9. Lottie
LOTTIE
Girls’ Group Chat
Lottie: Okay, ladies, we need to settle this—Meg, Sam, what kind of cake are we having for your double wedding? I need answers, stat!
Meg: Lottie, we haven’t slept in weeks. Do we really want cake, Sam?
Sam: Cake? Sure... but maybe chocolate? Or lemon? Or both? I can’t decide. Can we have sleep-flavored cake?
Lainey: I’d take sleepless nights over being nine months pregnant any day. Someone get this baby out of me!
Charlie: The Honey Pot Diner is already catering the big day, but if you girls need home delivery, just say the word!
Keelie: LOL, so glad I’m not knocked up. Little Bear sleeps all night, and Big Bear and I are enjoying some naughty alone time. See ya, suckers!
Lottie: Alright, sleep-deprived mamas, just let me know what you decide when you’re ready! No rush... but kinda. The wedding is in a week!
“ T ell us your name,” I say softly to the sugar-sweet specter seated in front of Carlotta, Lyla Nell, and me, while the four of us are tucked away in the kitchen of the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery.
Thankfully, my staff is out front helping customers, and though Carlotta is typically verboten in the kitchen, I hauled her back here the moment I saw that mini tornado of pink stars appear.
It’s the morning after the double homicide, and Honey Hollow is shaken to its core.
It’s February, and Valentine’s Day is just a week away—not to mention a double wedding. Love, joy, and, most of all, peace should be the order of the day, not fear, terror, and horror beyond comprehension.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Carlotta barks at the adorable creature as if she were conducting a hostile interrogation.
The rather quiet cutie pie simply tips her head at us and sighs.
I’m just so in love with her that I can hardly stand it. I did some research last night while sleep was elusive, and it turns out, she’s a standard poodle, all right. She’s all of three feet tall, with curly auburn fur and the biggest chocolate button eyes you ever did see. And that little pink bow smashed onto her forehead? It’s like the yummy frosting on the all-too-sweet cake.
Speaking of cakes, I’ve got a dozen in the oven, along with a few batches of conversation heart cookies. I haven’t been able to move the latter all week. And now that the deceased were found clutching them, they’re magically flying off the shelves. There’s actually a strange, and yet very morbid fascination with my desserts, which just so happen to end up at the homicide scenes that I, too, stumble upon. It’s twisted, I know, but hey—those desserts always sell like hotcakes.
And nothing would sell at all if it wasn’t for Nell, my grandmother who gifted me this place before she passed away. I not only have her recipe book, but I have dozens upon dozens of loose-leaf index cards that she lovingly wrote down recipes on.
In fact, I not only have those index cards floating around my bakery, but I have them floating around my kitchen at home as well. I’ll admit, it’s like a nice warm hug when I see her handwriting on them.
“ What your name? ” Lyla Nell shouts sternly in her far-too-cute-for-her-britches itty-bitty baby voice while bouncing on my hip.
I know I shouldn’t be holding her in my condition, at least not this late in the game—eighth inning, as Noah likes to point out—but I love holding my baby girl. And besides, I’m protecting her from what could prove to be a suspicious specter capable of who knows what.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Carlotta grouses at the surly ghost. “We haven’t got all day.”
“You can call me Sweetheart,” the poltergeist poodle finally pipes up, sounding as adorable as she looks. She has the voice of a mature woman, the type who’s not afraid to say what she thinks. I certainly hope she has a lot to say about the deceased and won’t hold back.
Carlotta huffs at the pooch, “Don’t you dare get sassy with me, Toffee Tail. I want you to tell us your name and tell it to us now. The smell of these baked goods is driving me insane. I’m about to eat my way through the bakery and dive into these buckets of batter for more.”
There go today’s profits.
“ Sweetheart ,” the poodle says, practically barking right back at Carlotta. “You can call me Sweetheart because that just so happens to be my name. And don’t you get sassy with me, either, Blondie Barks-a-Lot.” She gives Carlotta a stern look and I gasp in lieu of a laugh. “My bite is a lot worse than my bark,” she goes on. “And before that euphemism creates a traffic jam in your little blonde brain, I need you to point me to the nearest dog park. I’m back, I’m single, and I am most certainly ready to mingle.”
Carlotta straightens. “I think I like this one, Lot.” She leans toward the spirited spirit. “How about we gobble up all the goodies we can handle and then mosey on down to the dog park together? I wouldn’t mind checking out the owners of those boys with a bark.”
“ Carlotta .” I shake my head at her.
