Page 8 of Twice Baked Risky Whiskey Cakes (MURDER IN THE MIX #53)

NOAH

R ed and blue lights flash across the parking lot, painting Sebastian Gallagher’s lifeless body in slashes of alternating colors.

Another body in Honey Hollow.

As much as I’d like to say I can’t wrap my head around it, a part of me wonders what took so long.

The scent of sugar and whiskey permeates my senses along with a metallic twinge in the air.

My eyes drift to the donut in the hands of the dead man. How I wish Lottie and her baked goods weren’t forever getting tangled up in these blatant acts of evil.

But on the bright side—if there is a bright side—Lottie has singlehandedly brought each of those killers to justice. However, I can’t let her do that this time, not in her condition. And if Eliza has anything to do with this, justice might be found on a sliding scale.

The coroner kneels beside the poor man sprawled on the ground, already making preliminary notes while officers secure the perimeter. But it’s the handle of that knife still protruding from Sebastian’s chest like a pearlescent sundial that prickles the hair on the back of my neck.

Someone thought it was fitting to end that man’s life tonight. And I’m hoping with everything in me that the someone in question is not Eliza Baxter.

“ Noah .” Ivy waves at me with her notepad already filled with statements as I make my way over. “Three witnesses saw Mrs. Baxter arguing with the victim earlier this evening.”

“Wonderful.” I blow out a breath as I scan the crowd.

I spot Lottie and Carlotta immediately but no sign of Everett and Eliza.

It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if he’s already shipping her off to Europe.

It’s certainly something I would have considered.

And if he needs help on my end… I blow out another hard breath, and this time it stretches into a white desolate plume.

I’ll admit, I would turn a blind eye for a handful of people and Eliza is one of them. But Ivy is involved and so is the rest of the department at this point. In theory, turning a blind eye would be a cinch, but this is reality and things not only got bloody tonight, they got complicated fast.

“I’m handling this case solo,” I tell Ivy before making my way through the crowd.

“ Fox ,” Ivy calls out, but I don’t turn around. I’m sure I’ll get an earful later, but I’m not up for it tonight. I’m the lead investigator, and that means I get to call the shots—whether or not she likes them. Whether or not they lead to an internal investigation or cost me my career.

I speed over to where Lottie and Carlotta stand huddled nearby just feet away from the crime scene. Lottie looks exhausted with her hands cradling her enormous belly and I’d do anything to get her home and in bed.

“How are you holding up?” I ask while offering her a firm embrace and one of the twins kicks me in the gut because of it.

“Oh, she’s fine, Foxy,” Carlotta interjects before Lottie can answer. “Finding bodies is practically a cardio workout for her. The twins will probably pop out asking where the next corpse is hiding.”

Lottie shoots her a look, even though we both know she’s right.

“What?” Carlotta juts her neck out like a chicken. “I’m just saying, most women nest before giving birth. Lot Lot here collects dead bodies like they’re limited-edition Beanie Babies.”

Lottie opens her mouth to protest but gags on her words because there isn’t much to protest.

I lean their way. “I know I asked earlier, but I really need you to think. Did either of you see anything out of the ordinary when you arrived on the patio?’ I ask, pulling out my notepad in hopes of a different answer.

“What we saw”—Carlotta announces a touch too loudly—“was the Silver Spoon Stabber performing amateur acupuncture with extreme precision. Her knife placement was excellent. But her patient outcome was poor.”

An officer walking by nearly trips over the caution tape just hearing it.

“Would you knock it off?” Lottie elbows her. “You already said all that, albeit worded a little differently.”

“I can’t help it, Lot. I’m on a roll.” Carlotta pats herself on the back. “It’s not every day Sexy’s mama unleashes the beast within and tells one of her exes what’s what with the working end of a knife.”

“He was not one of her exes,” Lottie is quick to tell her. “Eliza was married to Everett’s father forever, then she made the mistake of marrying Noah’s conman of a father for five regretful minutes.” She winces my way and mouths a quick sorry .

“No offense taken,” I say. “Please continue.”

“Anyway”—Lottie does just that—“Eliza was so burned by Wylie she hasn’t dated since.

Besides, she said she didn’t know the man.

” She looks my way. “We came outside for air,” Lottie explains, shooting Carlotta a warning look.

“We found Sebastian like this, and Eliza was standing over him because she simply tried to help the man.” She cringes again, and I know for a fact she’s trying her hardest to try to keep her mother-in-law out of the big house. I can’t blame her; so am I.

“She claims she was just trying to pull the knife out,” I say with a shrug.

“And I claim I’m only twenty-five,” Carlotta snorts. “We all tell lies to make ourselves feel better.”

Lottie gasps as she stares down her look-alike. “I’m going to fit you with a muzzle, first thing in the morning.”

“Why wait that long?” I mutter.

I scan the crowd, looking for Everett once again, and this time I spot him with Eliza, on a bench away from the chaos. Eliza sits ramrod straight, stoic, and confident, despite the blood staining her hands.

“Let’s check on them,” I suggest as I guide Lottie and Carlotta across the way.

“Need me to break the ice?” Carlotta offers as we approach. “I’ve got more than a few killer jokes on hand. Get it? Killer jokes?” She cackles at her own ridiculous pun.

