Macaron Massacre, page 3
part #10 of Murder in the Mix Series
“There you are!” my mother chimes. “You, Lottie Lemon, are a slippery fish. I just introduced Lainey and Meg to Rich’s children. I’d like for you to meet them, too.”
“What?” I shake her loose as the burgeoning crowd presses up against us. “Why would I want to meet them? You’re about to break it off with their father. I’m shocked you want to meet them.”
Mom swats me on the arm. “I know that. But it’s good etiquette. Besides, his ex-wife showed up, and to make things worse, they think this entire crowd is here just for his birthday party.”
“If the posters of your new beau, and the patriotic party hats didn’t give away the true essence of this shindig, then they’re denser than their father. I guess the fruit didn’t fall too far from the hostile tree.” And I’m willing to bet Rich shook them loose before they were ripe. He’s just that mean.
“I don’t know what they think. But one thing is for sure. They all seem a little uptight. I’ve even plied them with your scrumptious macarons, but they’re unflinching in their rude behavior.”
“Maybe they’re still hoping their parents will reconcile?”
“Lottie, they’re grown women,” she says, navigating me through the crowd.
I’m about to say that it doesn’t matter, that in my heart she’ll always belong to my father, Joseph Lemon, but before I can get a word out, I spot Mayor Nash’s daughters, Kelleth and Aspen, up front. They’re svelte, sandy-headed blondes with tiny turned-up noses and perpetual scowls that frown at the plebs of Honey Hollow. They’re both about my age, one a year older, one younger. They have a brother, too, Finn, but he’s pretty much down-to-earth. He manages a ski resort not far from here. I’m not sure what the girls have been up to, but I’m betting it’s no good.
Mom leans in as we come up on my sisters standing awkwardly in a small crowd of angry looking people, all who resemble Rich in some small way.
“Everyone—this is my middle daughter, Lottie. She baked all the goodies for the party, and she baked a very special cake for the birthday boy as well.”
Technically, that’s true, but I didn’t bake a cake for Rich, per se. I was just going to pull one out of the refrigerated shelves and slap his name on it.
A thought hits me. Councilman Dushane just cleaned my refrigerated shelves right out.
Oh well, I’ll have to take one from the Honey Pot’s kitchen. Keelie is the manager here, and I know for a fact she won’t mind.
“Lottie, this is Gloria”—Mom practically shoves me in the older woman’s face. The woman is pretty, trim, short red hair, and an eerie grin that looks more like a painful grimace. Her lips are glossy and red, and her eyeteeth bear a matching stain. “Gloria is Rich’s ex.”
“Ah! The lucky one that got away.” I give a playful laugh, and the older woman chortles right along with me. I have a feeling Gloria and I will get along just fine.
Rich bucks as if I just shot him with my shiny new gun—which I don’t happen to have on me. I left it at home, tucked safely in my underwear drawer, in the event my sweet Himalayan cats, Pancake and Waffles, decided to grow opposable thumbs while I’m gone and go on a shooting spree. Stranger things have happened in Honey Hollow as of late.
“Funny.” The taller girl steps forward and offers me a rather enthusiastic shake of the hand. Her crimson hair is long and has that spiral perm effect, but I can tell it just grows out of her head that way.
What I wouldn’t do to have hair that amazing. It’s larger-than-life, and I bet it has to have its own zip code, too. But I wouldn’t dare say that out loud in the event she thinks it’s an insult. If she’s at all like her father, she takes everything way out of context.
“I’m Michelle Ireland”—she continues—“my married surname, of course.” She says it so confidently, with just a touch of humility, as if I should know who she is. She does have the aura of an extrovert. I can’t help but notice there are a handful of people turning to look at her every now and again.
She shrugs. “You’re probably wondering where you’ve seen me before. I’ve got an entire slew of ads running on cable right now. I’m sorry if you’re sick of looking at my impish mug. I’m a life coach. I do events and speaking engagements for large corporations. In fact, I have an entire string of seminars set up for the area. Home is Hollyhock, but I’ve only slept in my bed twenty times this year so far.”
“Please.” The younger redhead next to her rolls her eyes. “As if she cares.” She extends a hand. “Claret Dallas. Single. Not a life coach. I still live in Fallbrook with my mother.” She wrinkles her nose. “And I really don’t care who knows it.”
