Toxic Apple Turnovers: MURDER IN THE MIX 13

by Moore, Addison

  “Hey”—Meg pulls her back—“go easy on her.”

  “I’m not going easy on her,” she snips as she edges in as close as Meg will allow. “You found the body, didn’t you? Lottie Lemon, I’m going to take you home and tie you to the kitchen table!”

  My mouth falls open as both Meg and Mom try to calm her down.

  “Lainey”—my voice wavers as I try to take a step in toward her, but Everett holds me back—“I don’t know what you’re implying, but whatever it is, it’s not true.”

  “It’s true!” Lainey shakes her head, but it’s not anger she’s seething with. She looks darn right frightened for me.

  Keelie and Bear make their way to our circle, and Keelie breaks out into spontaneous tears. “I can’t believe it’s Amanda. Bear and I just hired her to—” Her mouth falls open as she looks my way. “Oh, never mind. It’s not like you never kept an engagement from me.”

  I gasp at the implication. “Keelie, are the two of you engaged?” It feels horribly wrong of me to feel a slight thread of excitement over the prospect given the present circumstances.

  Keelie gives a sorrowful nod, and we all offer up a somewhat subdued congratulations.

  “Come here, you two.” I pull them both in for a hearty embrace. “Congratulations.” Fresh tears blur my vision, for an entirely better reason.

  I pull back, and just as I’m about to open my mouth and let them know all of their pastry needs are covered for the foreseeable future, a flicker of light to my right garners my attention and my vocal cords are paralyzed with fright.

  The ghost of that tiny orange tabby I met up with a year ago blinks into existence before blinking right back out, followed by the ghost of that squirrel that was at the opening of my bakery. And as soon as he disappears, I see the ghostly frame of Everett’s father, the original Judge Baxter. And just as quickly as he came, he too disappears.

  “Oh my goodness,” I whisper as I turn to Everett. “I just saw your father for a brief moment.”

  “What?” Everett glances in the direction I was looking.

  Noah heads this way, his eyes wide, and there’s a note of concern in his face that I usually don’t see during any phase of an active homicide investigation.

  He ticks his head at Everett and me, and we follow him to the side as my mother hollers for Keelie’s mother so they can share the joy, now that the engaged cat is out of the bag. Keelie and I are not only best friends, but we found out last winter that we’re related as well.

  “What is it, Noah?” I clutch onto his arm. It’s safe to say, after finding poor Amanda, after seeing the dead from my past in quick succession that way, I’m feeling more than concerned myself.

  “Everett, I’m going to ask you to please take Lottie home.” No sooner does he get the words out than an entire army of deputies drains from the scene as they race to their patrol cars.

  Everett watches as a couple of them leap over the oversized pots my mother has staged at the mouth of the property. “What’s happening, Noah?”

  He shakes his head ever so slightly as he looks to his old stepbrother as if he doesn’t want to say it in front of present company—present company being me.

  I give his arm the death squeeze. “Spill it, Fox, or don’t bother speaking to me again.”

  He takes a deep sigh. “There’s been a rash of break-ins reported all over Honey Hollow tonight. Five at last count.”

  “What?” I don’t waste a single second. I head back to where my family is congregating with Keelie’s, and I shout for them all to get home. “Something is happening. You need to get home quick.”

  Everett whisks me off into his car, and we speed all the way to Country Cottage Road.

  And my eyes can’t believe what they see.

  Chapter 4

  “Everett!” I cry out as I jump from his car before he ever pulls into my driveway. It’s dark as pitch out, but I can see the disturbance just as plain as day.

  The front door to my rental sits ajar, the window to the right is shattered, and there’s glass all over the porch.

  “Pancake! Waffles!” I scream for my sweet cats as I burst in through the front door.

  “Lemon!” Everett roars like a lion as he snatches me and pulls me back to the entry. “The criminals could still be here. It’s too dangerous.”

