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“You got that right,” I say. “I wonder if any of those women that were having dinner with Bella are registered to carry? That may be an interesting lead.”
Lou sighs hard. “I heard the woman who died was a novelist. She wrote thrillers. And the women that were with her that night were a part of her writing group. I bet one of them knows their way around a gun.”
“I bet you’re right,” I say as my mind begins to spin.
Forest lifts a hand. “Now, now, Lottie. Don’t you even think of investigating this case.” He turns to his friend. “My sister-in-law here is a notoriously good detective in her own right.” He turns my way and wags a finger. “But one of these days it’s going to cost you everything. Keep your nose clean, Lottie. Steer clear of trouble. Believe me, you’ll be saving yourself, and most likely others, a heck of a lot of heartbreak.”
They say goodnight before heading toward the back.
It’s too late to save myself and anyone else heartbreak.
I’ve already steered my way straight into trouble.
And now it’s my job to steer my way right out of it, too—for both my sake and my sister’s.
As far as the latest homicide victim—well, it looks as if I have a writing group to quiz.
And starting tomorrow, I’ll do just that.
LOTTIE
The bakery is bustling this, the very next day after Charlie’s arrest.
Unfortunately for my sweet sis, she’s still in the pokey. I took Lyla Nell and visited her this morning and Charlie was more than grateful. Thankfully, she’s the only one in her holding cell, but I have a feeling, come prison, she won’t be so lucky.
Not that there’s anything lucky about being locked up for something she didn’t do.
I’d like to think that haunted wreath of mourning has struck again, but this bad luck was one hundred percent mine.
“Pass me the s’mores brownies, please,” my mother says as she, Carlotta, Keelie, and I sit at a table near the window while Suze and Lily man the registers. “These may just be your best treats yet.”
Lyla Nell does her best to snatch that brownie right out of her Glam Glam’s hand as she wiggles on my mother’s lap.
Wisely, my mother hands Lyla Nell the sweet treat and reaches for another one for herself.
Keelie, my bestie since preschool, shakes her blonde hair. “I’m in love with these pineapple upside-down cupcakes. I wish you had thought of this a million years ago. I feel a lot less guilty buying these than I would an entire upside-down cake.”
“You know what they say”—Carlotta pauses to snatch up a pineapple upside-down cupcake herself and feeds a bit to Teeny Weenie—“necessity is the mother of invention. Lot Lot needed something snack-size for that eat-the-dead tour that keeps rolling through the place.”
“That tour has nothing to do with eating the dead,” Mom says, making a face. “It’s called The Last Thing They Ate Tour. I should know, I thought of the catchy name myself.” She gives a quick wink my way. “You’re welcome.”
“Just think, Lot”—Carlotta pats me on the back—“if it wasn’t for all the corpses you’ve found, this place would be a corpse by now.”
Teeny Weenie snags the opportunity to steal the cupcake right out of Carlotta’s hand, causing Lyla Nell to cackle so loud at the sight the windows rattle.
I choose to ignore Carlotta’s corpse-riddled commentary and look at my mother instead.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “As morbid as it sounds, I think that tour is what really put this place on the map.” Much to Carlotta’s point.
“That’s because you’re on a physical map,” Keelie points out. “I saw the fliers at a tourist kiosk while Bear and I were in Manhattan last weekend. Both you and your mama are famous.”
Bear was my high school boyfriend who brought me to tears each night with all of his cheating ways. But he’s since reformed, and now he and Keelie are married with a baby boy who will be two later this summer.
“And Miranda,” Keelie continues. “I saw that you’ve upped the prices for your Haunted Honey Hollow B&B Tour.”
“It was a must,” Mom insists. “Inflation can be a real killer.”
“Inflation?” I muse. “Mom, all they do is walk around the place. You don’t even feed them.”
