“That must mean someone else who was here yesterday did it,” I say. “Was there anyone you know who was having a disagreement with her?” I know for a fact Kit had a tense exchange with Candace right here in the studio yesterday.

  The rooster crows once again and nearly takes my eardrums out.

  “Good grief,” I crow right back at him.

  Kit squints my way. “I get it. It’s certainly a terrible thing. I’m outraged, too.”

  The rooster floats up next to me. “My apologies. It’s something I have very little control over. My name is Cluck Norris, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lottie Lemon. Your reputation precedes you over on the other side.”

  My mouth rounds out with delight at the thought. And Cluck Norris? I love him ten times more because of his plucky clucky name.

  Kit blows out a breath as she looks out at the set. Every Kellerman in the room is pawing at my men, and I don’t seem too bothered by it at all. Because let’s face it, I don’t care how nude they look, how beautiful, or how rich they might be, I know those men aren’t going anywhere.

  Kit nods. “Fern Cranston. If anyone could have clubbed Candace to death, it would have been her. She and Candace went to college together. And something bad must have happened because Candace once told me that they were the best of friends for a long time, and then to quote her, ‘Things took a turn in a sinister direction.’”

  “Sinister?” I inch back.

  She nods. “I have no idea what she meant, but regardless, Fern is a local best-selling mystery author and the bigwigs always booked her much to Candace’s chagrin. Sure, the two of them played nice on the air—but wow, Candace couldn’t stand the woman. I’ve seen them huddled, whispering now and again, and it always looked heated. They had their secrets. But then, that was Candace.” She glares in the direction of the office. “Candace Cottonwood was rife with secrets.”

  A bell sounds and she excuses herself before disappearing and Cluck Norris up and disappears, too, mumbling something about cookies.

  “Hey, wait!” I call out after him. “I’ve got the best cookies in town!” Half the Kellermans look my way.

  I stride over and wrap an arm around both Noah and Everett while the Kellermans do their best to steal their attention. But they can’t. It proves downright impossible, and I’m glad about it, too.

  Soon, I’m reunited with my precious sugar cookie, Lyla Nell, and we all head back to Honey Hollow with another suspect to quiz and secrets to uncover.

  Once we get home, I snuggle on the sofa feeding Lyla Nell while discussing the case with Noah and Everett, and oddly, all feels right with my world again.

  Everett

  Mannino, Manny, Moretti looks like about a dozen different mobsters that have made their way through my courtroom with his dark suit, herringbone fedora, and that I’m-probably-going-to-kill-you look in his eyes.

  Only we’re not in a courtroom. We’re in the back of a home improvement store in the armpit of Leeds where I pretend to look at bags of concrete while he fast approaches in this direction.

  Manny is tall, dark bruised eyes, and has an overall look about him that seems to say I am most definitely going to kill you. And he just might. But, as long as no harm comes to Lemon or Lyla Nell, I might be okay with that.

  “Concrete aisle?” I muse his way since this was where he instructed me to meet him. “The irony isn’t lost on me.”

  “Good,” he says, flicking his fingers my way. “Let’s have it.”

  I pull the roll of bills out of my pocket and plunk it into his greedy hand.

  Ten grand, present and accounted for. The rules are, I give him cold, hard cash once a week and he provides personal protection for my family and me.

  “Thank you,” I tell him. “So here’s the deal. I can’t pay you forever. But I’ll give you a nice bonus if you figure out a way for me to shake the Canellis once and for all. I need this hit removed. It’s not only a danger to me, it’s a danger to you and your men.”

  His cheek cinches on one side and there’s a boyishness about him. He’s young, early twenties maybe. But he stepped into the mob honestly considering it’s his birthright. He works construction for his father’s company by day and wreaks havoc on other crime families by night. I predict it will be a short life for him if he keeps this up. And I’m not exactly helping prolong his days. If anything, I’m hastening them to an end.

