Chocolate Chip Cookie Conundrum (Murder in the Mix Book 32) Read online

  “Yes, but I didn’t do it.” I give a nervous smile to the camera. “Noah and I cracked the case and apprehended the real killer who is now serving time behind bars.”

  Noah shakes his head. “That was all you, Lottie. You solved that homicide on your own.”

  “That’s right, she did.” Candace gives him a sharp look. “Just the way she has countless other homicides that have occurred in and around Honey Hollow ever since then. Don’t you think it’s suspicious, Detective, that not only does Lottie solve the crimes, but that she is always the one that discovers the body? Not to mention the fact one of her desserts is always eerily present on or around the scene of the crime? I don’t know about you, but I think I smell something fishy here.”

  “Objection.” Everett lifts a finger.

  “Overruled, Judge Baxter,” she snips his way. “And speaking of legalese, let’s put the spotlight on you for a moment. Shall we? Let’s see, you were the judge in session the day Lottie here was being sued in small claims court by the very landlord that died under suspicious circumstances and you just so happened to side in Lottie’s favor. Did the fact you were attracted to Lottie play into your decision?”

  “No,” Everett barks it out clear and sharp.

  “Oh, I think it did,” she’s quick to contest him with a smirk. “In fact, you have quite the reputation when it comes to the ladies, Judge Baxter. I have it on good authority that you’ve slept with a wide range of women over the last few years alone. And let’s get this straight, you, Judge Baxter, are also known as Mr. Sexy. Isn’t that correct?”

  “That’s right,” Carlotta shouts from the audience. “Every barista on the planet knows it’s true!”

  Candace nods her way. “I’d go as far as saying every woman.”

  “Well, actually”—I clear my throat—“it was indeed a barista who started that whole Mr. Sexy thing, but she was far from wrong.” The audience gives off a few quick catcalls.

  Candace squints over at Noah. “Detective Fox, you and Lottie were together first from what I understand. But a little bird has recently whispered to me that Everett was, in fact, your stepbrother at one point in the past. And do you know what else that little bird whispered to me? That the two of you had a falling-out over a girl in high school. The love of both of your lives—Cormack Featherby.”

  “That’s me!” Cormack’s voice squeaks from the audience, and I roll my eyes at that one.

  “Not true.” Everett is the first to deny Cormack bragging rights to his undying affection.

  “Correct,” Noah says.

  “So it’s true?” Candace gawks. “Cormack Featherby is the love of your life?”

  Noah’s eyes widen with horror. “I was responding to Everett. He was correct. Lottie here is the love of my life.” He turns my way. “I swear it, Lot.”

  The audience coos. Although I distinctly hear a couple of boos in there, too.

  “I believe you.” I give his hand a squeeze. “Candace, I think maybe we should move on.”

  “I agree,” she says it short and curt as she glares right at me. “Now let’s get this straight. You’ve bounced between both of these men back and forth like a ping-pong ball, haven’t you? You secretly married Everett just before Christmas while you were still dating Noah.”

  “That was just a technicality to help Everett with his trust fund, but it turns out, it wasn’t even really needed. Anyway, we’re long past that.” I hope.

  “So you’re saying Judge Baxter manipulated you into marrying him?”

  “No!”

  Noah’s chest vibrates with a silent laugh. “It’s true.”

  “It’s not true,” Everett growls. “I didn’t go in with that intention. I was only made aware of certain details moments before the ceremony.”

  Noah shrugs. “Sounds as if you knew. Face it, Everett, you lured Lottie there that day as a means to marry her because that’s what you wanted. It’s what you’ve wanted from the beginning. You couldn’t stand that she was with me or to see how happy we were. You were still ticked about me stealing Cormack from you all those years ago. You were going to pull out all the stops to make sure I wasn’t going to have Lottie.”

  Everett bares his fangs. “That’s a load of crap and you know it.”

  “This is a family show.” Candace chortles as the war of words between them grows progressively salty.

