Pecan Pie Predicament (Murder in the Mix #27) - Addison Moore Page 0,21
her eyebrows like straight little soldiers standing at attention. And she’s wearing what looks like a blue sequin T-shirt that hardly covers her bottom.
Barry leans in. “Here she comes, Lottie. Just as drop-dead gorgeous as I remember. I used to think Hannah was drop-dead gorgeous, too—I guess now she is. Get it?” He nudges me with his elbow. “Drop dead?”
I make a face at his brand of morbid humor. Speaking of dropping dead, Everett has to be worried sick about me by now.
I glance back to the table to see three surly looking men seated with Everett in addition to the women still flocking to him, but he’s got a clear shot my way and he’s watching me without flinching. Meanwhile, his felony fan club is still going strong.
Maizy is just about to pass me by, and instinctually I block her path.
“Maizy Burton?” I do my best to pretend to be startled. “It’s me, Lottie Lemon! We met at the street fair up in Honey Hollow.”
“Mmm.” Barry gives a wistful shake of the head. “What I wouldn’t give to get another turkey dinner plate from the Honey Pot Diner. The stuffing had breakfast sausage in it, and the mashed potatoes tasted like butter. I’ve never had anything so delicious in all my life, or my afterlife.”
I nod his way. He’s not kidding. Both of those scrumptious treats were inspired by Grandma Nell’s secret recipe collection. And now that she’s bequeathed to me her coveted recipe book, I hold the key to the secret recipe kingdom.
Maizy blinks back surprise. “Hey? How about that?” she pants, still winded from her time up on stage. “What brings you out this way?”
I shrug. “Date night. And now that I know they’ve got deep-fried butter here, you can bet you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.” And I mean more in the literal sense.
She laughs and that sequin dress shimmers in the light like a thousand starry nights.
“I was just heading to the bar to wet my whistle before my next set. Care to join me for a minute?”
“You bet. I was just about to grab something fruity for the baby.” I pat my stomach.
Barry gives me the once-over. “A kid, huh?”
Maizy blinks back at my body herself. “Wow, congratulations. I can’t even tell you’re pregnant. How far along are you?”
“Five months,” I say as we belly up to the bar right next to Carlotta and Mayor Nash. I do my best not to look at them, hoping they’ll return the favor.
Maizy puts in an order for a gin and tonic, and I ask for a virgin strawberry daiquiri—with a pickle. It just sounded right, so I went with it.
“How are you doing?” I wince.
Maizy rolls her eyes as she pats down her forehead with the back of her hand.
Barry nods her way. “Looks like she got a workout up on stage. I won’t lie. I thought Maizy and I would have made a good team. I was looking forward to making her sweat myself.”
My lips part as I look to the perverted poltergeist.
“While working out.” He pauses a moment. “Fine. Working out between the sheets.”
Thought so.
The bartender hands Maizy her gin and tonic, and she holds it up my way.
“This helps.” She laughs. “Believe me, I don’t want to be here tonight, but I need every red cent just to pay my bills. I missed last month’s rent, so I’m scrambling to get any overtime I can.”
“I’m sorry to hear it. I’m no stranger to financial upheaval. I took out a few loans when I was a student at Columbia and the rent on my apartment was hard to keep up with. And when I came back to Honey Hollow, I was twice as broke as I was before. I was doing some baking at my grandmother’s restaurant and waiting tables. Those tips kept me alive during that time. And then my landlord wanted to sue me on some superfluous grounds, but I guess you can say that’s when my luck changed because my future husband was the presiding judge in the case.” I leave out the part of my landlord biting the big one and becoming my very first homicide investigation.
Maizy caws out a quick laugh. “That’s a great story, Lottie! Here’s hoping my Mr. Right comes out of this mess.”
Barry shakes his head. “He won’t. I met her soulmate in paradise. Nice guy from England, owned a pub where they served apple beer. He claims to have invented the pretzel.”