A Purr-fect Storm

by Addison Moore

  Lottie Lemon?

  That’s her! That’s the woman Hazel said was transmundane like me.

  She’s a pro at finding bodies and solving homicides?

  It looks as if Lottie and I have more in common than I realized.

  I think it’s time for me to zip down to Honey Hollow and consult a pro about a thing or two.

  Who knows? She might just help me solve Frisk Foster’s murder and teach me about the ins and outs of my new abilities that allow me to see the dead.

  Honey Hollow sounds like a nice place to visit.

  I think I’ll do just that.

  Chapter 4

  The very next day Meg invites us down to Honey Hollow to meet her sister, Lottie Lemon, so Stephanie and I hop into my Honda, Wanda, and hightail it out of Starry Falls and head south.

  Wanda and I sort of have a sordid history together. When my Uncle Vinnie handed me an envelope full of new IDs and a smidge of cash, he also gifted me an old beat-up Honda that once upon a time was a shiny new red snazzy ride. But as fate and my luck would have it, by the time she was ready for me, her fiery hue was more or less due to the fact she was rusty, dusty, and running off a timing belt that was set to expire.

  Uncle Vinnie gave me strict orders to head straight to Canada to start my new life living underground as Bowie Binx, but Wanda had other plans for me—far better plans as far as I’m concerned. Wanda landed us in Starry Falls before she gave up the ghost, or the timing belt as it were.

  It turns out, Shep’s brother is a mechanic and he eventually spruced her up with whatever doodads she needed to get up and running again. I wouldn’t race the Indie 500 with her, but she’s good enough to get me from point A to point B even through inclement weather like the snowstorm we’re barreling through.

  As for Uncle Vinnie, we developed a code word that would let him know I’m still breathing. And every now and again I send him a little something with that word on it—the word being meow. Oddly enough, I’ve taken up cross-stitching, and that’s how I’ve been sending that weighty four-letter word his way.

  Hazel cranes her neck from the back seat in an effort to look in the rearview mirror before letting out a groan of frustration. I quickly take up Steph’s hand so she can hear her, too. I’m sort the conduit to a ghostly game of telephone.

  “Do you know what the most annoying part about being a disembodied spirit is?” Hazel was a stunner while she was living, and now that she’s kicked the bucket, she only seems to have sharpened her beauty with her long red hair, evergreen eyes, and pert little nose. She’s still wearing the tattered black sheath she had on the night she was slaughtered in front of the Mortimer Manor, and it really brings out the supernatural in her eyes. The night she was killed just so happened to be Halloween, and she just so happened to be dressed as a witch.

  “Let me guess.” Stephanie glances her way. “You’ve got nothing but dead end relationships to look forward to?”

  I make a face. “That’s not funny.” Okay, so it’s a little funny. “I’m guessing it’s because all the guys are deadbeats.”

  Hazel rolls her glowing green eyes. “Neither of you are funny. And Bowie, that whole deadbeat thing hardly makes sense.”

  “Cut me some slack. I’m still sharpening my sarcastic edge when it comes to jesting with the dead. Speaking of the dead, are the ghosts we’re about to meet friendly, or should I stop off and pick up a couple of crucifixes?”

  “They’re super friendly,” she’s quick to reply, and a smattering of tiny red stars spring up around her head. “And since Meg has us meeting Lottie at their mother’s bed and breakfast, you’ll get to meet them right away. That’s where they happen to live. Meg and Lottie’s mother, Miranda, bought the inn after her husband passed away. The B&B was struggling for a while, but once the ghosts moved in, she decided to monetize their supernatural abilities, and now not only does she charge eighty dollars a head to tourists who want to take part in her haunted Honey Hollow B&B tours, but I hear she’s booked solid, months out at a time.”

  Stephanie turns her way. “So both Meg and her mother know that Lottie is transmundane?”

  “Oh no, neither Meg nor her mother is in on it,” Hazel is quick to tell us. “Actually, I think only a few people know. We’d better not say anything around anyone, with the exception of Lottie herself. And”—Hazel’s voice pitches a notch—“I’ve been saving a little surprise for the two of you.”