  Noah shoots Everett a dark look. “You wish you could have what Lottie and I do. The truth is, you said you’d dissolve the marriage once the terms to the trust were met—and long after you learned they were never needed, you’re still married to her. Your marriage is nothing but a weak attempt at keeping her by your side. You’re afraid if you do divorce her that she’ll come right back to me—where she belongs.”

  “Do you hear that, Lemon?” Everett says while shooting daggers at Noah with a heated stare. “He wants to tell you where you belong.” He leans past me. “Newsflash, Noah, Lemon doesn’t need you telling her where she belongs. Maybe that’s why she’s with me to begin with? I let her form her own opinions.”

  “Don’t mess with me, Baxter,” Noah seethes. “I will drill a hole in your skull with my fist, and I won’t give it a second thought.”

  “That’s because you’re impulsive and make one goofy move after another without giving it a second thought,” Everett shoots back. “If you had been honest about your marital status when you were first dating Lemon, then maybe we wouldn’t be on this couch to begin with. But you can’t stop screwing things up, can you, Noah?”

  “I’m going to screw up your face.”

  Both men jump to their feet and go on the attack. Before I know it, they’ve staggered about six feet in front of me and are throwing punch after punch at one another.

  “Goodness!” Candace laughs with glee. “And we didn’t even get to the juicy bits yet. Lottie, you were born as the product of an affair by a then junior in high school, Carlotta Sawyer, and the new mayor-elect of Honey Hollow, Harry Nash. But then, I hear, Carlotta hid you away like a dirty secret before abandoning you. Carlotta had a few dirty secrets that I’m not so sure even you are up to speed on. Did you know—”

  The next thing I do know is that Carlotta is up on stage, upturning that coffee table, just like she said she would, before throwing a punch right over Candace Cottonwood’s chin just as someone shouts cut.

  About three different beefy men rush the stage and break up the fights between Noah and Everett, and Candace and Carlotta.

  “Come on, little lady,” the beefy man holding Carlotta’s wrists behind her back shouts. “You just lost your ticket to the show.”

  “Oh, let her stay!” Candace calls out from the sea of makeup artists who have flocked around her to powder her face and comb her hair. “I want her to hear all the wonderful things I have to share about her.”

  “You can’t share anything about me!” Carlotta riots as the beefy man continues to hold her back. “You don’t have my permission!”

  “I don’t need your permission, Unibrow,” Candace shouts back.

  “I hate you!” Carlotta screams. “So help me, if you say a single word about me, I’ll kill you! I’ll take one of those trophies you’re so proud of and clobber you over the head with it.” She squirms her way out of the beefy man’s arms and takes off for the audience again.

  “I need a break.” Candace tosses up her hands and heads backstage.

  I rise from my seat, and to my horror both Noah and Everett have done a disappearing act.

  “Great,” I mutter as the crew floats around me as if I wasn’t even visible. I squint out at the crowd, but the lights are so bright everyone looks like a murky shadow.

  My feet start to move, taking me backstage, and right in front of me about thirty feet out, I catch a glimpse of my reflection—only I’m not wearing the same clothes. In fact, I’m not making the same face. Her mouth is open and her eyes are bulging. The woman holds up a hand as if to stop me before quickly bolting into a dark alcove.

  “Wait!” I call out. “Security?” I shout as my adrenaline picks up.

  I need to find help. That’s the woman that’s been stalking me for the last few months. I need to find Everett and Noah.

  I run left and right like a chicken with its head cut off, and speaking of disembodied fowl, I spot that feathered specter as he flaps his dark wings and caws my way.

  “Wait!” I call out after him as he takes off running. “Get back here. I need to have a word with you!” But he doesn’t slow down. Instead, he heads in the direction of Candace Cottonwood’s office and I’m hot on his haunted little heels.

  The air grows warmer as I head down the hall, and the scent of Candace’s sugary perfume lingers in the air.

  Burt, the producer, pops up next to me with his ill-fitting suit and serious face. The bags under his eyes look twice their size.

  “Candace?” he bellows. “We’re live in sixty seconds! Get this circus under control!”

  He steps into her office and groans hard, so I peer into the office after him and gasp.

