Baby Bundt Cake Confusion (Murder in the Mix Book 31) Page 3

  Great. Leave it to me to cause a scene—as I try to avoid a scene.

  Cormack shakes her head. “It’s not a wonder you don’t know who the father of your child is. Rumor has it, you don’t even know who your own father is.”

  A choking sound comes from me. “My biological father is Mayor Nash.” I decide to leave the man who raised me out of this horror show for now. Joseph Lemon was my true father in every way.

  Cormack and Cressida share a snide look.

  “So you think.” Cormack lifts a brow. “Or is that just a line Carlina fed you to get you off her back? And land herself on her own back with Mayor Nash on top!”

  I suck in a sharp breath as a crowd begins to gather.

  “All right, enough,” Everett roars as he holds up a finger to the two menaces before us.

  “Carlotta would never make something like that up,” I say as Everett pulls me close to him. I think he’s more than well aware I’m about to coldcock a couple of ditzes and make sure everyone here has a reunion to remember. I glance back at Carlotta. “Tell ’em you wouldn’t make that up.”

  Carlotta’s mouth falls open. “I, bab, ub, hub… I’d best go looking for that ghost dog.”

  “Carlotta!” I snap as I grab her by the wrist before she can make her escape. “Are you trying to tell me that Mayor Nash is not my father?”

  “Of course, he’s your father, Lot. I think. These nitwits have me all twisted around.”

  Cressida gurgles out a laugh. “I guess that means there’s more than one man in the running for your paternity, too. The trampy fruit didn’t fall far from the trampy tree.”

  “Carlotta, is this really true?” My voice hikes at the woman who bore me.

  Her mouth falls open again as she looks to the ceiling, and dear God, if she doesn’t look like a Thanksgiving turkey that I’m about to roast twelve ways till Sunday.

  “We will talk,” I hiss her way just as Evie steps up.

  “What’s all the ruckus?” Evie demands as she gives both Cormack and Cressida the evil eye. “What are you two dumbos doing to my mom?”

  Cressida takes a satisfied breath. “Not a thing, sweetie. Her own paternity is in the air, much like that of the question mark swimming in her belly. I’ll tell you what, Linka. I’ll donate one hundred thousand dollars to the Honey Hollow General Hospital neonatal unit if you announce your paternity reveal on the Marissa Popovich Show.”

  “No way,” I tell her. “That’s a national show designed to bring humiliation and disgrace to its guests. I would never do anything to hurt my child, Noah, or Everett. This is a private matter, and it’s staying that way.”

  Evie steps in close. “That’s sort of a lot of money, Mom.”

  I shake my head at her. “I can’t be swayed by the almighty dollar.”

  Serena steps in close. “That money could mean a much-needed renovation to both the NICU and the PICU.”

  I know that she’s talking about the neonatal and the pediatric intensive care units, and now my heart feels heavy that I’m outright refusing the money.

  It seems every critical eye in the bourgeoning crowd around us is on me as if they’re awaiting an answer themselves.

  “I said no and I mean it. I’m sorry, but that show is centered on nothing more than voyeuristic humiliation and I won’t put my family through it.”

  “Okay”—Cressida shrugs—“have it your way. I’ll donate two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to any children’s unit at Honey Hollow General Hospital if you do your paternity reveal on live TV. But since you’ve deemed Marissa Popovich beneath you, how about something a little more local? Like the Getting Candid with Candace Show?”

  A light round of applause breaks out among us.

  “No,” I’m quick to refuse it. “But I’m sure there are plenty of people who would be willing to take you up on that offer.”

  “It’s not available to anyone but you.” Cressida spears me with that obnoxious look on her face because she thinks she’s bested me.

  “You’d better do it, Lot,” Carlotta whispers. “People have their phones out and pointed in your direction.”

  Everett holds up a hand “It’s not happening. If the children’s unit is in need of money, I’m sure the townspeople of Honey Hollow can throw a fundraiser together for it. But our family is off-limits.”

  “One million dollars.” Cressida flexes a short-lived smile.

