Page 69 of Poison Apple Crisp

“Nice to see you, too, Lottie.” He sheds an easy grin. “I almost baptized you with my fruit punch. Sorry about that. I can’t believe this crowd. Cokie always did know how to throw a party.”

“I’ll say.” But is she a murderous host?

He squints into the crowd. “You wouldn’t happen to know where she is, do you?”

“Actually...” There’s no way I can send Martin over there. “I’m not entirely sure.” Not quite a lie. Ivy could have hauled her off to who knows where by now. “Hey? Can I ask how long you’ve known Cokie?”

“Five or six years. She’s been the principal here for the last four.”

Four? That picture was taken three years ago. I guess that puts a pin in my theory.

“Well, thank you,” I say. “It’s good to know she has lots of experience.”

He ticks his head. “She’s good at a lot of things. And I’ve been missing every last one of them.” He pats my arm as he heads past me.

“Great,” I mutter as I glance down at the auctions set in front of me. One for a signed basketball and one for an e-reader loaded with one hundred dollars’ worth of bestsellers.

They both have a familiar name bidding on them, but it’s not the name that catches my attention as much as it is that upward tilt that’s crossing the T, and the curlicue at the end of the letter A.

It’s the same little detail that caught my eye on the ransom note.

A breath hitches in my throat as it all comes together.

I think I know who wrote that note, and I think I know who killed Brenda Phillips, too.

Chapter 18

The roar of the crowd picks up, and I’m about to pull out my phone once again when I spot her just outside the back door to the gym with a plume of white smoke from a cigarette creating a misshapen halo around her head.

I step out into the crisp autumn night as a smattering of citrine-colored leaves swirls around my feet.

“Lottie?” A brief smile twitches on her lips as she quickly extinguishes the cigarette underneath her heel. “My apologies. It’s not good for your baby to be near it. It’s a nasty habit of mine from a whole other lifetime ago.” She gives a sly wink as she bends over to kick the butt out of the way, and a thin black etching is exposed over her neck.

“Can I see it?” I motion to her neck, and her eyes widen my way. “Your tattoo. I bet you’re covered with them.” I meant for it to come out playful, but it was far more accusatory.

Thirteen and Ginger materialize in a vat of colorful stars, and I wince from the brightness of their beings juxtaposed against the dark umber night.

“Pardon?” Rachelle Dalton tips her ear my way as if she couldn’t have heard me correctly.

“Your tattoos. The ones on your neck and arms. That’s why you wear the turtlenecks, isn’t it?”

She tips her head back, her eyes hardening over mine.

“I guess what they say is true.” A silent laugh shakes her. “You’re quite the detective, Lottie, aren’t you?”

Ginger lets out a sharp bark. “Lottie Lemon, I command you to get back inside that gym and step away from this madwoman. If Emmet and Nolan find out you’re putting the litter in peril, there will be heck to pay. I should know, I once charged out at a Chihuahua for nipping at my mother’s heels while I was carrying my little furballs. Oh, Emmet and Nolan threatened to tether me to the sofa for the rest of my gestation. And don’t think for a minute that Emmet didn’t make good on his promise.” She purrs. “It led to some very heated places that dog was prone to wander.”

Rachelle gurgles out a dark laugh. “I’ll see you later, Lottie. I think I forgot to let out the dog. My husband will never forgive me if he eats up the furniture. He can get restless, if you know what I mean.”

I hop in front of her as she presses her way to the parking lot.

“You—you dyed your hair.” I look up at her blonde locks. “Oh my God, you’re a redhead. Of course, you are. I’ve seen your roots a half a dozen times.”

“Really, Lottie?” She forces a short-lived laugh. “I think you have better things to do than worry about the color of my hair.”

“Brenda knew.” I nod as the night of her murder comes back to me with crystal clarity. “That’s why she called you Ginger, isn’t it?”

Ginger yips up a storm. “What a coincidence. She called me Ginger, too!”