Page 36 of Twice Baked Risky Whiskey Cakes (MURDER IN THE MIX #53)
NOAH
T he parade is in full swing, and it looks like a river of green flowing down Main Street.
I navigate through the crowd, sidestepping leprechaun hats and dodging the occasional flying strand of beads. The air smells like a mix of beer, corned beef, and funnel cake—not a bad combination if you ask me. But then, I’ve never been all too picky about my culinary needs.
I’m about to make my way to the bakery once again when I spot Everett a few feet away, with Evie beside him.
He’s scanning the crowd, probably looking for Lottie.
That woman has a knack for finding trouble even when she’s nine months pregnant with twins.
Actually, make that especially when she’s nine months pregnant. It’s happened before.
I flag them down with a wave and push my way through a group of teenagers decked out in enough green to camouflage themselves in a forest.
“Noah.” Everett nods as I approach. “I was just on my way to see Lemon.”
“Uncle Noah.” Evie practically jumps onto me with a hug, looking every bit like Everett in female skin but miles better. “Happy St. Paddy’s Day! Here’s a pinch for being my favorite uncle,” she says, giving my ribs a tweak.
“ Whoa ,” I say, trying to deflect. “Careful now, I’m packing heat. I’d hate to have an accidental discharge. Besides, I’m wearing green. Didn’t your dad teach you the rules?”
“Dad says rules are for fools,” she shoots back with a giggle.
“Hey.” Everett inches back, looking genuinely affronted. “I’m a judge. I would never say that.”
“And I’m kidding,” she says, pinching his ribs as well. “Where’s Mom?” She looks my way as does Everett.
“At the bakery, I’m guessing. In fact, I was about to swing by the bakery stand for another donut.” I nod to Everett. “Your wife makes the most dangerous whiskey-glazed donut in three counties.”
Everett tips his head. “Let’s see if we can track her down. She promised to stay put, but you know Lemon.”
“I do, indeed,” I sigh at the fact. “That woman’s definition of ‘staying put’ includes a three-mile radius and potential suspect interviews.”
Evie bubbles out a laugh. “You two have fun with Mom and those donuts. Good luck keeping her in line. I see Grandma up ahead. I’m heading over to say hi.
” She points toward the other side of the street where Eliza stands observing the festivities with her usual regal composure.
She’s with her friend Glinda. They catch a glimpse of us just as her friend whispers something to Eliza before disappearing out of sight.
“I’ll catch up with you in a minute,” Everett tells her.
We watch as Evie weaves through the crowd before I place a hand on Everett’s arm. “Before we track down Lottie, I need a word with you.”
Everett raises a brow. His eyes sharpen, the way they always do when he senses something is up. The man didn’t become a success in the legal field by missing subtle cues.
“What’s going on?” he growls. “Is it the twins? Is Lemon in labor?” His eyes round out as a genuine panic begins to set in.
“No,” I’m quick to let him off the hook in that respect. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” I begin, wincing slightly. This isn’t a conversation I want to have in the middle of a parade, but the investigation isn’t slowing down for the festivities. “It’s about your mother.”