  I glance around at all of the frozen faces awaiting my response—frozen from all the Botox, I’m sure. And I can’t help but note that more than a few phones are trained in my direction. If I refuse a one million dollar payday for the hospital, my bakery could reap the backlash, not to mention that Noah and Everett have dealt with enough backlash from being in my proximity let alone for potentially giving me a child.

  “We’ll think about it.” I flash a short-lived smile right back at Cressida.

  The crowd breaks out into applause once again, and soon the room swirls back to its regularly scheduled merriment as the music seems to tick up a notch in both volume and speed.

  The tall man, Judge Owen Kellerman, comes back with his wife, the redheaded Ariella, as they share a warm laugh.

  Ariella shakes her head at Noah and Everett. “Leave it to the two of you to bring the drama once again. I knew things were still hostile between you, but I had no idea you were fighting over yet another woman. I guess some things never change.”

  Owen honks out another laugh. “How about that, Everett. You’re still shaking your wick at anything in a skirt. Just like your old man, huh?”

  Everett doesn’t bother with a verbal comeback. He goes in swinging and lands a right hook over the man’s left eye, sending him stumbling into the crowd as the room lights up with screams.

  Owen tries to charge Everett, but Noah restrains him from behind while Alex does his best to hold Everett back.

  Two things run through my mind at once. I have never seen Everett go from zero to locked and loaded in a single bound—outside of the bedroom, of course. And hey? Maybe this isn’t such a bad thing. Surely they’ll give Everett the boot from this snazzy, snooty shindig, and I’ll have to go home with him seeing that I’m his official plus one. I’ll be forced to take my staff with me, along with Noah, and we can all pretend this high school horror never even happened.

  Owen touches his eye a moment. “I’d have you hauled off for assault Everett, but unlike you, I’m a merciful judge. You’ve been through enough with Cressida hiding your love child, Noah impregnating your wife, and let’s not forget the fact you’re staring down the barrel of a prison term. I’m just glad you showed your true colors here tonight. Finally these girls who have been panting after you for the last umpteenth years can see that you’re nothing more than a menace with money.”

  With everything in me I want to echo Everett’s words, it takes one to know one, but I decide to keep my lips zipped.

  “Come on.” Ariella plucks her husband free from Noah’s grip. “I think we need a drink.” They zip off in the direction of the bar, but they don’t get far before a man with dark hair and a neatly trimmed goatee steps their way and begins to rail into Owen as if he were about to blacken his other eye. And I’m rooting for him to do just that. I think I recognize the man with the neatly trimmed goatee from what little I’ve seen of Money on the Med and the tabloid pictures. I’m positive that’s Slater Sutton.

  Just as I’m about to turn back to comfort Everett, I catch Jasmine giving a rather violent push to a woman with long silver hair. The woman is pretty, as seems to be the requirement for the female student body of FPA. Her hair looks to have been dyed that gleaming color, but it looks fabulous on her and expensive.

  The woman tries to grab onto Jasmine, but Jasmine slaps her hand away before heading in this direction and I quickly turn to Everett in hopes she didn’t see me witnessing the hostile exchange.

  “Essex”—Jasmine wastes no time zipping in close—“let me take you into a dark corner and kiss all of your booboos like the good old days.” She gives a hearty wink and I’m suddenly sick.

  I glance around and note that Evie is back to working the dessert table with Carlotta, and I’m hoping she missed out on the part where her daddy gave one of his old classmates a knuckle sandwich.

  “I’m sorry, Jasmine”—Everett carefully removes her wandering hands—“but I’m a happily married man.”

  The dark-haired beauty sucks in a quick breath. “Oh, come on, Essex. We’ve all heard the rumors. Your wife is secretly in love with Noah. It’s just a little bit of history repeating itself.” She tries to latch onto his tie and the petite blonde I met earlier, Jen, snatches her by the wrist.

