Page 2 of Christmas Fudge Fatality
Noah takes a breath and Pancake gives a lazy yowl. “Don’t they own that place at the edge of town?”
“That’s right,” I say as we scuttle up another notch. “The Grays have a booming produce farm that spans acres. It’s a popular tourist destination in the fall. Too bad their marriage wasn’t as successful as their business.”
Noah takes a breath. “Rumor has it, Scott was cheating all along with his ranch manager, Stacy Culberson.”
I wince as I lean in. “I know Stacy. She’s good friends with my sister, Lainey. They went to college together. And you know what? I’ve always liked Stacy. She can be a bit abrasive, but she’s the one that usually comes into the bakery to pick things up for the workers at the farm and she’s always super nice to me.”
Everett’s chest expands. “Isn’t that her over there?”
“Where?” I squint in the direction he pointed to and suck in a quick breath as soon as I spot the feisty redhead with her pale complexion and stunning long lashes. Stacy has always been a beauty. I’ll never understand why she felt the need to move in on someone else’s husband. She could have had anyone she wanted. “My goodness, that is her!” Just past her stands a tall, stalky gentleman with some gray around the temples and a friendly open face. “And that’s Scott checking out the flocked trees. I bet they’re here together. Poor Tamara has to see them here, shopping for Christmas trees of all things. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for her—especially this time of year.”
An all too familiar girl with caramel-colored wavy hair and light hazel eyes steps over to Stacy, and soon they’re laughing it up over who knows what.
“Speaking of my sister,” I say as I wave over to her, and she waves back while quickly returning to the conversation at hand with Stacy.
Lainey is the head librarian at the Honey Hollow Public Library. She’s older than me by one year, and we happen to share the same caramel hair and light eyes—so much so that I had hoped my parents had the details of my adoption wrong. Apparently, I was discovered, all by my lonesome, as an infant swaddled up in a blanket on the floor of the fire department. The firefighter who found me, Joseph Lemon, said he never could let me go. And soon thereafter, Joseph and Miranda Lemon officially adopted me.
A year later, they had my younger sister, Meg, who used to be a star attraction on the Las Vegas female wrestling circuit. Meg has since moved back to town and has no problem shaking things up in Honey Hollow with her larger-than-life personality.
My father sadly passed away when I was in my teens. And seeing that I’m in my late twenties, that seems like a million years ago. But I’ll never forget him or the kind heart he freely shared with everybody. My own heart still aches for him each and every day.
Pancake rouses to life and belts out an ear-piercing meow as he gives a quick look around with those icy blue eyes.
“Whoa.” Everett gives him a quick scratch on the head. “What’s got you so stirred up, big guy? Did you see a ghost?” Everett winks my way. Both Everett and Noah are apprised of my transmundane status, further classified as supersensual. It’s true. I can see the dead. Mostly pets that have come back. But as fate or the universe would have it, it’s usually just when something horrific is about to happen to their previous owner. Outside of the disembodied visitors I’ve had over the last few months, the only other ghosts I see happen to be at my mother’s bed and breakfast.
Noah shakes his head. “Ignore him, Pancake. There are no ghosts around.” He looks over at his old stepbrother and frowns. “Are you trying to jinx this night? You know what happens when Lottie sees one of those things.”
Everett grunts, “Yeah—you get to work. If I were you, I’d start to worry about what people think about your constant proximity to the number of homicides you’re in charge of. You’re not drumming up business, are you?”
Everett is teasing, but I can’t help but hush him. It’s true. I’ve stumbled upon my fair share of bodies this last year, and each time it was Noah who was the lead investigator in the case.
I’m about to reprimand them both for bringing up such grisly things when an adorable black and white French bulldog trots up and nuzzles around my ankles.
“Well, if you aren’t as adorable as a red ribbon on a wreath!” I bend over and give him a scratch between his cute pointed ears. There’s a brass nametag in the shape of a bone dangling from a collar around his neck and I flip it over. “Noel,” I read. “What a pretty name you have. Hey, I bet your owner is worried sick about you.”
The tiny pooch cocks his head up at me adorably. “No, I can assure you they aren’t,” the sweet dog bellows it out in a deep baritone just as he up and disappears right before my eyes.
“Oh my goodness.” I bolt upright and freeze.
Noah lets out a quick breath. “You saw another one, didn’t you, Lottie?”
“I did,” I whisper, still afraid to move a muscle.
Noah shakes his head at Everett. “I knew you’d jinx it.”
“I didn’t jinx anything. You’re the unlucky charm around here.” Everett leans in and catches my gaze. “Do you know what this means, Lemon?”
I gulp hard and nod. “Murder is imminent.”
Chapter 2
They say some people can sense things before they happen. They claim to get a niggling feeling, they smell something, or they get a vision before disaster strikes.
Not me. I am always freshly surprised when a supernatural entity decides to pop in for an impromptu visit from the other side. And Lord knows I am never adequately prepared for the homicidal aftermath. A long time ago, when I first started seeing these velum-like apparitions floating nearby, it always meant something with far less mortal consequences like a skinned knee or a bruised shin. But as of late, it almost always means murder is afoot.
Confession: I haven’t always been able tohearthe dead. In fact, up until last year the dead weren’t able to do much of anything. But as my powers grew, so did their abilities. At first, they were able to move objects in the material world—a potential disaster of supernatural proportions. But, as of a couple of months ago, they’ve garnered the ability to talk as well. I’ll admit, it’s a bit unnerving listening to an animal speak to me in perfect English, but it’s something I’ve slowly grown accustomed to—so much so that I wish my sweet cats had harnessed the same strange ability.
Noah pulls out his phone and begins texting away.