“Relax, Lot,” Meg snips. “She’s going to smile for the next one hundred years and maybe longer than that. You’ll be around to see almost all of them. She might even smile while she’s telling you off as a teenager.” She chuckles to herself, and I take a moment to frown at my sister.

  Meg has ironed out her dark hair, stick-straight and with a glossy finish. She looks more model than she does monster today with her makeup toned down a bit and her eyes glowing like glaciers. But she’s kept up the biker chick appeal where her wardrobe is concerned with a black leather jacket and matching pants. She has me wishing I had worn leather instead of my sundress. But it’s adorable nonetheless. It’s a powder blue number with white and blue polka-dotted panels in the skirt. It’s not nursing friendly, but I’ve already made it work as best as I could twice this morning.

  Mom scoffs with a laugh in her throat. “Don’t listen to your sister, Lottie. Lyla Nell will not tell you off with a smile.” Her brows knit together a moment. “Although, Meg, I seem to recall you did just that on a few occasions to me.”

  Mom is certainly living up to her Glam Glam moniker clad in a royal blue satin dress and her hair and makeup expertly applied. It’s clear she’s ready for her close-up, and she’ll get it, too, considering she’s the one holding the baby.

  “I never told you off, Mom.” Lainey winks with a touch of pride. “I was more of a door-slammer, eye-roller, passive-aggressively-disobeying-commands type of a child.”

  “Don’t forget sneaking out of your window to see your friends,” I add. “And boyfriends.”

  Lainey’s eyes bug out at me. She has her hair in a French twist, a pink cardigan with printed flowers and bunnies all over it, and a long butter yellow prairie skirt on, looking like the quintessential librarian she is.

  Mom gasps as she looks to her oldest daughter. “Elaine Noelle!”

  Mom has rarely invoked Lainey’s formal name, but when she has it always means that Lainey is in the deepest kind of trouble.

  “Thanks, Lottie.” Lainey swats me on the arm. “I’d threaten to reveal a few of your own secrets, but I think today is going to bring more than enough of that for you. I can’t believe you might be the daughter of a mob boss.”

  “Me either,” Meg snorts. “They’ve been taking bets all week down at Red Satin. Right now it’s about an even split.”

  “Poor Mayor Nash.” Mom shakes her head while lightly patting the carrier as Lyla Nell sleeps. “And to think he spent all this time believing he was your father, Lottie.”

  “He still might be,” I say. And personally, I’m rooting for him. Although the benefit of what being a Canelli can bring should make me root for those nefarious bloodlines, I can’t bring myself to do it. So I’ve devised a plan—one that I need a certain Featherhead to help me achieve. But before I can get to it, a thought distracts me. “Hey, Lainey? Where’s Josie?” I can’t believe it took me this long to notice my sweet niece wasn’t present. I already know that Lainey’s husband Forest is on duty at the fire department today and couldn’t make it.

  “She’s with my mother-in-law. There was no way I was going to miss one second of this day. I want to enjoy the show uninterrupted.”

  “I’m glad my life can provide such rich entrainment for you.” My shoulders sag because I’m inadvertently providing rich entertainment for just about everyone in Vermont today.

  “Look on the bright side.” Meg sheds one of her greedy grins that she gives right before she lets a zinger fly. “Nobody will be calling Everett Mr. Sexy in the pen today.”

  “Amen to that,” I say. My husband is free and exonerated of all the charges. We’ve already had a stellar week.

  Mom hitches her head toward the audience as the crowd fills in nicely, and I see Keelie and Bear waving at me from the stands.

  “We’d better get to our seats,” Mom says. “Break a leg, Lottie.”

  They scuttle off and I spot Cormack Featherby standing backstage reviewing the notes in her hands, and her lips are moving as she reads to herself.

  Cormack looks professional in a pink tweed skirt and matching blazer. Her heels are white with bright pink soles, assuring us those are the pricey name brand shoes most women would love to own yet would loathe not eating for a month to have them. Her blonde hair sits to her shoulders, so glossy and smooth as if she just came from having a professional blowout, and I have no doubt she did. Cormack and I aren’t exactly what one would call friends, but the favor I’m about to ask her would require a sister-like devotion for her to pull off.

