Murder in the Mix Boxed Set 28-30: Cozy Mystery by Addison Moore (books for 7th graders .txt) 📗

got her cheek heated by way of Mrs. Claus’ hand, pulls the enormous velvet sheet off, only to expose a large painting seated on an easel.

The crowd oohs and ahhs as we all take it in at once.

Set in an ornate gilded frame about five feet tall by three feet wide is the portrait of a somewhat handsome man in riding gear while seated on a small bench. The majority of the background is black as night, and it only makes him look that much more illuminated. His short dark hair is tufted, and he has a broad forehead and a strong Roman nose. There’s just a hint of a smile, nothing that screams say cheese for the artist painting your portrait but just enough upturned lips to suggest he’s had a good day. But those dark eyes—they seem to be looking right at me. In fact, I swear they are.

Candy waves to the crowd. “This portrait is entitled Awaiting Justice. This piece is as old as time. And the best part? It’s rumored to be haunted.” The crowd gasps with delight once again. “So whether you’d like to gift this to the naughty or the nice on your holiday list, or perhaps you’d like to add this to your own collection of curios, by all means, let the bidding begin!”

“I’ll take it!” Carlotta shouts as she staggers toward it, and the crowd bursts out with laughter as the cheery holiday music starts up once again.

The party rages on as a small handful of people migrate toward the virtual forest of decorated trees.

A redheaded woman walks by, leaving a thick scarf of sickly sweet perfume on her way to the auction items, and I have to wave my hand in front of my face just to clear the air after her.

Everett turns his head toward the makeshift forest behind us. “You know what, Lemon? I’m going to put a bid in on that tree you had your eye on. I think it’s just what our living room needs. Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be back in a flash.”

He darts off into the virtual woods before I can stop him. And just as I’m about to make my way to Carlotta, I note Gloria Abner staring wide-eyed at the painting before us. Her face looks white as a sheet and her eyes—well, they’re saying something, that’s for sure.

“Back off, sister.” Carlotta holds an arm out in front of the woman as if to keep her from charging at the portrait. “This handsome looker is mine.”

And oddly enough, Carlotta can’t seem to take her eyes off the glowing man in the painting, too.

“Carlotta,” I say with a laugh caught in my throat. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m as serious as a heart attack, Lot Lot. I gotta have me this man.”

As soon as the words speed from her mouth, Mayor Nash is upon us, laughing at the sight of that smitten look on Carlotta’s face. I’ve seen Carlotta have a flash infatuation with a lot of things—ghosts, clothes, candles—so nothing surprises me anymore.

Mayor Harry Nash is tall, barrel-chested, has a shock of mostly gray hair, and light eyes that always seem to have a twinkle in them.

“Lottie Lemon.” He pulls me into a warm embrace. “You are a sugar plum vision in this velvet dress. How’s my grandbaby doing?” His lips twitch side to side in a perfect display of his ever-playful nature. Mayor Nash was married to my mother’s best friend, Chrissy, for what seemed like an eternity, but she finally had enough of his philandering ways and kicked him to the curb. He’s pretty much with Carlotta now, although their relationship seems to include other people every now and again. To each his own.

Hey, wait a minute. That might just explain the fact why my heart seems to be set on having both Noah and Everett?

Just last summer, the ghost of my grandmother visited me and let me in on the fact that both Noah and Everett were my soulmates.

Maybe Mayor Nash and Carlotta are caught up in that bonus soulmate predicament as well?

“The baby is doing fine,” I say as I spot Cormack circling around that woman, Candy, who seems to be playing the part of emcee tonight. It’s almost as if Cormack is battling for her attention, but Candy has her gaze set somewhere else and I follow it to the honey-haired man who donated the painting. He’s standing next to an irate Mrs. Claus as she does her best to jump down his throat.

Boy, she is a little firecracker, isn’t she? I’m guessing she strong-armed her way into the role of Santa’s sweetie. In fact, I think I remember her mentioning her fiancé was the head elf tonight. That’s probably why she insisted on playing the role of the round-faced granny. But let’s call a spade a spade. Her little cosplay isn’t exactly a match made in the North Pole.

Mayor Nash laughs at something as I come to. “I’d better help Carlotta push those candles.” He frowns over at her. “You know how she gets when she doesn’t get her way.” He zips off and takes ahold of that ridiculous shopping cart laden down with candles. Their glassy containers glimmer in this dull light, and it looks as if he’s pushing a basket full of stars. More like rip-offs. Carlotta is never going to offload those things at that price point. I predict I’ll have a living room full of miniature fire hazards in my new house come tomorrow. I’ll be darned if I’m going to let Carlotta burn down my new rental. My life is still recovering from the last fire. I’d tell her as much, but she’s doing her best to outbid everyone who comes by to so much as gawk at that haunted painting.

“Carlotta,” I hiss as I come upon her. “You can’t be serious with that thing. It’s creepy, and it’s rumored to be haunted.”

She waves me off. “I should be so lucky, Lot.