Chocolate Chip Cookie Conundrum (Murder in the Mix Book 32) Page 3

  We give a quick nod and a polite hello in response.

  “The three of you are going to do great,” she says as she pats the man on her left on the back. “This is Woody Hawthorne,” she says, nodding to a man clad in black with what looks to be a Western style shirt, button-down, white whipstitching around the seams, and tucked in his chest pocket is a red handkerchief poking out like a warning. He’s tall, thin, gray stubble on his cheeks and the top of his head, nice light eyes, and a toothy smile. “And Burt Walker.” She nods to the older man on the other side of her dressed in an ill-fitting suit, long face, hound dog eyes, and a shock of dark hair. Both seem to be in their late fifties, if I were to guess. Both are nominally handsome, and seem nice enough. “Woody is the director, and Burt’s the producer.”

  “Woody?” Noah gives the man a quick handshake. “How ya doing, buddy? It’s me Noah, from the sheriff’s station. We met a month ago when your production company was filming a PSA. Moody Productions, wasn’t it?”

  “That’s right. Hey—” Woody’s smile quickly fades. “Did you ever get your job back?”

  “Reinstated just a few weeks ago,” Noah says with pride.

  Both Noah and Everett were suspended from their jobs right after they were arrested for moving Florenza Canelli’s body. And at the moment it’s only Everett taking the heat. And boy, do I ever feel terrible about it, too.

  “Glad to hear it,” Woody says. “Hear that, Burt?” He nods to the man in the suit. “You’ll only have one potential felon on the air today.” He laughs as he looks to Everett. “I’m just teasing, Judge Baxter. But let’s face it, Candace gave the green light because you’re a controversial bunch.”

  “Don’t listen to him.” Burt offers a warm smile. “This is all about you and that beautiful baby. Are you all ready for the results?”

  The sound of voices escalating comes from somewhere near the stage and we look that way to see Candace Cottonwood arguing with a redheaded woman in a matching red dress and a pillbox hat.

  Kit sighs. “I’d better take care of that,” she says, taking off.

  Woody shakes his head at the sight. “Nobody can put that fire out but me.” He speeds off in their direction as well.

  Burt takes a breath as he offers the three of us a stern look.

  “Gird yourselves, gentlemen,” he says as he looks to Noah and Everett. “One of you is about to become a father. Show starts in twenty minutes.” He takes off as that rooster pops up again and lets out an ornery caw.

  “Good Lord, as if this wasn’t a circus already, they’ve got a rooster on the loose.” It starts to strut in this direction and I do my best to wave it off with my hands. “Shoo,” I say. “I know you’re after my cookies. Go on, get,” I say as the rooster flaps his wings and catches air as he rises a good three feet and lands right over the refreshment table. “I knew it!” I say as I grab Everett and push him in that direction. “Get him out of here!” I squawk. “Go on! Get out of here,” I shout at the rogue bird.

  “And here I never thought I’d hear you say those words, Lottie,” Noah says as he grabs Everett by the lapel and starts to drag him toward the open maw of the back exit.

  “What? No!” I say, pulling Everett back. “I’m talking about that rooster.”

  I point behind me, but there’s no sign of the ornery fowl in sight.

  “Lemon?” Everett’s voice is tight. “Did you say you saw a rooster?”

  I give a slow nod. “And you didn’t?” I close my eyes a moment.

  “You know what this means, Lot.” Noah stiffens as he grows serious.

  “Yes,” I whisper. “It means murder.”

  Lottie

  “And these are my Vermont Best in Show awards,” Candace Cottonwood says as she waves a hand over an entire shelf of thick, long spears that look like crystal bowling pins with her name etched onto them. “And that concludes the tour of my office.” A laugh trills from her as she offers the three of us a tight smile.

  The office in question sits directly behind the set. It’s painted a deep shade of navy, has plush white carpet, white leather sofas, and an expansive desk that actually looks as if it’s getting some good mileage judging by the files stacked on top of it.

  Candace formally introduced herself to Everett, Noah, and me then promptly took us on a quick tour of the studio, concluding right here in her private office.

  A bright red file sitting on her desk with the words death of Zack Ross printed over the front in white lettering catches my attention. Candace follows my gaze and the smile quickly fades from her face.