  “Don’t hold back,” I tell her. “We’ve got the feds, the mob, and a couple of goons looking to make a name for themselves while making us miserable, not to mention one dead body fouling up the water. I could use a little good news.”

  Stephanie snorts my way. “Correction: you’ve got the feds and the mob after you. And you may have two goons looking to make your life miserable, but I’ve got two hot men looking to show me a good time. As for the good news, you shouldn’t read into things, Stella. For all we know, the spook in the back seat might just be gearing up to tell us that our number is up. We may not think being dead is so hot, but she seems pretty jazzed with the deadly deal.” She shoots Hazel a look. “What gives? Does destiny have a meet and greet in store for us with a rogue semi?”

  “Heavens no.” Hazel gives a ghostly chortle like only the dead can. “I would never be enthused about the two of you biting the big one.” She titters with less of an invasive laugh as if she might be a tiny bit enthused about it. “Okay, fine. Maybe just a little, but that’s only because I know we’d have a blast scaring Starry Falls together. What I was going to say is that the ghosts who haunt this B&B let me in on the fact that Lottie knows both the Canelli and the Lazzari crime families. They’ve both planted themselves down in Leeds, and even though they’re sworn enemies, they despise the Morettis more than they do each other. It sounds like Lottie might be able to help with your sticky situation.”

  “Hot sticky buns!” Steph yelps. “It looks as if the baker just might be our new hero.”

  “Heroine,” I correct as I take the off-ramp that leads down to Honey Hollow.

  Let’s hope that’s exactly what Lottie Lemon turns out to be.

  Honey Hollow is a winter wonderland, covered in a blanket of white with quaint little shops and stores dotting their way up and down Main Street, and the farther out you go it looks far more rural with small pockets of tract houses every now and again. This cozy little town has a mountain feel to it with half the houses resembling cabins, and yet soon enough we arrive at a white stately mansion with tall columns out front and a large black sign with gilded lettering that reads Welcome to the Honey Hollow Bed and Breakfast.

  We park and head inside to find dark wood walls, matching floors, and a marble reception counter that sits barren. We follow the signs over to the conservatory where Meg said we’d meet up, and the cavernous glass room is brimming with bodies—all of which seem to be thrown into some sort of a tizzy at the moment.

  To the left there’s a refreshment table with coffee, tea, and enough desserts to open up a bakery with.

  I bet Lottie brought those herself, seeing that she actually does own a bakery.

  “Cookies,” Steph says, trying to bolt in that direction, but I pull her back.

  “I see Meg up there,” I whisper before turning to Hazel. “Any sign of the dead?”

  She shakes her head, and a spray of pink and red stars floats all around her in an ethereal display of wonder.

  “Not yet,” she says. “But we can meet them afterwards.”

  Stephanie gasps. “Holy hot stuff up in heaven. Check out those slices of beefcake,” she says, nodding to a couple of dark-haired men standing on either side of a pregnant woman with her hands cradling her blooming belly.

  “Put it back in your pants,” I tell her. “Odds are they’re taken, and the last thing we need is piling on another enemy by way of their plus ones.” I spot Meg to the left, and we both give one another a quick wave. “It’s showtime,” I say as we speed over to the pretty brunette who looks tough enough
to beat the both of us up with one arm tied behind her back—and maybe a leg, too.

  “Glad you guys could make it,” she says as that dark kohl ringed around her eyes gives her a raccoon effect. Meg has her dark hair spun up into a beehive, she’s donned black leather pants and a matching leather jacket, and has on enough chains to outfit every bicycle in Vermont. “My mother just made an oddball announcement, so feel free to ignore the drama erupting. She thinks she’s selling the B&B, but there’s no way my sisters or I will ever let that happen.” She shrugs. “What can I say? Every family has that one member who finds a way to step into it every single time. And in my family, we’ve got two, my mother and my sister, Lottie.”

  Stephanie shrugs. “In my family, we’ve got Bowie. She steps into it so often my family shipped her off to another state so they wouldn’t have to deal with the stench.”

  Meg and Stephanie share a laugh on my behalf, but I don’t find anything to chortle about.