  Carlotta stands before us holding what looks to be a crystal bowling pin in her hand. And at her feet, with a gash to the side of her head, lies Candace’s motionless body. Her legs are splayed out, and in her right hand, pinched between her fingers, is one of my chocolate chip cookies.

  The rooster hops onto the dead woman’s back and lets out a loud cock-a-doodle-doo before dissipating in a flash of miniature stars.

  Candace won’t have to worry about spilling any more secrets.

  Candace Cottonwood is dead.

  Lottie

  “Is she dead?” Carlotta bleats while holding what is clearly the murder weapon. The blood alone on the crystal award is enough to determine that.

  “Of cou
rse, she’s dead,” Burt says, quickly checking the woman’s pulse. “You should know, you killed her.”

  I give a quick look around. Two of the crystal trophies have been knocked to the ground under the shelf they were once on. My eyes flit to her desk and note that red file that read death of Zack Ross is suddenly missing. And on the floor next to the desk a red handkerchief rests over the carpet as if it was dropped in haste. It looks vaguely familiar, but at the moment I can’t seem to pinpoint where or when I saw it last.

  Carlotta belts out a howl—although I’m not sure there’s a single touch of grief in there, more like frustration, and soon enough, the room is teeming with people.

  “Ashford County Sheriff’s Department!” Noah shouts as he raises his badge in the air for all to see. “I need everyone to clear out of this room. I’m putting a call in to the sheriff’s department right now.” And he does just that as Everett wraps his arms around me.

  “Lemon.” He pulls back enough for me to see his lower lip swelling on one side. “What the heck happened? Why is Carlotta holding that Best in Show award and mumbling to herself?”

  Before I can answer, Burt lets out a horrific groan. “She did it!” He points to Carlotta. “I saw her standing here over the body when I walked in. Her daughter saw it, too! She’s guilty. I demand you arrest her, Detective.”

  Noah shoots me a look, and my mouth falls open because I don’t know what to say.

  “Don’t just stand there!” Burt shouts. “We all heard her threatening Candace just a few minutes ago. And she’s killed her in the exact way she threatened to.”

  He’s not wrong. Only I think he is. Sure, she threatened to bash the woman’s head in with one of her awards, but Carlotta would never do that. Would she?

  Soon, the room floods with sheriff’s deputies and we’re all escorted out of the area.

  The tiny hall leading up to Candace’s office is cordoned off as the rest of us congregate in the rear of the studio.

  Kit comes up with tears in her blue eyes that match the exact same hue as her T-shirt.

  Wait…a blue T-shirt?

  “Is it true?” she pants as she looks back in the direction of the melee. “Your mother killed Candace?”

  “No, it’s not true,” I say just as a sheriff’s deputy hauls Carlotta out of the hallway kicking and screaming.

  “I didn’t do it!” she howls. “Foxy! Sexy?” She does a double take in our direction. “Lot Lot! Sexy! You’ve got to help me! I’m innocent, I tell you! I was on my way back there to apologize, I tell ya!”

  “Right.” Kit shakes her head in disbelief as Carlotta is hauled to the back exit.

  “Don’t worry!” I call after her, pulling Everett in that direction. “I’m sure we’ll straighten everything out!”

  Carlotta is shoved into the back of a patrol car and locked inside and she wastes no time slapping her hands against the glass.

  Everett and I step outside the back door of the studio to watch the carnage. The sun is out, but there’s still very much a chill in the air. Spring is here and the air holds the scent of lilacs blooming somewhere in the distance.

  “I’ll take care of this,” Everett shouts as the patrol car speeds away in haste. “Let me get Fiona on the line.” He blows out a heavy breath as he takes a few steps away.

  “What just happened? Are the rumors true? Did Carlotta really kill the woman?” Evie calls out as she heads this way with her friends in tow. “Did they haul Cray-Cray off before I could get a picture of her?”

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “Her mugshot will be public record in no time.” I shudder just saying it.

  “Cool!” She high-fives her friends as they take off back inside.

