Everett looks fit to kill. “You would do and say anything to get in her good graces, wouldn’t you?” His cheeks flicker. “Lemon, let’s get inside before there’s another homicide on the grounds.”

  I suck in a quick breath. “Everett, you know who Cormack pegged as the killer, don’t you?”

  He gives a solid blink. “I plead the fifth.”

  “Knew it.”

  “Don’t worry, Lottie”—Noah’s dimples dig in deep, no smile—“I won’t leave your side, and I have my weapon on me.”

  “And I’ve got Ethel.” Everett pats his waist.

  “You brought Ethel?” I ask, almost amused. Ethel is the name of the Glock handgun Noah and Everett chipped in to buy me a couple of years back. “But we were just going to the bakery.” I bring my hand to my mouth. “You’re afraid of the Canellis, aren’t you? Or that crazed woman who keeps nosying around.” Come to think of it, I may have forgotten to tell Noah and Everett that I saw her at this very location yesterday. But I think I’d best keep quiet about it for now lest they forbid me entry. They’ve been trying to put their foot down an awful lot as of late, in the name of protecting me—trying being the operative word.

  “I’m not afraid of the Canellis in the least,” Everett says it so convincingly, I almost believe him. “I had an inkling this might happen.” He nods to the studio behind me.

  “Come on, Lot.” Carlotta pulls me close. “We don’t have time to listen to your men strutting around like a couple of peacocks trying to prove who’s got the bigger weapon. We’ll play that game later at the house. You bring the food scale, I’ll bring the ruler.” She pulls me toward the door at the back of the building that sits wide open. “I can’t wait to see what they’re filming in there today. I hope we see famous people.”

  “This is Leeds. We won’t see famous people.” I’m quick to burst her starry-eyed bubble. “Besides, we’re here to grill a suspect. We need to stay focused.”

  The four of us head on into the cavernous studio where the walls are black, the floors are concrete, and there are steel beams that look to be holding up the entire structure. The smell of stale coffee fills the air and instantly I groan.

  “I can’t believe I forgot to bring cookies!” I tap myself over the forehead a little harder than I meant to. “I blame the lack of sleep.”

  “It’s the lack of something else, Lot.” Carlotta ticks her head to the side. “I know for a fact you’re not getting any Sexy time. And knowing how that makes you tick, I’m not surprised you’ve got two different pairs of shoes on.”

  “What?” I squawk as I look down, and sure enough, I’ve got two different navy flats on. “Points for same color?” I shrug over at Noah and Everett.

  “See that?” Carlotta looks to my feet. “You’ve got Sexy on the brain. You can’t think straight.”

  Noah groans.

  “Don’t listen to her, Noah,” I tell him. “Getting frisky is the last thing on my mind these days. The lower forty-eight are still recovering from that adorable meteor that tore through them. And my boobs are cracked and bleeding. You’ve seen that yourself.”

  It’s true. I’ve been topless more than I’ve had a top on these last three weeks, and neither Noah nor Everett bats a lash when I’m wincing through a feeding session with Lyla Nell. Both Keelie and Lainey assured me it would get easier and well, I’m not exactly there yet. I’m beginning to think they’re both big liars.

  “Geez, Lot.” Carlotta swats her hands my way as if my hair was on fire and she was trying to put it out. “You don’t have to go and get so graphic. It’s not too late to save second base. We can make a side trip to the Honey Hollow Fire Department on the way home.”

  “Yes, we can,” I say a bit too aggressively. “To drop you off.”

  “Whoa,” a female voice calls from our left and we turn to see Kit Knickerson looking adorable in jeans and a tan tank top. Full disclosure, because of the nude color of her shirt, I thought she was topless at first glance. Her short hair is coiled around her scalp and cropped around her neck. Her big doe eyes have a pair of two-inch false eyelashes adhered to them, and her painted cherry red lips are offering us the biggest smile. “Well, if it isn’t Lottie Lemon and the Daddy Bunch.”

  “Don’t forget the mama.” Carlotta’s chest expands with pride—the chest that never cracked or bled in my honor, mind you.

  “What’s going on?” Kit lowers her voice a notch as she steps in close.

