“MOUUUUUSSSE!” The word streams from my throat as sharp as a razor as I swat and swing just as the mouse jumps my way and lands right—through me—leaving a plume of red and green miniature stars trailing after it. “Oh my God.” I gasp as the rest of the broom lights up like a flame thrower, and I quickly toss it to my left—inadvertently directly onto a rack of dishtowels, and the entire thing goes up in flames like a Roman candle.
Noah quickly grabs the fire extinguisher and does his best to put it out while Everett pulls me away from the fiery ground zero.
“Lemon”—his chest flexes wildly as he pants my name out—“I didn’t see a mouse.”
Noah comes over with his hair mussed and his suit in disarray. “I didn’t either,” he says as he struggles to catch his breath.
“Well, I did,” Carlotta says with a greasy grin on her face. “And I can testify that thing was one hundred percent dead as a Christmas doornail.”
“A ghost.” I nod.
“That’s right,” Noah says. “And that means one thing.”
Everett glances out to the crowd just past the kitchen. “It means a killer is afoot.”
The snow is falling, the carolers are singing, and it’s beginning to look a lot like murder.
Chapter 2
The Jingle Hop Ball is going full swing as Noah, Everett, and I set the last of the eggnog trifles onto the dessert table.
That little mystic mouse that nearly caused me to burn down the Evergreen Manor has the three of us on tactical alert for the next potential homicide hidden in our midst.
Noah is already on the phone with his partner at the homicide division, Detective Ivy Fairbanks.
“Yes, I have a hunch you’ll be needed.” His voice is rough as he talks into his phone. “Look, Ivy, you need to get down here right away. I’ve already called for extra patrol.” He glances my way. “Yes, Lottie is here.” He offers an uneasy smile my way, and I distinctly hear a female voice from the other end of the line say, “Oh, for Pete’s sake.”
He holds up the phone. “She’s on her way.” Noah sweeps the crowded room with a glance. “I’m going to do a quick inspection of the grounds. Everett, do not leave Lottie’s side. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He points my way. “We’re going to nip this one in the bud. I promise you, this isn’t going to ruin the holidays.” He takes off, and I can feel myself beginning to spiral out of control.
“What is he talking about?” I shake my head at the crowd. The entire room seems to be spinning in dizzying circles as the chipper holiday tune blares overhead. “This is most definitely going to ruin the holidays—especially for the victim, as murder often does.”
Everett pulls me in close, and soon I’m ensconced with the heady scent of his cologne.
“Listen to me, Lemon. Keeping both you and our baby healthy and happy is my number one priority. How about we leave early and let Noah and Ivy take this one?”
“Not to sound rude, but Noah and Ivy haven’t taken one since either of them has set foot in the homicide division.”
It’s true. There has been one murder after the next in Honey Hollow for the last couple of years, and those ghosts that come back from the other side have helped me solve each and every case.
I’m not an official investigator or anything like that, but for whatever reason, my transmundane abilities, further classified as supersensual, enable me to see past the rainbow bridge. When I was younger and I began to see those fantastic phantasms, it used to mean nothing more than a scraped knee for those that the otherworldly beings came around for. But as of late, it always means a murder is afoot.
The ghosts are always either a person or a furry creature that the victim once loved deeply. Sometimes I see the ghost of someone who was once a living, breathing human being, and other times it’s the beloved pet that has long since passed.
I’m guessing that the cute little mouse I inadvertently tried to set aflame falls into the latter category.
And I know I didn’t regard him as oh-so-cute a few minutes ago when I beat both Noah and Everett senseless with a broom, but now that I realize the tiny furball is most likely not a carrier of the bubonic plague—or anything else that could harm my unborn child—I’m more than totally fine with it.
“Hey, I just thought of something,” I say as I look into Everett Baxter’s daring blue eyes. “I was trying to get rid of that mouse because deep down I thought it could somehow harm the baby.” My hand lands protectively over my bourgeoning tummy. “Maybe I will be a good mother, after all.” I’m sure most women don’t debate the idea internally, but let’s be honest, I’m a cadaver magnet who has had a major string of bad luck as of late—not to mention my penchant for sleeping with two men. I’d say the odds of making Mother of the Year are pretty much stacked against me.
“Lemon, you’re already a great mother to Evie.” His brows pinch in the middle, and he only looks that much more caustically handsome. Everett is slow to smile and exudes enough testosterone for ten men. His body is fit enough to play the green on any given Sunday, and God Almighty, does this man ever know what to do with his body, and more importantly with mine underneath the sheets. “I think I know how to get your mind off of all of this.” His lids hood as a devilish gleam dances in his eyes, and he leans in and whispers the naughtiest things I believe I have ever heard in my entire life.
My cheeks burn with heat as my mouth rounds out with both surprise and approval.
“Judge Baxter, you make sure the first thing you put together in our new rental home tomorrow is that bed. We’re going to christen that house in exactly the manner you just described.” Suffice it to say, it’s been a long, dry season for the both of us while staying at Noah’s.
Noah graciously gave us his bedroom, mostly because I might be having his child and also because Everett risked his life to rescue him from a burning building. But by and large, Noah and Everett haven’t gotten along in years. They were once stepbrothers, and during their familial internment, Noah saw fit to steal Everett’s girlfriend. Things only went downhill from there. Now they tolerate one another for my sake.
“Lottie Lemon!” a female voice snips, and I turn to see Naomi Turner speeding this way. Naomi is my best friend Keelie’s twin sister. Naomi has dyed her blonde locks as dark as a raven’s wing and looks like your typical brunette stunner. But she’s just as mean as she is pretty. We’ve never gotten along. And judging by that scowl on her face, things aren’t about to change now either. When Carlotta came into my life a few years ago, I discovered that both Keelie and Naomi were a part of my extended family.
“You’re a jinx!” she shouts loud enough for a handful of people to turn their attention our way. “Aunt Carlotta just told me you nearly burned down my kitchen! This is the very last event you’ll cater at the Evergreen. I suggest you count your unlucky stars that the town hasn’t given you a boot in your patoot yet. Steer clear of the Evergreen and steer clear of me. You keep your bad juju to yourself!”
She stalks off, and I’m about to say something, or find a hole to drop into, when I see Carlotta pushing that grocery cart through the crowd.