  “Come on.” Meg leads the way, and we follow her over to the pregnant woman we saw when we first walked in. She’s adorable, with caramel wavy hair that extends just past her shoulders, wide hazel eyes, and an impish smile. She’s wearing a denim maternity dress with little roses around the collar, and her skin has that radiant glow only expectant mothers seem to have.

  Meg pats her on the shoulder. “Lot, if you don’t mind taking a moment from the madness, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

  She takes a second to inspect us, and her eyes widen as she takes in Hazel Newton in all of her ghostly glory.

  “Gah!” Her mouth rounds out as her attention stagnates over Hazel a moment too long.

  “Bowie—Lola”—Meg says, nodding our way—“this is my sister, Lottie, the one I was telling you about. Lottie, these are two of the girls I met up in Starry Falls yesterday. Bowie Binx and her sister, Lola.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she says while having a tough time dragging her eyes off the dead among us.

  A ghostly couple floats over, a brunette and a handsome blond man in overalls, and I can’t help but shudder at the fact I can see right through them. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing the dead. They start chatting away with Hazel, and soon the three of them take off for the cookies. At least that lets me know you retain your brain and your appetite in the afterlife. Let’s hope you don’t retain the calories, too.

  Meg leans toward her sister. “Lot, I’m going to tell it to you like it is. There was a murder up in Starry Falls yesterday, and I told Bowie if anyone can help track down the killer it would be you.” She glances briefly over her shoulder. “And if you’ll all excuse me a moment, there’s a homicide I need to tend to myself.” She ducks into the crowd as she says it.

  “I’m so sorry about the homicide,” Lottie says, shaking her head. “But I’m sure the sheriff’s department would be much more help than me.”

  I lean in hard. “The murder was just a ruse, Lottie.” I give a hard blink. “I mean, there was a murder, but that’s not why we’re here. Your ghosts have been talking to our ghost, and we’ve learned that you’re transmundane just like us.”

  My sister gives a frenetic nod. “Don’t worry. We won’t blow your cover. We don’t want ours blown either. We’re sibylline. Or at least I am. Bowie got bonked on the head by a pumpkin, and now she’s part sibylline and part supersensual like yourself.”

  “Oh my goodness.” Lottie’s mouth falls open as she tries to absorb it all. “This is amazing. So you know this ghost?” She points over to the spook we brought to the party.

  “That’s Hazel.” I nod. “She was alive until she wasn’t last October, and she’s been haunting the Mortimer Manor ever since. Believe it or not, she’s not why we’re here either.”

  Stephanie shrugs. “My sister opened Pandora’s box about a year ago, and we’ve been paying for it ever since.”

  “She’s not wrong,” I say. “The long and the short of it is, I’m on the run from both the feds and the mob. And now we’ve got problems with the mobsters up the wazoo to deal with. Your ghosts clued Hazel in on the fact that not only do you know your way around the dead, but you know your way around the Canellis and the Lazzaris, too.”

  Stephanie gives an aggressive nod. “We can see you’re busy, but we’d love to pick your brain sometime.”

  I take a deep breath. “We’d love to meet up. My freedom and my life just might depend on it.”

  “You bet,” she says just as that warm, fuzzy feeling starts to take over my body.

  The floor beneath my feet, the room itself, feels as if it’s melting away as a vision pops up in my mind’s eye. We’re in this exact same room when a small swarm of sheriff’s deputies enter the building and demand to speak with Lottie. The next thing I see is Lottie looking as if she’s begging them to reconsider something. And then, just like that, the room snaps back to life, and I take a quick breath as I land back in reality.

  “What did you see?” both Stephanie and Lottie ask in unison.

  I squint over at the pretty preggo before me. “Say, you’re not wanted by the law, are you?”

  Her cheeks pinch a bright shade of pink. “My husband is a judge, and in that respect, I’m quite often wanted by the law.” Her lips twitch a moment. “You didn’t see anything inappropriate, did you?”

  I shake my head at the thought. “I saw you pleading with a sheriff’s deputy.”

  “Oh, that was just my boyfriend, Noah. He’s perfectly harmless.”

