Chapter 14
Lottie
The very next morning is spent at the bakery with a menagerie of pets and children that would make Noah’s Ark look understaffed.
Evie is hanging out with us for the day, and I’m more than grateful to have a functioning adult on the scene.
Of course, Carlotta is here too, inserting herself wherever she can, but she hardly qualifies as a functioning adult.
At least not one who meets societal standards. Or any standards, really.
Peanut is here entertaining Lyla Nell to no end, floating around the bakery and making my daughter look like a little lunatic to Ava and Olivia.
But the more Lyla Nell boasts about “Peanut the elephant who lives in the sky,” the more Ava and Olivia cling to Pancake and Waffles as if the cats are their only tether to reality.
Boy, when this week is over, I bet my poor cats will never want to see those bubble backpacks again. Honestly, I’m not sure I want to see them either. I should really consider getting leashes for them.
After I decorate my heart out, frosting at least a hundred cookies with stripes, spots, and tiny bow ties that would make a real circus animal jealous, I help load today’s batch of animal cracker cookies into the bakery van.
Suze and Lily take them to the fairgrounds to work the booth, and honestly, the relief I feel watching them drive away is almost embarrassing.
At least someone in this operation knows what they’re doing.
And I still haven’t gotten a minute alone with Suze to see what her bizarre connection to Jumping Barnaby Blaze is, or why she was in his office staring at his dead body when I made my unexpected entrance.
We all pile into the minivan and head to the fairgrounds ourselves, and no sooner do we arrive than my mother accosts us in the parking lot.
“There are my babies!” Mom cries, swooping in like a well-dressed hawk.
She takes the triple stroller with the happily fed and changed twins and Lyla Nell, who’s already reaching for her grandmother’s sparkly earrings.
“Why don’t you come with Glam Glam to the midway to play games!
Grandpa Wiley is working one of the booths, and I hear they have a ring toss with stuffed elephants as prizes! ”
Lyla Nell shrieks with delight. “Peanut play with me!”
Mom whisks them away before I can protest, and I’m left standing in the parking lot with Ava, Olivia, Evie, and Carlotta.
Ava and Olivia are practically bubbling with excitement.
“Can we go practice now?” Ava asks.
“Please?” Olivia adds. “We need to nail our routine for Saturday.”
It turns out they chose ribbon dancing rather than anything that would fling their bodies several hundred feet in the air. Mostly because Olivia would rather eat a live spider than hurl her body into space. Her words, not mine.
“Let’s go,” I say, and we all head toward the candy-striped big top.
The second we step inside the enormous tent, the temperature drops at least ten degrees.
It’s cool and dim, a relief from the June sunshine beating down outside.
The air smells like sawdust and popcorn and cotton candy, sweet and earthy all at once, and there are bodies swarming everywhere.
Townspeople and circus performers alike are preparing for tonight’s show, adjusting rigging, practicing routines, and shouting instructions across the ring.
It’s controlled chaos, and honestly? I am so here for it.
“Now this is what I’m talking about,” Carlotta says, scanning the crowd as if she’s about to end a hunger strike. “Look at all these sweaty, strong men. It’s like a buffet, and I’m starving.”
Evie laughs. “Cray Cray, you’re impossible.”
“I prefer relentless,” Carlotta says. “Oh! Look, there’s Foxy!”
I follow her gaze and spot Noah near the center ring, dressed in sweats and a T-shirt, looking like he just rolled out of bed and still somehow managing to be annoyingly attractive.
“Foxy is looking like hot stuff himself today,” Carlotta says, fanning herself.
I roll my eyes. “You’re taken, Carlotta.”
“To the mayor, not to a monastery.”
We make our way over, and Noah spots us and immediately runs our way.
“Morning, Lot,” he says, pulling me in for a hug. “Girls.”
“Morning, Uncle Noah,” Evie says.
Ava and Olivia wave, but they’re already eyeing him with a look I recognize. It’s the same look they had last night when they were comparing Noah and Everett like contestants on a reality dating show.