  “Cormack,” I pant as I come upon her. “You look great. And you’re going to do great, too.”

  “Thanks, Lizzy.” She closes her eyes a moment and her shoulders squeeze tight. “I just know this is going to lead to great things. It’s as if every road in my life has led me right here. And to think, I have your bad luck to thank for it.”

  “Hey, if this talk show gig takes off, you might want to consider selling your half of the B&B to my mother. You’ll be the star you always wanted to be and she’ll have her home back.” I plead with her silently with my eyes, but her features only seem to harden.

  “Nice try, Lorikeet, but I happen to be a savvy businesswoman who is more than capable of dabbling in real estate investments while I pursue my career.”

  “Okay, you don’t have to do me any favors, but I think you should do a very big one for Everett.”

  “Essex?” Her nose twitches like a bunny before she gasps. “I get it! You want me to say he’s the father no matter what it says on that card. It’s brilliant! Of course, I understand. You’re his wife. It would look bad for the two of you to be raising someone else’s baby.”

  It takes all I’ve got not to roll my eyes.

  “The baby will belong to Everett and me regardless—and to Noah, but that’s not the point. Please read whatever the card says. We’re fine with it, really. But what I’m not fine with is the card that reveals my own paternity. Jimmy Canelli’s men are trying to kill Everett. And you have a chance to save his life. No matter what that card says, Cormack. You have to say Jimmy Canelli’s name. And then give the card to me so I can destroy it.”

  Her celadon green eyes look to each of mine. “We’ll see.” She starts to walk away and I grab her by the wrist. “Cormack, please. This isn’t for me. It’s for Everett. You have the opportunity to keep his heart beating.”

  “Let’s just say that I’ll consider it heavily. I do have a career to think about, too. Now shoo. You’re already adding to what’s quickly becoming a stressful day. It’s bad enough Big Boss’ future is on the line.”

  She stalks off and I stalk off as well as I make a beeline to the refreshment table.

  “Lemon.” Everett pulls me in. “If you have the slightest reservation, we can pull the ripcord at any time.”

  Noah nods. “We’ll get the B&B back for your mother—all of it—one way or another.”

  “I’m fine. As long as you’re both ready and willing, so am I.” I pull Noah close, but as tempted as I am to tell them what I have planned for my paternity reveal, I choose to keep my trap shut. Everett wouldn’t want me to do it. Noah most likely wouldn’t either. I’ll tell them both after the fact. No use in causing any more drama than necessary right now.

  “Would you stop!” Lily snips at Suze and we turn that way, only to see an entire platter of my chocolate chip cookies reduced to crumbles, and unbeknownst to everyone here but me, there’s an ornery, otherworldly fowl fouling things up.

  “Cluck Norris,” I hiss lower than a whisper and the wily bird looks my way.

  “My apologies, Lottie.” He floats up a notch. “But my goodness, your cookies are delicious.”

  Suze scoffs at Lily. “I’m not the one sneaking cookies every time I turn around. You are!”

  “Me?” Lily belts out a maniacal laugh. “You wish. Besides, I don’t toss cookies into the air when I eat them. I put them straight into my mouth like a normal person. But you wouldn’t know what a normal person is, would you?”

  “All right, ladies,” I say. “Why don’t you both take a break? I think tensions are running high for all of us. Suze, Lyla Nell could be your grandchild. I don’t blame you for wanting to plow your way through a platter of cookies.” I don’t mind gaslighting her one bit. She’s been gaslighting me regarding her transmundane status for months.

  “But”—her body straightens with a start—“I didn’t…” She tosses her arms up and groans as she and Lily go their separate ways.

  A tiny laugh bumps through me.

  “It was all Cluck Norris’ fault.” I wink at the clucky bird. “But in his feathered defense, the cookies are pretty irresistible if I say so myself.”

  “I more than agree,” Noah says without missing a beat. “In fact”—he reaches over and snaps up a few—“I’m going to do my best to eat every cookie on this table.”