  “Everybody out,” she hisses.

  Noah, Everett, and I exchange a quick glance before doing just as she requested.

  Noah gives Everett a stern look as we head out into the hall. “Did you see the name on that file?”

  “Yes,” I say, stepping in his line of vision. “It said death of Zack Ross.”

  “I did see that.” Everett blows out a breath. “Lemon, Zack Ross was Candace’s husband of three days. He drowned on their honeymoon. Police said it was an accident. Apparently, he was thrown by a rogue wave and got caught up in a riptide. Noah and I were doing a little research on the show yesterday and we stumbled upon it.”

  “That’s terrible,” I say. “When did this happen?”

  “Ten years ago. Two years later she went into broadcasting, and here we are.”

  “Well, she’s definitely at the top of her game.” I blow out a steady breath. “I guess she threw herself into her work.”

  We head back out to the set and Carlotta and my sisters run my way.

  “Are you nervous, Lot? Are you gonna pee your pants?” Carlotta jumps from leg to leg as if she were about to pee her pants herself.

  “I’m fine for now.” A shiver takes over as I look to Noah and Everett, who seem to be having an intense conversation a few feet away. “I don’t know how they’re going to take this. They’ve both been bonding with the baby with skin-on-skin contact, changing diapers, giving baths. They just love her so much.”

  Meg snorts. “Skin-on-skin contact? Baths? I bet they’ve been doing the same with her mother, too.”

  I frown over at my younger sister. Meg has harshly dyed black hair and copious amounts of kohl ringed around her eyes to give her that raccoon effect she’s after. She’s clad in black leather with combat boots and a red bandana tied around her neck and has a scary affect about her in general. Shockingly, Lyla Nell coos happily while her Auntie Meg is holding her. I won’t lie, I was expecting tears. Meg used to work the Las Vegas wrestling circuit as Madge the Badge, but now she works as a dance instructor at a gentlemen’s club down in Leeds. She also does some part-time work at the Honey Pot Diner, right next door to my bakery.

  Lainey giggles. “Be careful, Lottie. Isn’t skin-on-skin contact and baths the way you got into this predicament to begin with?” Lainey has caramel-colored hair and hazel eyes just like me, and for so long I believed we were blood-related despite that adoption story my parents kept trying to sell me. “By the way, cute predicament. Lyla Nell is making me want another baby!”

  I can’t help but laugh at that one. Lainey had a baby girl last August and baby Josie is as cute as can be.

  “Stay strong, Lainey,” I tell her. “You can visit with Lyla Nell anytime you want to get your infant fix.”

  “You’re right. Plus, Forest’s head would probably explode if I told him I was knocked up again. We’re still not getting a decent night’s sleep.”

  “Really?” I balk, more than slightly horrified by the revelation. “You mean I have months of sleeplessness to come?”

  “Try years.” She wrinkles her nose.

  “Years?” I squawk just as a short bell goes off and lights start to flash, prompting both of my sisters to rush back to their seats.

  “What does she mean years?” I ask, looking at Carlotta. “Why do babies hate sleeping so much?”

  “They slept for nine months, Lot. They’re all caught up and ready to have a good time. Don’t worry. You have Sexy and Foxy to do your bidding.” Carlotta leans in. “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my history with Candace, but the truth is, I didn’t want to worry you. She’s a mean old battle-axe. And she’s just as vicious today as she was yesteryear. She’s the reason I turned to Harry for comfort all those years ago.” Mayor Harry Nash is my biological father. I just found this out a couple of years ago, thus the fact I still call him Mayor Nash out of habit, and yes, he’s right here in the audience ready to support me. “I hate her, Lot. Like I said, she’s just as cruel today as she was when I was a kid.”

  “Carlotta, hate is a strong word. And you’re older now.” I refrain from adding wiser. I don’t see any reason to lie to her.

  “Nah, I mean it. I hate her. And if she starts in on anything nasty about my past, don’t think for a minute I won’t be jumping on that stage and starting one of those family brawls this show is so famous for—only it won’t be family I’ll be brawling with.”

