“You heard what he said.” She wipes back the tears. “Next up is Rocky Romero.”
Rocky Romero might be next up, but I’m not scrubbing Nicky Knuckles off my suspect list just yet. In fact, he’s looking mighty guilty.
“We need to talk,” I tell her, and just like that, she invokes her ghostly right to do a disappearing act.
“She knows something,” I say to Carlotta. “She did something to Rocky, and we need to find out what.”
Carlotta gasps as she pulls me to my feet. “If I were you, Lot, I wouldn’t tell the boys at the table about the fact Nicky Knuckles knows about Sexy’s nice ride.”
Both Noah and Everett come this way with Cormack doing her best to glue herself to Noah’s side.
“Did you get what you needed?” Everett’s lids are hooded, and he’s pretty much seething. I take it the good judge doesn’t look so kindly on those that choose to step out of the perimeters that he sets up, and I would be lying if my hormones weren’t going off like a Fourth of July spectacular because of it.
“Yup,” I chirp as my voice hikes an octave.
We head back for Honey Hollow, and all the way home I can’t help but think that Noah, Everett, Carlotta, and I have one deadly secret. And now Carlotta and I have a secret that might just prove to be even deadlier than that.
Nicky believes the Lazzaris stole the body from the morgue. They know the make, model, and color of Everett’s car.
So I do the only thing I can do once we get home.
While Everett is finishing up a few things on his laptop, I run down to the garage and stick the blade of my best kitchen knife into his tire. It’s safe to say we’ll be driving my minivan from here on out.
Then I head back into the bedroom and show Judge Baxter just how obedient I can be.
And he is very, very satisfied.
So am I.
Chapter 11
The next morning, Everett let me know I could sleep in, that court was postponed, and for a fleeting moment, I thought it had something to do with that flat I gave him.
But as it turns out, Fiona has a motion, or a deposition, or a perm she had to get to. Heck, I can’t keep the legal jargon straight anymore. Everett said it worked out because not only did he have time to fix his flat, but Bear was coming over to inspect the lots next door—something to do with the new house and boundary issues.
Last month, Everett moved heaven and the Honey Hollow Building Department to get permission to erect one large home across two lots. It was one of the Christmas gifts he gave me. And believe me, Everett is very generous in just about every capacity.
Speaking of boundary issues, it’s the day of my mother’s writers’ workshop, so I stopped by the bakery to pick up an entire veritable breakfast bar to take over before hightailing it to the B&B. I set up shop right in the conservatory, a brunch buffet overflowing with pancakes, croissants, bagels, donuts, and stacks and stacks of my infamous waffles. The warm vanilla scent emanating from my sweet treat mingles with the coffee brewing, and the room fills with the heavenly scent.
Not long ago, my mother’s bed and breakfast used to hobble along just hoping to get the tourist runoff from the Evergreen Manor, the only other place to stay in town. But as luck and my supernatural quirk would have it, an entire slew of ghosts moved in a while back, and now my mother’s happily haunted B&B is booked solid for months in advance. It turns out, there are a lot of people who can appreciate a good scare now and again.
The B&B is a large stately mansion comprised of white stone with large Roman pillars out front, wrought iron balconies, and a wraparound porch. It’s spooktacular inside and out and has the whole haunted mansion nine yards going for it. A couple of years ago, my mother had Bear build her this glass conservatory as an addition off the back, and it’s been a hot spot ever since. You can see the evergreens covered with snow right outside the back of the room, and at night she has them backlit to look like a snowy fairy garden.
Currently, the conservatory is filled with small bistro tables, and each one has at least three women hovering over their laptops while seated at them. The entire room is bustling with budding authors. In fact, Carlotta is already hard at work on her own novel while seated at my mother’s table, along with Mom’s besties, Chrissy Nash, Mayor Nash’s ex, and Becca Turner, Keelie’s mother. And just past her I see Noah’s battle-axe of a mother, Suze, thumping at a laptop of her own, looking stymied by the process.
Believe me, I’m stymied she’d take a stab at penning a romance novel. Knowing Suze, her male lead will end up at the bottom of the ocean and stay there. No real tragedy considering that’s how her husband supposedly “died”. But as fate and a timely resurrection would have it, Wiley Fox staged his death and is now alive and well and dating my mother. Suze lives here at the B&B right along with them, and she seems to be friendly enough with my mother. It’s an odd arrangement, but one we’ve all gotten used to.
The sound of women cackling comes from my left, and I glance that way to see a couple of blondes huddled over the same computer. I’m about to look away, but I do a double take instead.
“Oh, for the love of all that’s good and evil,” I huff. And it’s clearly the evil part that’s being highlighted here today.
Those two blondes are none other than Cormack and Cressida. Why do I find it hard to believe they’re penning a romance of their own? On second thought, if that helps take their eyes off Noah and Everett, I’m all for it.
Lainey comes over with her sweet baby Josie nursing away, as my sister flashes half the room her water balloon of a boob, although no one seems to notice. As it should be. But let’s face it, for some men, spotting Lainey’s boob in the wild might just save them a trip to Red Satin.
“So what’s with that dead girl?” Lainey’s hazel eyes grow wide. “I heard the mob stole her body and took it to New Jersey to keep in a glass case as a way to mentally torment the mob down in Leeds.”
I make a face. “Well, hello to you, too.” I give Josie’s sweet blonde head a quick pat. “I don’t know anything about that. I’m only interested in procuring justice for the girl.”
“Speaking of justice, Mom said you got on the jury. Geez, Lot. What good is being married to a judge if he can’t get you out of a little civic duty once in a while?”
“You’re telling me.” I check my phone, only to see I have plenty of time before I need to get back. “But actually, the case is pretty interesting. A woman named Allison Gray is accused of killing her boyfriend.” No sooner do the words slip from my lips than I clamp my hand over my mouth.
Lainey laughs. “Don’t worry, Lottie. I won’t tell a soul. And hey, that’s a pretty big case. I heard all about it. She got national coverage. You don’t think she did it, do you?”
“I don’t have all the facts yet.”
“I have all the facts.” She shrugs. “Believe me, the guy had it coming. He was—” Josie belches, and Lainey just about jumps out of her skin as the baby spits up all over her chest. “Oh, criminy.” She quickly mops it up with the blanket draped from her shoulder. “Welcome to motherhood, Lottie, where you get puked on six times a day. I’d better take care of this before I smell like sour milk,” she says as she heads in the direction of the restroom.