  Stephanie and I cock an ear her way, anxious to know more of this husband/boyfriend arrangement of hers, and just as Lottie lifts a finger to say something, that swarm of deputies enters the B&B and Lottie speeds their way.

  “What’s going on?” she asks as every soul in the room quiets down and meanders in that direction.

  The man in charge says something to her but I can’t quite make it out as the room erupts into a flurry of mumbles.

  “No!” Lottie calls out. “There has got to be some mistake!”

  But apparently, there’s no mistake because right before our eyes those two hot pieces of beefcake my sister was ogling are cuffed and dragged out of here and the room drains right along with them.

  Stephanie shoots me a look. “Well, you made quick work of that.”

  “What?” I squawk. “What are you blaming me for? I didn’t have those men arrested.”

  “No, but your bad juju followed you right into the room and all heck broke loose. Come on”—she takes me by the arm—“let’s join the spooks and have a cookie or two. I need to know if Nana Rose’s recipes have some serious competition or not.”

  We head over and snap up a handful of chocolate chip cookies and moan as we indulge in them.

  “These are really delicious,” I mumble through a mouthful, and Steph groans in response. “Good thing Nana Rose is dead or we’d have to break the news that she’s no longer the queen of chocolate chip cookies.”

  “Yeah, but in her defense, chocolate chip cookies were never really her strong suit.”

  Hazel floats over with those two specters she’s been jawing away with. The woman is shockingly beautiful with a river of dark hair and glowing yellow eyes. She’s wearing a white ruched dress with a bullet hole through her heart, and the man next to her is hot stuff himself with that whole hot farmer thing going on—facial scruff, bedroom eyes, sly smile. Even the denim overalls give him that rustic appeal I’ve always found heady. And that’s not an easy look to pull off.

  Hazel floats between Stephanie and me and I take up my sister’s hand. Hazel taught me that if someone is holding my hand they can hear the dead, too. It’s a trick she picked up from these ghosts who, in turn, gleaned it from Lottie.

  “Bowie, Lola”—Hazel shrugs our way—“That’s what I prefer to call you at least. I’d like for you to meet Greer Giles and her boyfriend, Winslow Decker.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Greer says. “And just FYI”—she looks to Stephanie—“I see that look in your eye. Winslow is taken an
d so are the two men that were hauled out of here.”

  “She’s got your number,” I say to my sister.

  Steph rolls her eyes. “Easy come, easy go. And believe me when I say, I’ve seen more than my fair share of men lose their mortal bodies or get hauled off to prison. And by the way, I can’t see either of you. I may be transmundane, but I’m not supersensual.”

  Greer makes a face. “I’m sorry about that. And I’m sorry that Lottie had to leave before you could meet her properly. If you want, I’ll make sure she speaks to you again the first chance she gets.”

  Before either of us can agree, a little girl stalks into the room, no older than six with her dark hair combed over her face, an old dirty pinafore on, and a pair of cute Mary Janes that look as if they’ve seen better days. And as if the fact I can’t see a stitch of her face isn’t bad enough, she’s got a machete in her right hand and what looks to be the wiggling tail of a black cat in her left.

  A hearty scream bucks through me, and both Greer and Winslow laugh on my behalf.

  “What’s happening?” Stephanie shrieks as if she’s just been electrocuted.

  “Don’t worry,” Greer assures us. “This is our adopted daughter, little Azalea. But don’t either of you call her that or you might go the way of that cat without its tail. She prefers to be called Lea.”

  A little black cat saunters into the room sans one tail. And judging by the green supernatural glow in his eyes and the cotton balls dangling from him, offering up a clue to his gender, I can tell he’s used up all of his nine lives.

  I decide against filling Stephanie in on the kid with the weaponry and the tailless cat just yet. Personally, I’m not in the mood to scrape my sister off the ceiling because that’s exactly where she’d end up in fright.

  “And the cat is Thirteen,” Greer says. “He belongs to us as well.”

  Winslow pats his belly. “As Lottie’s powers have grown, so have our abilities. And Hazel, now that you’re in the sphere of Lottie’s influence, I think you, too, have harnessed the ability to fill your ghostly belly.”