We all share a warm laugh. Claret is a shorter version of her sister, Michelle, but she seems far more down-to-earth. Her hair is straight but has just about as much body.
Claret juts her head forward a notch. “Your sisters mentioned that you’re the town sleuth.”
I shoot a look to Lainey and Meg before glancing around at the overcrowded room. If Nell is here, then there’s a good chance a homicide will take place today. The last thing I want to do is tip off the potential killer that I’m already onto them—sort of.
“Not really.” I wave it off as if it were no big deal. “I just got lucky a time or two.”
Meg lands an arm over Claret’s shoulder and balks, “She’s just being coy. Lottie here has stumbled across nine bodies in nine months.” Gloria, Michelle, and Claret each gasp in unison. And I think my mother and Lainey just joined in on the breathless fun as well.
Rich leans in toward his younger daughter. “Tell ’em what you do, honey bun.”
Claret’s face pinches the same color as her name. “Dad, this isn’t about me.” She tries to shoo him away with her hand but to no avail.
Good luck with that, toots. My mother has been trying to shoo him away for the better part of the last few weeks.
Michelle offers my mother a look of disdain. “So, when’s the big day?”
Lainey tips her head back. “July twenty-fifth.” She thrusts that sparkler on her ring finger forward, and the sisters admire it with an audible ooh. Lainey is so high off her upcoming nuptials, it didn’t even register to her that the question wasn’t aimed at her. But I’m pretty sure everyone in this circle prefers it that way.
Gloria lifts a brow to my mother. “Let’s see yours, Miranda. I know what Rich is capable of. I’ll be able to tell if you’re a keeper just by the size of that rock.”
I exchange a quick glance with my sisters. What a terrible thing to say.
Mom giggles like a schoolgirl and wiggles her left hand at the woman who had the gall to ask.
Gloria scowls at my mother’s bling as if it offended her on some level. “Two carats, occluded, and, my God, Rich, is that a yellow stone?” She shakes her head up at her ex. “You’ve insulted this poor woman and you’ve dragged us all out here to witness it.”
Geez. I don’t know who’s worse, Rich or his ex. I can see why the divorce was imminent. He’s too crazy, and she’s too honest.
My mother’s mouth opens to say something, but she gags on her reply. Her attention instead diverts to the front of the restaurant where Mayor Nash is attempting to get everyone’s attention by way of spitting into the mic.
“If you’ll excuse me,” my mother happily chirps. “A campaign coordinator’s work is never done.” She takes off for greener boyfriend pastures and leaves us holding the dysfunctional family bag. Lainey says something about spotting her fiancé and abandons poor Meg and me to fend for ourselves.
Meg waves wildly at someone who just walked in. “Hook!” she barks so loud half the restaurant goes silent for three solid seconds before rumbling to life once again. “That’s my hookup. Gotta run.” And run she does. Both Meg and my bestie, Keelie, have been seeing Hook Redwood for the last few months. It’s twisted. I’m going to highly recommend Keelie ditch that tiresome threesome and branch out on her own. She deserves to be happy, and I doubt that’s ever going to happen while attached to my sister and her all too randy hookup.
I’m about to make up an excuse to leave, myself, but by the time I look around, the entire Dallas family has disbanded. Gloria is flirting with an older man at the bar, Rich has magnetized to my mother once again, strapping his arms around her as if he were a life preserver—more like a rusted anchor complete with crusty barnacles—and Michelle and Claret are to my right, carrying on a lively conversation with Mayor Nash’s daughters, Kelleth and Aspen.
Figures.
From what my mother says, the Dallas family is loaded to the hilt. I bet they recognize one another from their billion dollar social circles. Although Mayor Nash is far from a billionaire, the Nashes were always a bit better off than we were growing up.
Mayor Nash starts in on his speech, and the din in the room quiets just a notch. I do my best to spot Noah and Everett, but it’s officially wall-to-wall bodies. Instead, I spot Carlotta Sawyer, my bio mom, chatting away with someone in the corner and head on over.
