Baby Bundt Cake Confusion (Murder in the Mix Book 31) by Unknown (reading eggs books .txt) 📗

windows that open up to Main Street where the snow is still sticking to the ground and the clouds are hanging heavy up above with the threat of a whole new storm.

Tears come to my eyes at the thought of burning down this corner of my world, too. I don’t see why the bakery should be untouched. Hearst curse or not, I’ve already jinxed everything else.

A thick crowd floats into the shop and Lily groans.

“Let’s hope they’re not here for the lemon Bundt cake. We didn’t make nearly enough this morning and sold out in less than two hours.”

“Oh, they won’t want it,” Suze says with a wink. “They can’t stand Bundt cake.”

The first customer stumbles to the counter, a woman in a silver puffer jacket, and I can’t help but notice Suze twitching her mouth back and forth while looking intensely at the woman as if she were trying to bore a hole in her head.

“Would you happen to have any lemon Bundt—” The woman inches her head back a notch. “That’s funny.” She glances back at her friends. “I was going to order that Bundt cake we were just talking about, but it’s like all of a sudden I can’t stand Bundt cake.”

Her friends all look to one another quizzically and express the very same sentiment.

I suck in a quick breath while Lily talks them into some cupcakes and coffee.

“You did this!” I hiss to Suze as I pull her over a few feet. “You twitched your lips and made those women change their minds, didn’t you? You’re a beguiler, Suze Fox. Admit it!”

She sucks in a lungful of air herself. Most likely because she’s shocked that I know what a beguiler is to begin with. It’s not as if the transmundane community advertises its subsidiary powers or their people. We’re sort of a private bunch. And I still don’t know too much about it myself even though I’ve been supersensual for all my life.

“Say, it Suze.” I give her arm a rattle. “You’re a beguiler. You have the power to influence things. You have the ability to charm—as in the ability to charm a whirlwind to come forth, objects to move at will, people to bend to your will, earthquakes, and fires!” Or at least that’s what Nell told me during one of her disembodied visits.

“Oh, it’s just like you to bring on the dramatic.” Her expression sours. “I’m not that powerful.” Her eyes widen as if she’s just outed herself without meaning to and she has.

“Ah ha!” I jab a finger her way. “Caught you. You are a beguiler! And you changed those women’s minds about the Bundt cake. Suze, you have to come with me.” I snatch up both of her hands. “We have to go to Leeds and talk Jimmy Canelli out of trying to kill Everett.”

“What?” she crows as she plucks herself free. “Why would some dusty rusty mobster want to kill Essex?” Her mouth rounds out. “It’s because of that body he stole in his sleep, isn’t it?”

At least someone is buying the sleepwalking defense. Noah must have filled her in on the nocturnal wandering defense, and it’s nice to see she’s buying it, hook, line, and shut-eyed sinker. Let’s hope this little white sleepy lie sinks the prosecution’s case, too.

“I’m not going to Leeds to speak to some mob boss,” she growls. “And I’m not a beguiler—whatever that may be.” She tips her head to the side, and that unconvincing look on her face only solidifies the fact this is true. “And if I was able to change anyone’s mind about anything, it would have to be something they were weak-willed about.” She gives her apron a hard tug. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work. Someone has to keep this bakery churning out those cookies my son likes so much.” She stalks off and I head over to Carlotta.

“We heard every word, Lot Lot,” she says, hand-feeding Lil’ Mama another brownie and the poor dog’s fur is full of brownie crumbles all up and down her body. “Suze is one of us. Go figure. I bet if that little sugar cookie belongs to Foxy, it’s going to take over your brain in no time. Face it, Lot, you’re the leader of the weak-willed. You’ll be walking around like a zombie in just a few short weeks doing whatever that little booger tells you to.”

I frown over at her. “I’ll be walking around like a zombie doing whatever this little baby tells me to because it’s called taking care of an infant,” I snip. “Speaking of babies.” A thought comes to me, and I’m stunned into a brief moment of silence. “Carlotta, repeat after me,” I say, looking right at her. “Jimmy Canelli could be your father.”

She squints my way. “Jimmy Canelli could be your father?”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” I grab my coat, my biological mother, who may or may not be sure about my paternity, and one ghostly pooch, and I make Carlotta drive us down to Leeds.

It’s time to have another chat with Papa Canelli.

Leeds is the dicey town just south of Honey Hollow where the women are loose with their bodies and the men are overall loose cannons.

It just so happens that Jimmy Canelli owns Red Satin Gentlemen’s Club. The very same club where Meg works as a dance instructor for the mavens of madness who dare take it all off for men who happen to have a bit of loose change to toss their way.

Inside, the club is dimly lit no matter what time of day. They have no windows. It’s sort of like a Vegas casino in that respect. And speaking of which, they have an illegal gambling club in the basement along with an entire litany of dicey clubs that are both kinky and illicit. As for Red Satin, the music is funky, and hot pink spotlights swirl over a long stage that protrudes into the center