  Everett nods her way. “We came for the envelope. It’s still on the premises, I presume.”

  “Oh right!” Her eyes widen to the size of silver dollars. “The paternity test.” She winces. “Oh no, it’s still in Candace’s safe,” she says just above a whisper. “I don’t have access to it. I don’t know that anyone does. She was pretty guarded when it came to her things. But I’m sure I can get a locksmith out and they can bust it open somehow if we have to.”

  Noah shakes his head. “I’m sure we can get the doctor to make up a new one. But since I’m investigating the case, I’m afraid I’ll have to get into the safe anyhow.”

  “Oh hey.” She points right at me. “I almost forgot. Burt mentioned this morning that as soon as he recasts the lead, we were instructed by the higher-ups to start the new show where the old one left off. Are the three of you game for another round?”

  “Yes,” I answer in haste for the three of us. “I mean, we’re dying to find out the results, but we were sort of set on finding out on the show.” So I can get my mother back half of her haunted B&B, but I leave that part out. “How soon can we come back?”

  “We don’t have a host yet.” She grimaces. “But on the bright side, some blonde just rushed into Burt’s office demanding to audition for it.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure she’s auditioning for it the old-fashioned way. I heard a bunch of noise and walked in on a blouse flying through the air.” She shudders. “Anyway, we’re filming another show in the studio right now. We have several shows that tape here, so the studio won’t miss out on Candace too much.”

  Carlotta’s mouth falls open. “Whatcha filming?” She irons out her blouse as if she were getting ready for her close-up.

  Who cares what they’re filming? It’s not like we’re going over there. We’ve got a suspect to grill. Speaking of which, where is our new feathered friend? I would have expected to hear him yodeling by now.

  No sooner do I have the thought than a spray of stars erupts right over Kit’s head in colors of gold and red. It takes less than five seconds for the proudly plumed bird to appear in his full glory and he juts his tiny head back and howls out a hearty cock-a-doodle-doo.

  He’s here! I do a little hop. I’ve had all sorts of animals appear to me but never a rooster. I used to be a bit rooster obsessed when I was kid if for no other reason than Keelie had a stuffed animal of one and I thought it was cute.

  “My name is Lottie Lemon, and I’m so glad to finally meet you!” I shout to the disembodied among us without meaning to.

  Kit inches back with a look of slight confusion. “Nice to meet you, too?” She gives Noah and Everett a curious glance.

  “Lemon?” Everett tries to step into my line of vision, and I take up his hand and give it a squeeze. A clear signal that the dead are among us. I’m not sure why, but we discovered a while back that I act like a conduit, and when people are holding my hand, they can hear what the dearly departed have to say, too.

  “About time, good lookin’.” Carlotta bleats to our new feathered friend. “We don’t have all day.”

  “Oh, right.” Kit looks mildly affronted. “We’re taping an episode of Catching Up with the Kellermans today. It’s the season end tell-all so the sisters are all in the studio.”

  Both Carlotta and I suck in a sharp breath.

  “I love that show!” we both shout at the very same time.

  “Shh!” Kit gives a choo-choo train of a laugh. “We don’t have a studio audience, but we have plenty of crew. Why don’t you come on over and catch a glimpse? They’re just as glamorous in person as they are on TV.”

  She doesn’t have to ask us twice. Both Carlotta and I speed our way to the front where the stage is, while Noah says something about checking out the office once again and Kit agrees to it. And judging by the fact Everett is missing, I’m guessing he went with him. So much for never leaving my side and protecting me with their arsenal of weaponry. But right now, I don’t care a lick about protection because all I can think about is meeting the Kellerman sisters! I’ve been watching their reality series for years—seven years to be exact. I've seen them through their breakups, their makeups, their marriages, their divorces. And their—

  “Babies!” I cry out as soon as I spot the gaggle of children ranging from infants to pre-teens.

  Kit takes off to tend to the crew, but Carlotta and I stand frozen, mesmerized by the glitzy and glamorous sight before us.

  There they are, all five sisters wearing matching nude-colored tank tops and yoga pants. Their matching long black hair looks glossy and thick, and it’s probably fake, too. I know this is a fact because on one show they’ll have short hair, and on the next it’s right back down to their waist again. The kids are all wearing white from head to toe and the entire scene has an ethereal-like feel.