  “Lemon”—Everett comes over and wraps his arms around me once again—“Fiona said she’d meet us down at the station—us as in Noah and me. I want you to head back to the house with Lyla Nell. No use in losing a day over it. And the baby needs you more than Carlotta does.”

  “You’d be surprised. Carlotta can be quite the baby.”

  His lips curve just enough to acknowledge it’s true.

  “I’ve got this. Don’t worry. I’m sure everything will work out.” He gives a dark look to the studio. “I highly doubt Carlotta is to blame, but that means whoever did this might still be in there.”

  I nod. “I hate to say it, but I saw Kit arguing with Candace earlier. Everett, Kit was wearing a white T-shirt when we arrived. And after Candace turned up dead, she’s suddenly wearing a blue one. It makes me wonder what happened to the white one.” I lift a brow. “She just might be our killer.”

  Noah comes out just as a tall, leggy redhead makes her way over—Detective Ivy Fairbanks, Noah’s counterpart down at the homicide division. She’s a looker, and she’s got her sights set on Noah, too. Suffice it to say, Ivy and I have never really cared for one another.

  “Well, well”—Ivy smirks my way—“and to think I was glued to my set just waiting to hear which of these gentlemen is the official father of your child.”

  “They’re both official,” I snark back, not caring one bit that it hardly makes any sense. “And besides that, Carlotta didn’t kill that woman.”

  Ivy’s eyes grow wide. “So Carlotta is the one they just called in as the suspect due on arrival?” She crimps her lips, amused. “It seems the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, now does it? Let’s hope this homicidal cycle is broken now that you have a daughter yourself. Noah, why don’t you brief me?” She stalks off inside and Noah nods my way.

  “I need to get back to work.” He lands a kiss to my cheek. “Go ahead and take Lyla Nell home. I’ll bring pizza later if I’m able.”

  He takes off and Everett navigates us back inside.

  “Miranda,” he calls out as my mother heads this way with the baby still secured safely to her chest. “Would you please take Lemon and the baby home? I’m heading down to the sheriff’s department to meet with an attorney for Carlotta.” He lands a kiss to the top of the baby’s head then to my lips. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll have her home in time for dinner.” He takes off and a mean shiver rides through me.

  “Oh, Lottie.” Mom’s voice is rife with worry. “Please tell me you don’t think Carlotta did this. After the way she threatened that woman? And it certainly was clear Candace had some serious dirt on Carlotta. I wonder what that was about?”

  “I wonder what that was about myself,” I say, looking out at the crowd of stagehands bustling back and forth, each one of them with a morose expression on their faces.

  In the distance I see Burt Walker, the producer, engaged in a serious conversation with Woody Hawthorne and my eyes float up and down Burt’s body in that all black outfit with the white whipstitching that glows in the murky light. I glance up at his shirt and take a sharp breath. “The red handkerchief,” I whisper to myself. “That’s where I saw it! Woody had it tucked in his shirt,” I mumble.

  “What’s that?” my mother asks, taking a step in my direction.

  “Nothing,” I say, shaking my head just as the redhead, the author with the cartoonish smile I met earlier, speeds this way with her purse cinched over her shoulder.

  “Didn’t that turn out to be a shocker?” she says, clutching at her throat. “Who saw that coming, huh?” She shakes her head at my mother and me. “And to think Candace was the one used to doling out the surprises. It was nice meeting you, Lottie. I’ll stop by that bakery of yours soon. I’m always looking for more tackling fuel for my writing. And I’m not one to turn down a delicious carb either.”

  “You’re a writer? I’m a writer!” Mom is quick to flaunt her own career as a scribe. She takes a quick breath. “You’re Fern Cranston, aren’t you? I’ve seen you on the show before. And I’ve read a few of your books. Oh, I just love you.”

  “Well, thank you. It’s always great to meet other writers. In fact, I’ll be at the Mystery and Mayhem Fest at that old haunted B&B up in Honey Hollow. If you can, you should stop by! I hear it’s just as ritzy as it is tacky these days.” She gives three short honks as she laughs.