Eggnog Trifle Trouble (Murder in the Mix #28) - Addison Moore Page 0,82

he’s Crystal Brighton’s ex-husband, that makes Candy his kid.” Kringle shoots me a look. “Sorry, Lot. This could go either way.”

I think he’s right. I might just have one ornery papa bear to deal with on my hands in a moment.

I nod over to Ethan, acknowledging his presence, and he nods back. The look on his ghostly face is as stern as can be. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking, but I’d bet good money whatever it is, he isn’t happy about it.

Candy attempts to stride past me, and I step over, blocking her path.

“You’re from Plum Creek, Colorado,” I pant as my adrenaline picks up. “Your father’s name was Ethan Lionel Markus, and Gloria shot him by accident—or so she claimed.”

Candy takes a staggering step back, her left foot gliding out a few inches as she slips in the snow.

“Lottie, help.” Her other foot glides out as she holds a hand out my way and I quickly grab it. But instead of steadying herself, she yanks me over and pushes me up against her car while she fumbles with the keys.

Ethan growls from behind her and Candy screams.

“Is that a bear?”

“You’re holding my hand,” I say, trying my best to break free from her grip on me. “It’s your father you hear. He’s not hiding his disappointment in you, Candy.” I push her off of me, only to have her cage me in with her arms.

“How dare you try to use my father against me! My father was a beautiful person. A sharp businessman who made his own way in this world. He bought up all the cheap no-tell motels until he was able to trade them for bigger and better, and once he gained enough credit, he bought his first luxury hotel right here in Vermont. He was on the road to owning an empire, until that monster came along and ruined it for him.”

“Hotel?” I look to Kringle then Ethan himself. “Wait a minute. He owned the Grand Lux Hotel out in Fallbrook, didn’t he? Of course, he did.”

Kringle gasps. “That seedy lounge with the sinful Santas!”

I nod over to the woman before me. “The Candy Cane Lounge was named after you.”

A short-lived smile pumps on her lips. “Yes, it was, Lottie. Cormack and Cressida were right. You are tenacious in your pursuit of justice.”

“That’s the nicest thing they’ve said about me.”

Her chest vibrates with a quiet laugh. “They didn’t mean it as a compliment.”

Our eyes lock for a moment, and Ethan groans as he lands his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. I know what he’s thinking.

“You didn’t have to kill her,” I say it softly into the wind.

“But I did.” Her voice seethes with anger. “She took my father away. And she wasn’t even punished. Nobody believed that ridiculous defense she used with the exception of the judicial system. My mother and I both knew she was wicked. Gloria and my father fought all the time. My father wasn’t teaching her how to use the gun—he was trying to take it away from her.”

I glance over her shoulder, and the handsome poltergeist gives a solemn nod, affirming it so.

“I’m sorry,” I say it directly to him. “And I’m sorry for you, too, Candy. Look, you were young when it happened. I’m guessing a preteen? You’re clearly under duress, acting out within some form of post-traumatic stress disorder. They’re going to go easy on you. There are a lot of people who will defend your character. You’re a good person. You just need some help.”

Ethan nods in agreement with a heavy look of grief on his face.

“No, Lottie.” She opens the car door and gives me a hard push inside, but I spring right back out and make a run for the snow-covered lawn in front of the Evergreen.

Candy bolts after me and latches onto my wrist, spinning me around.

“How did you put it together?” she seethes. “I covered my tracks perfectly. All roads led to that beast of a woman I thought was your mother-in-law. And believe me, Lottie, I was doing you a favor. I knew you’d be my biggest hurdle, but I was up for the challenge.”

Kringle blows over his fingernails and rubs them against his fur. “Guess she didn’t bring her A game.”

My lips twitch with a smile. “You wore the same shoes the night of the murder. You left the same pattern in the snow tonight that you did that night. A very unique squared-off heel. That alone should have put