Pancake Panic, Page 3

  “Lottie,” Noah barks as he lunges for me, but Everett smoothly inserts himself between us and soon I’m in his protective arms.

  “Lemon, what hap—” he stops midway as both he and Noah stare down at the pooling blood surrounding my father’s old friend.

  “Geez.” Noah swoops down and checks the man’s pulse before turning our way and shaking his head, affirming the worst.

  Soon, every fireman and sheriff’s deputy in this structure has flooded the entry of the kitchen, careful not to disrupt the scene of the grisly murder. The entire area is quickly quarantined and determined a crime scene as we step a good distance back while awaiting the coroner to arrive.

  I scour the floor for evidence, a trace of anything that might have been left behind.

  “Everett, look,” I say, glancing around. “I don’t see any spent shells or casings. That’s a bullet wound he died from. I saw where it penetrated, myself.”

  Everett glances to floor himself. “You’re right, but any one of us could have kicked them away. Or the bullet could have been fired from a revolver. They don’t expend shells or casings.”

  Noah heads our way. His eyes are heavy to meet with mine despite the circumstances, and it breaks my heart all over again.

  Last Halloween, Noah was in a devastating car accident that almost killed him, no thanks to Cormack’s ditzy driving skills. She wrapped the brand new sports car her daddy bought her around a tree, thus sending Noah straight into a coma. And last month, when Noah finally got out of the hospital, the doctor suggested that we didn’t give him any jarring news as not to send him back into that comatose slumber.

  So, I had to keep up the pretense that we were married and expecting a baby—which at first I completely thought we were. Initially, everything was so real, but the marriage was quickly dissolved, no thanks to Everett pulling a few strings. And it turned out the positive pregnancy stick that I thought was mine belonged to my sister Lainey instead.

  Regardless, when Noah found out I was holding up a parade of lies, he wasn’t all that thrilled. To top it all off, he found out about the false marriage I have with Everett to boot. Although, Noah doesn’t seem too convinced of how fake my new nuptials might be.

  Bottom line, he feels deceived and hurt, and ultimately, very, very mad.

  Noah steps in and his familiar warm cologne washes over me.

  “Lottie, what happened? What did you see?” Those evergreen eyes of his skate over my features and a wave of relief accompanies them. I had almost forgotten how it felt to have Noah’s full attention, the warmth of his affection. Not that he’s giving it to me now.

  “I don’t know. The two of you were fighting, and I wanted to get away. I came in here and there was a man slumped over that stack of pancakes. I didn’t know what to think, so I tapped him on the shoulder and he fell to the floor. That’s when I saw the dark bloodstain on his shirt, and it grew and grew. And then I started to scream.”

  Screaming seems to be my go-to response when I come upon a body. Not that I blame myself for it. Stumbling upon a body is nothing I ever want to get used to. “Noah, I don’t see any casings—although Everett mentioned that the bullet could have come from a revolver. Or maybe it was a hit? Dear God, do you think Flip had a pro come after him?”

  His dimples depress as he winces. “We’re going to explore all possibilities, but we need to keep it under wraps.”

  “You bet.” I nod furiously, anxious to do whatever I can to help out.

  Noah takes a deep breath, expanding his chest twice as wide at least. “Okay, Everett, I want you to take Lottie and get her out of here.” He wipes his face down as if he couldn’t believe what he was asking. That bruise on his left eye grows more prominent by the second. “I’ll get an official statement from you another time. I need to help the coroner assess the scene.”

  The captain of the sheriff’s department strides past me with a stern nod. I’ve known Jack Turner since I was a little girl, considering the fact he’s Keelie’s father.

  He leans in with his daunting frame. “Lottie, your pancakes were great. But would you please stop finding dead bodies? People are going to think there’s a serial killer on the loose, and you’ll be the first person they point to.” His brows peak as he says it. He shares Keelie’s pale blue eyes, but the sober exterior is all his. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an entire firehouse of people I need to calm down.”

  I offer a meager nod as he heads that way.

  “He’s right,” I say as my voice cracks. “People are going to think I’m a serial killer.” I manage to blink back tears. “All of Honey Hollow is going to be afraid of me. My bakery will have to close. They’ll run me out of town with pitch forks, ready to tar and feather me—only they’ll probably use cake sprinkles because I’m a baker.”