  Both Pancake and Waffles emerge from under the sofa table, their cream-colored fur fluffing out with fright. They’re brothers from the same litter—Himalayans—both with the same gorgeous off-white fur and rust-tipped tail. I snatch up Waffles, and Everett picks up Pancake. Waffles was actually my grandmother, Nell Sawyer’s, cat. Nell was Carlotta’s mom, and I only discovered we were related once Carlotta revealed herself to me last January. It turns out, Nell was sworn to secrecy, but that didn’t stop her from developing a lifelong friendship with me. Up until she died last January, she was the only one who knew of my supersensual standing, and it was Nell who passed the gift down to me.

  “Let’s go, Lemon.”

  I’m about to turn around when a peppy Golden Retriever bounds out of my bedroom and heads straight for me. Dutch was crucial in helping me solve a murder last December.

  “Dutch!” I cry out as I bend over and give him some love while Waffles does his best to claw up the side of my sweater. “Oh, how I’ve missed you!”

  He does his best to lick up a storm over my cheek, but alas, I can’t feel a thing.

  “And how I’ve missed you.” His voice is deep and charming and exactly as sweet as I thought it would be.

  I gasp as I pull back and meet up with his serious glowing crimson eyes, but he blinks out of existence before I can say a word.

  “That was him! It was Dutch,” I say as Everett helps me up. “He spoke to me before he disappeared.” I swallow hard. “That must mean your father will be able to speak to us as well.”

  Everett closes his eyes and sighs. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, Lemon. I can hardly wait.” He navigates us out of the house and down the stairs right back to the driveway. “But for now, we’re calling the sheriff’s department. Let’s take the cats to my place.”

  Last year, while Noah and I were still hot and heavy, I thought it was a great idea to rent a house across the street from his adorable little cabin. And Everett, who came along for the ride to inspect my new potential rental, bought the house next door to me. And that is exactly how we all came to live on Country Cottage Road.

  We’re about to head over to his place when I spot a light shining through Noah’s cabin across the street.

  “Everett,” I hiss lower than a whisper. “You’re right. They’re still here.” No sooner do I get the words out than a figure dressed in camouflage from head to toe runs out of Noah’s front door and into the woods, to the right, just past where the cul-de-sac ends.

  Everett hands me Pancake in haste before bulleting off in that direction.

  “Everett!” I scream so loud, I’m positive I’ve shattered the sound barrier.

  I head to the car and lock the cats and myself inside while calling Noah and spilling everything in one rambling sentence. The figure of an all too familiar man comes ambling back down the center of the street, hobbling badly. “I have to go. Everett’s hurt.”

  I leave the cats in the car and run over to him.

  “I’m fine.” Everett holds up a hand, panting as if he ran a mile in two minutes flat. “I turned my ankle on a rock at the neck of the woods. It’ll shake off.”

  “It might, but first we’re going to ice it.”

  Everett and I pick up Pancake and Waffles on our way to his place, which thankfully is left unscathed. I try to get Everett to lift his foot up while I apply an ice pack, but the flashing lights of a patrol car cut through the darkness outside in a red and blue seizure.

  Everett and I head on out, where we find Noah parked in haste in his own driveway across the street. Before he can jog over, my phone buzzes in my hand.

  “It’s a text from Meg,” I say to E
verett as I quickly read it. “It looks as if Hook’s house was hit, too.”

  Everett exhales sharply as we make our way down the walk. “What in the hell is happening?” he barks at the deputies.

  Noah instructs the pair to inspect my place for any signs of the thieves, and they take off running.

  Noah is quick to wrap his arms around me, his heart beating erratically against my chest. “Lottie, I need you to stay with Everett tonight. I can escort you back to your place to get a few things once we sweep the house.” He shakes his head at Everett. “We’re not entirely sure what’s happening, but it seems it’s only affecting Honey Hollow. No calls from the surrounding areas, and nothing from Hollyhock, Leeds, or Ashford.”

  “Hook Redwood was hit,” I say, pulling back to get a better look at him. Noah is warm and solid and feels so very safe. I can’t help but note the gun protruding from the holster on his back.

  Everett looks my way. “All this and a homicide? I guess this is the big event those visitors you had last month were alluding to.”

  Noah nods in agreement. “And it’s not over. I’m not resting until I catch both the killer and these idiots who have pillaged our houses.”

