“That’s what I think, too,” a voice chirps from my left, and I turn that way to see Angel Face Flo glowing with a hot pink aura. Her long black hair is filled with shimmering onyx-colored stars, her face looks freshly made up, hot pink lips, long thick lashes, a touch too much rouge, and she’s still wearing that short pink number she was killed in—bullet hole through her heart and all.
“Lily?” My voice pitches. “Would you mind keeping an eye on things out here? I need to show Carlotta something in the kitchen.”
Meg nods my way. “What is it? Can I see it? Did you get another pricey mixer? If so, the Honey Pot can use your old one? Someone dropped the dirty dishes in there while it was kneading some dough and now the paddle moves wonky.”
Carlotta snorts. “Let me guess. Keelie?”
Meg nods. “I can’t fault her. I’d be throwing dirty dishes at people’s heads if I hadn’t slept in five months.”
Makes sense. Five months ago Keelie gave birth to a bouncing baby boy. Apparently, one who doesn’t care for sleeping.
“Nope, not a mixer.” I look to Flo and hitch my head toward the kitchen.
“A bakery!” Flo looks around and marvels at the place. Her smile is so wide she’s practically all teeth. It never fails to amaze me how real the dead can look. Who knew you didn’t need a body to still be you?
She pokes her head into the bakery shelf—right through the glass and plucks up a pink cruller and does her best to pull it out, but thanks to the laws of psychics that donut isn’t able to waltz through the glass as easily as she is.
“Huh?” Lily squints at the shelf in question. “I’d swear on my life I just saw a donut jump. Don’t tell me this bakery is haunted, Lottie Lemon.”
Carlotta and I exchange a panicked look.
“No ghosts at this bakery,” I’m quick to assert and a couple of customers turn to look my way.
“That’s right,” Carlotta backs me up with a nod. “We’ve got rats.”
“Rats?” Lily screeches and an entire table of lavender-haired grannies up and walk right out.
“That’s right. Rats,” Carlotta is quick to double down and the entire left side of the bakery up and follows those grannies to rat-free pastures.
Meg shakes her head. “You should have stuck with the ghosts, Lot.” She snatches another chocolate croissant and waves as she heads for the door.
“Expect a visit from me at the club,” I shout as she’s about to exit.
“I’ll warm some pasties for you.” She winks as she takes off.
I turn to Flo. “You. In the kitchen right now. I’ve got an entire stack of hot pink crullers with your name on them.”
Carlotta scoops up her legal pads and is quick to obey my command even though it wasn’t necessarily meant for her.
We head back, and thankfully Flo floats right by my side.
“So like I’m dead, can you believe this?” she says with her fists balled against her hips as she gives the kitchen a quick once-over.
“Sadly I can believe it,” I say. “Where did you end up going last night after you ditched us?”
She makes a face as she scoops up a hot pink cruller off a cooling rack.
“I tried to find the louse that did this to me.” She takes an angry bite before moaning into the sweet treat.
Not that long ago, I couldn’t even hear the dead. Then, as my powers grew, not only could I hear them, but they were able to move objects in the material world, and as of late they’ve hit the culinary jackpot—they’ve achieved the ability to eat.
I don’t know where that food goes. I don’t want to know. All I do know is that the ghosts that can nosh and nibble are far happier than any of the other ghosts I’ve come into contact with.
Carlotta leans her way. “Did you find him? Is the case solved?” She swats my arm. “You should have the victim come back more often. This case will be open and shut. Maybe we can avoid that mob war after all?”
Flo moans once again as she swallows down a bite and wags her finger our way.
“Not so fast. I couldn’t find him.”
“He was that hard to track down, huh?” Carlotta shakes her head. “I’m afraid he’s gone into full bunker mode on us.”
“He might have,” Flo says, struggling to admire her reflection in the tiny mirror on the wall, and sure enough, she seems to spot herself, albeit faintly—not that it would be detectable to the human eye. She turns my way. “And it’s all your fault I couldn’t find him, Lottie Lemon.” She glowers over at me with those illuminated amber eyes. “Turns out, I’ve got a spiritual noose around my neck.”
“That’s right,” Carlotta says with a touch of pride. “You’ve got to include my Lot Lot in on the action if you want this case solved.”
“I’m afraid she’s right.” I wrinkle my nose at the girl. “Flo? Can I ask why or how it is that you’ve come back? Usually it’s someone that the victim held near and dear, like a special person in their lives, but typically it’s a pet they once loved.”
She glances back in the mirror and gives her supernatural tresses a quick tussle.
“Makes sense. Who could I possibly love more than myself? Could you blame me?”
My mouth falls open.
Florenza Canelli loved herself the most. Of course, it all makes sense now.
“Look at these lips?” She puckers up for Carlotta and me. “I didn’t have to get them augmented like Lorena.” She gives a sly smile as she blows herself a kiss in the mirror. “And my hair is—was naturally curly, so I didn’t have to pollute it with all those chemicals like Donata. Face it, I was the best of the best. Whoever did this couldn’t take all my glory.” She turns our way with her eyes red as fire. “And whoever did this to me is going to wish they could take my place.”
“What do you mean whoever did this to you?” I narrow my eyes over her. “I thought you said it was Nicky Knuckles.”
“Now, now”—she takes another hasty bite out of the cruller in her hand—“I didn’t say I was sure.” She shrugs. “Now that I’ve been given some time to think about it, there might be another contender or two in there. You can’t have all of this”—she waves her hand up and down her nonexistent body—“and not have a couple of people angry with you.”
Carlotta nods. “You had some serious enemies.”
“You watch it, Spider.” Flo jabs a finger at my bio-mother the arachnoid. “You’ve got some enemies, too, you know.” A smile glides up one side of her face. “Aunt Caterina let me in on a secret or two.”
“What?” Carlotta barks so loud the metal mixing bowls on the island vibrate to the tune of her voice. “Cadillac swore she’d take my secret to the grave.”
“What secret?” I shoot Carlotta a suspicious look. Oddly, I don’t believe there is one. Either that or it has something to do with her penchant for hoarding ketchup packets in her bedroom.
“It’s nothing, Lot.” Carlotta looks flustered as if it very much were something. “It has something to do with—uh, my love of—”