“Ketchup?”
She slaps her hands together before touching her nose and pointing my way. “You’re good at guessing, Lot.” She shoots Flo a mean look. “And she’s even better at sending spirits like you right back to that poltergeist party in the sky.”
Why do I get the feeling Carlotta suddenly wants to send Flo packing? Not that I object. A mob war could take us all down in the crosshairs, and I’ve got my sugar cookie to think of now. Nobody wants this case closed more than I do. Except maybe Flo.
“She’s right.” I nod to Flo. “How about we start asking around for help in tracking down Nicky?”
“We’ll start with Lorena.” She nods. “If I know my bestie, she’s already asking the hard questions. But not today.” She eyes the rack where the rest of the crullers are cooling. “It’s the weekend. And it’s her first day of mourning. She’s got to be a wreck. Not today, and definitely not tomorrow. Tomorrow is Sunday. And if I know anything, it’s you don’t mess with Sunday dinner.”
“Fine. We’ll start Monday.” I wince as I look to Carlotta. “Which reminds me, I need to call into jury duty to see if they need me. Both of you send up a prayer. Now that I have a killer to hunt down, I don’t have time to pretend to care about a little courtroom drama.”
I head to my office, pull the jury summons out of my purse, and put in the dreaded call to see if they need me to trek over frozen tundra and serve up some justice. After five minutes of being instructed to press this and press that, the robot on the other end, who suspiciously sounds like Noah’s sourpuss of a mother, Suze, finally gets to the awful point.
“You are required to report for jury duty on Monday, January fourth, at eight a.m., at the Ashford County Courthouse. Please bring your jury summons with you.”
I don’t hear the rest. I simply hang up. I’ve never felt so despondent, so oppressed, so angry with the government for hijacking my time.
I step back out and Flo shakes her head at me. “The feds gotcha, didn’t they?”
“They got me.” I wave my jury summons like the white flag of surrender. “We’ll have to wait until Monday night to talk to Lorena. I have a feeling that’s going to be a long day.”
Flo nods. “And an even longer night for you, Lottie Lemon.”
“Why is that?” I get the feeling I’m not going to like the answer.
Flo takes a breath she doesn’t need. “Because if I know my family, they’re planning my funeral. And without me there to take care of the details, I know for a fact they’re taking me to tacky town. Not one of my sisters has any taste. And who the heck knows what Lorena and Donata will dream up without me there to tell them what to think? We’ve got a funeral to stop until I can figure out how to control this mess.”
“Woo-wee!” Carlotta whoops and hollers as she slaps her hands together. “It’s been a long time since I’ve stopped a funeral dead in its tracks. Get it? Dead in its tracks?”
But I’m not interested in entertaining Carlotta’s sense of humor or Flo’s for that matter.
“I’m sorry,” I tell the specter among us. “But there’s no way on earth I’m going to be able to stop your own family from holding a funeral for you.”
A dark smile bleeds from her lips. “There’s one way to stop this tacky funeral from happening.”
“What’s that?” both Carlotta and I ask in unison.
“Steal my body.”
Chapter 5
“Jury duty,” I grunt. “Notice how they’re both four-letter words? A coincidence? I think not.”
A dark chuckle strums through Everett’s chest as we pull up in front of Honey Hollow High and Evie jumps out of the car.
“Thanks for the ride,” she sings. “Oh, and before I forget, the Winter Formal is next weekend, and both Kyle and Conner asked me to be their date so, of course, I said yes. They’re renting a limo and everything.” She rolls her eyes.
Evie was born with a platinum spoon in her mouth, so I can see how she’s not so easily impressed.
“Winter Formal? Next weekend?” I squawk. “Evie, that’s so fun! As soon as I get home, we’ll hit the Scarlet Sage Boutique and pick out a dress for you.”
Evie looks slightly affronted. “No offense to your friend, Scarlet, but my dress isn’t going to be found anywhere near her shop. That was fine for homecoming, since it was practically a back-alley ho-down. But this is the big league. I’ve contacted Cressida and told her I needed access to the holy of holies, her couture depository. She holds all of her designer gowns under lock and key in some vaulted warehouse down in the basement of the Bentley mansion. Dash and I are heading over after school to raid it. Don’t worry, guys. I’m not ditching you for the pod that birthed me.” She looks my way. “Believe me, she’s never moving in with me the way you’ve let Carlotta move in with us. And by the way, I’d trade Cressi-duh for Carlotta any day of the week. But I don’t have to. I have you.” She dots a kiss to my cheek. “Remember, if you can pull off what I told you to do, you’ll never have jury duty again for the rest of your life. Good luck getting out of it.” She waves to Everett. “Have fun doling out the life sentences. Love you!” She slams the door and bolts for a group of girls shivering in the snow.
“Nice.” I sigh as Everett pulls back onto the road. “Do you think Cressida is trying to weasel her way back into Evie’s life by way of designer dresses?” I warm my belly with my hands until the heater kicks in again.
Everett shakes his head. “I doubt it. She’s about as maternal as an earthworm.”
“Earthworms might be more maternal.”
“Touché.” He glances my way. “So, don’t keep me in suspense. What did Evie suggest to get you out of jury duty for life?”
A naughty smile rests on my lips and I bite down over it. I take a moment to take in my handsome husband with his black suit, matching tie, and his slicked back dark hair still dewy from the shower. He’s clean-shaven today, and his cologne is intoxicating me in ways that neither hard liquor nor any of my vanilla scented sweet treats could ever be capable of.
“She said I should bring Ethel with me and shoot the defendant.”
“Geez.” Everett grips the steering wheel. “Lemon, half the things she says alarms me. Should we find a good therapist?”
A laugh thumps from me and the baby kicks me as if he or she was laughing as well.
“No. Evie is fine,” I say. “She’s just a teenager. They’re dramatic. They let their minds wander and say and do whatever they want.” Within reason, I hope.
His chest expands as we head onto the highway. The sky is gray, the roads are slick with ice and snow, and I’m relieved I don’t have to drive all the way to Ashford by myself today.
“Well, I’m not approving,” he says as he glances over his shoulder before we merge into traffic. “I’m going to have a talk with her. And what’s this going to the Winter Formal with two boys business? That’s not how I want to raise her. I’m going to tell her she needs to make a decision.”