“See that?” Cormack winks to Cressida. “Linoleum here loves us so much, she can’t stop thinking about us.”
Neither Cormack nor Cressida has ever bothered to get my name right. And at this point in the game, I couldn’t care less.
“Who are you talking to, Lala?” Cressida sniffs as she looks past me. “Let me guess, the ghosts?”
“Actually, I was,” I tell them and they both break out into cackles.
Cormack sniffs. “As if they’d ever want to speak to you. I’m officially their best friend. Each night I leave out a fresh large pizza from Mangias in the kitchen for them, and each morning every last slice is gone.”
“It’s true.” Greer is quick to attest to the yummy Italian exchange. “I wouldn’t say we’re best friends, but let’s just say we’re close.”
Lea nods. “Cormack makes certain exchanges with us when she’s setting the pizza down. Last night she asked for one of us to scare the pants off the guest in room fifteen because he was threatening to sue over dirty towels. She said there would be a couple of meatball sandwiches along with the pizza for us if we complied.”
I suck in a quick breath. “Cormack, are you bribing the ghosts to do your bidding by way of pepperoni and meatballs?”
She shoots me a sly look. “I didn’t get this far in life without initiating a bribe or two. Just wait until I sic those ghosts on you, Lima. Big Boss will be back in my arms, where he truly belongs.”
Greer gives a ghostly laugh that has the power to rattle the walls and does just that.
“Don’t worry, Lottie,” Winslow reassures me. “There’s not enough pizza in the world for that to happen.”
Greer clucks her nonexistent tongue. “But what I wouldn’t do for a fresh Maine lobster.”
I guess everyone has their price.
Cluck Norris belts out his signature cry, and for a second there I think I’m seeing stars, and I am—his.
“Let’s hurry with the suspect, Lottie,” he crows. “I haven’t had pizza since Candace fed me a slice. My beak is watering just at the thought of it.”
I try to move past the two ditzes before me, but Cressida steps in my path.
“Everything is a go for the next taping of Getting Candid with Cormack, and I expect you to be there with bells on if you want to take this haunted hovel off my hands.”
My mouth falls open. “Cormack, you got the job?”
“That’s right.” She lifts her head with a touch of pride. “You’ll be my very first guests in just a week. And once we find out that little beast of yours belongs to Essex, I’ll be in the prime position to comfort Noah.”
“Say”—I lean in with a shiny new idea at the helm—“why don’t you give me your half of the B&B, too, Cormack? That way you can devote all of your time to your budding new career.” And with her wrapped up in that talk show she won’t have time to interfere with my investigation.
“No,” she snips my way. “I can juggle three careers, Lynelle. I’m a modern woman in every capacity. Four careers if you count the fact I’m practically a ghost whisperer. I’ve got those monsters trained like a bunch of circus poodles.”
Lea wields her machete. “Who is she calling monsters?”
Thirteen leaps right onto my shoulder and I dip from the heft of him.
“I’m no poodle,” he hisses. “I think it’s high time I claw her eyes out.”
I shake my head just enough.
With my luck, I’ll get pegged for it. And believe me, Cormack’s father has the money to make me disappear in the prison system until Lyla Nell is a senior—a senior citizen.
Carlotta pokes her head out of the conservatory. “There you are, Lot Lot. Get in here. We’ve got a killer party to get to.”
Cormack snorts. “Go on, Libra. I already know who the killer is. I’ve reported them to Sheriff Jack Turner. It’s just a matter of time before they’re arrested, and, of course, it will be a feather in the hat of Featherby Sleuths Investigative Services.”
I try to make a break for it, but Cressida once again blocks my path.
She snarls my way, “Remember, not only does your baby’s paternity test need to be brought to light, but so does your own. And this time? I want all three of your prospective fathers to be present. According to your real mother, that list includes Jimmy Canelli and Luke Lazzari. I’ll expect to see them there if you want my share of the inn back,” she says as she and Cormack head for the conservatory without me.
“Wait,” I call out. “The three of them?” Jimmy and Luke aren’t exactly into taking orders from anyone, least of all me.
The ghosts all swoop past me and into the room teeming with bodies.
“Good luck, Lottie!” Greer howls. “We’ll be checking out the mystery selections. Winslow and I are always looking for new books to knock off the bookshelves.”
Carlotta motions for me to head that way and I do, all the while scowling at her.
“Did you hear that?” I say to Carlotta as I fast approach her. “Cressida just upped the ante. We need to get Jimmy and Luke to the studio in a week’s time to see which one is my daddy. And that happens to be the week of Everett’s trial.”
Carlotta makes a face. “I don’t think they’ll show up, Lot. Mob men are a stubborn bunch in the event you haven’t noticed.”
“You’re the one who got me into this paternal pickle. You’ll be coming with me when I head down to Leeds to plead my case.”
“Fine, but first I’ve got my good name to clear.”
Cluck Norris squawks as if beckoning us to follow him, so we do just that.
The conservatory is filled to maximum capacity for tonight’s murderously good time. And lucky for Carlotta and me, our prime suspect is seated right by the door, so we don’t have to go far.
I glance over my shoulder and see Noah and Everett watching me as Everett holds the baby. Everett picks up Lyla Nell’s hand and gives me a thumbs-up with it and my heart all but melts.
“Did you see that, Carlotta?” I press my hand to my chest as I’m reduced to a puddle on the inside.
“Yup. Little Yippy is on Team Mama. Now let’s get cookin’.” Carlotta pulls me to the table just as a small crowd scatters from around Fern Cranston. Fern’s crimson locks are fanned out around her face, giving her a soft look. She’s wearing a periwinkle leather jacket and a navy blouse underneath it, making her look far more diminutive than her heavyset frame, and she looks both polished and feminine.
“That’s my Lot Lot,” Carlotta tells the redheaded woman with the unusually wide smile. “Always scoping the room out to find the cutest men.”
Fern honks out a laugh. “Well, if it isn’t the killer mother-daughter duo. So glad you can make it. How are you ladies doing tonight?”
“Wonderful,” I say as I take in the array of books she has laid out before her. “Is this your series?”
“Sure is,” she beams. “Death in Vermont.” She lands a book with a lime green cover in my hands. “That’s my latest cutie. Death of a Cheater. I’ve only got a few copies left. It’s selling like hotcakes.”