  Everett pulls me in and I conform to his chest. “Nobody is going to think those things about you. And by the way, you’ve been instrumental in catching the killer each and every time.”

  “You mean framing people,” I say in jest, my heart feeling heavy as lead.

  An explosion of light goes off to my right as that reporter takes a picture of us with his obnoxiously large camera.

  “She just admitted to framing people,” he balks to the crowd behind him. “We’ve been right all along. The baker is a serial killer.”

  “She is not a serial killer,” Noah shouts after him as he darts into the crowd. “Would someone find that man and toss him out on his ear?”

  “Thank you,” I say it lower than a whisper because it still feels vulnerable to try to speak to Noah at all.

  “Don’t thank me, Lottie.” Noah glances back to the scene. “Just”—his voice softens—“go home and be safe.”

  Everett hustles us out of the kitchen, away from that horrible sight and straight to another horrible sight—Mom comforting Chrissy Nash.

  “Oh, isn’t it terrible, Lottie?” My mother pinches her lips closed as if she were struggling to keep from bawling as well. And I couldn’t blame her. She’s known Flip for years. Mom gasps my way as if she were having a revelation. “Oh no,” she whines with her eyes rolling to the ceiling. “You found this one, too, didn’t you, Lottie?” There’s an admonishment buried somewhere in that question.

  But before I can answer, Lainey and Meg crop up.

  “Of course, she did.” Meg slaps me on the back as she expands those dark crimson lips. “Lottie is like a magnet for death. In fact, I think I’ll make you a T-shirt that says just that.”

  “I’ll pass.” I shoot my little sister a look. Meg is younger than me by a year. She’s eschewed her blonde locks and painted them jet-black, but it looks stunning against her icy blue eyes. A few months back, Meg worked the female wrestling circuit in Las Vegas as Madge the Badge, but now she keeps herself busy by teaching strippers their pole dancing moves at a naughty men’s club called Red Satin down in Leeds.

  “A magnet for death?” Lainey grabs her tiny baby bump as if she were trying to protect her unborn child from me. And who could really blame her?

  Lainey and I share the same caramel-colored waves and hazel eyes. When I was younger, I thought Lainey’s looks alone offered up proof that my parents had the details of my adoption wrong. Clearly, I was a full-blooded Lemon.

  She twitches her lips. “Maybe we should celebrate Mom’s birthday low-key this year. You know, omit a few people from the guest list.”

  Meg chuckles. “Yeah, like the Grim Reaper.”

  I groan, “She means me.”

  Mom waves the entire conversation off. “I’m not having a birthday party. My entire month—my entire new year was just ruined by whoever thought it was a good idea to gun down Flip.” She closes her eyes as she pulls her best friend close. “Come on, Chrissy. We’ll go to my place and drink to the great man he was.”

  They take off and my sisters melt into the crowd themselves.

  I turn to the vexingly handsome judge by my side.

  “Everett, I feel terr
ible.”

  “Don’t. This is not your fault.” He puts such a harsh emphasis on the words it almost feels like maybe it is. “Lemon, did you see anything beforehand that might have tipped you off that something of this nature was coming?” His serious eyes steady over mine and I quickly glance away. Everett is the equivalent of a human lie detector. He is an honorable judge, after all. He can practically smell a half-truth emanating from a person’s body before they ever let it fly.

  “Yes.” I press in close until he’s just a breath away. “It was my father,” I practically mouth the words.

  The whites of his eyes ignite as he blinks back surprise. “I’m so sorry I didn’t put that together sooner.”

  Cressida and Cormack claw their way over and soon they’ve both practically jumped him. While Everett is left trying to untangle himself from the human knot taking over his person, I take a few steps back and end up right at that table Flip and my mother were seated at earlier. The table is abandoned with pancakes in various stages of being enjoyed, cut in half, mashed to tiny bits, one with a fork sticking right out of the stack—all evidence of a meal gone awry.

  My eyes snag on a small pink clutch that sits in front of the seat where that mystery woman sat, the one who Flip omitted from the introductions. I do a quick glance around the vicinity and note the room is quickly draining out.