“So what are you practicing today?” I ask Noah, trying to distract them.
He shrugs. “Still figuring it out. I’ve narrowed it down to a few options.”
“Like what?” Evie asks.
“Juggling,” Noah says, counting on his fingers. “Tightrope walking. Knife-throwing—”
“Absolutely not,” I say.
“—unicycling, or maybe clowning around,” he continues. “I’m told I have the face for it.”
Carlotta snorts. “You could always strip. That’s technically an act.”
“Carlotta,” I hiss.
“What? I’m just saying, Foxy’s got the body for it.”
Noah looks mildly amused. “I’m probably going with juggling.”
Ava pulls out her phone. “Okay, so we started a spreadsheet last night.”
“A what?” I ask.
Olivia leans over her sister’s shoulder. “A comparison spreadsheet. Noah versus Dad.”
I blink. “You did what?”
“We rated them,” Ava says, scrolling. “Hotness, cooking skills, dad jokes, fashion sense, likelihood of winning in a fight.”
“Who’s in the lead?” Carlotta asks, leaning in.
“It’s close,” Olivia admits. “Uncle Noah has the edge in hotness and fashion, but Dad wins on dad jokes and cooking.”
“I make a mean plate of spaghetti, too. I guess that means I’m the entire package,” Noah says, looking entirely too proud of himself.
Evie grins. “What about likelihood of winning in a fight?”
Ava and Olivia exchange a look. “Tie,” they say in unison.
Smart girls. That’s the only verdict that keeps both men feeding them all week.
A booming voice calls out from across the tent. “Noah! Quit flexing for the ladies and get over here! These pins won’t drop themselves!”
It’s Bear, waving from near the equipment racks. He’s dressed in workout gear, a baseball cap on his head, and he looks like he just stepped out of a fitness ad.
“That’s my cue,” Noah says. “Wish me luck.”
“Don’t drop anything important,” Carlotta calls after him.
“And try not to knock yourself out,” I add. The last thing I need is Noah with a concussion. Although, with the week I’m having, an unconscious detective might be the only way I get a head start on this case.
Keelie appears from the other side of the tent looking adorable in a lavender yoga outfit with matching sneakers that probably cost more than my grocery bill. Well, my normal grocery bill. Not the Merman’s disaster.
“Oh my gosh, I love your hair!” Ava gasps, rushing over.
“And your outfit!” Olivia adds. “Where did you get those leggings?”
“And your shoes!” Ava practically squeals. “They’re so cute!”
Keelie laughs, doing a little spin. “Thanks, girls! The outfit’s from Lululemon, and the shoes are—”
“I need those,” Olivia interrupts.
“Me too,” Ava says.
I really need to have Keelie overhaul my wardrobe. Apparently, she’s got the thirteen-year-old seal of approval, which is harder to earn than a Michelin star.
“Ready to practice?” Keelie asks, grinning.
Ava and Olivia light up. “Yes!”
Evie nudges me. “I’m going to join them. You coming?”
“In a minute,” I say, my eyes already scanning the tent.
Because there, near the back, partially hidden by a rack of costumes, is Celeste Vale.
She’s tall and willowy, moving with a grace that makes everyone else look like they’re stumbling through life.
Her long jet-black hair is styled in glossy vintage waves, and her pale porcelain skin practically glows even in the dim lighting.
She’s dressed in a glittering midnight-blue costume that catches the light every time she moves, and her cool silver-gray eyes scan the vast tent as if she’s cataloging every detail.
She’s also my next suspect.
I watch as Keelie leads the girls toward the practice mats, their ribbons already unfurling in bright streaks of color.
Noah is with Bear, attempting to juggle three bowling pins and failing spectacularly.
Carlotta is off flirting with a strongman who looks both flattered and terrified.
And I’m about to walk over to a woman who might have killed a man.
Just another summer day in Honey Hollow.
I take a breath, square my shoulders, and head toward Celeste.
Time to see if the illusionist’s assistant has any tricks up her sleeve.
Or a confession.