11. Lottie

LOTTIE

H oney Hollow is a picturesque postcard of a winter wonderland this morning, with a blanket of fresh snow glittering under the pale morning sun.

The street outside the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery is an untouched white canvas, except for the occasional tire tracks and the gentle dusting of powdered sugar-like snow on the rooftops.

Bare trees line Main Street like silent guards keeping watch over us, their branches delicately draped in white, and the quaint storefronts are aglow with twinkle lights that refuse to give up their post-holiday cheer.

Carlotta and I race to the front of the bakery where that large furry polar bear lumbers his way up and down the middle of the street, howling and growling and looking as if he’s having a good ol’ time.

“ Petey ,” I shout his way, thankful that there’s neither a car nor a human out on the street to witness the lunacy—and it would look like lunacy considering the fact only Carlotta and I can see the white ogre. “Petey, come here.” I wave my arms. “I need to have a word with you.”

“Geez, it’s cold out here, Lot,” Carlotta says, rubbing her arms as best as she can. “Can’t you do something about this?”

“Like what? Opening the door to the bakery and heating the neighborhood? It’s called winter, Carlotta. Embrace it or hibernate,” I say, squinting at the furry menace as he trots down to the end of Main Street.

The scent of freshly baked goods wafts out behind us, an intoxicating mix of cinnamon, vanilla, and butter that could probably bring a snowman to life.

But it’s not the snowmen we need to worry about.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I mutter as that enormous, and very ghostly, white figure barrels back in our direction. “Petey!”

The giant cutie comes our way and flops onto his back in front of us and is currently doing his best impression of a snow angel—if a snow angel were ten feet tall and weighed more than a small car.

“Aw, look at him, Lot.” Carlotta laughs as we watch Petey flop from side to side, sending sprays of snow into the air like a burst fire hydrant. “He’s having the time of his life.”

“You mean the time of his after life,” I say. “I’d like to have a word with him before he turns into the true heavenly being he is and does a disappearing act.” I stride forward with as much determination as a woman carrying twins can muster.

“Petey,” I call out, trying to get the bear’s attention. “Petey, we need to talk!”

But Petey is either ignoring me or too caught up in his own frosty fun to care. He rolls onto his belly and then crawls up on all fours.

I take a deep breath, ready to shout again, when suddenly, Carlotta decides to take matters into her own hands as she charges on ahead.

“I’ve got this, Lot,” she calls out. “Oh, what the heck!” she cries, and before I can stop her, she’s climbing onto Petey’s back like he’s some kind of ghostly amusement park ride.

“Carlotta, don’t you dare,” I shout, but it’s too late. Petey lets out a playful growl, because evidently he’s clearly excited by the fact he’s got a passenger, and soon enough he’s trotting up and down the street with Carlotta clinging to his fur like she’s competing in some supernatural rodeo.

“ Yeehaw ,” Carlotta shouts, waving one arm in the air like she’s rounding up cattle instead of cruising on the back of the ghost of a polar bear. “This is better than that mechanical bull at that cheap bar in Leeds!”

There’s some bull happening, all right.

“Carlotta, get off that beast before you break an arm,” I shout, scooping up a handful of snow and packing it into a ball. “Petey, please slow down! Carlotta’s not like you. She’s not dead yet.”

But keep this up and she will be soon enough.

However, Petey is having none of it. If anything, he picks up speed while bounding up and down Main Street with Carlotta whooping like a loon on his back.

“Fine, have it your way,” I mutter and lob snowball after snowball at the two of them.

Somehow I manage to hit Petey square in the side of his head, and he skids to a halt, sniffing the air as if trying to figure out where the sudden chill came from. And Carlotta just laughs even harder.

“Keep laughing, Carlotta,” I grunt. “Let’s see how funny it is when you’re digging snow out of places you didn’t know you had!”

“Ah, come on, Lottie.” My look-alike sister, Charlie, runs over from her post in the Honey Pot Diner and sidles up next to me. “This is Carlotta we’re talking about. She knows things about the human body and all of its orifices that science hasn’t even discovered yet. At least when it comes to sharing her body with men.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

“What’s with the polar bear?” Charlie asks, shivering. She’s not exactly dressed for the elements and, come to think of it, neither am I, since we both bolted outdoors on a whim. “Never mind, he’s connected to the case, isn’t he?” Her teeth chatter as she says it.

I’m about to fill her in just as the bear in question skids our way and sprays us both with enough snow to qualify us as human snow cones, and believe me, I have the curves for it. Charlie? Not so much.

Soon, the entire bakery is drained of its customers and everyone around us seems to be scooping up snow and tossing it in the air.

