Page 6 of Peach Cobbler Confessions
“What?” Everett squints in the direction she took off in.
“Are you sure?” Noah doesn’t look convinced. “I thought they were having people walk through metal detectors before they let them into the venue? After all, you’ve got a group of ornery judges that need protecting.” He chuckles to himself just as a wiry-haired woman wearing holey jeans and a white T-shirt stalks on over.
She holds a red Solo cup in front of her, and as soon as she gets within two feet, she chucks the contents of that cup right into Everett’s face.
“Oh my God!” I quickly work to wipe what looks like water off his chest.
Security comes up and quickly apprehends her.
“Take that, JudgeBastard!” she shouts as they muscle her away. “You put Peter Green behind bars even though he wasinnocent! How do you sleep at night?” she screams as our corner of the convention center quiets down for a moment. “You shouldn’t! Take it back! Do what’s right and help Peter! I hate you!” Her voice echoes eerily as she’s taken down the hall. “Ihateyou!”
“Oh, Everett.” I pull a tissue from my purse to dab his tie. “I’m so sorry you just went through that.”
Noah tracks the woman with his eyes. “I think I’ll make sure she gets off the grounds and doesn’t come back.” He blows a breath my way. “Everett, take extra care of Lottie while I’m gone. She might be carrying my baby.” A look of utter delight takes over his features as he takes off.
“Lemon.” Everett offers a crooked smile that suggests I might be carryinghisbaby. On second thought, he has that look in his eye as if he wants tomakea baby.
“Come on, Everett.” I give his tie a tug. “First things first. Let’s dry you off.”
“I thought you preferred me wet?” He lands a heated kiss to my lips. “You told me so this morning, right before I dried off from the shower.”
“Everett.” A giggle rises in my throat. “I like you wet onpurpose—not accosted by some angry family member of someone you sent up the river. Now let’s get you dry and maybe some of my peach cobbler in your belly.”
We take off for the dessert table, and I offer him some napkins to go along with that peach cobbler. We decide to head to the front of the convention center for some fresh air and to make sure Noah truly has the situation handled, but before we hit the exit, Carlotta dashes past us, following that woman in red, and both of them are howling at the top of their lungs. Instead of heading for the front, the women take off down a long, dark hall and Everett and I follow them right out through a back exit.
The ghostly woman lets out a shrill cry and Carlotta mimics her to a T.
“What is it?” I shout just as Carlotta trips and lands over a mound of—a person?
Lying on his back with a handful of my cobbler is an all too familiar stalky, bald gentleman who seemed to have more than his fair share of enemies in this building tonight.
But he won’t have to worry about infuriating anybody else.
Dane Gannon is dead.
Chapter 3
“He’s dead,” I pant as Carlotta tips her head back and begins an odd, rather obnoxious yodel.
“Carlotta,” I snip. “What are you doing?”
She huffs my way, “Trust me, Lot. If you’re not caught screaming, they’ll dub you the killer.”
“You didn’t kill him,” the woman in red pipes up. She’s glowing an unearthly hue of pink and tiny sprays of stars illuminate her crimson hair.
I couldn’t always hear the dead, but as my powers grew so did their abilities. The latest and greatest shiny new feature is the dead’s ability to fill their ghostly bellies full of whatever they wish. And believe you me, not one spook has complained about that culinary feat. It’s been a calorie-free, all-you-can-eat, supernatural buffet ever since.
Something about the haughty tone in this ghostly ghoul’s voice, that face, that fire engine red hair—she is just so familiar.
Oh my God!
“Wait a metaphysical minute,” I say. “I know you. You’re Collette Jenner!”
Collette Jenner was one of Everett’s many shady exes who just so happened to bite the big one almost two years ago when someone poisoned her drink. It was a pumpkin spice latte provided from my own bakery, and I just so happened to solve that murder.
Everett leans back and looks suspiciously at the space around him. “Collette?”
The flirtatious phantom throws open her arms. “Essex!” She lunges at him, and surprisingly he stumbles from the effort. It’s true. The dead can feel just as real as they want to. And they can most certainly manipulate objects and people in the material world.