Waffles at the Wake (Murder in the Mix #29) - Addison Moore Page 0,14

he didn’t do it?” I protest. “You can’t massacre an entire state—or an entire mob family for that matter just because you suspect them of doing something wrong.”

Donata looks at Lorena and shrugs. “It could’ve been Rocky Romero.” She looks my way. “He’s her ex. Works for the Canellis.”

“Does he have dirty blond hair? And was he here tonight?” I ask, and they both nod in unison. “I saw him arguing with her earlier.” In fact, I saw both Lorena and Donata arguing with the deceased tonight as well, but I decide to leave that incriminating tidbit out for now. As far as I’m concerned, I have four suspects, not two.

“Wow, two suspects.” Lorena looks to Cat and Connie. “Who wants to bet both Nicky and Rocky will be dead in a week?”

Both Cat and Connie produce a hundred dollar bill from their purses, and Carlotta pulls out a wad of wrinkled cash herself.

“I’ve only got ten.” Carlotta nudges my arm. “Spot me a fifty, Lot.”

“What? No! We are not taking bets.” I glance back at the building and note a flash of hot pink stars glittering among the crowd and gasp. “Carlotta, we have to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m staying put. I’ve gotta be here for Cadillac and her witches now that the Morettis have thrown down the gauntlet. Oh, there’s gonna be blood. A trail of bodies. A web of deceit so thick and wide all of their Italian ancestors are about to get caught up in it and fight from the other side.”

Cat rewards Carlotta with a high-five for her bizarre diatribe about the dead.

“Didn’t I tell you to stick with me?” Cat gives a dark chuckle.

Carlotta gives a wistful shake of the head. “Nobody knows how to have a good time like the Canelli girls.”

“Carlotta,” I whisper. “They just lost a family member.”

Connie shrugs over at me. “And we’re gonna do what we always do—make the best of it. Nobody knew how to have a good time like Angel Face. And we’re gonna throw her one hell of a goodbye party.”

The spray of hot pink stars shimmies on over and adds a dash of supernatural pizzazz between us before trailing off near the woods adjacent to the building.

“Sounds good,” I say, never taking my eyes off that celestial wonder, and boy, am I ever relieved to see it. Better late than never. “Carlotta”—my hand warms my belly—“I need to get to the restroom,” I say. It’s not entirely a lie. My bladder has sort of gained a supernatural power itself—the need to urinate continually. “Would you help me out so I don’t slip on the ice?”

We’re about to take off when Lorena pulls me back by the wrist.

“I’m your point person, Lottie. Florenza was my best girl and nobody gets away with this without answering to me. We’ll track down Nicky Knuckles together.”

Donata nods my way. “Rocky, too.”

“I appreciate that. We’ll do it soon, too!” I give a little wave as I pull Carlotta toward the snowy woods.

“Where are we going, Lot? You don’t need to squat in the woods. They’ll let you back inside to use the restroom. Just tell ’em you’ve got a baby Fox kicking in your belly. Once Noah hears his baby mama has potty duty, he’ll roll out the red carpet—right over the body if he has to.”

She’s not wrong.

“I don’t have to go to the bathroom,” I hiss. “I saw something spooktacular heading in this direction.”

“Lemon.” I turn to find Everett trotting this way as he runs up winded. “Evie’s safe. Your mother offered to give her a ride home.” His brows furrow as he looks from Carlotta to me then the dark woods that lie ahead. “Where are you going?”

“I think I saw something,” I say. “I have a feeling the ghost is just a little late on its arrival, but I saw an entire constellation of shimmering hot pink stars right over there.” I point that way, and sure enough, there’s a tornado of stardust touching down over the earth. I take up both Everett’s hand and Carlotta’s as we rush that way.

“What’s happening, Lot?” Carlotta shouts as that tornado of stars picks up speed and creates a supernatural gust that sends Everett’s tie flying over his shoulder.

“Lemon?” His voice hikes with concern just as a loud, thunderous clap evicts from the hot pink flurry.

A few years back we found out that I act as a conduit for anyone who’s holding my hand, and not only can