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  “He’s pulling a late night at Grandma Nell’s old place. It turns out, they’re having to replumb the entire house.”

  My stomach turns at the thought. “Why does that sound expensive?”

  Keelie laughs as she links arms with me. “Because it will be. Let’s find a table.”

  “Actually, we should take this to-go. You can eat in the car. I was thinking we’d do a little shopping on the way home.”

  “Ooh, I love shopping. I hope they have baby things. I’m addicted to anything pink, blue, or frilly.”

  And I seem to be addicted to the thrill of it all just the way Perry suggested.

  We get back to the car and I take a sandwich from the bag Keelie bought me and shove the rest of the food into the back seat, giving Rex the go-ahead to eat to his dead heart’s content. Keelie is so busy plowing through her own food she hardly notices the fact wrappers are flying.

  We’re off to Leeds where Keelie might find some things for the baby and I just might find a killer.

  Chapter 17

  Shopping has always been the tie that bound Keelie and me together—even at a shockingly young age. While still in preschool, we’d scheme ways to get our mothers to stop by the toy shop on Main Street just in case they had something new we wanted to buy our “sisters.”

  Okay, so we were conniving. And I might still be a little conniving, considering the fact I’m taking Keelie on a reconnaissance mission. But since that mission does involve our first true love, shopping, I don’t feel too bad about it.

  The Attic Addict is located in a tall, skinny building sandwiched between an Italian deli called Guido’s and a pawn shop called Hock Eyes.

  Once again, I help Keelie waddle through the snow, and Rex looks as if he’s waddling right alongside her.

  “Oh, Lottie”—Rex moans—“we must go back to the Chicken Filet. I’m afraid I’ve garnered a bit of an addiction after the first few bites. It’s truly just as good as your cakes.”

  “That’s a big compliment to me,” I whisper.

  “Bless you,” Keelie says as we enter the establishment.

  Inside, it’s a lot more spacious than it looks, with sections for his and hers clothing, furniture in the back, and seasonal items right up front.

  Keelie squeals with delight. “I see tiny things! I’ll be in the baby section, Lot.” She takes off, and it’s just Rex and me looking around at the sparse crowd rummaging through the clothing racks and bins of oddities set out on the tables. I spot a box full of books and gravitate that way. I can’t help it. I’ve always been a reader. There’s nothing like finishing off a day than with a good book in your bed. Or Noah Fox. Or Everett Baxter.

  And I hate myself for even having the double-minded thought.

  I dip my hand into the book bin and come up with a slender paperback called Fried Pickles and Perpetrators.

  “We’ve got more books in the back,” a sweet voice whispers from behind, and I jump to find a pretty brunette with bangs fringing her forehead and glowing green eyes.

  That day at the crime symposium comes back to me, and I distinctly remember her passing out coffee.

  “Oh my gosh,” I gasp without meaning to.

  Rex comes running over from a box filled with clothes marked ten cents, and he has a pair of shorts strewn over his head.

  “What is it, Lottie? Who is it? Is it the killer?” He does his best to work off the blue and pink board shorts, only to poke his head through one of the leg holes, and I try not to laugh. And sadly, if anyone else spies the odd supernatural event, they might just faint. A pair of floating shorts is enough to ruin anybody’s sanity.

  The girl leans in and looks at the cover of the book I’m holding. “Hey, that’s a treasure. No wonder you’re excited. I love the Carnival and Cops Mystery Series. Have you read it?”

  I shake my head just as her name tag catches my eye. This is Sloan herself.

  She dots the cover with a glossy pink fingernail. “You’re going to love it. The main character is the woman with the mustache, Marceline McDower. She has two boyfriends and she talks to the dead. I guess you could say she has the best of both worlds.”

  Rex makes a howling sound as he looks my way. “That sounds familiar, don’t you think?”

  I clear my throat. “Thank you for telling me about it. I’m definitely going to snatch this one up.”

  Her face brightens. “We’ve got an entire bookshelf in the back dedicated to mystery. Follow me. I’ll show you.”