  The set has been transformed since yesterday. Gone is the stuffy sofa, the wingback chair, and the coffee table that, honestly, we may have broken in all the melee. And in its place are oversized squishy looking white beanbags in the shape of couches as the Kellermans lounge over them with their svelte limbs outstretched like a bunch of Siamese cats.

  “Look at them, Lot! They’re beautiful,” Carlotta says as she staggers toward the stage, and I manage to pull her back.

  “You can’t go out there,” I whisper. “They’re still taping.”

  She starts taking off her blouse and I give her a jostle.

  “Would you stop?” I hiss. “You’re going to get us tossed out on our ear.”

  “But if the Kellermans are naked, I want to be naked, too. I follow everything they do, Lot Lot. Haven’t you been paying attention?”

  “No, but that explains an awful lot.” I shudder. “Never mind that. They’re not naked. They’re wearing nude-colored clothing. That must be why Kit’s wearing that matching tank top, too.”

  She smacks me on my arm. “Why’d you let me put on this polka dot disaster this morning?”

  “I’m not a psychic. How was I supposed to know they’d be here in birthday suit knockoffs? And to be honest, I rarely notice what you’re wearing. I’m too busy noticing your whack-a-doodle behavior, like trying to take off your clothes in public.”

  “Oh, who cares if I’m a whack-a-doodle? I want to be a Kellerman, Lot. I’ve seen enough seasons to know they can whack-a-doodle with the best of them.”

  “Cut!” someone shouts and the crew starts buzzing every which way, but the Kellermans remain cool as cucumbers, still outstretched over those odd beanbags as if they were readying for a solid afternoon nap.

  Carlotta storms the set, and I’m right there on her heels.

  “My people!” Carlotta stretches out her arms. “Mama’s home.” She jumps between the two middle sisters and starts chatting up a storm with the two of them. But I gravitate toward Karen and Kinsley. Each Kellerman sister’s name begins with a K, as does their mother’s, and their grandmother’s, and all of their ancestry dating back to the Mayflower.

  Karen and Kinsley are each holding a living, breathing doll in their arms, a one-year-old and a six-month-old baby girl.

  “I’m a mama now, too,” I whine as I head over and take a seat on the edge of the squishy sofa.

  “Of course, you are.” Karen perks up. Karen is the oldest and the shortest of the Kellerman clan, and she also has the most kids as well. She’s sort of Mother Earth in a nutty granola way. And she happens to be Lainey’s favorite sister. “As soon you walked in, I could tell you were ready to pop. When’s the baby due?”

  My hand falls over my stomach, mostly out of habit. “I’ve already had her.” Tears come without warning. I can’t blame them for the big-bellied faux pas since I’m still firmly fitting into my maternity wear. Not that I have another wardrobe to squeeze into. I lost all of my old clothes in the fire with the exception of the small wardrobe I forgot about under Noah’s bed, and the clothes that Carlotta borrowed from me and squirreled away at Mayor Nash’s place.

  “Aw, you poor thing.” Karen wraps an arm around my shoulders and rocks me. “What’s her name?”

  I hiccup as I look at the tiny babe in Kinsley’s arms and tears come to my eyes.

  “Her name is Lyla Nell, and I’ve abandoned her,” I wail out those last few words, and soon all five Kellerman sisters are patting me on the back in an effort to calm me down. Carlotta is standing to the side, chatting it up with Kathy Kellerman, the power mother to end all power mothers.

  “What do you mean you abandoned her?” Katrina, the youngest and the most successful Kellerman of them all, asks and I can’t help but gawk at how beautiful she is in an exotic, albeit not quite human way. Some of the Kellermans have taken their ability to afford all the plastic surgery in the world to unsafe levels.

  “I’ve left her all alone with my mother,” I wail once again, and this time an entire river of tears streams down my face.

  Karen laughs as she pulls me into a loose embrace. “I bet it’s your first time without her, isn’t it?”

  I give a tearful nod. “And I’m never, ever doing it again.” More wailing and tears ensue, and it feels darn good to let it all out. “I’m a terrible mother. And I knew it! I just knew I would be.”