  Evie pops up from seemingly nowhere and laughs. “Cray-Cray, you are the coolest!” She howls at the thought. Evie is taller than me, has rivers of black velvet hair, and her daddy’s intense blue eyes. She’s sharp as a whip—and sometimes resorts to calling Carlotta Cray-Cray, which solidifies that whole sharp as a whip thing. “Mom, this is so freaking awesome! Conner is here to support you guys, too. And so are Dash and Kyle.”

  Conner is Evie’s blond, brickhouse of a boyfriend. Dash is her best friend, and Kyle is her boyfriend. Fun fact: both Conner and Kyle were once exclusively Evie’s boyfriends at the very same time. I guess you could say I was a dicey influence on her since I still reference Noah as my boyfriend on occasion, mostly out of habit. Mostly.

  “Tell them I said thank you.” I grima
ce over at her. “Are you going to be okay, no matter what the outcome?”

  “Please.” She rolls her eyes. “Uncle Noah is just as much my dad as my dad is. No matter what happens today, nothing will change the fact that Lyla Nell is my baby sister. I’d better go. I’m sitting right next to Glam Glam. Sorry to say it, but someone needs to babysit Glam Glam while she babysits Lyla Nell. She’s already threatened to read the kid all of her books. And if she does that, Lyla Nell is going to have more carnal knowledge as you’d say, Mom, than the girls down at Red Satin by the time she’s three.” She skips off just as Mayor Harry Nash—aka my biological pops—sneaks up on us.

  Harry Nash has wavy light hair, a cheerful countenance, and more than a little mischief in his eyes.

  “You’re lookin’ good, kid.” He offers me a quick embrace. He’s donned a suit and a bright red tie and looks mighty mayoral for the occasion. He and Carlotta hit it off while he was still married to my mother’s friend Chrissy, and because of that extra-marital affair—well, here I am. Mayor Nash and Chrissy have three children as well. They’re all about my age, late twenties, my half-sisters, Kelleth and Aspen, and my sweet and awesome half-brother, Finn. “Are you ready to find out if I’m your daddy?” He gives a little wink when he says it. Last month there was some debate regarding the issue, and the dingbat who dreamed up this paternity reveal scheme threw my own paternity into the mix simply as an extra cruel measure.

  “I’m more than ready,” I tell him.

  Carlotta waves it off. “Don’t worry, Lot. You’re his kid.”

  I frown over at her. Last month she hinted that there might be a chance that I belong to either Jimmy Canelli or Luke Lazzari—neither of which I invited to show up for this farce. And neither of which was tested to prove their genetics. If Harry isn’t my father, then that’s the end of it. I’m not going to barrel my way into a crime family simply because I’ve got the genes to do so. Besides, I already tried to pull the family card with Jimmy Canelli to get him to remove the hit off Everett, but it was a no-go. Some potential father he turned out to be.

  “I’ll catch you on the flip side.” Mayor Nash pecks a kiss to my cheek before offering a touch of a morose smile. “It will all turn out for the best.” He takes off and Carlotta squints over at me.

  “One more thing about Candace,” she whispers. “If she starts spouting things off about me, just know they’re probably untrue.”

  “What kind of things?” I ask, but it’s too late. She heads for the front row and takes a seat on the other side of Evie.

  My eyes flit over the crowd and thousands are all facing this way. It’s enough to take my breath away. I see the real culprits of today’s festivities out in front as well, Cormack Featherby and Cressida Bentley, the ditzy socialites who bought my mother’s inn.

  All of this hullabaloo is so that I can get my mother’s B&B back to her, but only Cressida was interested in surrendering her half. She didn’t need the money, she wanted humiliation—but settled for both. And well, I’m sacrificing myself, Noah, Everett, and Lyla Nell’s dignity to do it. I suppose Evie’s, too. Even though she thinks it’s oh so cool at the moment, she might feel differently come tomorrow. She’s a teenager. She’s prone to changing her mind and slamming doors to prove it.

  Kit Knickerson, the tall woman with short hair, quickly shuttles me to the stage and the bright lights are already warming me up far too much.

  “All you have to do, Lottie, is sit right between your men. Candace will ask a few benign questions and we’ll get right to the paternity reveal, short and sweet.”

  “Short and sweet.” I nod. “Okay. I can do this,” I say mostly to myself.

  A redhead speeds this way, the exact redhead I saw earlier having it out with Candace.