“ Please don’t ,” Lottie and I say in unison.

Eliza looks up as we approach and her expression is unreadable. Everett’s face, however, is a storm of conflicted emotions. I know for a fact the judge in him is battling with the devoted son he is.

“I’m going home,” Eliza announces without preamble as she rises to her feet, and for a moment, I think maybe she’s afraid I’m going to arrest her. I’d love to assure her of otherwise, but deep down I know better.

“Whoa,” I say, pulling her in for a quick embrace.

“I understand you want to leave, but I really would like to ask you a few questions first,” I say, trying to balance my heartfelt respect with the job at hand.

“It’s just procedure, nothing personal. In fact, I’m willing to break with protocol to make it as painless as possible. ”

“Ask away,” she replies with an icy frost coating each syllable. “I’ve already told you everything.”

“Yeah, Foxy,” Carlotta snips. “Like how to effectively accessorize with other people’s blood. Crimson is the new black. Ain’t that right, Lethal Lizzy?”

Eliza casts a glance at Carlotta strong enough to curdle milk.

I choose to ignore Carlotta’s colorful outburst and focus on the task at hand. “Did you know the deceased?” I don’t take my eyes off of Eliza.

Her lips press tight as if they had no intention of uttering a word.

“I did not know Sebastian Gallagher,” Eliza insists, although something flickers in her eyes when she says it.

“I was out for some fresh air—I saw him in distress, and foolishly tried to help.” She holds out her hands, still coated in crimson.

“And believe me when I say, that will be the last Good Samaritan act that I indulge in any time soon.”

I tip my ear her way. “And you mentioned you tried to remove the knife?” I ask, knowing full well that I’m treading on thin ice with Everett watching my every move.

He’s like a missile ready to explode, all steel and heat.

A part of me is fearing for my teeth—although my vision is pretty high on the list, too.

“Yes.” She nods curtly. “It wouldn’t budge.”

“Like her alibi,” Carlotta quips loud enough for everyone to hear. “That thing is sticking about as well as a cat in a bathtub.”

Both Lottie and Everett growl her way.

“Come on, Mom.” Everett places a protective hand on his mother’s shoulder. “I’ll drive you home.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Eliza smooths her blood-spattered dress with remarkable composure. “My driver is already out front. I need to clean up a bit first.” She lifts her hands a notch before looking my way. “You know where to find me.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

She gives a curt nod to each of us—longest to Everett, briefest to Carlotta—before stepping back into the community center.

“I think I’ll walk her out,” Everett says, giving me a look that spells out we are not done in the most aggressive manner before bolting into the crowd.

“Bloody Hands Baxter strikes again,” Carlotta announces once they’re out of earshot. “She sliced him up smoother than a country club paté.”

Lottie makes a face but chooses to ignore her for the most part.

“Noah”—Lottie steps in close and I wrap my arms around her like a reflex—“you have to know she’s innocent. This is Eliza we’re talking about.”

Her body is shivering, her lips are trembling, and she looks all around ready to collapse.

“Lottie, I’m going to say this in the nicest way, but I need you to stay out of this one. And off your feet if possible.”

Her eyes narrow over mine and I can tell I just pulled the pin on a very hormonal grenade.

“Oh, so you’d like for me to be eating bonbons on the sofa until the babies arrive?”

“Feel free to swap bonbons for donuts, but yes, I want you safe.” I touch the tip of her nose with my own.

“Scratch that. I need you safe and I need the babies safe, too. Besides, this is the last bit of time that Lyla Nell can get you all to herself. Put your feet up. Read her books, snuggle with her. In fact, I wouldn’t mind getting in on that snuggling action myself. ”

Everett reappears and growls on command. “What did I miss?” He lifts a brow before eyeing my arms wrapped around his wife like a vine.

“Nothing much,” Carlotta pipes up. “Just Foxy here trying to schedule some snuggle time with Lot Lot before the yip yips take over. He’s making his move while you were busy escorting Stabby McRichpants to her getaway car.”

Everett grunts my way and his eyes narrow dangerously on me. “Keep your focus off my wife and on my mother. I want her name wiped off your suspect list ASAP.”

“You know I can’t do that,” I say with a frown because, let’s face it, I’m mad about it, too. “Not until the evidence clears her.”

“Then find the evidence,” he thunders. “Because we both know she didn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Hate to break it to you, Sexy.” Carlotta ticks her head to the side. “But his blood on her hands suggests otherwise. It’s what we in the amateur sleuthing business call not a great look.”

My phone chirps and it’s a text from Ivy requesting my presence.

I say goodnight and head back to ground zero. And as I head back to the crime scene, I can’t help but feel caught between impossible loyalties—to my job, to Everett, to Lottie, and most of all, to Eliza.

The Redhead Roundup promised Irish luck and celebration, but as the night grows colder, I know only one thing for sure. By the time this case closes, the killer’s luck will have run out—no four-leaf clover or pot of gold will be enough to hide them from justice.

And if Eliza is the killer, something tells me that Everett and I will be testing our luck and our devotion to the law to the killer extreme.

It’s a bad day to be Eliza Baxter.

And quite possibly a bad day to be me.

I glance down at the corpse one last time.

It is definitely a bad day to be Sebastian Gallagher.