  “Look, Judge Baxter, my business is danger,” he says, thumbing through the bills before sinking them into his pocket. “The Canellis are jumpy. They’ve seen my guys, and they think we’re ready to pounce again.” He shrugs. “Who knows? We might just be. I hear Red Satin is a decent place to set up shop. Once I boot the Canelli clan out of town, I might just make that my new home.” His shoulders bounce again. “And once I get there, it’ll be free beer for you at the bar. After all, I’ll owe it all to you. If it wasn’t for your need for protection, I might have gotten back into the swing of things in Jersey and forgot how beautiful the women were out here.”

  “Nice to hear.” Considering the fact he’s engaged. Not that I care what he does and with whom.

  “I’ll tell ya, it’s good to be me.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “I’ve got a hot sidepiece who looks an awful lot like your old lady.”

  “What?” I lean in, and instantly I know exactly whom he’s talking about. “Where did you find her? Where is she?” It has to be the woman from the hospital. The one Carlotta says isn’t my problem and refuses to come clean about. Lemon’s sister. Or at least I think that’s who she is. Carlotta isn’t giving an inch of information away for free, but I am this close to ratting her out to Lemon. I would have done it long ago if I thought Lemon was in the right frame of mind to deal with it, but she has the baby and I want her to enjoy her foray into motherhood without Carlotta or any of her errant and questionably psychotic offspring mucking up the waters.

  “You don’t need to know where I am or anyone I deal with.” He lifts his chin and his eyes close to slits, making him look ten times more sinister than he did a moment ago. “She’s a cagey one. I’m not even sure I know her name. Met her that night at the hospital. She came running out just as I finished a smoke, and the rest, as they say, is history.” He starts to take off.

  “Manny,” I call out and he turns around.

  “What if I told you I needed protection from her, too?”

  His expression sours on a dime. “I might be able to hold back the Canellis, but I can’t control a single woman. And believe me, I’ve tried. You’re on your own with that. Watch out. She’s a wildfire, that one.” He disappears like an apparition.

  A wildfire.

  I close my eyes a moment. Lemon and I have already been ravaged by a fire once, we don’t need to get burned again. I need to figure out where the heck Manny Moretti is stashing this mystery woman.

  But how the heck do I track a mobster who I’m paying to keep track of me?

  Noah. He volunteered to get recruited into my troubles.

  It looks like he’s about to get his wish.

  Lottie

  Head hurts.

  Boobs hurt.

  Need sleep.

  My head drifts backward onto the sofa as I begin to blissfully nod off.

  “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” Cluck Norris shrills, and every raw nerve in my body jolts for a moment, and then as if it were all a bad dream, I can feel myself drifting again. I’m not proud to say I’m having homicidal intentions toward a ghost for the very first time.

  Whack, thump, BANG, BANG, BANG!

  “Huh?” My body straightens involuntarily as my muscles stiffen and I do my best to pry my eyes open, only to see the construction taking place out the living room window over on the land next door.

  Pancake and Waffles, my sweet cats, a couple of Himalayan brothers with creamy white fur and rust-tipped tails, give a lazy glance my way.

  Toby, Noah’s golden retriever, lies at the base of the fireplace looking up at me with heavy eyes.

  “Why can’t I be more like you boys?” I ask, kicking my feet up on the coffee table. “You can sleep through anything. And whose bright idea was it to move next door to a construction site? Oh, that’s right. Mine.” Never mind the fact the construction is for my dream house with Everett. At this point it’s more of a house of horrors.

  “You’re doing it all wrong, Lot,” Carlotta is generous enough to point out as I sit strung out on the couch with Lyla Nell nursing contently in my arms. The television is on in the background, playing season after season of Catching up with the Kellermans on a loop. My hair has morphed into a tumbleweed, I haven’t had the luxury to shower yet, I’ve been shoveling chocolate chip cookies into my mouth nonstop for the better half of the day, and it’s only four in the morning—or is it four in the afternoon? Oh heck, I don’t think time matters anymore. And to make things more interesting than they have to be, Cluck Norris is sitting on the coffee table stealing cookies for himself, judging me with those beady little eyes of his.

  “I’m doing what wrong?” I ask and suddenly regret that I took the bait.