Mom trots this way holding Lyla Nell. “Oh, Lottie, you know you can’t have a snowball fight without Lyla Nell. This child practically flew out of her highchair. She kept shouting teddy bear and snowball fight , over and over.”

I give a little wink to the cutie pie in my mother’s arms. Lyla Nell just loves the ghosts that visit Honey Hollow, the furrier the better. But, of course, my mother doesn’t know that.

“All right,” Petey growls out my way as he makes his way in my direction. “What did you want to talk about?”

I ask my mother to tend to Lyla Nell as Charlie and I slink to the right along with Petey and Carlotta, who by the way no one seems one iota concerned about considering the fact she was floating high above Main Street while acting like a lunatic. Most likely because it wouldn’t be the first time.

“What do you know about Ursula Wingate?” I pant at the furry big bear. And boy, he is cute. His furry little face is so adorable with those button eyes, a little black nose, and tiny triangular ears.

“Ursula Wingate?” He slowly rises on his hind legs and Carlotta slides off of him rather unceremoniously. His voice is sweet with a slightly goofy bent and he has all the charm of an overgrown golden retriever. “I didn’t know an Ursula Wingate, but I knew an Ursula Moffletop.”

“ Moffletuf ,” Carlotta corrects. “I knew that no good for nothing, garden hoe back when she was still among us.”

“Carlotta, you knew her?” I gag on my words. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Foxy and Sexy asked me not to help you out in the investigation department.”

I’m so spitting mad right now. Noah and Everett’s names might as well be mud. I don’t usually get mad at anyone, but with all these hormones surging through me, I’m mad, sad, and glad at least ten times an hour at any and everyone.

“What do you know?” Charlie snips at her. “Spit it out before our limbs freeze and break off.”

“Fine.” Carlotta tosses up her hands. “The woman was a floozy who stole six of my boyfriends back in the day. She wasn’t from around here. She grew up in Hollyhock. But that didn’t stop her from hunting down her prey in a six-town radius. I’ll admit, I picked up a few tricks and tips from her. I may not have liked the hussy, but she was a pro at how to land a man even if he wasn’t available.”

Figures.

That’s a skill Carlotta herself has perfected as well. Personally, I’m shocked they didn’t team up and petition the IOC, International Olympic Committee, to include Boyfriend Stealing as a sport. And I have no doubt Team Sawyer would have brought home the gold.

“What do you know about her, Petey?” I ask.

The ghostly cutie lifts his snout. “Ursula used to care for me while I was still at the Hollyhock Zoo. Her father was one of my keepers, and she often showed up along with him when she was a little girl. When she was a teenager, those visits grew sparse until one day she simply stopped showing up.” His head lolls to the side and he sighs. “I do miss the fun times we had. The rules stated that unauthorized humans shouldn’t enter the polar bear enclosure, but Ursula said that rules were for fools.”

Carlotta grunts, “Did she ever. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had that tattooed on her forehead.”

“She didn’t,” I say because I can confirm it. “Petey, do you know why someone would want to see her dead?”

Both Charlie and Carlotta chuckle at the thought.

“Come on, Lottie.” Charlie makes a face at me, and considering how much we look alike, it’s a little disconcerting to see a version of myself frowning my way. “The woman stole men for a hobby. Who didn’t want her dead?”

“Probably not Francine Dundee,” I say. “Her family seems to follow every rule that the Good Book has to offer.”

“Except for thou shalt not murder.” Carlotta sniffs. “I still think Francine did the deadly deed. She threatened to kill the woman, and the woman was strangled with the scarf Francine whipped up as the murder weapon.”

“She threatened to kill you , Carlotta,” I correct. “But she was rather irate with Ursula.”

Petey bellows out a deafening roar and both of the babies in my belly give a swift kick.

“Where do we find this Francine Dundee?” Petey asks and bares his fangs as if he’s going to eat her.

“She works down the street,” Carlotta huffs. “I found out the hard way and backed out of the place as soon as I saw her ugly mug.”

“Where at?” I ask, craning my neck past her.

“The Cozy Croon Café,” Carlotta growls as if the very name of the establishment made her angry.

“ Ooh .” Charlie wiggles her shoulders. “I’ve heard they have an amazing menu. And I have been meaning to check out the competition.” She glances at her watch. “It’s just about lunchtime. I’m buying, who’s in?”

Carlotta rubs her belly. “Well, if you’re buying, I’m trying—every dish on the menu.”

“Well, if it’s for research purposes.” I bite down on a smile.

We’re headed to question my one and only suspect—and try every dish on the menu.

That not only pleases me, but it pleases the twins as well.