Eggnog Trifle Trouble (Murder in the Mix #28) - Addison Moore Page 0,81

women in the organization hold it.”

“Suze, what about the money? Why did you log into the accounting software?”

“I’ve never done that in my life. I’ll swear on a stack of Bibles to prove it.”

Kringle makes a face. “They might sizzle.”

Or she might melt.

“Fine,” I say. “You’d better call Noah to tell him all of that.”

“I will. And you had better call him, too, and let him know the two of you are kaput so he can go on with his life.” She speeds out of the ballroom and toward the foyer.

“Battle-axe,” Kringle calls after her, and I’m tempted to do the same.

“So who killed Gloria?”

“I don’t know.” Kringle all but collapses on my shoulder. “But I could sure use a ski week in Vail to figure it out.”

“Vail?” I pull out my phone. “I think you’re onto something. Vail is in Colorado.” I do another quick search of Ethan Lionel Markus, and this time dig a little deeper until a picture of his first wife pops up. A woman by the name of Crystal Brighton.

And just like that, I think I know exactly who the killer is.

Chapter 17

No matter if you’re a tourist or a townie, the residents of Honey Hollow have a way of making everyone feel like family.

That’s exactly how I try to treat every single customer that steps through my bakery door, and when they take a bite out of my scrumptious desserts, I want them to feel as if they had a bit of comfort food from home. But during this special season, I do my best to take extra care when baking my sweet treats. I strive to set the gold standard—to make each bite taste as if it was made with the utmost love and attention—because it was.

But the one person this cozy town isn’t so welcoming to, the one person I don’t want anywhere near my bakery is a cold-hearted killer. And unfortunately for both the residents of Honey Hollow and me, that’s exactly who has been darkening our doorway.

Kringle and I speed out to the front of the Evergreen Manor where the air is crisp, a light peppering of snow is falling, and somewhere out here, a killer is lurking.

“To the left, Lottie, next to the snowman,” Kringle whispers as if he might be heard, and I look that way to see Candy Brighton loading up six different elves with giant baskets filled with holiday goodies. The elves quickly scuttle past me on their way back into the Evergreen Manor, and Kringle and I quickly scuttle in the direction where Candy is shutting the trunk of her car. The back door to her car is still open, and I can see a few more baskets taking up residence inside.

“Need some more help?” I call out, trying my best to sound as friendly as I can.

“Lottie?” She dusts the snow off her hands before pulling back on her gloves. “Oh goodness, let’s get you back inside. It’s freezing out here. And I wouldn’t dare think to ask you for help. You’ve done enough with your desserts.”

She cinches the belt of her coat as she takes a few steps my way, and I note the pattern her shoes are leaving in their tracks, a triangular print with a neat square in the back.

She glances behind her. “Did I drop something?”

“No. Actually, I was just admiring your shoes.” I glance to her footwear, red velvet heels with squared-off heels, the exact heels I remember admiring the night of the murder—and those are the exact prints I saw in the snow. They didn’t belong to an animal after all—not in the traditional sense.

“These old things?” She kicks up her left foot. “I have real designer shoes at home, believe it or not. But these are the only heels I can stand in all day.”

“Home? As in Colorado?”

Her eyes flash my way. “How did you…?” Her mouth opens and closes. “Cormack.” She shakes her head. “We were talking about skiing, and she dragged it out of me. Have you heard her news yet? Because just wait until you do. You’ll get a laugh out if it.”

“No, but I’m sure I will get a laugh.”

The shadow of a man about ten feet tall floats up behind Candy, glowing a deep shade of electric blue.

“It’s him!” Kringle does a little backflip in the air between Candy and me, leaving a trail of sparkling stars in his wake. “Wait a minute.” He stops cold. “If she’s Crystal Brighton’s daughter and