  “Not if I beat you to it,” Everett says, snatching up a handful himself.

  “Well, I’m not getting left out of the loop. Technically, I’m still eating for two.” I pick up a half a dozen cookies and turn back to the gorgeous men before me.

  “Lottie”—Cluck Norris chirps—“the tension is coming off the three of you in waves. Why don’t you take your mind off things by discussing the case? Dare I say, every suspect is in the house.”

  I take a quick breath. “Cluck Norris thinks we should take our minds off things by discussing the case.”

  “He’s a wise bird.” Everett nods. “Who are we looking at, Lottie?”

  I shrug over at Noah. “I’ll get right down to it. I think Kit’s the killer. Burt says she was trying to get Candace to do a special on her brother and Candace outright refused. I guess it was too painful for her, but Kit wouldn’t take no for an answer. Burt says they were arguing about it that very day. Not only that, she changed her shirt after the killing—from a white T-shirt to blue.”

  “What about Fern?” Noah asks. “She has a history with Candace. Kit mentioned that things between Fern and Candace took a turn for the sinister—that they had their secrets.”

  “Fern painted a dark picture of Kit,” I say, considering it. “Fern seemed to be one of Candace’s old friends. I mean, it’s no crime to have gone to college with the deceased. She did say Candace had a temper and not a lot of tolerance for friction in her relationships. Woody backed that up, as did Burt. I really think we need to double down on Kit.”

  Noah nods. “I agree. Once this is over, I’ll ask her to come to the department for questioning. But not today.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t think I can handle much more excitement.”

  Fern strides our way with a smile appearing over her round face. “These cookies are calling my name, Lottie. I can’t believe how delicious they are.”

  “Thank you,” I say, tempted to snap up another handful myself.

  “I shouldn’t eat them,” she says, tucking a handful in a napkin and shoving them into the pocket of her jacket. “I’m trying to lose a little weight. I’ve put on at least forty pounds this year, and I don’t know where it’s come from. But mmm…” She takes another bite out of the cookie in her hand. “They’re so good, I might just write them into my next book. It’s called Death of a Talk Show Host.” She winks my way. “You know what they say. Write what you know. It’s sort of the way I process my feelings. Of course, I’ll change the names of everyone involved, but you might just recognize yourself in it, too.” She takes off as fast as she came, and before I can process my feelings on the matter, Cluck Norris gets his feathers ruffled.

  “Buck-buck-buck.” The skittish specter flaps his wings in a manic state. “Killer alert! Killer alert!”

  Kit comes this way in jeans and a white T-shirt, dressed exactly the way she was the day of the killing. She grins ear-to-ear at the three of us.

  “All right, it’s almost showtime. Noah, Everett, hair and makeup is ready for you. Lottie, your team is running a bit behind, but we’ll get to you in about ten minutes.”

  Everett offers me a quick kiss. “See you in a few minutes,” he says as they take off.

  “Are you okay?” Kit leans in as if she can see the nerves dancing in my eyes. “You look worried to death.”

  “I am.” For many reasons. “Everything is about to change in just a little while. I mean, it’s better to know the answers to these questions, but this isn’t exactly how I envisioned it.” I hug myself and rub my arms with my hands in a weak attempt to get the chill off me.

  Kit touches my bare arm. “Oh, you’re freezing. My office is right next to the one Candace used. I’ve got a couple cardigans hanging behind my desk. Feel free to pick one up. No reason you can’t stay warm right up until we roll. I’ll catch up with you soon.” She takes off and my mouth falls opens, as I was about to reject her offer but think better of it.

  “The killer’s office?” Cluck Norris purrs. “I don’t have to beg you to follow me, do I?”

  “Not one bit,” I say as we zoom in the direction of Candace’s old office, but before we can get there, Woody steps in front of me with a clipboard in hand wearing his signature Western shirt. This one is forest green with orange whipstitching and there’s an orange handkerchief tucked into his lapel just like that red one he had on him the day of the murder—which was suspiciously found next to Candace’s desk. I never did get a chance to ask.

