Page 25 of Twice Baked Risky Whiskey Cakes (MURDER IN THE MIX #53)
NOAH
I dive into the crowd right after Eliza and catch her by the elbow before she can leave the venue.
The tent reeks of whiskey and sugar as a mob dressed in far too much green meanders around us, and with far too much green beer in their hands, too.
Someone is playing fiddle music that feels a little too darn loud and a little too darn cheerful for what’s about to go down.
“Not so fast,” I say, steering her behind a tent pole for a little privacy.
From here, I can still see Everett and Lottie across the way.
He’s helping to wipe the cake off her face while Carlotta says something that has Lottie laughing and Everett frowning.
Lottie is cradling that golden fork trophy she just won, and by the look on her face, she’s proud of the fact, too.
I can’t blame her. I’m proud of Lottie, no matter what she does.
Eliza’s expensive perfume cuts through the scent of the whiskey cake, and it reminds me of brewed tea steeped far too long. Her face is calm, but her eyes certainly aren’t. They’re calculating. Worried. And from what I can tell, glancing for the nearest exit.
“Eliza”—I soften as I step in close—“don’t you want to let Everett and Lottie in on that little secret you spilled in my office?” I offer a pleading look because deep down she must know it would be best for everyone involved if they knew the truth as well.
“No.” Her jaw tightens and I can see Everett hovering in her features like a ghost. “I’m not ready.
” She glances at Everett and Lottie. “Not here. Especially not with the twins on the way. Not to mention Lottie and Lyla Nell are due to have a birthday in a couple of days. Let them have their fun. I’m certainly not signing up to ruin it for them. ”
A gust of cold air pushes into the tent and briefly clears the sugary scent that’s starting to kick my appetite back into gear. That whiskey cake was amazing, and despite the fact I knocked back my fair share, I wouldn’t mind another bite.
“Why does this have to be all about me, anyway?” she scoffs with her voice on edge now. “It was years ago. Decades. Noah, we’re talking ancient history.”
“Because right now, you’re my number one suspect, Eliza. And as much as I hate to say it, you’re probably Lottie’s number one suspect, too. You and I both know she’s investigating this whether Everett and I want her to or not.”
That gets her attention. Her face goes pale in an instant.
“Look”—I sigh as I say it— “you’re like a mother to me. I want you to know that if you have anything else to say regarding Sebastian’s death, then I’m a safe place for you.”
For a split second, there’s a dash of genuine fear in her eyes. Then in an instant it’s gone, replaced by cold, hard anger.
Eliza stares daggers at me, then looks across at Everett. He’s wrapping his arms around Lottie, grimacing from his back pain but smiling at something she said. They look happy. Normal.
“I’m sorry, Noah.” Eliza closes her eyes for a moment. “I’m not having this conversation again. Not now. Maybe not ever.”
As soon as she says those words, she walks straight out of the tent without looking back. Without so much as a goodbye to Everett or Lottie.
I watch her leave, then look back at Lottie holding up her trophy for a photo. Everett has his arm around her, and Carlotta is being Carlotta.
They have no idea what’s coming.