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I shake my head and seal my lips, hoping they’ll stay that way.
“Noah, there are only two women left besides my mother—Crane and Danya. And I know for a fact you don’t suspect my mother. She doesn’t even own a gun.” Her fingers tap over her lips. “It must be Danya because I asked Crane point blank if she carried a concealed weapon and she said no. Oh my word, Danya is the killer!”
“Now, now”—I shake my head emphatically—“you know better than to believe everything someone tells you, especially when they can be the guilty party.”
She inhales another sharp breath. “You mean Crane outright lied to me?” Her mouth falls open. “Oh, Noah, I just remembered something else.”
“What is it?” My heart thumps hard because I’m hoping whatever she’s about to say might just give me the ammo I need to make an arrest before this second ballistics test comes back.
“Crane”—she glances to the ground as if she were unsure if she wants to continue—“someone from the fire department happened to mention that she once had an arson charge.” She shrugs. “I thought that was pretty dark.”
“Pretty dark indeed.” My mind reels with the possibilities.
Certainly one crime can lead to another, but arson and murder? I suppose they’re not too far off track.
Lottie nods as if she read my mind. “And not only that, but wasn’t I just telling you that Marlena mentioned something about Crane wanting to get into Bella’s office?”
“Sounds like the woman has a motive.” I stare pensively at the sedan before us as the coroner’s office starts in on its picture-taking spree.
Someone clears their throat from behind, and Lottie and I turn to see Ivy standing there looking less than amused.
“I suppose one of your desserts is at the scene,” Ivy smarts to Lottie.
“Actually”—Lottie lifts a finger—“yes, but only because I brought it along.”
“As you traditionally do at just about every crime scene,” Ivy mutters. “Noah, give me a briefing.” She glances at Lottie. “I’d ask Mrs. Lemon to leave, but I’m fairly certain she’s the one who briefed you.”
She’s not entirely wrong.
I quickly fill Ivy in on everything I know so far and she takes a long breath.
“I’ll see about getting Crane Mitchel to voluntarily give us her weapon to inspect.” She cuts a hard look to Lottie. “Don’t get wrapped up in this any more than you already are. It’s bad enough you run a restaurant that was a hotbed for narcotics. You have children, Lottie. Take my advice and put your focus on them.” She takes off and we watch as she disappears into the crowd.
“She’s right, Lottie.”
“I know she is,” Lottie agrees as the sun begins to set over the ridge. “But there’s a killer out there, and if we’re right, she is in far too close of a proximity to my mother. Noah, we need to find out if Crane did this.”
“Correction: I need to find out if Crane did this. In the meantime, maybe suggest to your mother that she takes a break from that writing group.”
“You bet I will.” Her phone chirps in her hand and she glances down at the screen. “Everett just pulled up.” She scans the crowd and does a double take to her left. “Noah, there she is,” she pants. “Our killer.”
I follow her gaze and find a redhead with a stone-cold, angry look on her face as she stares down the sedan in the driveway.
Now to find out if she’s the killer indeed.
EVERETT
“Lemon,” I thunder as I make my way through a tangle of onlookers who have gathered to witness a whole new tragedy unfolding in Honey Hollow.
News broke as I was leaving the bench for the day, so I grabbed my briefcase and sped all the way here.
My secretary, the one who broke the news to me to begin with, only gave a few minor details—another murder in Honey Hollow, a fatal shooting that involved an up-and-coming writer.
I won’t lie. I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard that last part.
Lemon is a baker.
Evie is a high school student.
