Pecan Pie Predicament (Murder in the Mix #27) - Addison Moore Page 0,19
the bakery. I’ll make sure you have whatever resources you need at your disposal. And if you wanted to hire a nanny or an au pair, I’d help you vet the best of the best. And it would be on me. You’re my wife, Lemon. I love you so much it hurts. We’re in this together for the long haul.”
My lips press tightly and I nod. “Thank you, Everett. You have no idea how much your words mean to me. I know everything will work out, especially now that you’re by my side. Your words, you, Everett, bring me great comfort.”
The waitress comes back and lands a bounty of deep-fried dishes at our table, and along with it about six different women trot over and begin to paw away at Judge Baxter while filling him in on their new perfectly legal, albeit lusty lives.
A woman with caramel-colored hair belts out a maniacal laugh from the bar, and I glance that way before doing a double take.
There she is, the exact woman I was hoping I wouldn’t see here tonight.
“Excuse me,” I say as I speed that way before Everett can protest. Not that he could even see me anymore with that gaggle of girls ensconcing him from every side.
“Carlotta?” I hiss in horror as I come upon my older look-alike who happens to be sloshing a beer in one hand and juggling pretzels in the other. Right next to her is a tall man built just as sturdy as this brick building, wearing an all too familiar red muscle tee, and he just so happens to be dead as a doornail.
“Lot Lot?” The smile quickly dissipates from Carlotta’s face as she leans my way. “Are you following me?” she snips as if it were a hostile offense.
“Ha!” I laugh at the thought. “I think we know who’s following who. What were you thinking coming here? This place is seedy. It’s brimming with former inmates of every correctional facility from sea to shining sea. And look at you, inebriating yourself at the bar. Are you out of your mind? And you”—I look to the poltergeist among us—“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, too.”
Carlotta narrows her peepers at me. “If your nosy nose must know, I’m here to meet up with a hot date. A man I met on an app called Senior Hustle named Lefty. He’s going away soon for insider trading. They’re going to lock him up for a very long time, and I plan on giving him a proper sendoff.”
About three different people pause to applaud her efforts, and my mouth falls open at the lunacy.
“Never mind all of that.” I look to the ghost who keeps helping himself to Carlotta’s beer by way of a straw. “I believe you’ve got a friend I’d like to be introduced to.”
Carlotta gives his hand a yank, and he floats over until he’s standing in front of me.
He’s a good-looking guy, dark hair, dark smile. His neck is so thick it looks as if he could lift this building on his strength alone and his eyes shine a supernatural shade of amber. He has a broad forehead and pointed nose, his lips are the same reddish tan shade as his skin, and I marvel at the fact I can still see his veins bulging all over his arms like green slithery serpents that sit under his flesh.
“Lottie Lemon. Pleased to meet you.” I hold out a hand and he shakes it, feeling every bit as real as Carlotta herself.
“Barry Honeycutt.” His voice is as warm and deep as his smile. “Carlotta here tells me Hannah Beckham has been offed.” He glances to the ceiling. “Not that I’m all too surprised. She was a pretty polarizing individual. Not everyone sees fitness the way she did. I should know, I’m the one that got her into the deal. Some say it’s a craze, I say it’s a lifestyle. Although it just so happened to be the lifestyle that got me killed as well.” He taps his neck. “I was bench pressing and the bar rolled in the wrong direction. Crushed my pharynx. I passed out, and the next thing I knew I was flying off to paradise.” He shrugs. “It’s actually not a bad deal. I thought I’d hate it, but it’s basically life supercharged. There’s no night up there, so everything’s open all day. I run a conditioning course for the souls who still feel the need for a little supernatural