Pecan Pie Predicament (Murder in the Mix #27) - Addison Moore Page 0,50

it.

But Everett and Noah are at a standoff as they stare one another down.

“Go to it, Everett,” Noah says. “Prove to Lottie you’re the bear that never gives up.”

Everett glances down at the pie and closes his eyes as if it hurt to even look at it. He pulls out a wad of bills and plops them down onto the table.

“Don’t worry, Lemon. I’ll buy dinner every night of the week for a year, wherever you want, however much you want. But that pie isn’t getting anywhere near my pie hole.”

We head on out and walk down the street to our car as the icy wind picks up and makes my hair fly to the sky. Twinkle lights have been strung up from lamppost to lamppost as the town gets ready for Christmas, and it gives all of Main Street a magical appeal.

“Autumn thinks Reese did it,” I say to Noah as he rubs his belly.

“I’m thinking she might be right.” He moans. “Here’s hoping I have this buttoned up before Thanksgiving.”

“Here’s hoping, indeed,” I say.

There is a killer on the loose who is very thankful for the fact they’ve been able to maintain their freedom.

But if I have anything to say about it, their thankful days are numbered.

Chapter 11

The fall winds blow a flurry of leaves just past my bakery window as I box up as many of my delicious cookies as I can. I’ve got plans for these cookies, and they just so happen to be a part of a grand scheme to get my own cookies frosted. I’m about to put an end to this dry spell Everett and I are having, once and for all.

The morning rush just ended, and Lily is wiping down the counter while Carlotta fashions a wreath out of a string of silk leaves she plucked off the counter. And Keelie is here on a break while noshing on pumpkin cheesecake since the Honey Pot Diner isn’t all that busy just yet.

“Carlotta”—I make a face—“you do realize that was a part of my fall decor.”

“I know, but it’s the first official day of my new business. Your mama made me those curtains for my van, and I just slapped the magnetic signs onto the sides of it. It’s go time, Lot. Which reminds me, box me up a couple dozen of those chocolate chip cookies of yours, would you? I’m guessing people are better tippers after they’ve been sugared up a bit.”

Lily grunts, “Try liquored up.”

Keelie nods. “My vote is for tequila.”

“No way, no how.” Carlotta is quick to dismiss the hard stuff. “I saw how quickly the feds shutdown Miranda’s haunted house a few months back. Besides, I don’t qualify for a liquor license, I’ve already checked.”

I put together a whole new box of chocolate chip cookies and slide them her way.

Lily scoots in. “What exactly is happening in that van of yours, anyway?”

Carlotta holds up the newly fashioned wreath and pokes her head through it. “I’m opening a mobile spa!”

“Yup,” I say. “And sadly, I am fully aware of it.”

“Oh, come on, Lot.” Carlotta pulls the boxes of cookies her way. “Don’t be such a killjoy. I know why you’re so glum. You think now that I’ll be rolling in the dough, I’ll move out on my own and you’ll never see me again, don’t ya? You’re afraid that I won’t be your trusty sidekick when you go out hunting for a killer. Well, you’re wrong on both counts. The next time you go snooping, give me a ring. In fact, I’ll drive. It’ll be good exposure for my business.”

“A spa! A spa!” Keelie claps and jumps up and down. “I’ll be your first customer, Aunt Carlotta. I want the works. Little Bear never sleeps, and every single day it feels as if a truck ran over me.”

Lily leans back, most likely in the event Carlotta’s madness is catching. “Carlotta, you’re not thinking about picking up people on the side of the road, are you? This could be dangerous.”

“Not could be,” I correct. “It will be.”

Keelie moans while swallowing down another bite of pumpkin cheesecake. “But think of how exciting it will be. A perfect stranger. A lonely highway.”

“A very sharp axe.” I don’t mind pointing out the obvious homicidal detail. “Carlotta, not only will your body be chopped up into pieces, but you’ll be on the news as a cautionary tale.”

Carlotta waves me off as she pulls out a stack of bright orange paper from her tote bag.

“I’m not

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