Page 26 of Poison Apple Crisp

I glance back at Lily. “You’re not wrong,” I say. “And the name of that woman chef at the Honey Pot is Margo. You’re right, I’ll probably ask her. But it will take a lot more than ten bucks.”

“Hear that, kid?” Carlotta swats Evie on the arm. “She knows how to grease a palm. That’s a good detail for the head babysitter to be in on.”

“Me? Babysit?” Evie scans the ceiling before looking my way. “Wait a minute. You said you’re not having this baby until early next spring. That’s like almost my senior year. Sorry, Mom, but it’s a no-go. I’ve got both Conner and Kyle to think about.”

Conner and Kyle are Evie’s two self-professed boyfriends. Suffice it to say, Everett and I aren’t too thrilled.

She shrugs. “Cheer practice is every day after school, and I have to make the squad. Conner is on the football team, and Kyle is on the basketball team. Tryouts are in a week. And if Dash and I make it, we’ll be integrated into the squad and debut at our first game in two weeks.” She turns to Carlotta. “Speaking of my best friend, I’ll need to have a special place in that plan of ours for Dash.”

“No can do, little miss,” Carlotta says with a shake of her head. “There’s only room for one queen bee at the top. She can be your number two.”

“Sounds good. I’d better let her know.” She pulls out her phone and falls into that old familiar cellular coma.

Carlotta leans my way. “Let’s ditch the kid and go hunt down a suspect. Who’s next on your list, Lot?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I should talk to Rachelle next? Last night Cokie mentioned Rachelle and Brenda were thick as thieves.”

Carlotta nods. “She also mentioned a woman by the name of Alyssa Thomas.”

I twist my lips. “You were a good spy last night, weren’t you?”

“Not that good. I still don’t know what Mr. Sexy does behind closed doors that makes you moo like a cow.”

“What?” I crumple up a napkin and toss it her way. “I do not moo like a cow,” I whisper in the event Evie decides to snap out of her trance.

“All right, you oink like a pig.”

I scoff at the thought. “That would be you, Carlotta. And I don’t want to know what Mayor Nash does to elicit that sound in you.”

“Fine—Rachelle it is.” She sags as if she were dejected by the thought. “But we’d better find her in some dive bar or nightclub. I want to go somewhere exciting for a change. A few months back, you took me to themall. My free time is precious to me. Make it count.”

“That’s all you have is free time,” I retort.

“Not anymore. I’m house hunting.”

I gasp with unmitigated delight. “You’re moving?”

Carlotta has been living me with me while my Grandma Nell’s old house is being rebuilt from the ground up due to black mold. Carlotta was staying there after Nell died, and she ended up flooding the place. Then she moved in with me and ended up flooding her bedroom when she melted a hole in her waterbed. I’m sensing a watery theme here. Come to think of it, she should probably move before the baby arrives or I’ll have to keep it in a life jacket whenever she’s around.

Carlotta sniffs my way. “The place next door just came up for rent, and I put in an application.”

“That old empty house on the other side of me?”

“Yup.” She nods.

“Well, that’s a start,” I say. “That house has been empty for months, and the other tenants hardly made a peep.” I heard Noah and Everett say once that if someone didn’t move in soon the place would fall apart. Just the thought of living next door to a construction site sends my blood pressure soaring. “I hope you do get it.”

Lord knows Carlotta won’t mind a crooked doorframe or two, and that way I can start turning her room into a nursery. I’ve already lost a few nights’ sleep worrying which way to go with the décor.

Keelie’s nursery looks as if the circus just set up shop in her spare bedroom, and Lainey’s nursery looks as if she hired an interior designer to put it together with its deep gray walls and light pink accents.

The bell on the door chimes and in walks a familiar looking woman with a blonde wavy bob, along with a teenage girl with her red hair in a ponytail. It takes a second to place the woman, and I gasp as I wave.

“Rachelle,” I say as both she and the girl head our way.

“Drats.” Carlotta slumps in her seat. “I guess that means the dive bar is out.”

“Lottie.” Rachelle hikes a smile over her face. “This is my stepdaughter, Amber, the one who’s going to be a junior this year.”