Pecan Pie Predicament (Murder in the Mix #27) - Addison Moore Page 0,64
breakfast in bed for his birthday, and the bed in question belonged to Noah. But he was a good sport about it. Noah knows all about the surprise party. In fact, everyone does sans Everett, of course.
Everett thinks Evie and I are taking him to a steakhouse tonight. His mother, Eliza, and sister, Meghan, already called to wish him a happy birthday, so he won’t be expecting to see them.
And right at six-fifty, Everett and I pile into his car and head over to the B&B under the guise of picking up Evie.
“While we’re there, I might need to have a quick word with Barry Honeycutt,” I say as we pull into the parking lot behind my mother’s conservatory. The parking lot is always filled to the brim with cars that belong to the guests, so he shouldn’t be suspicious in the least. “I swear, he’s more interested in Greer than he is this case.”
The lights are out in the conservatory, and just the thought of all of our friends and family hiding out in there makes me more than a little giddy.
Everett looks resplendent tonight despite the fact he’s wearing his standard fare, a dark suit, dark tie, and a powder blue dress shirt that brings out the swoon-worthy magic in his eyes.
“Barry’s got a girl on the brain.” Everett shakes his head as we get out of the car and head on up to the back of the building. “I get it. I’d much rather focus on you than work. It’s nice to know the dead still strive for relationships. I call dibs on the afterlife with you.” Everett swings open the door to the conservatory. “Can you imagine if people actually knew you could speak to the dead?”
A light gasp circles the darkened room before the lights flicker on and a cast of seemingly thousands scream SURPRISE! all at once.
Two things swirl through my mind in an instant. One, Everett just all but outed my supersensual abilities to a room full of virtual strangers. And two, who are these people, and why are a vast majority of them dressed as clowns?
Everett’s eyes widen in horror. “Lemon? Thank you? I think?”
“I wouldn’t be thanking me.” My hand clutches at my throat because, face it, I’m half-moved to strangle myself.
Polka music plays on blast, and the scent of Chinese food competing with the food from the Honey Pot is making me queasy more than it is hungry.
A large banner draped across the back wall reads Welcome to my birthday party. I’m old. Please leave by nine. Next to it, there’s a picture of Everett’s face, no smile, his go-to look, and on his head they’ve photoshopped a frilly pink party hat. Strung up along the walls are rows and rows of pictures of Everett’s effigy with that same pink party hat on repeat. There’s a cake table to the right with a giant—oh my dear Lord—is that a cake in the shape of a toilet? I stagger over a few steps and see the words Crap you’re old. Happy Birthday, Essex written over the bowl. And in the toilet, among the blue gel that looks surprisingly like water, there looks to be something brown floating in it that turns my stomach.
“Oh my word,” I pant. “Evie?” I call out, and she appears by my side looking beautiful in a little black dress and heels, her hair curled to perfection as it cascades down her back, but that look on her face lets me know she’s just as sick as I am. “What the heck is going on? Where’s the cake I had delivered? What’s with the decorations?”
“Lemon?” Everett’s face has gone white, and sadly he’s blending in with all the pasty-faced clowns whose laughter and voices are rising above the overly cheery music. “My colleagues are here from the courthouse—all of them. And all of them happen to be dressed as clowns. Are you responsible for this?”
“No. I mean, I did, but I didn’t.” I look to Evie for answers, and she just shrugs.
“Don’t look at me.” She glowers at the tacky party decorations as if they offended her, as they probably should. “The cheer squad and I came here about three-thirty and had this place looking amazing with rose gold balloons and matching decorations. Lily was just delivering that chocolate cake you baked when we left. Where did all my cute decorations go? And who the heck would think this is a good idea?”