7. Noah

NOAH

T he air in the library is quickly growing stale as the deputies do their best to thin the crowd.

The deceased is Ursula Wingate, and according to her husband, Orson, they’ve been staying at the B&B while their home undergoes some plumbing renovations. He has no idea who would want to hurt his wife. The only thing he can think of is that another tenant of the B&B, a woman by the name of Suze Fox, had let them know she was actively being harassed by unknown sources and that maybe the hit was meant for her.

I’ll admit, my blood ran cold as I heard him say it. Mostly because a part of me thinks he might be right.

I should know, Suze Fox is my mother.

I take in the scene as the coroner’s office is in the process of photographing the deceased from every angle.

As much as I want to find the person responsible, the person I’d really like to speak to right about now is the woman who gave birth to me.

I glance around and spot a familiar face lumbering in my direction. But it’s not my mother. It’s Everett.

“Why aren’t you gone?” I growl. “Is Lottie still here? What about the girls? Please tell me that you took them home.”

“Turns out, Evie took Lyla Nell home before there was a whiff of something sinister. Lemon is hungry, so she’s making herself a few crepes.”

“As long as she’s not with my mother, I suppose she’s safe.” I quickly fill him in on what Orson Wingate told me.

“Geez.” He winces. “Okay, what’s with the dead guy? Let’s start there and we’ll work our way out.”

“Don’t you dare go on without me,” a female voice chirps, and before we know it, Lottie is next to us. “What’s happening, Noah?” She shoves what looks to be the remnant of a crepe into her mouth, and I’ll admit, it looks delicious.

“I spoke to the husband of the deceased,” I tell them. “He thinks the intended victim may have been my mother.”

She gasps, despite the fact she has a mouthful of food, before motioning for me to continue.

“Look, whatever my mother is wrapped up in, it’s dangerous.” I sigh at the thought. “Nobody hand-delivers a corpse to the hood of your car on Christmas with a note reading you’re next , unless they mean business. I’m afraid Orson Wingate is right. My mother’s life is in danger, Lottie. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to insist you let her go from the bakery, at least temporarily. She’s a walking target, and I don’t want you anywhere near her.”

“Oh wow.” Lottie taps her lips. “I guess that’s fine, but you’re going to have to do the dirty work. There’s no way I’m getting on Suze’s bad side any more than I already am.”

“Good for you, Lemon.” Everett takes a moment to glare at me. “Hear that, Noah? She’s not doing your dirty work for you anymore. And that includes solving this new homicide. Lemon has too much on her plate at the moment. And in the event you haven’t noticed, she’s carrying twins. Of which have a habit of coming into the world a little early. You had better solve this case and every case that might mildly pique her interest, because short of chaining her to my body, you and I both know we can’t stop her from investigating.”

“Hey, I’m right here.” Lottie giggles as she winks his way. “Don’t worry, Everett. I happen to agree with you. I have enough on my plate.” She cradles her burgeoning belly. “And plus, these are the last few weeks I’ll have alone with the other baby in the house, Lyla Nell. I need to make sure she understands that these babies aren’t taking her place. Don’t either of you worry. I’m not looking to chain myself to Sue Fox, if that’s what you’re afraid of. But honestly, I don’t want to let her go from the bakery either.”

Everett nods my way. “You should chain yourself to your mother, Noah. In fact, you should chain the two of you to your desk. Two weeks have passed since that dead man showed up on the hood of her car and you’re just now able to identify him. I’m sorry, but I don’t have the faith I need to rely on you to solve this case.”

“Thanks.” I nod his way before looking at Lottie. “The dead guy is Tom Darius, forty-two, a known drifter down in Leeds. He was seen hanging out at the Fletcher Hotel.”

“Hey, that’s that quasi-ritzy place,” Lottie points out. “And that’s saying a lot, considering Leeds is basically a toilet.”

She’s right on both counts.

She leans in. “Any idea why he’d be involved in whatever this is?”

“None.” I shake my head as my frustration builds. “This guy is a true mystery. No ties to the B&B, no ties to Ursula as far as I can tell. I asked Orson if he knew the name, and he said he’s never heard of him. It’s like the guy dropped out of the sky.”

“Not out of the sky,” Lottie says with her gaze set on the deceased. “But he has something to do with your mother.” She looks pensive for a moment before shaking it off. “But right now, we’ve got bigger cakes to ice. Ursula’s dead, and there’s the ghost of a polar bear who seems to think we should care. It turns out, his name is Petey. Thirteen filled me in on that ghostly little tidbit.”

A breath expels from me. “I can’t believe the words that are about to come from my mouth, but I need you to help me speak to that ghost. It’s all hands on deck with this one—including a couple of dead hands.”

“You mean paws,” Everett corrects as he glares around at the room. “I don’t care who you get a clue from, Noah. Whatever is going on with your mother has already racked up a body count. This needs to end, and it needs to end now. If I were you, I’d bump that polar bear down a notch on your interrogation list. It’s your mother you need to shake down. She knows more than what she’s letting on. Let’s go home, Lemon.”

We say goodnight as they head out and another heavy sigh expels from me.

As much as I hate it, Everett is right.

My mother knows something and she’s not talking.

What is she so afraid of?

And what the heck has she gotten herself into now?