Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

T he next afternoon, Lottie has Suze, Lily, and me delivering platters of desserts over to her mother's B&B, the Honey Hollow Bed and Breakfast.

Normally, I wouldn't mind a delivery mission, especially when it involves delicious pastries, but I'm not exactly thrilled about heading to the old white mansion that everyone in Honey Hollow insists is haunted.

Perfect. Just what I needed to go with the dead guy whose blood money is sitting safely tucked in my sock drawer— ghosts . Albeit at this point, I probably deserve a haunting or two.

The stately mansion looms ahead, all white wood and wraparound porches, looking as if it stepped straight out of a Gothic novel. It's festooned with fall garlands, wreaths brimming with autumn leaves, and pumpkins of every size, but the festive decorations do little to hide its eerie charm. The tall, narrow windows seem to watch our every move, and I swear I see the curtains twitching as we approach.

"What's the matter, Effie?" Suze snickers by my side. "Don't tell me you're afraid of a little haunted house?"

She should know. She lives here.

Hey? Maybe Suze is the ghost everyone is afraid of? That makes a lot of sense.

" Please ," I scoff, even though I'm clutching my platter full of pumpkin spice cheesecake muffins like it's a shield. "Oh, all right. I'm not thrilled. But I can't help it. Rumor has it, this place has seen more dead bodies than a funeral home. And rumor also has it, there's more than one lingering spirit hanging around, too."

Lily laughs, her curls bouncing. "Well, rumor also has it, Lottie's mom, Miranda, makes the best hot apple cider in Vermont. So, if we're going to face any ghosts, at least we'll have something delicious on hand to toast the ghosts with."

"Great, because cider is exactly the beverage I want when I'm face-to-face with restless spirits," I mutter.

We head inside and it's dark, dank, and, well, pretty cozy looking. There are a wrought iron staircase that leads to the second level and a marble reception counter a little deeper inside, and the whole place reeks of a posh haunted hotel.

Suze leads the way to the glass conservatory in the back and we're treated to a fall wonderland in a room made of windows. Even the ceiling is made of glass. The room is huge and thankfully so, considering how many women seem to have crammed themselves in here today.

The conservatory is a sprawling structure of glass and wrought iron, filled with lush faux fall foliage and the warm glow of twinkle lights. And today it just so happens to be bustling with the Elegance and Envy Boutique's trunk sale, a whirlwind of fancy scarves, costume jewelry, and designer handbags. The air is thick with the scents of cinnamon, nutmeg, and—strangely enough—fear. Mine mostly.

There's a dessert table to the right with coffee, tea, and cider set out. And in the middle of the room, there's a plethora of tables with lots of fancy clothes, belts, and purses. And near the front, there's a round table set out with all sorts of fancy china that looks as if it will break if you look at it crooked. Most of the pieces shimmer an iridescent shade of blue and have roses printed all over them. There's a large sign in front of them that reads look but don't touch!

Honestly, everything on that table looks as if it were better off in a museum, for both its safety and ours.

My eyes scan the crowd, and I spot my next suspect, Fiona Harper. She's laughing it up with a group of well-dressed women, looking every bit the successful boutique owner she is—and perhaps killer.

Face it, I can't let anyone off the hook this early in the game.

"Looks like your suspect is right where you want her," a gravelly voice whispers from behind and I nearly jump right out of my sneakers, only to see Aunt Cat and Carlotta standing behind me and hopping between them is the furriest pooch on the planet.

"Hey there, cutie pie." I blow Watson a kiss. I made the mistake of telling Aunt Cat and Carlotta where I was headed this afternoon when I asked if they'd mind watching Watson.

"Good luck trying to get this cutie pie back," Aunt Cat says. "Turns out, this furball is a man magnet."

"That's right." Carlotta is quick to acknowledge the claim. "He brings all the silver foxes to the yard. We like him, he's ours now."

"You can keep him," I say. "But be warned, his favorite place to relieve himself is in your shoe, and he likes to take his first walk at about six in the morning. That's when he likes to deliver the first yard brownies of the day, too. All of which you'll have to pick up yourself."

"Never mind." Aunt Cat is quick to change her mind. "I like my sleep, and I don't pick up yard brownies for anyone, no matter how cute they are."

"That goes double for me," Carlotta says with a nod. "We'll stick to doggie daycare while you sling Lottie's brownies around Honey Hollow."

"Speaking of which," I say, holding up the tray of pumpkin spice cheesecake muffins in my arms. "I'd better set these down."

I head over to do just that and note that both Suze and Lily have already dropped off their goodies and are perusing the selections along with the crowd.

I set my platter down just as an older blonde turns my way.

"Oh good, someone with a sensible mind is here," Miranda Lemon says, pulling me close to where she and Lottie are standing. "I want you to settle a debate my daughter and I are having."

Miranda Lemon is about as cheerful as her name suggests, with a blonde bouncy bob, a cherry-red smile at the ready, and a wily twinkle in her eyes that suggests a little mischief is not above her paygrade.

Miranda is the woman who raised Lottie, and Lottie says she's better because of it. After meeting Carlotta, I can't argue with that.

"I'll bite." I glance at Lottie, who looks like she'd rather be anywhere else. "What's the topic? The best way to roast a turkey?"

Miranda shakes her perfectly coiffed bob. "No, no. We're debating whether the stuffing should be cooked inside the turkey or separately."

I can't help but laugh. "That's easy. Separately, of course. Nobody wants to reach into a turkey's nether regions to grab their favorite side dish."

Lottie nods, folding her arms. "See, Mom? Effie agrees with me. It's a psychological issue—one that can leave your grandchildren traumatized for life."

Miranda rolls her eyes. "Well, I still think the stuffing is much more flavorful when cooked inside the turkey."

"Maybe so," Lottie says. "But there won't be a soul at the table willing to perform surgery to get to it."

Someone calls for Miranda and she waves their way. "I'd better mingle." She steals a pumpkin spice cheesecake muffin before disappearing into the crowd.

"At least she's got great taste when it comes to sweet treats," I say. "These muffins are my favorite."

"Thanks." Lottie wrinkles her nose. "Any leads on the Honeycutt case yet?"

"You might want to ask the lead investigator," I tease.

"I am."

We share a quick laugh just as the lights flicker and the chandeliers up above rattle.

I grab my chest and my eyes spring wide open as I belt out a scream.