Eggnog Trifle Trouble (Murder in the Mix #28) - Addison Moore Page 0,35

a little role-playing to spice things up. My mother offered to watch the baby tonight, so this is the perfect opportunity to take part in Operation Carnal Christmas happening tonight. I’m playing the role of the hot elf that escaped Santa’s workshop, and Bear is the mean executive looking to replace Santa’s workshop with a factory that mass-produces shoddy toys.”

“Wow, you’ve really thought this one through. I guess it’s up to you to save Christmas.”

She nods. “And to teach that heartless executive a lesson. Bear is really getting into it. He said I’ll hardly recognize him because he’s showing up in a suit.”

Carlotta ticks her head to the side. “I didn’t know Bear owned a suit.”

“He doesn’t.” Keelie shakes her head. “But he said he swung by your place this morning. No one was home, but he saw Noah out front and Noah let him in to borrow one of Everett’s suits.”

“One of Everett’s suits?” My eyes bulge at the prospect. “Does Everett know about this?” Everett’s suits are tailor-made for him and imported straight from Italy. I saw the price tag of one once and nearly needed to be resuscitated. Thankfully, Dr. Baxter was on hand to make sure all of my medical needs were well tended, too. Suffice it to say, Everett and I have done a little role-playing ourselves. Let’s just say he was thorough with his exam.

Keelie clucks her tongue. “How would Everett know? He wasn’t home. Besides, Lot, we’re like sisters. What’s mine is yours. It’s always been that way.”

Something tells me I need to add an addendum to that policy. Clearly we need to draw the line at my husband’s closet.

A pale hand waves to me from across the room, and I see a group of women, a trio of which has hair as pale as flames.

“There they are,” I hiss, pointing over to where Cormack, Cressida, and Candy sit at an elongated table, and we begin to thread our way through the crowd as we make our way over.

Normally, I wouldn’t be caught dead schmoozing with Cormack and Cressida, but Candy Brighton is here and I can’t help but feel as if I’ve won the suspect lottery.

Candy was playing the part of emcee at the Christmas Angels auction. She knew Gloria Abner. And as someone important in the organization they both belonged to, I’m betting she knows more than a little about Gloria. Who knows, she might even know some of the secrets Elodie hinted at.

The club is both flashy and trashy, with its dark glossy floors, white tables, and booths with Roman columns strewn senselessly about, and each column is backlit a pale shade of green. There’s a forty-foot ceiling at least, where rows and rows of opulent chandeliers hang at an even spacing. It’s the kind of venue you could use for a wedding reception if you wanted. It’s definitely someplace where you can host a party, and judging by the incredible density of the crowd, that party is happening tonight. Most of the booths and tables outline the periphery, and the center of the establishment is filled with couples dancing to holiday-inspired tunes. Half the women here have on a headband with two plastic candy canes bobbing from it like a pair of antennae. And each one lights up in turn.

We hit the table just as the women seated at it explode with laughter. Each woman here holds a socialite appeal, with their stiff faces, puffy lips, excessive amounts of cosmetics, and foot long lashes. They’re all wearing some form of the requisite little black dress, and they all seem to be engaged in lively conversations with one another. And, of course, they’ve each donned a pair of those candy cane light up antlers on their heads. I won’t lie. I want one.

“Lorado!” Cormack howls my faux name while waving me over. “Don’t worry, ladies. We’ve got you covered.” She motions us to three open seats across from them and quickly hands us each a pair of light up candy canes to plop on our heads.

Cressida floats a set of menus our way. “I can tell you’re ravenous, Lima. God forbid we starve Noah’s child,” she says as she winks over at Cormack.

“You mean Everett’s child,” Cormack bites back before offering a sickly sweet smile my way. “The watercress salad is my go-to when I’m famished.”

Carlotta shakes her head as she peruses the appetizers on the menu. “I’m afraid my Lot Lot isn’t a fan of lawn clippings. She takes