I make a face. “Everett, you know I’ve been nothing but a curse to you.”
“Don’t go dark on me.”
“Dark? You and I both saw the news this morning.”
Right there on our television set, with Evie in the room no less, we watched as a crowd gathered around the mortuary in Leeds due to the disappearance of the body belonging to mafia princess, Angel Face Flo. To make matters worse, they showed Noah and his partner down at the homicide division, Ivy Fairbanks, as they were headed inside to inspect the scene. Ivy is a leggy redhead who isn’t so hot on me, but I’m still willing to bet money is very hot for Noah.
“How do you like that?” I whisper. “Noah is investigating the very crime he perpetrated. It’s all coming to a very dark full circle. I’m cursed, I tell you.”
Everett shakes his head. “I’m going to chalk that cursed talk up to all those hormones going haywire inside of you. You have been nothing but a blessing. You’re my wife. I jumped in with both feet and I’m still in. I’ll always be in. Court will be fun, interesting in the least. How about afterwards I take you somewhere nice?”
A spray of hot pink stars erupts to our left, and Florenza Canelli appears in all her bubblegum pink glory.
“How about you take your wife out to a nice place in Scooter Springs?” She bumps her ghostly hip to his. “I think it’s high time we pin down Nicky and show him our knuckles.”
“Florenza?” Everett turns to his right. “Maybe I’ll do that.”
“You will?” The words swim from me with a tiny laugh embedded in them.
“Only because I have a feeling you’re already headed that way.” His brows bounce.
“Essex?” a female voice pitches from behind, and we spot Fiona Dagmeyer speeding this way, briefcase in hand. Her dark hair is pulled back into a low bun and holds a mirror shine. She’s donned a blue blazer and matching pencil skirt, and her red-rimmed glasses match her crimson lips. “What’s this I hear you may not be the father of this child?” She scoffs as if she was just let in on this little bit of gossip. “Sounds like Lolita Lemon strikes again.”
“Watch your step, Fiona. She’s my wife,” Everett says it with an edge. “And, regardless of the genetics of this baby, it’s fully mine. Is there anything else counsel would like clarification on?”
“I’ll admit, I’m mystified.” She hikes a brow and examines the two of us. “For as long as I’ve known you, Essex, I’ve yet to see you so smitten. I suppose congratulations are in order.” She squints my way. “And if I’m not mistaken, you’ve been involved in more than one homicide investigation out in Honey Hollow. Something tells me you’re going to need a defense attorney in your future. Just know I’m only a phone call away.” She sheds a wicked smile to Everett. “Or perhaps it’s you who will need my services.” She takes off with a spring in her step.
“Well”—I take a deep breath—“she may not be wrong. At least we have counsel lined up.”
“We won’t need her.” He dots my forehead with a kiss. “See you inside. It’s going to be a wild one.”
A wild one.
It seems to be we’re always involved in something wild.
An hour later, I’m locked in that jury box seated next to Annie Steal Your Man with her bright low-cut red dress and blonde hair teased so high she’s genuinely closer to God. And to my right is a man with thick glasses—we’re talking Coke bottoms that make you dizzy just glancing at them. He’s thin, wearing a baggy suit, looks mid-forties at most, and has a halo worth of hair and lots of facial fuzz. Seems nice enough. If I’m going to suffer through this, I might as well make a few friends.
“Dillard,” he whispers my way as we wait for Everett to make his entrance. “I’m an accountant. I’m just about to head into my busy season, and I have extreme anxiety. If I pass out, don’t make a big deal out of it. I’m not one who likes attention.”
“Oh.” My hand presses to my chest. “Good to know.” As if I’m going to let his body slump to mine for two hours straight. Fat chance, buddy. I will be making a very big deal about it. “I’m Lottie. I’m a baker. And this is Annie.” I point to my left. “She’s a stunner.” I shrug because I have no life details on her whatsoever.
The bailiff steps forward. “All rise for the honorable Judge Essex Everett Baxter.”
About six women behind me all sigh in unison as we stand to our feet.
Annie groans as Everett walks in. “Holy buckets. How do you keep it together?” She flicks my hand with her own.
And to be honest, right now I’m not all that calm myself.
Everett floats up to his seat, looking every bit like the deity he is, body put together just the way God intended, shock of dark hair juxtaposed against those serious blue eyes. That stern expression on his gorgeous face lets us know he’s not here to play nice. And he is certainly not going to smile for us, maybe ever.
We’re seated once again as Everett does a quick once-over of the jury box, the prosecution, then the defense.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” he says. “Calling the case for People of the State of Vermont v. Allison Gray. Are both sides ready?”
I’ve got a clear shot of both the prosecution and the defense.
Mr. Wolfe is looking dapper with his gray suit and his facial fuzz. And don’t think I haven’t noticed that Annie is equally mesmerized with him as she is with Everett.
Fiona has a legal team of what looks to be a couple of interns seated behind her, a young man and woman who I saw her conferring with earlier. And next to her sits the star of the show, the defendant. She’s a young woman, about my age, with her shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair combed straight, gold-rimmed glasses, dressed in a blush pink button-down top with a tweed blazer over that. She looks milquetoast, scholarly, as if I might bump into her at the library. She definitely has an air of innocence about her.
The prosecutor, Mr. Wolfe, nods to Everett. “Ready for the People, Your Honor.”
Fiona nods as well. “Ready for the defense, Your Honor.”
Everett motions to the woman seated to his left. “Clerk, swear in the jury.”
The tall brunette has us stand and swear under oath that we will return a true verdict. We say I do and take a seat.
Honestly, as much as I’d like nothing more than to focus on the case, my stomach is already rumbling, and about halfway through that swearing in process, I lost track of what she was asking us to do. I knew I’d make a lousy juror, I knew it.
“Hey, Lottie!”
I glance up in horror to find Flo seated on the edge of Fiona’s table, swinging her legs like a kid.
“This is fun!” She reaches under the table and holds up a glob of something pink. “Gum!” she pops it into her mouth and starts to chew frenetically. “Oh, don’t look so green. What’s it gonna hurt? I’m already dead.”
She’s got a point there.
“Let’s try to speed this along.” She offers up a stern look. “We’ve got a real case to solve—mine.” She turns and makes a face at the defendant. “Whatever she did, she looks innocent enough. Let’s hope this moves quickly. A courtroom is the last place I want to spend my free time.”