Raspberry Tart Terror (Murder in the Mix Book 30) by Unknown (hot novels to read .TXT) 📗

I don’t know how, but I will lose sleep every night until I come up with something.

There’s no way I’m going to let Everett fry for my boneheaded move.

We call it a night, and I head off to bed.

True to my word, I don’t sleep a wink.

All I can think about is getting to Ashford in the morning to put the wheels into motion for the capture of the person who dared to threaten my niece.

And then there’s Everett, staring me down from the recesses of my mind.

He’s ticked, I get it. He’s not too thrilled with me at the moment. I’m not too thrilled with me either. I’d trade places with him if I could.

But there’s no chance of that happening.

He was spotted at the scene.

His face was captured on tape.

He confessed.

I lied to him last night when I told him he had a shot. Outside of a miracle, he doesn’t have a chance in hell putting doubt into that jury’s mind.

A miracle.

That’s exactly what he needs.

And if it’s one thing I’m not, it’s a miracle worker.

Sleep continues to elude me for the rest of the night. I get up and head for the fridge and pull out some milk.

And just like that, I think I found that miracle.

Lottie

My mother’s B&B has always held a quaint and homey appeal, but tonight, the Rendezvous Luxury Resort is a far cry from the pleasant environment my mother once cultivated here. It’s Valentine’s Day, and I’ve donned my best red dress and comfiest shoes I could find. I’m not quite sure which shoes I actually managed to squeeze my swollen feet into, but Everett assured me they were a match.

It’s wall-to-wall bodies inside the foyer, inside every main artery, and the staircase is filled with couples dripping over one another. Both the library and the dining room are filled to capacity, but the thick of the crowd is in the conservatory.

Raucous music is thumping out of the speakers, the lights are dim, those strange hot pink lights are swirling, and the scent of spiced cologne and sugary perfume clots up my senses. A giant sign reads Welcome to the Love Your Selfie Valentine’s Day Soiree! The only person you need is YOU!

“Figures,” I mumble to myself as I take it in. Cressida and Cormack are experts at loving themselves. It shouldn’t surprise me that the focus of this night is something so self-centered.

But Noah and Everett are two people who are anything but self-centered. Noah is still in Ashford working on the case with Ivy. He says they’re very close to getting all the proper wheels in motion for that impending arrest. In the meantime, they’re trying to figure out if Sugar could also be the killer. I’d like nothing more than to kill two birds with one legal stone.

And Everett is running late because Bear needed him to shore up some details concerning the construction of the new house.

Lily and I just set out platters and platters of nothing but raspberry tarts. I told Cormack and Cressida it was crass to serve the very dessert Verity died eating while devoting this night to her. Although, to be fair, I don’t see any sign that should lead me to believe this is a memorial of any kind.

“Lottie.” Greer Giles flies my way with her dapper ghostly plus one by her side. Greer looks particularly gorgeous tonight with her sparkling dark hair and her lips shining a deep ruby red. “That’s it. We’ve tried everything.”

Winslow nods. “I even enlisted a few feral poltergeists from up north. They’ve worked side by side with us all month to no avail.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “And by the way, happy death day, Greer.” It just so happens to be the anniversary of the day she crossed over to the other side. “I hear the amped-up hauntings around here have been a hit.”

A blonde whirlwind bustles in this direction, and before I know it, Cormack and Cressida are standing before me in all their pink sparkling terror.

Cressida cackles like the witch she is. “You’re darn right those hauntings were a hit, Libra. It just goes to show those ghosts are happier than ever. Don’t worry. Your mama is still a valued employee. And we plan on keeping her around for a very long time.” She gives Cormack a sour look. “Unless she doesn’t shape up when it comes to making up the guests’ bedrooms. I couldn’t bounce a quarter off the sheets this morning. She keeps this up, and she’ll be let go by noon tomorrow.”

A growl emits from me. “Cressida, why is my mother doing the housekeeping around here? I thought she was keeping her role as guest relations and working the registration desk?”

Cressida’s lips pucker. “Oh, she does that, too. But now that Macky and I are businesswomen, we need to save a dollar where we can, so we’ve let the rest of the staff go.”

Greer’s aura takes on a fiery hue. “It’s true, Lottie. They’ve fired everyone. The only people left are your mother and Wiley.”

Winslow snorts. “Wiley’s too preoccupied with his publishing company to deal with the B&B. And by preoccupied, I mean napping. He claims his best marketing ideas come to him in his dreams.”

I make a face at the idea just as Cormack cranes her neck into the crowd.

“Where’s Big Boss?” she snips. “I’ve got a bead on who the killer is.” Her thin lips twist like a pretzel. “And don’t think I’m blowing the killer’s cover to you, Landry. I worked hard all month slicing and dicing this case to pieces until I had all the pieces to put together, and put them together I did.” She gives a cheeky wink before waving to someone in the crowd, and both blonde ditzes do a disappearing act as they dive into the sea of bodies.

Little Lea stalks up with her hair combed over her eyes as she floats up toward me, that machete still firmly embedded in her hand.

“Shall