“Judge Everett Baxter knew that Noah Fox was actively attempting to woo his wife away from him,” Fiona dares to continue.
Noah lets out a hard groan and grips his stomach. “I’m sorry, Your Honor.” Another hard groan rips from him as he rises from his seat and begins to stagger toward the door before his knees buckle and he holds himself up by the edge of a chair.
“Noah!” I cry as I do my best to traipse down the aisle after him, and just as I’m about to enter the clearing, I trip just enough to dislodge Lyla Nell, and my boob bounces out of my blouse like a cantaloupe for all to see. “Oh!” I say, trying to right myself.
Noah speeds back my way and I lurch forward, slapping him right in the face with my boob.
A brief titter of laughter circles the room, and Fiona looks as if she’s going to pull every hair on my head right out in retribution for bungling her case.
She looks to the jury. “Oh, what the heck. Judge Essex Everett Baxter was sleepwalking that night. You must find him innocent. Thank you for your time.”
And just like that, it’s over.
Noah retches, Lyla Nell screams at top volume, and I bounce myself and my free-range body parts right on out of that courtroom.
Some impression I made on the jury.
Here’s hoping I didn’t ruin anything.
Something tells me I did just that.
Lottie
“I know I was wearing a diaper”—Carlotta rambles on as we step back into our rental home—“but it doesn’t mean I wanted everyone to hear my hind end singing ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’.”
“And I appreciate that,” Everett says, placing Lyla Nell’s car seat on the coffee table and scooping her right out of it.
We drove straight home right after the courthouse. Evie went to dinner with friends, and Noah said he was going to head to the sheriff’s station to get some work done. The jury will be in deliberations tomorrow, so we might just have another long day ahead of us.
“She’s sleeping like an angel.” I sigh. Right after court was over, I nursed her in the minivan for about ten minutes before we left. That, coupled with the long drive home, lulled her into what looks to be a blissful nap. “But you realize as soon as we put her down she’s going to make us pay for it. She’s not a fan of the bassinet.”
“And she seems to hate the crib,” he says. “That mattress isn’t made of nails, is it?”
“You’re funny, Judge Baxter.”
His expression darkens. “Just Everett will do.”
“That’s right, Lot,” Carlotta says as she jumps on the sofa and collects Pancake and Waffles in her arms, and surprisingly Cluck Norris, too. “He’s saving that nickname for the Big House. I bet that title is going to garner you a lot of respect in a place like that.”
“It’ll garner me something,” he says, pulling a blanket out of the diaper bag and getting comfy on the sofa with Lyla Nell sleeping over his chest. He turns on the television and a game pops up on the screen. “You want to watch anything, Lemon?”
“You watch the game. You’ve earned that, and then some.”
Cluck Norris floats my way in all his cocky glory. “Who’s the next suspect, Lottie?” he crows out a few buck-buck-bucks along with it.
“Burt Walker,” I do my best to whisper.
“What’s that?” Everett turns my way slightly.
“I was just thinking. We didn’t pick up dinner on the way home. And Wicked Wok sounds like it would really hit the spot.”
“That sounds like just what I need,” he says as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.
“Oh no, no, no,” I say, taking his phone and placing it on the coffee table just out of his reach. “You relax and cuddle up with Lyla Nell. I’ll call in the order. Carlotta and I will pick it up and we won’t have to wait for their ridiculously long delivery times.”
I put in a quick call and double the size of our usual order. I’m half-starved and I know Everett is, too, although I’m not sure why either of us has an appetite considering the circumstances.
“I think I’ll pump really quick since Lyla Nell seems satiated and I’m filled to the brim.” I head to the kitchen where I’ve got my milking station set up at the bistro table in the corner and it takes about fifteen minutes to get about five ounces. I quickly land the bottle next to Everett, scoop up Carlotta, and head for the door.
“We’ll be back soon,” I say. “Shoot, I might have to stop by the bakery. Is that all right?”
“Take your time, Lemon.” He swings those maudlin blue eyes my way and my heart breaks. “I’ve got the baby. There’s no hurry.”
“Sure, we’re gonna hurry,” Carlotta harps. “It might be your last night of freedom. You and Lot Lot have got plenty of ground to cover in that bedroom if it’s going to last fifteen years. I’ll tell you what, I’ll make sure she picks up something naughty to wear on the way back. My treat.”
“Carlotta,” I hiss, pulling her out the door with me. “Ignore her, Everett. We’re going to spend the next fifteen years together, under the same roof. I love you.” I blow him a kiss as I shut the door.
“Where are we really headed, Lot?”
Cluck Norris floats right through the closed door and leads the way down the porch.
“We’ve got a suspect to speak to Carlotta,” he shouts. “Once Everett is hauled away, I’m afraid her zeal for the investigation will wane.”
“Nobody is hauling Everett away.” I shake my head as we jump into Carlotta’s minivan. “But he’s right. We’ve got one more suspect to speak with and I plan on making it quick. Here’s hoping we can find him down in Red Satin like Woody suggested. Hey? While we’re heading out that way, this would be a great time to invite Jimmy Canelli to the who’s your daddy taping.”
“Wise move asking him in person. Important men like Jimmy need to be wooed if they’re going to risk humiliating themselves on TV. I’ll make that meeting happen tonight at Red Satin as well,” Carlotta says, pulling out her phone. “In fact, I’ll do you one better, Lot. I’ll invite Luke, too. Those boys would do anything for me.”
“And shockingly they have,” I say as she puts in the text. “Let’s hope neither of them is the reason my body is sitting here today.”
“Ah ha!” Carlotta holds up her phone in victory. “They just let me know they’re both down there already. I guess they’re having a meeting of their own.”
“I guess they are.” And suddenly I wonder why two opposing crime families are holding a powwow to begin with.
I’m betting this meeting of the minds is of a nefarious nature.
Just like the meeting of the minds I’m about to have with Burt Walker—that is, if he’s in the mood to lose his money.
Red Satin Gentlemen’s Club is owned by the Canellis. Inside of the establishment, the walls, the carpet, and the furniture all bear that crimson hue from which its moniker is derived. The women are virtually naked both on stage and off and the men are rowdy, boozed up, and are quick to part with their dollars as evidenced by the fact Carlotta and I just made fifty bucks as we walked from the entry to the back.