Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

N iki steals Watson right out of my arms and he proceeds to lick her face silly right here in front of the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery, after a dead guy just faceplanted into a pumpkin pie slathered with whipped cream.

And is it wrong that I'm suddenly hungry?

"Wow, Effie." Niki laughs. "When you decide to make a scene, you really go all out. What are you going to do with the next guy who lands on your hitlist? Turn him into a fireworks display?"

"How about I turn you into a fireworks display?" I say, stealing my cute pooch right back and now he's licking my face silly—as it should be. I have to admit, he is the best kisser; he takes after his daddy.

I'm about to detail exactly how I'm about to go about turning my sister into one big, grand finale explosion when I spot that woman dressed from head to toe in orange, talking to none other than Naomi Turner, my perpetual thorn-in-the-side brunette nemesis.

The woman in orange keeps glancing over at Peter's body and her face is a mask of concern mixed with something else—satisfaction perhaps? It's strange, to say the least.

Meanwhile, Naomi can't seem to stop ogling at Cooper as if he's a slice of pie she's about to take a bite out of. Too bad that bite couldn't poison her and send her wherever boyfriend stealers go after they die. Probably the hot place surrounded by a bunch of even hotter bad boys. Figures. Some girls have all the luck.

I frown hard her way. So help me, if my stint with Uncle Jimmy lands Naomi Turner smack in Cooper's arms, there's going to be someone I need to smack, all right. Myself to be exact. Although Naomi isn't too far behind in that number.

Niki clutches my arm as the crowd around us continues to panic. "Effie, I swear, every time there's a dead body in this town, you're somehow in the middle of it."

Watson gives a chirp of a bark as if he agrees and I shake my head at him.

"It's like you're a murder magnet, just like that boss of yours!" Niki hitches her head toward the bakery, so I'm apprised as to which boss she speaks of. Although, technically, both of my bosses are murder magnets.

And yes, oddly enough, it's true. Lottie Lemon has stumbled upon her fair share of bodies as well. I've only got a lowly three under my belt. I hardly call that a murder magnet. More like a bad luck magnet. Very bad luck. In fact, at this point, I should probably work Bad Luck into my formal moniker.

"Would you stop?" I smack my sister's hand away. "It's not like I wake up in the morning and say I hope someone bites the dust today so I can be the first one to trip over their corpse . Besides, I was nowhere near that man when he dropped dead, and I've got witnesses." I was a whole three feet away.

"Maybe so, but you were the one who brought out some of those pies," she points out and I spot Cooper snapping his head in our direction.

Judging by the fact he's less than three feet away himself, I'm betting he heard that last little incriminating tidbit.

"Wonderful," I grunt as I pull Niki deeper into the crowd. "I'll have you know, you just landed me at the top of Cooper's suspect list!"

" Eh ." She shrugs. "Worse things have happened. Look on the bright side. This whole disaster could land you on top of Cooper himself." She smacks me back. "Anyway, I need to know if I'm safe from your lethal ways. Am I on your good side? Do I need to start sleeping with one eye open and a kitchen knife under my pillow? You're not planning on using me for target practice, are you?"

"You can relax," I growl at her. "As long as you keep making those killer calzones, you're in the clear." It's true. Not even Nona Jo can beat Niki at her calzone game. "Besides, if I wanted you dead, I'd at least make sure it was in a more glamorous setting than a pie-eating contest—like, say, Hairway to Heaven." That's the salon my mother works at. Also, that would cast a cloud of suspicion on a family member that's not me. If I had a nickel every time my mother announced she was going to kill my sister, I'd be able to retire to the North Pole and hit on Santa. (It's sort of been a fantasy of mine. It's a long story.)

"Aw, thanks," Niki moans with delight. "You always were my favorite sister. But don't tell Serafina. I tell her she's my favorite in an effort to stop her from reporting all the dirt she has on me to Ma. Because you know what Mom would do with all that info."

I nod. "Report it to her prayer group." And we both know the words prayer group are synonymous with gossip group. Aka Italian wireless.

"I'd better go while the getting is still good," Niki says while running that way, digging out her phone, and pointing the camera right at the poor stiff.

At least he didn't die by my hand.

I spot that lady in orange once again as she inspects the dead as if she were one of the coroners on hand.

What's with her, anyway?

Behind her, an older man is practically glaring at the deceased as if he stole his lunch money. He's a tall wall of muscles, a man about my father's age but with a carpet full of dark hair. And judging by the fact his hair is listing to one side, it might actually be a carpet.

And next to the two of them is Harmony Honeycutt herself and her expression is oddly serene. Although seeing that the guy was her ex, maybe it's not so odd after all.

Come to think of it, serene might be too mild a word. The woman is practically glowing, and not in a warm, fuzzy way. More like a cat that's just swallowed a pumpkin-eating canary. I bet she's secretly pleased he's out of the picture.

Before I can mull it over any further, a panicked shout rings out from none other than Suze herself. "The pies are poisoned!"

Lottie looks horrified. Noah, Suze's favorite son, looks twice as horrified, albeit at his mother—most likely for shouting out the obvious for all to hear. But then, knowing how Suze feels about Lottie, I'm not all that surprised.

The crowd erupts into screams as people scatter in all directions like chickens with their heads cut off—or rather turkeys considering the season.

Watson squirms and wiggles.

"We'd better get out of here before this turns into a full-blown riot," I say under my breath.

We push our way through the hysterical throng, keeping an eye on both the deceased and Detective Cooper Knox.

The pieces of this puzzle aren't fitting together just yet, but one thing's for sure—this Thanksgiving just got a whole lot more interesting.