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“Is that true, Lot?” Noah asks.
My lips invert. “I may have given Keelie loose instructions in the event of my untimely demise. But I can assure you all that there are no naughty implications there—just a family recipe or two I’ve been guarding like a bulldog.”
Weenie barks. “Dachshunds are just as good a watchdog as any bulldog can ever be. We’re not only fiercely loyal, we’re just plain fierce.”
“Of course, you are.” I giggle as I give him a quick scratch behind the ears.
Noah nods. “Both Crane and Danya were upset with Marlena at the bakery that day and then she ended up dead. Forensics will be able to tell us if both bullets were fired from the same barrel.”
“Perfect,” I say. “I guess all there is to do is wait until forensics turns in their report and we can take it from there.” A thought comes to me. “Ohh, Everett, how about that list of cases you were going to give me? The ones that Bella took on? I think that might help. Danya mentioned something about her losing a case and not being happy about it.”
“My Bella never lost,” Weenie chirps. “She once told me that even when she didn’t get the W, she got the W.”
I quickly reiterate to the non-transmundane among us.
“What do you think she meant by it?” Noah asks.
Weenie barks. “My Bella was a winner through and through. She used to say it all the time. And she would tell me that I was a wiener through and through.”
He and Carlotta chortle themselves into a conniption while I fill Noah and Everett in on the details once again.
“A winner through and through.” I shrug. “Maybe Danya was wrong? Maybe Bella Hall never lost a case?”
Everett flicks through his phone. “I have my secretary getting the details to me. So far she hasn’t sent anything, but as soon as she does, I’ll shoot it your way, Lemon. You, too, Noah.”
“Appreciate it,” Noah says. “I guess all that’s left to do is wait for the lab reports.”
“Or do a little manual digging,” I say, pulling out my phone and doing a quick search on Bella Hall. “Wow, an entire slew of articles just popped up on Bella.” I quickly peruse them. “Most of them are author interviews, news of book signings, links to her website, and—wait a minute. Here’s an article about an accident of some sort.” I click into it and quickly scan through it. “Wow, I guess she was in a major smash-up on the highway. It says she was lucky to have escaped with her life. Apparently, she was rear-ended as a part of a bad chain reaction when the roads were icy. And oh wow”—I groan as I read on—“getting rear-ended is the worst.”
“Good job moaning, Lot,” Carlotta says, motioning for me to continue as she squints through the viewfinder on her camera. “Say a little more about getting rear-ended. This is the gold I’ve been waiting for.”
“Look at this,” I say, ignoring Carlotta—a feat in and of itself. “The article quotes Bella as saying she got such a bad concussion that her memory and concentration had been shot ever since.”
“When was the accident?” Everett asks.
“According to this, it was over a year ago,” I tell him. “Well, she must have regained some of her concentration, she was writing her novels until the very end.”
“She was a great writer when I knew her,” Weenie testifies. “She once said she was thrilled to write until her fingers fell off. She said it was almost as good as watching people suffer in court.”
I relay the words, and Everett and I exchange a look.
“I don’t like anyone suffering in court or otherwise,” he says. “Speaking of which, my stomach is starting to suffer.” He gets up, as does Noah, and we all head for the dining room once again.
“Wait,” Carlotta calls out after us. “I didn’t get enough footage. Lot, why don’t you lie down on the dining room table and the boys can use you like a dinner plate?”
“You’ve got quite the imagination, Carlotta.” Noah laughs at the thought.
“I didn’t need my imagination for that,” she quips. “I’m speaking from experience.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” I say.
Toby, Pancake, and Waffles cut me off at the pass, causing me to lose my balance, which in turn causes Noah to attempt to catch me.
Everett dives for me at the very same time and they crash into one another before the three of us go down like bowling pins.
I land on Everett with my face buried in his lap, and Noah lands on top of me, with his head effectively using my bottom as a pillow.
“That’s it,” Carlotta shouts while coming at us with that gigantic camera hiked over her shoulder—the tripod stemming out from behind it like a dragon’s tail. “That’s the money shot! I knew the three of you wouldn’t disappoint. Now let’s see the magic happen. Foxy, this is your big chance to show up Sexy in his own department.”