  I’d better take it in the event she left in haste, and I’m betting she did. I swipe up the tiny pink clutch with the full intention of giving it to my mother. Either she or Chrissy will know who it belongs to. My mother and Chrissy know everything about everyone.

  Cressida and Cormack begin to shout once again, and I look up to see Everett doing his best to navigate them to the door.

  I’m about to head in that direction myself when I’m cut off by a leggy redhead with precision cut features and eyes that burn like lasers right through me with their general dislike and distrust.

  “Detective Ivy Fairbanks.” I sigh as I acquiesce to the fact I’m about to get reamed by Noah’s partner from the homicide division.

  “Lottie. Or should I call you Unlucky Lottie?” Her eyes harden over mine. “What is this nonsense that you’ve found another homicide victim?”

  “How I wish it was nonsense. It happens to be the truth. Now if you’ll kindly move to the side, Noah gave me strict orders to leave the premises.”

  I try to circle around her, but she steps in my path. “Nice try. But I’m onto you. I haven’t set foot onto the crime scene just yet, but guess what? I’ve already got a top suspect on my list.” Her blood red painted lips harden to a ball. “And it’s you. I don’t believe in coincidences, Lottie Lemon. You might be getting a pass from Noah by way of hypnotizing him with your cookies, but you’re not getting a pass from me. Not this time. Not ever again.” She stalks by me just as I drop my head in my hand.

  “Whoa,” a familiar deep voice calls from behind and I turn to find Noah’s lips twitching to form a sorrowful smile. “It’s okay, Lottie. I know you didn’t do this.”

  “A lot of good that does me.” But my heart soars just to have him speaking to me again. “Ivy accused me of hypnotizing you with my cookies.”

  His left brow arches suggestively before falling flat again. “Yes, well, you have to admit, I have been less than professional with you.”

  “That’s because you were my husband, Noah. We dated before that. We were in love. Remember?”

  He takes a deep breath and every last ounce of him looks anguished by the thought of what I just laid at his feet.

  “I know, Lottie. I remember.” He rubs my arm for the briefest of moments. “I’ll be out late tonight, but I’ll stop by the bakery tomorrow to question you further. Don’t worry about Ivy. I’ll see what I can do to defuse her.”

  “Good luck. You’ll need a miracle to defuse that bombshell.” And I do mean bombshell in the traditional sense. Ivy is beautiful. And I’ve always suspected that she has a crush on the handsome detective before me.

  Noah gives a sorrowful nod before taking off for the crime scene once again.

  My head starts to swivel toward the exit, but my eyes snag on an ethereal being glowing in that dark hall just shy of the kitchen as if trying to inspect the scene himself and I make a beeline over.

  My father does a double take in my direction and starts to take off, but I grab ahold of his sleeve before he can make a ghostly getaway and marvel at how solid he is. It never ceases to amaze me how very real the dead can feel when they want to.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” I say. “You are never getting away from me again.”

  Chapter 4

  I’ve seen people come into the bakery with a hearty appetite before. I’ve seen both grown men and small children alike polish off far more than their stomach ever intended to hold. But I haven’t seen anything like what my father is capable of.

  He rubs his belly after swallowing down his last bite of a cheese Danish.

  “Are you sure I can have another?”

  “I’m positive,” I whisper so Lily can’t hear from the front.

  The kitchen of the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery is empty, save for my father and me, but soon the staff will be back from their lunch break. “In fact, I’m going to box up a bunch of things and drag you home with me so we can have a decent conversation.”

  Once I finally managed to corner my father at the firehouse this morning, I knew I wanted to show him my pride and joy before anything else—my bakery. Of course, I thought he’d drive over with me and we could chat in the car, but he said he’d float above my Honda and follow me over by way of flying. He said he always wanted to see Honey Hollow from a bird’s-eye view, and I wasn’t about to squash his aeronautic dreams.

  My father presses a warm smile my way. He’s exactly the same as I remember but a touch younger, trimmer, not a single gray hair. He’s handsome to a fault with a strong chin and knowing, gentle eyes. His broad shoulders and muscular build still look as if they could save an entire crowd of people from a burning building as they often did before. His flesh is somewhat see-through even though he feels completely solid. There’s an illuminated pale blue glow that radiates from him, and each time he swallows down one of my delicious desserts, a spray of miniature stars swirls around his stomach as if he were supernaturally digesting it.