  I walk steadily behind her as she navigates us past the baby section where Keelie offers me a wave without looking up from a bin she’s rifling through.

  “Here we go,” Sloan says, slowing down before a wall of books under a sign that reads mystery. “The cozy mysteries are over here. They’re my favorite. They usually take place in a small town, there’s an amateur sleuth, usually a woman, and, of course, she always cracks the case before her studly homicide detective can do it. The amateur sleuth usually has an adorable pet that goes on the chase with her, and I like that about it, too.”

  Rex belts out a husky laugh. “That would be me.”

  I swallow hard. “Say, where would a handsome judge fit into this cozy mystery picture?”

  Why do I get the feeling I’m a pawn in somebody else’s story world?

  “A judge?” She shakes her head, looking as if she’s never heard of the profession before.

  I scratch the back of my neck. “Yeah, you know, what if the amateur sleuth had two men in her life—the studly homicide detective and a very vexingly sexy, hard-to-resist man of the gavel?”

  Her mouth rounds out. “Oh my goodness. You’ve got boy trouble, haven’t you? I’d recognize that look in anybody’s eyes. I’ve been there myself.”

  “Well, you’re not wrong,” I say, plucking another book off the shelf and pausing a moment to admire the cover, which features a crime-fighting Chihuahua. “I guess the judge doesn’t really fit into the formula.”

  “Are you kidding? The judge sounds like exactly what you’d want to spice things up. I mean, the homicide detective is a given at this point. The readers naturally expect it, and it’s comforting in a way, like a cheesy pepperoni pizza.”

  I can’t help but swoon a little. “Pizza is my thing with Noah.” I give a little shrug.

  “And what’s your thing with the judge? I bet it’s exotic and keeps you wanting more.”

  My entire body tingles just thinking about Everett leaving me wanting more. “It’s Chinese food. Wicked Wok to be exact.”

  “That’s definitely exotic, and you know what they say about Chinese food. Thirty minutes later and you’re hungry for more—but in a satisfying way. A judge would be an exciting unexpected detour.”

  A small laugh trembles from me. “I think you might be onto something. How about you? How’s your love life? Any cozy mystery elements to it?”

  She glowers over at the row of rainbow-colored paperbacks. “I guess so. My boyfriend was just murdered.”

  “What?” I give a genuine squawk because, honest to God, I momentarily forgot about the nature of my visit. Sloan suddenly feels more like an old friend rather than a suspect.

  “Yup. He was poisoned.” She glances to the exit a moment. “Anyway. I’m not all that sorry. He dug his own grave as far as I’m concerned.” Her lime green eyes meet up with mine. “I know that sounds heartless, but you’d feel the same if the man you’d do anything for tells you that your relationship is better kept under wraps.”

  “Why would he say that?” I ask as Rex sits up at attention as if he wants the answer himself.

  “He was ashamed of me.” She sniffs hard. “Look at me”—she motions to the shop—“I work in a secondhand shop. He couldn’t get past it.” Sloan closes her eyes a moment. “And I used to dance—for money. And believe me when I say he didn’t seem to mind. It was my second job and he asked me to quit, and I did. He said he didn’t want to share me with other men. But I guess what’s good for the geese isn’t g
ood for the gander. It turns out, I was the last to know he was still sleeping with his ex-wife, Leslie. I mean, I get it, she’s a gorgeous woman—lots of personality. But what about me?” She jumps back with her hands extended. “I’m not trying to be vain, but I’m not exactly chopped liver. And that’s how he treated me. His mother came into town not long ago, and he asked me to stay away from his place for a few days. I guess you can say it was all starting to rub me the wrong way.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about his death. I guess this way there is no real closure. Can I ask when you saw him last?”

  I know for sure she was at the crime symposium. Now let’s see if she’s willing to cop to it.

  “I was there the night he was killed.” She frowns at the floor a moment. “He invited me there. I thought it was a step in the right direction. And yet, when his ex and his friends came around, he asked me to wait for him on the sidelines. I was so angry I was ready to break it off with him right there.”

  “Did you?”

  She presses her lips tight. “Let’s just say my anger got the better of me.”