  “Would you stop?” Jen riots right in the girl’s face. “Everett is married. He’s off-limits. I’m sick and tired of watching you demand everything go your way. Lottie is having a baby! And so what if it’s Noah’s? That’s none of our business. It’s bad enough Cressida had to make a spectacle out of herself, and my word how things have not changed one bit in that department. But you can’t leave well enough alone, can you, Jazzy? You just push and you push and you push until you take someone to their breaking point! Well, guess what? I’m sick and tired of you dragging me down with you. Just because you sank your ship, doesn’t mean I’m interested in sinking mine.” She zips off into the crowd and the room seems to take a collective gasp. All eyes are on Jasmine as if they were anxious to see her next move.

  “What are you all looking at?” Jasmine riots. “Ariella?” she barks as she turns to stalk off and bumps into that dark-haired man I saw giving Owen a piece of his mind.

  Hey? Maybe he’s going to give her a piece of his mind next?

  “And you!” Jasmine pokes a finger in his chest. “You are not getting away with anything
. You don’t get to ruin me. I ruin you! When I’m through with you, you’ll regret the day you ever met me!”

  “I’m already there, sweetheart,” he bellows back as the two of them take off in opposite directions.

  The music grows a notch louder, and soon it seems as if all bodies have shifted back to the dance floor.

  “Come on, Lot.” Noah pulls me close. “Let’s get out there and dance. I’m not letting a few theatrics ruin my night.”

  “What?” I squawk. “We should be packing it up and heading back to Honey Hollow where we belong. These people are horrible.”

  Everett nods. “And that’s why we shouldn’t let them win. Noah is right.” Everett takes me by the hand. “We need to get out there and have a good time. I’m not letting Cressida or Owen think they chased us out of here.”

  “What about the homicide?” Clearly I’m desperate if I’m grasping for the nearest killer I can find to help rectify this night.

  Noah holds up his phone. “I already called Ivy. And she’s called for extra patrol. I’ve got it handled.”

  Detective Ivy Fairbanks is Noah’s counterpart down at the homicide division. She’s a leggy redhead who has had the hots for Noah ever since she laid eyes on him. Suffice it to say, I’m not her biggest fan and vice versa.

  I glance over to the refreshment table where I see Jasmine, Ariella, and her testy husband Owen noshing on a slice of my Bundt cake.

  “Fine. I don’t see what a little dancing can hurt. Maybe it’ll shake the baby out of me a few weeks early. If my water breaks, we’ll be forced to cut out early and I won’t take no for an answer.”

  The three of us let loose on the dance floor with both Noah and Everett doing a rather sexy rendition of a dance-off as they vie for my attention, and believe me, the crowd of panting women is very much eating it up, as am I.

  After a few songs, my feet begin to sing as well, and my stomach muscles have tightened a time or two but nothing I can’t handle. I bet my sugar cookie is looking to expand the swimming pool. Every time I think I can’t get any bigger, I grow another few inches in circumference—or feet as it seems.

  Noah pulls me in and dots a kiss to the top of my head. “You’re a good sport, Lottie. Ivy just texted and said she’s at the entry. I’ll go speak with her for a second. Don’t leave this room.” He points to Everett.

  “Lemon is staying with me. She’s perfectly safe.”

  “Don’t screw things up,” Noah growls.

  “That would be your expertise,” Everett says as his chest expands.

  “Funny.” Noah’s dimples dig in, no smile.

  “Don’t worry. Noah.” Everett sweeps the room with his eyes. “I’ve got Ethel with me. Lemon and I will be plenty safe.”

  Ethel would be the Glock handgun Noah and Everett chipped in to buy me a while back. I was toting her around whenever I wasn’t at the bakery, and seeing that I’m usually at the bakery that wasn’t a whole lot of toting. But Everett brought her along tonight. I think he had a feeling things would go sideways.

  “All right, I’ll be right back.” Noah takes off into the crowd like a man on a mission. And he is. A man looking to stop a potential homicide.

  Everett pulls me in and lands a kiss to the tip of my nose. “I don’t know about you, Lemon, but I’m piping in this suit. It looks like the back door is open. How about we head that way and get a breath of fresh air?”

  “Are you kidding? I’d pay you to take me out of this room for a minute.”