  “Oh, how I’ve missed you.” I collapse my arms around him tightly. I press my lips to his ghostly cheek and feel his stubble poking through. Tears come to my eyes because it’s all so real, and my body bucks with emotion just knowing that it is. “I’ve never been so thankful for my supersensual standing than I am right this minute.” I sob as I take in the faint scent of his familiar cologne. I pull back, only to find his own beautiful eyes swelling up with tears. “You can’t cry,” A dull laugh pumps from me.

  “Oh yes, I can, missy,” he teases as he brushes back my own tears with his finger. “I can do anything when I’m with you, Lottie Lemon, my precious baby girl.” He sighs as he examines me, and that tiny dimple under his left eye depresses. “Tell me, how long have you known that you’ve had this gift?”

  I make a face without meaning to. “I suppose we’re using the term gift loosely. But I’ve known since I was a kid. Of course, I told Nell Sawyer about it.” I shrug. Nell was Keelie’s grandmother, only to find out later she was my grandmother, too. “She left me the bakery in her will, along with just about every property north of the Mason-Dixon. Her son wasn’t too happy about it, but the courts finally sided with me. I would have given it all back to the family, but the rest of the Sawyers and the Turners insisted I keep it.” I wrinkle my nose because Naomi Turner, Keelie’s rogue twin, didn’t quite see things that way.

  “Lottie, that’s wonderful. In fact, Nell told me all about it. I still can’t believe Carlotta Sawyer was your birth mother.” He shakes his head. “The answer was right under our noses all along. And the timeline fits. She skipped town, right around your birth, and never came back.”

  “Oh, but she’s b
ack now, and just as psychotic as ever. But, of course, I mean that in a good way. She’s supersensual, too. Apparently, there’s some big transmundane convention in New York coming up and she wants me to go with her.”

  His face contorts with concern. “Be careful. I’d be weary of flaunting your abilities.”

  “Oh, I am. Nobody else knows except for Everett and Noah.”

  “Everett and Noah?” He lifts a brow. “I take it these are the two gentlemen Nell told me about.”

  “She told you about them?” My heart soars at the prospect.

  “Yes. She said they were both wonderful to you and that you have had a very difficult time choosing between them. So, which one did you decide upon? He rubs my back with the inquiry. “Come on, Lottie. Don’t keep your old man in suspense.”

  I bow my head a moment. “Neither. I’m still as torn up as ever.” I look up at his glowing cerulean eyes. “Hey? Maybe you can help me?”

  “Maybe I can. But first, let’s get these desserts packed up and get back to your place.” He nods toward the register where Lily is giving us a side-glance. “She’s beginning to wonder about you.”

  “Everyone is beginning to wonder about me.”

  I pack up enough sweet treats to feed two football teams, ask Lily to man the fort, and this time my father sits right next to me while I drive us back to my place.

  My rental house is tucked away on a cul-de-sac on picturesque Country Cottage Road where the streets are lined with evergreens and exes.

  Yes—exes.

  “That’s Noah’s house,” I say, pointing to the cabin-like home across the street from my own. “He lived in this neighborhood first. I got kicked out of my apartment about a year ago and stayed with Lainey. But you know how hard she is to live with.” I give a playful wink. “And Noah told me about this place right across the street from his.” I pull into the driveway of my adorable rental with its white picket fence, wraparound porch, and its adorable bright red door. “And that place”—I point to the blue house to my right—“Everett lives there. It was available at the same time this one was, and once I narrowed my decision between the two, Everett went out and bought the other place. I have a feeling he would have bought this house if I had chosen the other. In truth, I think he just wanted to be close to me. And just last November, Everett and I bought a lodge that Noah wanted to invest in.” I wince. “That sounds terrible. Let me rephrase that. Noah wanted to buy a lodge up in Hollyhock where he grew up to be able to have something to pass down to his kids one day. But, when he was incapacitated and in a coma, the property was about to slip out of his grasp, so Everett and I bought it for him. Everett and I added him onto the title as an owner a few weeks back.” I frown as the horrible deception I inadvertently pulled on Noah last month runs through my mind. Once he found out I was lying about our marriage and the baby, he took off for greener, Featherby, pastures.