  Cluck Norris chirps, “I think the answer is everything, Lottie. Back on the farm they weren’t allowed to lounge around the house all day. There were cows to be milked, horses to be fed, and eggs to be laid. Mrs. Cottonwood had ten children, my favorite being Candace, of course. She let me run wild in her bedroom.”

  I bet she did.

  Hey? Maybe running wild in a bedroom is what got her killed?

  “Honestly?” Evie sits on the other sofa and folds her legs underneath her while stirring the yogurt in her hand. Both Pancake and Waffles hop up on either side of her, eyeing that dairy treat in her hand. I’ve noticed they’ve been steering clear of me lately. Most likely because I smell and I have a baby bomb strapped to my chest who goes off at all hours of the day and night. “You shouldn’t have bothered to ask, Mom. At this point, I’m pretty sure the answer is everything.”

  “Yuppers.” Carlotta nods as she walks into the room, cookies in hand. “And Cluck Norris agrees with you, too.”

  I avert my eyes. Evie doesn’t know about the fact Carlotta and I are supersensual, but that hasn’t stopped Carlotta from introducing Evie to her “make-believe” emotional support animals.

  “Are you all caught up with the Kellermans yet, Lot?” Carlotta beams a smile as if she was in on some great secret.

  “Twice over,” I say. “Not that I’ve been paying attention.”

  Evie scoffs. “Just the way you weren’t yesterday when you didn’t think to invite me to the studio. I can’t believe you guys got to meet the Kellermans without me. And the fact they tried to beat Carlotta with a baseball bat would have been gold for my social media accounts. A video like that could have garnered me millions of dollars.” She shakes her head at Carlotta. “It’s so cool the way people always seem to want to beat you up, Carlotta.”

  “It takes talent.” Carlotta doesn’t miss a beat. “I’ve worked long and hard my whole life to get to where I am today—as evidence by this!” She plucks a piece of paper from her pocket and waves it around. “See this, Lot?” Carlotta wiggles the sheet my way. “It’s proof the Kellermans love me.”

  “I don’t think love is the nexus of a restraining order, Carlotta.” And that’s exactly what that is. Everett briefed her on it, but the concept seems to elude her. It’s probably for the better.

  “At least they know I’m alive,” she quips.

  “Point taken,” I say. “How was school, Evie?”

  “Pointless.” She shrugs. “But it’s Friday, so who cares?”

  “It’s Friday?” I perk up a notch as if days of the week meant anything anymore.

  “Friday!” Cluck Norris hops and expands his wings while shooting off one of his famed cock-a-doodle-don’ts. The small handful of times I happened to fall asleep, he’s let one of those airy scary screams rip. “Sorry,” he chirps. “It’s more of a biological response than anything else.”

  I bite down on a smile. The fact he just used biological response in a sentence confirms to me that roosters are whip-smart birds. But as smitten as I am with him, that biological response of his has taken the sheen off just a bit. And to think I spent half my childhood begging my mother for a rooster. Thank goodness she said no. Who knew I should have been soaking in glorious sleep while I had the chance? My mother, that’s who.

  “That’s right, it’s Friday, Lot.” Carlotta lands on the opposite end of the sofa with a platter of my chocolate chip cookies in hand that Keelie brought over for me this morning. I keep threatening to bake a batch myself, but I can’t seem to get one inch near the kitchen without Lyla Nell screaming at me to get back here. She prefers curling up by the fire with a nice snack, that would be me, and taking a solid nap on her favorite bed, also me.

  Carlotta snorts. “Pretty soon Evie and I have to get ready to go out. We’ve still got lives, you know. We don’t have a little yippy baby weighing us down. We’re free to sleep in until noon, stay out until midnight, and wear our skinny jeans.”

  Pancake yowls my way, and I won’t even begin to try to interpret that reaction.

  Evie pulls the spoon from her mouth. “Speaking of skinny jeans, you might want to change out of that tent now that you’ve had the baby.”

  “I can’t fit into anything else.” There’s a slight whine to my voice, but I can’t help it. If there was anything to whine about, it’s my wardrobe debacle. “Besides, all of my old clothes burned in the fire, not that I’d have any hope of fitting back into them. And my maternity dresses are comfortable.”