  Rex howls and barks. “This woman is about to confess, Lottie. I’ll hold her down while you tie her up with the Christmas ribbon I found out front.”

  I lean in. “Sloan, what did you do?”

  She takes a deep breath. “While Tim was talking to his friends,” her eyes close an inordinate amount of time, “I ate my feelings.”

  “You ate your what?”

  “My feelings,” she whines the words out. “I had six pieces of chocolate cake that night. Six! But I couldn’t help it. If you could have tasted it, you would know how soft, and moist, and melt in your mouth it was, bite after bite.”

  Rex moans himself. “She’s right, Lottie. It’s just that delicious. Please tell me you have some at the bakery. I think I’ll need a slice or six after we’re through here.”

  I nod his way. “It sounds perfectly heavenly.”

  Sloan gives a dark laugh. “It was perfectly devilish.”

  “Touché.”

  We share a warm laugh.

  I step in close as if we were about to share another secret, a much darker one. “Then what happened?”

  “Then all heck broke loose. The blonde nitwit he was married to? She came over and called me a streetwalker and asked me to leave.”

  “She did?” That must have been when Everett and I wandered away.

  “Yup. And I pushed her. She was looking for a full-blown fistfight, but I decided to take the high road and I went over to the refreshment table instead.” The bell chimes from the counter up front and she glances that way. “I’d better help out. There’s a line starting to form.”

  “Thanks for the tips—on the books.” I hold up my paperback. “Sloan? Who do you think killed Tim?”

  She takes a deep breath and gives a dark glance out of the window. “If it wasn’t me, I’d think it were Leslie. She never made it a secret that she didn’t like Tim spending his time with anyone but her. And they were divorced. Can you imagine? Not to mention the fact she was sleeping with two of his best friends.”

  “Did you say two?”

  “Yeah, she didn’t just have a hankering for Perry. She had to have Nelson Gilmore, too.” She shoves her finger down her throat and pretends to retch. “I guess greed supersedes taste. If you ask me, Nelson is as greasy as it gets. Rumor has it, he used to have mob ties and he was pretty familiar with the ladies. I guess he’s the male equivalent of Leslie. They deserve one another.”

  She takes off and I think on that for a moment. I wonder if Noah and Everett are aware of Leslie’s other fling? It sure sounds like Leslie likes to get around. And if she divorced Tim, why still go sniffing in his direction? Why would she care who he was or wasn’t dating? And why name-call Sloan, inciting her that night? It sounds like if Leslie couldn’t have Tim, nobody could.

  I head back out front and find Keelie with a couple of creepy looking dolls in her hands, and I practically scream once I see their vacant stares up close.

  “Which one do you like better?” she asks, holding up a doll with her hair shorn to her scalp and one eye that refuses to open, and the other doll has a cheek dented in and a phone number scrawled across her forehead.

  “No offense, Keelie, but I think you should put the dolls down and back away slowly before they steal our souls.”

  “No way. I’m in love with One-Eyed Nelly. She’s coming home with me for sure.”

  Rex takes a look at the one-eyed beauty and moans. “If you want, I can chew her feet off on the ride home.”

  I shake my head at the generous, yet deranged, offer.

  We pay for our items and take off into the snowy world outside the Attic Addict’s door, only to come upon an exciting, unexpected find.

  “Judge Baxter,” I say breathless at this handsome stack of muscles and legal knowledge standing before me.

  “Hey, Everett!” Keelie steals my keys and hops into the front seat of my car. I don’t blame her. It is literally freezing out here, and at this rate we’ll have snow until June.

  “Lemon? Why did Jimmy Canelli’s men come into the bakery this evening looking for you?”

  A breath hitches in my throat. “Why, I don’t know. You tracked me down. You seem to know an awful lot about me. Why don’t you tell me?”

  His brows rise in amusement. “Seven followed you here because I pay him to. Noah was at the bakery and he let me know about Canelli’s men.”

  “Noah knows?” My fingers float to my lips.

  “And now I know, too.” He nods. “Lemon, why would Canelli send his boys to talk to you?”

