Everett looks over to Fiona. “The defense may call their first witness.”
We’ve already heard from the victim’s best friend and a few co-workers who only had glowing things to say about him. That is, until Fiona pointed out he was poking around with the Elite Entourage. Not only that, but his best friend admitted that the victim, Carter Cameron, wanted to physically shake Allison. I know it was in the context of wanting to break up with her, and the fact he insisted she wouldn’t leave him alone, but I can’t seem to get the violent visual out of my head.
Fiona stands. “The defense calls the Ashford County coroner, Ben Atlas.”
A middle-aged man with a thick head of salt and pepper hair, deep laugh lines, and a trio of lines embedded in his forehead takes the stand. He looks solid both physically and mentally, and nods and agrees with everything the bailiff tells him as he’s quickly sworn in.
“Mr. Atlas.” Fiona pins a short-lived smile to her face. “Did you receive Carter Cameron’s body the day he was taken to the morgue?”
“I did.”
“What did you notice about the body when you examined it?”
The man leans in a notch. “There were puncture wounds inflicted in both the front and back of his torso. He had lost quite a bit of blood, and yet his body was cleaned up pretty well, which is odd. He also had what we call self-defense wounds on his hands, which show that he was actively trying to stave off the attack. Nevertheless, the blade that was used was a two-inch kitchen knife—a larger blade than say your traditional steak knife.”
Fiona nods. “How many wounds did Carter Cameron suffer?”
“Six,” he says without hesitation. “Four to the chest, two of which penetrated his heart, and two in the back. The wounds in the back were inflicted around the rib cage. Most likely caused when he turned in an effort to avoid the attack or run. They were not deep. Those two wounds were certainly not fatal.”
“I see. And when someone generally has those wounds on the back, what does this tell you?”
“It’s generally a sign that whoever was inflicting the wounds wanted to stop the victim.”
“Thank you.” Fiona nods. “I have no further questions.”
“Does the prosecution have questions?” Everett looks their way, and Mr. Wolfe stands.
“Yes, Your Honor.” Mr. Wolfe steps forward, and Annie leans my way.
“Take a looks at that tight rear of his,” she whispers.
“What?” I squint her way. “I can’t see his tight rear,” I whisper. “And neither can you.”
“Use your third eye,” she hisses as if she were annoyed with me. And believe me, the feeling is mutual.
“I don’t have a third eye. And if I did, I wouldn’t use it. I’m married.”
The sound of the gavel hitting granite has me spiking to attention.
“Quiet in the jury box.” Everett’s eyes widen a moment in my direction. “There is to be no talking during the court proceedings. Do either of you have a pressing need that I can help you with?” That second sentence comes across far softer than the first. And I know he was speaking specifically to me. It’s pretty much a miracle that I haven’t been running to the bathroom every five minutes or stuffing my face with fried pickles while listening to the proceedings.
“We’re fine,” I assure him.
He points his gavel to Mr. Wolfe. “Proceed.”
Mr. Wolfe starts in on his questions just as a spray of hot pink stars appears next to him and Florenza Canelli materializes in all of her glory.
“Lottie, Lottie!” she howls as she spins in a circle and her hot pink aura spins right along with her in the shape of a tornado. “Great news! I was sitting in the bakery noshing on a stack of your delicious waffles—I must get the recipe…” She swats her hand my way. “And guess who came in to have a little chitchat with you? Lorena and Donata. You weren’t there, so they chatted up Lily. And you’ll never guess what they wanted. Go ahead and guess!” I shake my head her way as I do my best to turn my attention back to the witness, but Flo promptly jumps in front of me. “Okay, fine. I get it. The girls came in to place the official order for the desserts for my big day. Lorena really dug deep and thought that I would have loved to have the shindig at Kenicky’s Steakhouse!” She belts out a hearty whoop. “It’s not for another few weeks, but what can we do? The place is nonstop busy. With Kenicky’s, you get what you get. And Donata mentioned they’ve chosen the gold leaf casket with the champagne satin lining! I’m going out in style, Lottie. I knew they’d come to their senses. They just needed a minute to get away from Cat and Connie and catch their breath. You know what I mean?” She flashes her inch-long nails my way. “Anyways, Lily asked what kind of desserts they had in mind, and at the time I happened to be noshing on one of those ah-mazing waffles with just the right amount of crunch but soft in the middle just the way I like it, so I plopped it on the counter between them.”
My eyes bug out at the thought. The last thing I need is for the fine residents of Honey Hollow to think my bakery is haunted.
“Don’t worry.” She flicks her wrist my way. “Lily accused one of the bakers of chucking it like a Frisbee, but Lorena—she’s the smart one—she said it was a sign. So waffles it is. Now come on.” She motions for me to get up. “It’s time to get my body back to the morgue. Thank God I’m under a pile of snow, but you never, never know what’s down there with me. And I need my hair to look good for the big day. Donata said they had lined up Prissy Carlina, my old hairdresser, to do me up, but since there was no body, they were going to use a picture from one of my pageants.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m sorry, but I come from a long line of people who believe the only way to hold a funeral is with the deceased lying right there in front of you for all to see. Now the only detail ready to shore up is what to wear.” She rubs her hands together. “I’m thinking something formal, low-cut, sparkly heels.”
“Does the defense have another witness?” Everett poses the question to Fiona as the coroner leaves the stand and I scoff.
I missed the entire line of questioning. My goodness, what if he has something vital to add to the case?
Fiona calls a psychologist who specializes in domestic violence, and as soon as the woman is sworn in, Fiona starts in on her.
“Oh!” Flo blocks my view of the witness once again. “I almost forgot. I eavesdropped on Lorena and Donata while they shared coffee and a couple of Napoleons. Donata said something strange. She said now that I was gone they had their shot and they shouldn’t blow it.”
I inch back. Their shot at what?
“Beats me.” Flo shrugs as if she could hear me. “But get this. They’re both wearing pink on my big day in my honor. And Lorena said that when she gets married one day, she’s going to have a single pink rose in the pom of white roses as a symbol of her love for me.” She cocks her head to the side. “Not that the girl has any prospects, but hey? One can dream, right?”
Everett clears his throat, and my attention shoots that way as he gives a subtle nod to the witness as if asking me to pay attention. Little does he know I’d love to, but my attention has been otherwise hijacked.