  Everett glances back at my place. “If they’re smart, they’ve skipped town—the killer included.”

  “They’re never smart, are they?” I look to Noah, and he shakes his head.

  “No, Lottie, they never are. But they are always dangerous.”

  And that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.

  * * *

  I spent the night at Everett’s. Pancake, Waffles, and I all managed to sleep on Everett’s unbelievably comfy mattress and, I’ll admit, it was a bonus to wake up in his strong arms.

  Everett woke up with my alarm and made me a breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon while I showered and dressed for the bakery. A part of me can get used to the idea of waking up in Everett’s arms and having that wonderful breakfast rolled out for me each and every day.

  It’s Sunday, a very crisp Sunday in September, and already the fall leaves are doing cartwheels down Main Street. No matter how stressful life gets, no matter how many homicides I’m quasi-connected to, the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery always feels like home. The walls are painted a butter yellow, and the furniture is a mishmash painted in every shade of pastel. There’s a walkway connecting us to the Honey Pot Diner next door, and in that adorable restaurant there happens to be an oversized resin oak tree planted in the middle whose branches extend over the ceiling every which way and bleed right into the café portion of the bakery. Each branch is lovingly wrapped in twinkle lights, and it adds a magical appeal to both establishments.

  Keelie and Lily came in early to help me bake up a storm and open up. They both said they felt bad I had to be here alone after last night’s dual nightmare. Thank goodness I had enough fresh dough in the walk-in to make up several batches of croissants, chocolate filled and regular. Keelie insisted we make up some cinnamon apple muffins, and Lily put in a request for a pumpkin spice roll.

  Now that fall has essentially hit Honey Hollow hard with its icy breezes, it’s put us all in the mood for pumpkin spiced everything.

  “So what did they take?” Lily’s eyes are wide with a morbid curiosity. Lily is a stunning brunette who has spent most of her twenty-seven years hating my guts. She is or was Naomi Turner’s best friend, but they’ve recently had a falling-out over Noah’s foxy brother, Alex—an ex-Marine turned investment banker.

  “My gun.” It’s true.

  After an hour or so, Noah helped me walk through the shambles that was left of my house. It was ransacked in haste, but they still managed to make a decent mess in the process, and they took some costume jewelry, a small wad of twenties I had on the dresser, and the Glock 26 Gen4 that both Everett and Noah teamed up to buy me a few months back. I’ve only fired it a handful of times, but as much as I hate to admit it, I felt safer knowing it was in the house with me. I had made it a habit of putting it in my purse and taking it with me everywhere but the bakery—and since last night’s event was work-related, I didn’t have it with me.

  “You have a gun?” Keelie looks green around the gills.

  “Had,” I say, looking to the two of them. “It’s gone now.” Come to think of it, I feel terrible I didn’t give the gun a name. It was adorably small yet powerful. I should have called it something cute yet spunky like Sophie or Zoey.

  Lily shudders. “Remind me never to rub you the wrong way, Lottie Lemon.”

  A crowd of tourists hustles through the door, and Lily hops over to the register.

  “I’d better get next door,” Keelie says, tying on an apron of her own.

  Keelie is the manager of the Honey Pot Diner. Both of these places, along with a fistful of major real estate, once belonged to Nell Sawyer. And when she died, she left the lion’s share of her holdings to me. Of course, the will was contested—ironically by my new uncle Will. And it’s been locked up in red tape ever since.

  “Hey”—I pull her in and look into those big blue eyes of hers—“congratulations again. You owe me some details. I’m not letting you out of this so easily.”

  Lily scampers back after the rush dies down. “Ooh, me too! Give us all the dirty deets. When did he propose? Let’s see the rock on your finger.”

  Keelie is quick to cradle her left hand. “No rock. We haven’t set a date and we’re not having a fancy engagement party.” She glances to my bare finger. I put Everett’s mother’s ring in the ground safe as soon as I got here. Boy, am I ever glad I have a habit of wearing it wherever I go just to keep it from getting stolen. “We’ll be shopping for that later,” she sings it low and flirty. Keelie’s entire face is lit up like a Christmas tree. I can’t remember the last time I saw my best friend this happy. “He proposed the other night at Honey Lake. He took me out on his canoe and he asked to spend the rest of his life with me right there in deep water as the sun was setting. It was magical.” She sighs, bringing her hands to her chest.