  “Fern Cranston, glad to meet you.” She jabs a hand my way, and I’m quick to shake it. She’s a touch shorter than me, older by ten years or so, a larger woman, has shoulder-length red hair that’s layered in a cute shag, bright green eyes, and cartoonish red painted lips that seem to stretch across her face with an ear-to-ear smile.

  Kit nods. “Fern is the best-selling author of the Death in Vermont Mystery Series. She’s a frequent guest. She’s doing the spot after yours, promoting her new book. What’s it called again?” She looks to the grinning redhead.

  “Death of a Cheater.” She winks. “The title really resonated with the women in the twenty-five to eighty demographic, so my publisher went with it.” She shrugs before leaning in. “It’s based on a true story, and boy, I can’t wait to get it into the hot little hands of my readers. It’s a real page-turner, if you know what I mean.”

  “I’ll be sure to pick up a copy,” I tell her. “I love mysteries, especially true crime, and your book sounds like it’s both.”

  A couple of voices escalating from my left garners our attention and we look over to see Candace rioting at Burt the producer. They’re still backstage, so thankfully the studio audience isn’t privy to their row. Just as I’m about to turn away, I see Candace haul off and slap the man.

  Wow.

  And goodness up in heaven, if he doesn’t look as if he wants to haul off and do the very same thing to her.

  Another short bell goes off and everyone scrambles about as Kit navigates me to the sofa, and soon Noah and Everett are seated on either side of me.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whimper to the both of them as I take up their hands. “I’m sorry I’ve ruined your lives, and now I’m dragging you down to the lowest dregs of society.” My chest thumps as tears fill my eyes.

  Candace hustles over and glares at me as she takes a seat.

  “Buck up, Lottie,” she grouses. “Nobody cries on my show until I make them.”

  Kit snaps the clapperboard. “And three, two, one—we’re live!”

  Candace stretches a plasticine smile across her face, and I can’t help but note it looks sickly sweet, not to mention one hundred percent fake.

  “Welcome to another addition of Getting Candid with Candace! I’m Candace Cottonwood, your host, and I have with me Honey Hollow’s own infamous throuple!”

  “Teamwork makes the dream work!” someone shouts from the audience and it sounds decidedly like Carlotta.

  Good grief.

  Candace bellows out a laugh. “The two gentlemen we have here today are Detective Noah Fox and Judge Essex Everett Baxter—he lets me call him Essex.”

  She winks in the camera as if that meant something. It doesn’t. In fact, if he did let her call him Essex, it would certainly mean something. It would mean that she was either related to him, and thus stubbornly refused to call him by his preferred middle name, or she’s done the sideways hustle with him—in bed. And that last scenario is far more common than one might think.

  Before Everett met me, he was quite the playboy. And even though I more than qualify to shout his formal moniker from the rooftops, I still call him by the name I’m most comfortable with.

  Candace smears a smile my way, inadvertently showing off the fact that greasy red lipstick of hers has stained her lips, and I can’t help but think it looks like blood.

  “Let’s not forget the mommy at the center of today’s paternity debate. Baker Lottie Lemon, the owner of the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery right there on Main Street in adorable little Honey Hollow.”

  Usually I’m thrilled when my bakery gets any kind of coverage. But right now, I’m not so much thrilled as I am embarrassed to drag my sweet little bakeshop into this mess. Then again, everyone else I love has already been sucked into the muck and the mire, what’s a business or two?

  The three of us are quick to thank her for having us on, but I can tell by both Noah’s and Everett’s dispositions neither of them is thrilled to be here, and it just makes me feel ten times worse. It’s not like I expected anyone to be hopping up and down with joy, but now that this nightmare is playing out in real time, it feels as if the walls of the universe are crashing down around me—and smashing everyone else on the sofa along with me.

  “Now”—Candace lifts her chin—“let’s brief the audience, and our at-home viewers, on a little bit of history.”

  I’m about to do just that and she holds up a finger.

  “My show, I get to spill all the dirty little details.” She gives a sly wink just as that ghostly rooster bops this way. Great, just what I need. “Lottie, you met Noah once the two of you were tangled up in the murder of your former landlord, isn’t that right? And you were actually accused of killing her, too! Isn’t that true?”