  “No way!” Kinsley is quick to come to my defense. “You’ve just got a bad case of the hormones. When did you give birth?”

  “Three weeks ago.” I chop each word into fifteen syllables.

  “Three weeks?” Kasey shouts.

  Kasey is the most controversial sister of them all, always getting into trouble with the law, always dating the bad boys and letting them be bad to her, time and time again. She’s the one I’d like to talk a little sense into. Not that I can push a single intelligible word out if I wanted to.

  “Come here, hon.” Kasey nestles herself between Karen and me. “You’re just a hot mess because neither your brain nor your body has settled down yet. At three weeks I was still in bed stuffing my face with cinnamon rolls and binge watching shows on Instaflix.”

  “You’re right!” I practically shout at her. “I’m a hot mess. I miss my bakery. I miss my old body. I miss my boobs. As much as I love Lyla Nell, I can’t help but think everything feels wrong in my world.” I start to weep and my boobs start crying, too. I believe the proper term for when your boobs turn on you is a letdown and that sounds about right.

  “You’re just dealing with change, that’s all,” Karen says before flicking Kasey with her foot. “And you’re still stuffing your face with cinnamon rolls and binge watching Instaflix.” She scoots forward and takes a scrutinizing look at me. “Hey, wait a minute! You were on Getting Candid with Candace yesterday, weren’t you?”

  The rest of the sisters gasp.

  “I never missed a show,” Kinsley says as she bats those extra long lashes my way. “So who’s the father?” she asks, handing me the arm-flapping doll in her arms and I quickly take the tiny peanut and snuggle with her.

  “We don’t know,” I say. “We came by the set to get the envelope from Candace’s office.”

  “Her office?” Karen gasps. “How creepy. I wanna go.”

  “Me, too,” each of the sisters quickly echoes.

  “And what about the killer?” Katrina gives me that crazy-eyed look that she’s so famous for, and I squeal with delight and so does the baby in my arms. “I heard they arrested her on the spot.”

  “Oh no”—I shake my head and point to where Carlotta and Kathy are still chatting it up—“she’s right over there.”

  As if choir practice had suddenly broken out, all five Kellerman sisters scream at the top of their lungs.

  “Killer!” Karen shouts.

  “Killer on the loose!” Kinsley adds. “Grab the kids!”

  Soon, every Kellerman in the state it seems is scrambling to get out of the clutches of these quicksand-like couches we’re sunk down into. Limbs go flying and bodies claw over one another as the entire lot of them attempts to rise to their feet—albeit fruitlessly. The more they move, the deeper into these white wonders they sink. In fact, they all sort of roll in my direction until the sofa threatens to swallow us whole as it rises like a ten foot wave on either side of us.

  “Give me my baby!” Kinsley screeches as she plucks her out of my arms. The baby starts to scream at the top of her lungs, and just like that, the front of my blouse is soaking wet as my milk gets away from me.

  The sound of feet stomping in this direction enlivens just as the screaming hits its pinnacle as both Everett and Noah draw their weapons and shout FREEZE at the top of their lungs.

  More screaming ensues. I believe there were a few threats of lawsuits. And Mama Kellerman has Carlotta pinned to the ground with Carlotta’s arms flexed behind her back.

  “I’ve got her, Officer!” Kathy shouts. “I’ve got the killer.” She quickly jumps to her feet, her eyes never leaving Noah and Everett. “Holy Moses. Who are you?”

  Noah and Everett quickly put their weapons away as every Kellerman woman in the room gravitates their way, including the wee ones.

  Kit comes over laughing as she gives me a hand, helping me out of the beanbag of doom, and that rooster sitting on her head crows.

  “You’re a riot, Lottie,” Kit says.

  The rooster jumps down to her shoulder and his head pulsates my way.

  “It’s time to peck her to death, isn’t it?” He touches his beak to her ear again and Kit slaps the side of her head.

  I shake my head at him.

  “Kit?” I lean in as if I’m about to whisper a secret. “Carlotta didn’t kill Candace.”

  “I guess not.” She twitches her nose in Carlotta’s direction. “I mean the sheriff’s department let her go, so there’s that.”