  “Oh, Keelie, that does sound magical.” And now I feel bad for ever sleeping with Bear in high school. But then, he was my official boyfriend—the one I gave my heart to, and then he turned right around and stomped on it. It turns out, Bear was cheating with anything that moved. But he’s since reformed his ways. I hope.

  Lily huffs, “I hope when Alex proposes to me, it will be a real flashy event in front of everyone in Honey Hollow—especially Naomi.” She makes a face at Keelie. “No offense.”

  “No offense taken. She’s plotting the same thing.” She looks back my way. “And when were you going to tell me that you and Everett made it official?”

  “Excuse me?” a light female voice chirps from behind, and I turn around and gasp.

  Standing before us is Amanda Wellington herself with her red hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, dark sunglasses on, and a plain pink sweater and jeans.

  A croaking sound emits from Lily’s throat. “I think I’m going to faint now,” she says it weakly.

  “Please don’t,” the girl is quick to implore. “I’m Hazel, Amanda’s sister.” She looks to me. “We met last night.” She takes off her sunglasses, revealing cherry-stained eyes. “You’re Lottie, right?”

  “Y-yes.” I can barely get it out. I’m so stunned to see poor Hazel here. “Can I help you? Amanda was a sweet girl. I’ll do anything to help at all.”

  “Good. I hear you’re the best private detective all of Vermont has to offer.” She opens her purse and shoves a handful of bills my way. “Here’s all the money I have—six thousand dollars. Find my sister’s killer, Lottie. And do it yesterday.”

  Chapter 5

  Never before have so many been invited back to the scene of the crime just hours after the Ashford Homicide Department removed the caution tape.

  First thing Monday morning, my mother sent out a series of spastic text messages inviting just about everyone she knows for an impromptu dinner catered by none other than the Honey Pot Diner.

/>   Both Everett and Noah are still on their way back from work. No sooner do I arrive at my mother’s B&B than I note a bevy of photographers amassed near the entry.

  “How does it feel heading into one of the most notorious haunted houses in all the United States?” one shouts my way. A barrage of camera flashes go off as I jog my way up the stairs.

  Another shouts, “Do you think you’ll be the next murder victim? Entering through those doors ups your odds, lady. I’d think twice!”

  I turn to glare at the sea of men and women hungry for a picture as I walk on in and slam the door in their faces.

  It’s calm inside. Soothing classical music plays in the lobby, and I can hear the din of laughter coming from the dining room to my left.

  The thick emerald carpet and dark wood paneling make it feel cozy inside. I spot a fire going in both the grand room and the dining room. My mother has always had a flair for playing hostess, and, lucky for her, she was able to turn it into a profitable business.

  The sound of frantic whispering comes from my right and I step around the staircase, only to find Carlotta embroiled in a conversation with—

  “Nell!” I shout her name out carefree as I wrap my arms around her ghostly frame. For whatever reason, the ghosts that visit can feel pretty solid when they want to. “Oh, am I ever glad to see you.” I pull back, holding her by the shoulders as I pause to take her in. She’s here, really here, and she looks better than I remember. Her sweet wrinkled face is just so for the sake of Carlotta and me.

  Nell exposed herself as a young hottie the last time she was here, but she wanted to share with us the version we most recognized—the one we miss deeply. Her white hair is short around her ears and glows like a flame. Her pale blue eyes could light up all of Honey Hollow at night.

  I take her in. “Nell, you have to tell me what’s happening. Those horrible break-ins? Is that why you’re here?”

  “I’m afraid so.” She cups my face with her palms. “Oh, my precious Lottie, how I’ve missed you so.” She lands a sweet kiss to my lips, and an electric impulse bounces from her lips to mine, warming me from head to toe. “There will be more chaos by this destructive crew. Just know that we’re here for a reason. I want you to trust your gut, Lottie.” Her eyes bear hard into mine when she says it. “Don’t be afraid to dig down deep and utilize this wonderful power you’ve been given.”