Page 8 of Macaron Massacre
“There, there.” He pats my mother’s hand. “And I’ll be right here to comfort you.”
“Geez,” I say, plucking my mother from his philandering clutches. “We need to find his ex-wife and children,” I say, and she’s quick to slink right out of my grasp.
“Oh no, I don’t. Last I checked, I didn’t work for the Ashford Sheriff’s Department. I’ll leave that to the professionals.” She nods to Noah. “And I’ll come right up behind you. God forbid they sense I’m not nearly grieved enough over the fact. Or worse yet, they accuse me of doing the deed.” She grimaces. “How did he bite the big one? Was it quick?”
Noah glances back. “Stab wounds to the back. Odds are he passed out quickly. All right, let’s get out there, and I’ll break it to the family.”
I lead Noah out and spot the entire Dallas clan hovering around the bar, each with a drink in their hand. Come to think of it, they might need a few more drinks to get through this evening. “Oh, Noah, I can’t imagine what it would be like to have someone break this kind of news to you, on your father’s birthday of all days.”
“It’s terrible, Lottie. But it has to be done.”
I take Noah by the hand as we weave our way over to them.
“Mrs. Dallas?” Noah addressed the older redhead, and she offers a quick smile as her brows shoot into her forehead.
“That would be me.”
His chest expands with his next breath. “And are these your daughters?”
“Michelle Ireland.” The cheerful life coach is ready to greet Noah with the widest grin possible. “And this is my sister, Claret.”
Noah offers a somber nod. “I’m sorry. I have terrible news for you. It appears Rich Dallas, your father, is no longer with us.” He pauses a moment, and the three of them lean in as if asking for more. “He was brutally murdered just a few minutes ago. If you need assistance getting back to your homes or hotels, we can arrange for transportation.”
“Oh my God.” Gloria’s eyes bulge so hard I’m convinced she’s about to experience an ocular blowout. “Who did this? Have you apprehended them?”
Noah gives them an indelicate briefing before Ivy shouts for him in the crowd. The diner is cordoned off as the sheriff’s department takes the names and numbers of those present.
“I’m so sorry,” I say to Gloria and her stunned daughters. “My mother has a B&B here in town. You can stay for as long as you need to, free of charge.” I’m not even sure she has the room, but I had to offer. It’s the least I could do. These people came for cake, not murder.
Claret takes a deep breath. “Well, there’s that.” She makes a face at her sister. “It looks like someone will need to make the arrangements.” She turns my way. “We’re fine, Lottie. We’re all local. And we have no problem driving home. It’s a shame this had to happen, but I suppose such is life.”
I inch back a notch.
Such is life?
Maybe she didn’t get the part about this being a homicide? It’s probably best I not reiterate it. They’re obviously in shock.
“Bartender?” Gloria slams her glass down over the granite. “I’ll trade this for a glass of champagne. The least I could do is toast the old coot for hitting the finish line in style.”
Instyle?
Wow. It sounds like Gloria didn’t hear the part about poor Rich being stabbed to death either.
Michelle nods my way. “I’ll take one, too. My father lived his best life. It’s what he did. He followed my courses to a T.” She rummages through her purse. “Here. I have a few spare tickets to my seminar coming up this Thursday. I’d love to see you there. You have such a positive energy about you.”
A pair of black gloves peers out of her purse. Gardening gloves?
“Thank you,” I say as she gives me a pamphlet with the tickets ensconced. “I’ll be sure to use these. Will you be at the seminar? I mean, it’s understandable if you need to call it off or get a stand-in.”
“I’m afraid the show must go on.” She glances out the window and shudders. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
Claret lifts a shoulder in that direction as Michelle comes back and shakes her head at her sister as if confirming something.
“Champagne!” Gloria sings as she passes one to each of her daughters, and the bartender produces two more—one for her and me.
My God, the man’s body isn’t even cold and his family is out here ready to toast to his demise. I have a horrible feeling about this, and as much as I want nothing to do with their glib behavior, it’s a train wreck I can’t look away from.
“Lottie, please.” Gloria thrusts a glass my way, and I hesitate before taking it. “Join us. He would have wanted you to.”