  Cluck Norris plants himself right over the man’s head. “Make this quick, Lottie. We can’t let the killer get away.”

  “Lottie.” Woody points to the set with the clipboard in his hand and Cluck Norris does a mean wobble. “Are you ready to get the answers to some pressing questions?”

  “I sure am.” Although we’re not necessarily talking about the same thing. “Woody, can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.” He sheds an affable smile my way.

  “Please don’t take offense, but I am curious. That day when I found Candace’s body—I happened to see a red handkerchief on the floor near her desk. It looked like the one you had tucked in your shirt when we met that day. But after I discovered Candace, your handkerchief was missing.”

  He takes a deep breath as he looks to the set. “It was mine. But believe me, I had nothing to do with how she ended up the way she did.” He casts a quick glance over his shoulder. “I don’t want to get anyone in unnecessary trouble, but the truth is, I went in there to talk to her that day. I wanted to confront her about seeing Burt. But when I got there, someone else was having a confrontation with her. Things went from push to shove quite literally. I had to break them apart. I couldn’t have the star of the show with a black eye with only a few minutes before we were live on the air again. There was quite the scuffle and my handkerchief fell to the floor in the process. I saw it, but I had to haul someone out of the room. I told Candace to take a minute to cool off and never went back.”

  My heart thumps wildly. “You were breaking up a fight? The other person—it was Kit, wasn’t it?”

  He takes in another deep breath as he casts a glance around.

  “Yes,” he whispers. “But she didn’t kill Candace. I took her out into the hall and told her to go cool off. I saw her head to the staff lounge in the back just as I took off for the stage.”

  “But theoretically, she could have gone back to see Candace,” I say it more or less to myself.

  “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” Cluck Norris screams so loud even Woody is darting his gaze in every direction.

  “I’d better see what’s going on.” He winces. “And I’ve got one humdinger of a headache coming on, too. I’ll see you in a few.”

  He takes off and Cluck Norris flies down the narrow hall where the noise from the rest of the studio is dampened and the smell of coffee gives way to cleaning products that contain far too much bleach.

  The door to Candace’s office is closed and there’s a bouquet of bright yellow flowers situated right in front of it. My heart aches just to see it. But not more than three feet to the left is a door marked Kit Knickerson, and Cluck Norris floats right on through the wood while I head in the old-fashioned way.

  It’s cooler in here, if that were possible. The lights are on to reveal a boxy office, somewhat spacious with a messy desk and a filing cabinet. A small orange couch is crammed just to the right of the door.

  True to Kit’s word, a few cardigans hang behind her desk on a coatrack, and I don’t hesitate heading over, but it’s not the sweaters that have my attention, it’s the desk in front of me.

  “She’s a slob, Lottie.” Cluck Norris is quick to point out—not that he had to. Kit is evidently a very busy girl. “Mrs. Cottonwood used to call Candace a slob, too. She said there’s no excuse for a messy house. I bet the killer’s mother said that as well.”

  “She may have,” I say. “But I’ve learned the hard way that sometimes no matter how hard you pick up after someone, they won’t change their ways. And my entire house is becoming messier by the minute because of it.”

  “Really?” he chirps as he flies over to the top of the filing cabinet and fluffs his feathers. “I would have figured Everett would be better than that. He is a judge, after all. Order is his business.”

  “I was talking about Carlotta.”

  “Makes sense. Did you know she has a nest in the corner of her room?”

  “No,” I say as my voice raises a few octaves because many creatures make nests, and I’m pretty sure Cluck here is the only fowl in my home.

  He chirps, “Carlotta doesn’t know it’s there either.”

  “Lovely,” I say, looking at the tiny office with greater scrutiny.

  A few errant files cover the top of the desk, about three different cups of coffee are scooted to one end, and there’s a large desk calendar buried under a stack of paper. I push them back to get a better look at the calendar, and when I do the entire thing shifts and I freeze.

  Peeking out from underneath it is the corner of what looks to be a bright red file. I pull it out and gasp as the words death of Zack Ross are printed across it.