  We thread our way through the crowd and step outside that opened door into the cool night air. There’s a wooded area just beyond what looks to be a service parking lot. The snow is starting to melt all across Vermont, as evidenced by the fact the ground is slushy, quickly pooling into puddles everywhere you look. A few large trucks are parked side by side next to what looks to be a building housing a trash receptacle, and just beyond that there’s a pile of clothes on the ground.

  “What’s that?” I ask as I take a step in that direction.

  “I don’t know,” Everett says as he heads on over and I follow along.

  Both Everett and I groan at the very same time as we freeze solid in our tracks.

  Lying slumped on the ground are both Jasmine Albright and Owen Kellerman, each with a bullet wound to their chest and a couple of plates of my lemon Bundt cake spilled onto the ground beside them.

  It looks as if Jasmine and Owen won’t be attending any more high school reunions.

  Jasmine Albright and Judge Owen Kellerman are dead.

  Lottie

  “They’ve been killed,” I pant.

  “Get back in the hotel, Lemon.” Everett quickly taps his fingers over his phone.

  “Okay, I will.” The words expel from me in a long white plume. I glance out past the bodies and note a set of footprints, nothing discernable, just piles of snow swished back and forth as if whoever did this was slipping badly as they tried to take off. There’s a green glint over the right side of Owen’s suit jacket, and about six feet out from Jasmine sits a small metal object. “Everett, there’s a gun.”

  “I see it.” The words stream from him, pressured, as he tries to regulate his breathing. These were Everett’s old schoolmates, this can’t be easy for him to witness.

  Last month, on the night of Valentine’s Day, the ghost of my grandma Nell came back to pay me a visit. She told me that something was coming this way. She specifically instructed me to stay on alert, that things would not be as they seem, that enemies were lurking where I least suspected them, and that I should tread lightly. And here we are, met with a double homicide.

  My goodness, could this be what she was trying to warn me about?

  The sound of women chattering and the clatter of high heels erupt from behind, and I turn to see Ariella and Jen having a rather tense conversion.

  “Oh hi, Lottie.” Ariella navigates Jen in this direction, and both women spot the horror at the very same time.

  Both Ariella and Jen start in on howling screams, which attracts a slow trickle of people to drift this way from the ballroom.

  A man in a dark coat comes running this way from the dead center of the parking lot, and I can tell by his dark hair and neatly trimmed goatee that it’s the same man that was having a heated conversation with both Owen and Jasmine. In fact, I recognize him to be Jasmine’s soon-to-be ex, Slater Sutton. But I suppose any litigation they had in the matrimonial area is off the table now, too.

  “What the hell?” He looks from Everett and me to where the bodies lie slumped, and he rakes his fingers through his hair. “Did you do this, Baxter? Did you gun down Owen because you couldn’t take a little taunting?”

  A crowd quickly gathers, and before Everett can say a word, Ariella takes a few staggering steps forward.

  “Everett, did you do this?” Ariella pants. “Did you shoot my husband in cold blood?”

  “No,” Everett says it strong and commanding and his voice echoes throughout the vicinity. “I don’t know who’s responsible for this, but it wasn’t me.”

  “Of course, he didn’t do it!” a female voice pipes up just as Carlotta crops up next to us. “Sexy wouldn’t kill a woman or a man. He doesn’t even have a gun on him, for Pete’s sake!”

  “Do you?” Jen steps forward, her eyes expanding in terror as she looks to her old friend.

  Everett looks my way and winces as Ethel plows through both our minds at once.

  “Look, I didn’t fire any gun,” Everett says just as a flood of officers takes over the scene, and soon the area is being cordoned off.

  Noah pulls both Everett and me to the side, and Detective Ivy Fairbanks, the aforementioned leggy redhead with the hots for Noah, joins us as well.

  “What the hell happened?” Noah looks pale as if he could see the writing on the proverbial wall, and it seems to be spelling out more trouble for poor Everett.

  Ivy pulls her long dark coat around herself as she glares my way.

  “Why are you always at the scene of the crime, Lottie? And isn’t it bad enough Judge Baxter is being accused of moving a body from the morgue, now he’s stepped into another pile of dung no thanks to your morbid bad luck? That is, if you believe in luck.”