“What?” She inches back. “Just because I’m taken doesn’t mean I can’t stroll through the market and see what produce is ripe for the picking. Eggplant, bananas, those extra-large grapes —I love ’em all. Don’t worry, Lottie Dottie. I’m not two-timing your daddy. In fact, I predict I’ll be ten times more amorous the next time I see him because of it.”
I do my best to cover Lyla Nell’s ears. “TMI,” I mutter, before turning back to the cute pooch at hand. “Sweetheart, you have to tell me everything you know about Romeo Langford and Juliette Lovett.”
The cinnamon-colored cutie grunts, “Are they the pair that bit the big one? Boy, they were a nasty combination.”
“You knew them both?” I marvel.
“Oh, yes.” She nods. “I belonged to the Lovett family, and little Romildo used to come over to play all the time. Juliette’s mother is the one who nicknamed him Romeo. Those two would pull at my fur, tug at my ears, and make me beg for the most delicious morsels, only to eat them themselves!”
“That’s terrible.” I wince at the thought.
“ That tewible! ” Lyla Nell parrots with far more animation and her little brown pigtails bounce like springs. With that and the Valentine’s Day dress and tights I’ve put her in, she looks as cute and delicious as any one of my sweet treats.
Lyla Nell is basically her daddy, Noah Fox, in miniature. They have the same dark hair that turns red at the tips in the sun, the same deep dimples, and the same pine-green eyes.
Noah’s sister, Sam, is his twin, too, in every way—not just in the traditional sense. So, I feel like I have a sneak peek at what Lyla Nell will look like when she’s grown. Spoiler alert: she’s going to be stunning.
“Hear that, Lot?” Carlotta grunts. “Romeo and Juliette sound like a couple of Grade A jerks!”
“ Yerks ,” Lyla Nell shouts and my mouth falls open. “Cray Cray say bad words?” Her little dark eyebrows knot up at the top and I give a quick nod.
Sweetheart barks. “They sure were jerks. The biggest jerks on the planet.” She lolls her head to the side. “And that torment went on for years. So they’re both dead now, eh? Shall we throw a party? I’m starting to crave some cake myself.” She gives a few sniffs in the direction of the ovens.
“We can’t throw a party,” I say. “I mean, not yet at least. We have a killer or killers to catch.”
“That’s right,” Carlotta says. “Someone shot both those jerks in the chest with a couple of arrows, and the Big Guy Upstairs sent you here to help Lot figure out who. And once you do, you’ll get a big boot in your patoot, sending you right back where you came from.”
It’s true. Carlotta and I are what’s known as transmundane, further classified as supersensual, meaning we can see the dead—not all the dead at once, just the ones that come back to help me solve a case or two.
My sister, Charlie, and Lyla Nell seem to share the same supernatural abilities, but by and large, it’s just me who the universe has tapped to solve these egregious crimes. But thankfully, not many people know about my supernatural quirk. It’s really only Noah, Everett, Carlotta, and Charlie—oh, and my grandmother, Claret Berkshire, but it’s a tight circle and I’d like to keep it that way, too.
“Go back to Paradise?” The pooch sits up a notch. “Well, I don’t want to go back just yet. I want to have some fun. Carlotta, you look like a ball. In fact, I like your idea. How about we devour everything this bakeshop has to offer, then take me to the dog park where we can continue devouring everything they have to offer, too?”
“Now it’s a party.” Carlotta’s chest expands with pride. “Hear that, Lot? Looks like this little Sweetheart has my number.”
I frown her way. “She’s got your number, all right. And I have a feeling she’s going to be dialing it to her heart’s content. Why do I get the feeling Sweetheart is basically you in a furry disguise?”
“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” Carlotta swats my arm. “Come on, Curly Q, let’s grab all the good stuff here and then hit the Doggie Meet and Greet Playground of Love. Those poopers and their scoopers won’t know what hit ’em.”
They take off for the front, and I’m about to follow when my phone buzzes. I fish it out of my pocket and glance at the screen.
“It’s a text from Evie,” I say, and Lyla Nell breaks into spontaneous applause. “ Aww , she wants ideas for a romantic Valentine’s date with Connor. That’s so sweet.”
“ Balentine’s Day, so yum-yum! ” Lyla Nell pats her belly.
“You’re so right. It should definitely be about delicious food.” I shoot Evie a text right back, telling her that Lyla Nell and I vote for a delicious feast and hit send just as Lily bursts into the kitchen.
“Lottie, quick,” she shouts in a panic. “You need to get out front. Something terrible has happened!”