“Carlotta”—I start as I come upon her—“I’m sorry to interrupt, but have you seen—” I stop my sentence mid-flight when I notice the fact Carlotta is seemingly chatting it up with the wall. “Who are you talking to?” The air before us sparkles in a spray of microscopic stars, and I gasp. “It’s Nell, isn’t it?” I yank Carlotta back by the elbow as if I just caught her stealing a cookie from one of my prized cookie jars.
Come to find out, Carlotta is supersensual like me, although the gift isn’t nearly as strong with her. She helped set up a meeting at my bakery a few months back with others that were like us, but my powers were the strongest and the deadliest by far.
Carlotta grunts as she yanks her arm right back. Carlotta is an older version of me, same caramel waves, same hazel eyes, but she’s enhanced the look with frown lines and wrinkles, a stray gray hair here and there.
“None of your beeswax who I’m chatting it up with. It just so happens our friendly ghost doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
“Carlotta!” a faint voice wobbles beside me, and I recognize it as none other than Nell Sawyer.
“Ha! You are here. Why are you hiding from me, Nell? Is someone going to die this afternoon? My God, it’s not Keelie, is it?” I crane my neck for my bestie and spot her mother, Becca—Nell’s very own daughter, and Naomi, too. “Oh God, it’s one of them, isn’t it?”
Carlotta swats me. “Don’t you get it? She doesn’t want you causing a scene. She said to tell you she’ll meet you someplace where the two of you can be alone.”
“Fine.” I bite the air between us. “We can go now. The bakery is empty. We’ll meet in the kitchen,” I say, talking in the direction I heard Nell’s voice emanate from.
“No can do.” Carlotta spins me around. “She said she’ll wait until this mosh pit clears out. Too many people spook her.”
“Now there’s a role reversal. The spook is spooked.”
“Go on.” Carlotta gives me a shove. “Get out there and find that boyfriend of yours who lets you play with his gavel. Nell promises she’ll talk all night long once this fiasco is through.”
I head out into the crowd, discouraged. I miss Nell so much. Just knowing she’s in the same room and that I can’t wrap my arms around her kills me.
Mayor Nash drones on and on about the public works department, and I want to cry enough tears to fill the fountain in Town Square over the fact Nell wants very little to do with me. Worst yet, she won’t even give me the heads-up on whether or not we’ll have a murder on our hands.
Mom rushes up just as Mayor Nash is wrapping up his speech.
“Oh, Lottie, please bring out the cake. Rich was livid earlier because he’s starting to feel like a second-class citizen at his own birthday party!”
“Newsflash, Mother. He is.”
I take off for the kitchen. I’m more than familiar with the inner workings of the Honey Pot Diner. I was the head baker—only baker, here for years.
The kitchen is empty, most likely due to the fact the entire town is riveted by all of Mayor Nash’s shiny new promises.
The chefs have the steel island laden with finger foods ready to replenish the chafing dishes out front. I bet the cakes are in the walk-in, where I’m hoping to find at least one. I bake all the cakes for the Honey Pot Diner, and unfortunately, I can’t remember the last time I sent one over.
I open the enormous door of the walk-in refrigerator and gasp.
Rich Dallas won’t be needing a birthday cake, after all.
Rich Dallas is dead.
Chapter 3
Rich Dallas lies facedown on the floor of the walk-in with a handful of my raspberry macarons still clutched in his grip. There’s blood splattered over the back of his crisp white dress shirt. He’s either been stabbed or shot.
I’m about to scream or pass out as I try to shake myself out of this nightmare when a peculiar fog percolates before me and Nell Sawyer appears, one ghostly vapor at a time. The scent of fresh picked apples accompanies her as I take in the heavenly fragrance.
“Nell!” I cry out and lunge over her with a firm embrace. She feels solid, and real, and every bit as if she were still among the living.
“Yes, child, it’s me.” She pulls back, and I marvel at that beautiful wrinkled face, her hair glowing pale as a flame. “Now we’ve got a body to tend to, haven’t we?”
“Rich Dallas.” I shake my head in disbelief. “Who did this, Nell?” Sadly, I’m a bit relieved, and I feel like a monster because of it. Meg runs through my mind. “Oh my God, please tell me my sisters weren’t responsible.”