  Carlotta makes a face. “They’re also stained, smelly, and encrusted with baby spit. It’s not a wonder Sexy and Foxy aren’t around that much anymore.”

  “What are you talking about?” I shoot her a look. “Noah is working hard on the case, and Everett had a very important errand to run. He probably had to meet up with Fiona. You know his trial starts next week. And he mentioned he had to get to the bank, and then he’s picking up dinner, or was it lunch?” I shake my head. “I hope it’s a bucket of fried chicken from Hennifer’s.”

  “Wow, Mom,” Evie muses. “You look like you’ve still got a runt in your belly, and you eat like it, too. You’re not knocked up again already, are you?”

  Carlotta belts out a laugh. “Sexy time is a thing of the past for your mama, Evie Stevie. She’s got a baby sucking all the fun right out of her. Lyla Nell might look cute, but she’s a weapon of fun destruction.”

  “Don’t forget sleep,” I say as I look down at my little angel and a smile wobbles on my lips. Her dark hair is swept to the side, her cheeks are rosy, her little eyelashes are long and perfectly gorgeous, and her little hand is lying right over my heart. “But she’s so sweet, I could forgive her for just about anything.”

  “I love her, too, Mom.” Evie untangles her legs before rising from the couch. “But I’m glad she’s not ruining my Friday night.”

  “Where are you headed?” I ask as she takes off for the kitchen.

  “Glam Glam’s old B&B. It’s the Mystery and Mayhem Fest tonight, and Conner is a huge mystery buff. Dash and Kyle will be there, too. They think the ghosts are cool.”

  I suck in a quick breath. “That’s tonight?”

  “You bet it is.” Carlotta munches through another cookie. “And I’ll tell you how it goes, too. Fern Cranston will be there. She’s next on my suspect list.”

  “My suspect list,” I counter.

  “My suspect list,” Cluck Norris crows.

  “Let’s talk about your suspect list.” I look his way. “What do you know about Candace Cottonwood other than the fact she fell madly in love with you?”

  Not that I could blame her. But after listening to him yodel at all hours, I’m starting to wonder if this love affair was a flash in the frying pan. Speaking of frying pan, I sure hope Everett gets back with that bucket of chicken soon.

  Cluck Norris floats effortlessly over to Carlotta and snatches a cookie from her as he considers this.

  It wasn’t always that I could hear the dead. But as my supernatural abilities grew, so did theirs. I’m not sure why their abilities seem tied to mine, but for whatever reason, the fact my supersensual powers were strengthening gave them the ability to talk, move things in the material world—not always the best thing—and finally the last ability they seemed to have garnered is to eat. Believe me, that was the one they’ve been waiting for. The ghosts at my mother’s B&B have never been happier with me because of it, too. The ghosts that come back to help solve crimes don’t mind all that much either.

  “I’m afraid my time with Candace was limited.” He clucks his way through the sentence while shaking the cookie crumbs from his feathers. “But I will say this, there was a lot of yelling in her home. I’m sad to say it wasn’t a happy one. And one day Candace looked right at me and said, ‘Cluck, I will never allow a man to tell me what to do.’” He flaps his wings and floats up a notch. “And yet, her mother swore up and down she’d marry a man just like her father.”

  Carlotta shakes her head. “Sounds like her father was a piece of work.”

  Cluck Norris crows, “His wife called him a piece of—”

  The front door opens before Cluck lets the expletive fly and in walks my handsome hubby with a bucket full of Hennifer’s chicken.

  “Oh, thank goodness, Everett,” I moan as he swoops this way and drops a kiss to both the baby and me. His thick cologne warms me with its spiced scent and I hold it in my lungs a moment.

  “Hello, beautiful.” His lips curve up at the sight of me and my stomach squeezes tight. No matter how sleep-deprived I am, my body still craves his. Everett is one of my favorite addictions, right up there with chocolate, donuts, fried pickles, and a bucket of Hennifer’s chicken.

  Carlotta chuckles. “Bet you haven’t heard her moan like that in a good long while. And it’ll be a good long while before you do again. That alone should put an end to any more thoughts of procreating.”