  My phone bleats and I look at the screen. It’s a text from Carlotta.

  Big Jimmy C wants to meet you down at Red Satin. He’s got news! We’re going to nail that cookie slinging witch. BTW, Luke says his boys won’t be beat. He says the Canellis might have news, but the Lazzaris will have results—and steak.

  “Lemon,” Everett growls, his eyes still pinned to the text Carlotta sent. “What have you done?”

  What have I done, indeed.

  Chapter 18

  Without missing a beat, I text Noah and tell him that I’m safe with Everett and that we’ll be back in Honey Hollow in just a bit.

  He texts right back. Thank God. I’m glad Everett was able to intercept you on his way home from work. Why don’t we meet for dinner at Mangias? Nelson Gilmore is meeting up with me to discuss the case. We’d love your input.

  I flash the text at Everett.

  “Perfect,” he says. “I say we blow off the mob and head for safer pastures.”

  I already told Keelie to go ahead and take my car home, that I would hitch a ride on the Baxter Express. And now I’m wondering if I’ll have to hoof it through the snow all the way to Red Satin.

  “I’m not blowing off the mob, Everett. Besides, they might have an update for me. I need to put a stop to whoever is sending me those half-baked—or more like charred—threats before they put an end to me.”

  His chest thumps. “And that’s exactly why the Ashford Sheriff’s Department is handling this.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” I look right into those deep blue eyes for a hint of sarcasm. “Just the way they’ve handled every homicide investigation that Honey Hollow has had to deal with for the last solid year? Is that who you want in charge of my well-being and safety?” I hold up an admonishing finger. “And do not tell Noah I said that in an effort to hurt him. I’m simply stating a fact.”

  Everett closes his eyes a moment. “Fine. Text Carlotta back and ask her to relay to you their findings. We’re running late for dinner at Mangias.”

  “No. The Canellis want to speak with me at Red Satin. As in face to face. I’m afraid we’re going to have to make a little pit stop there first.”

  Everett’s eyes widen with a hint of rage. His jaw redefines itself.

  “Lemon, I am your husband, and I refuse to stand by and let you play with fire when I know inevitably you wil
l end up hurting yourself.”

  “My husband?” My brows hike a notch with amusement. “Are you really going to pull the husband card to forbid me from going?”

  “Yes, if I have to.”

  A dark, guttural laugh brews in my belly. “I won’t lie, I find it incredibly intoxicating—and as sexist as can be, Judge Baxter.” I storm past him, pulling my coat tight around my body as he runs to keep up.

  “Where are you going, Lemon? My car is out front.”

  “I’m walking to Red Satin. Newsflash, nobody tells me no, Everett—not even my husband.”

  Everett latches his hand to mine and reels me back to him. His lids are hooded and his expression is hard as flint. I can’t tell if he’s turned on or angry, most likely both.

  “Have it your way, Lemon. But I’ll be driving us there.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you don’t meet up with too much opposition?”

  “Because you’re intuitive.” His lips twitch as if they couldn’t decide to frown or smile. “If I could, I’d kiss you right now.”

  I give a little shrug and bite down on a playful smile. “It’s not like I’m your wife or anything.”

  Everett leans in without hesitation and plants one right over my lips. He comes just shy of lingering as he pulls back and takes a deep breath, his eyes still locked over mine.

  A tiny laugh brews in my chest. “As your legal plus one, I think I just gleaned something about you. A little opposition will lead me a long, lustful way.”

  His lips curl with devilish intent.

  Because we both know it’s true.

  Red Satin Gentlemen’s Club is just a few blocks away from the Attic Addict. Inside, it’s your run-of-the-mill dimly lit strip club with far too many men eagerly waving a dollar at an entire bevy of women. There’s a long stage that projects deep into the room with a couple of poles strewn over it, and right now a group of women dressed up like female wrestlers dance and shake what their mamas gave them to the sound of loud raucous rock music.

  One of the dancers with long black hair teased every which way and her lips painted black waves wildly at us before jumping off the stage and making her way over.