem to get called back—but it just seems to work that way. Have either of you ever thought about moving to paradise permanently?”
They glance to one another and share a warm laugh.
“Oh, Lottie”—Greer fans herself a moment—“paradise is where you make it, and for me that’s with Winslow, right here at this beautiful B&B.”
Winslow nods in agreement. “Without my Greer by my side, I’m afraid that haunting this old place wouldn’t be the same. Sure, I could drop a few books from the bookshelf, but it’s so much more of a fright if she’s rattling the chandelier at the very same time.”
Now it’s me bouncing with a laugh. “I do know for a fact my mother’s haunted B&B tours have outstanding reviews and an even better referral rate. It’s safe to say you two are knocking it out of the supernatural park.”
No sooner do I get the words out than the aforementioned adorable French bulldog scampers up, panting with his little pink tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.
“Lottie Lemon. Why on earth are you entertaining spirits when we have suspects to winnow out and a killer to catch?”
Six Merry Little Murders Page 33