“Oh heavens, I can’t do that. But don’t you worry. We’ll get to the bottom of this together.” She gives a sly wink.
My head is spinning with all these new developments.
“Why you, Nell? Did Rich even know you? I mean, I’m thrilled you’re here, but I thought it needed to be his favorite pet or human.”
“Oh, it’s been stretched before. But in this case, it’s fairly accurate. He had no pets that we know of, and strangely enough, I babysat Richie when he was a child. I was just a spring chicken myself, of course. And it turns out, I was the only person who showed him a shred of kindness.”
“My heart breaks just hearing that. No wonder he was a tyrant.” A swell of emotion rises up inside me, and it’s all for the beautiful woman standing before me. Her eyes shine so bright, and I can see every color of the rainbow in them. “Oh, Nell, so much has happened since you’ve passed. I’m in love with both Everett and Noah, and my heart isn’t too happy about it. And Greer Giles! She was murdered in February, and now she and her two-hundred-year-old boyfriend, Winslow Decker—they haunt my mother’s bed and breakfast. And the tourists are just eating it up. She runs these haunted Honey Hollow B&B tours and charges an arm and a leg—and, believe you me, she’s getting the entire corpse, too! Of course, she sends the busses to the bakery afterwards for what she’s dubbed as The Last Thing They Ate Tour. I know it sounds grisly, but it’s exactly what’s been happening since you’ve been gone.”
“Oh dear.” Her hand covers her mouth, and she looks paler than paper. In fact, she looks downright blue.
“It’s really not that bad. It’s actually—” I’m about to finish my sentence when Noah pops his head into the walk-in.
“Lottie?” He inches back with a look of curiosity. “Who are you talking to?” He glances around before he spots the body. “Crap.” He drops to his knees and checks for a pulse before calling for Everett. He pulls me out of the refrigerator just as Everett storms the kitchen.
“There you are, Lemon.” His dark brows are winged like a bird in flight. “We were getting worried about you. We thought maybe you found another one.”
“She did,” Noah shouts as he quickly taps into his phone. “Get Ivy in here. Get Lottie to safety. Call in any medics that might be in the building. I’m putting in a call to 911. I want this building detained.”
Everett growls as he wraps his arms around me. “Are you okay? Who was it? Is there a ghost involved?”
“Yes, I’m fine. It’s Rich Dallas.” I glance back to where I was standing a moment ago with Nell. “And the ghost—you won’t believe who I just saw.”
The room floods instantly with bodies—Ivy, Forest, an entire slew of off-duty nurses, doctors, EMTs, firemen, and sheriff’s deputies. The wail of sirens can be heard headed this way already.
Everett bows down and catches my gaze with his stormy eyes. “Did you say who? As in a person? Who was it, Lemon? Was it my father again?”
“No. I’m sorry. It was—”
Mayor Nash storms in, and bodies part like the Red Sea as he bellows, “What in the dickens is going on in here?”
Noah takes a measured step forward just as my mother glides up next to Mayor Nash.
“It appears there’s been a homicide. Considering the fact the family of the deceased is on the premises, I think it’s only fair we contact them first.” Noah makes his way over to me as the room ignites with rumblings. “Lottie, I’d like for you to help break this to your mother, and then I’ll need you to help direct me to his family as well.”
“Yes, of course,” I say, emerging from Everett’s grasp, but he quickly tucks a kiss just under my ear. “Who was it, Lemon?”
I pull back. “It was Nell,” I practically mouth the words, and his eyes enlarge in an instant.
Noah tucks his hand to my lower back as we make our way through the tangle of bodies to my mother.
“Mom, I’m so sorry. I have terrible news.”
Her eyes fill with terror. She’s biting her nails before I get the next few words out.
“Who is it, Lottie? My God, who was killed?” she shrieks so loud half the room quiets down in an effort to listen in.
“It was Rich.” I shrug apologetically. “I’m sorry. Rich Dallas is dead.”
“Oh.” She inches back as if the news weren’t that off-putting, after all. “Well, that’s just terrible.” She looks to Mayor Nash. “I’ll be grieving for weeks.”
“There, there.” He pats my mother’s hand. “And I’ll be right here to comfort you.”
