Chapter 16
Lottie
The June sunshine is warm on my back as Noah and I make our way across the fairgrounds, leaving the girls still practicing in the big top with Carlotta serving as their very questionable chaperone.
They promised to babysit Cray Cray while I go check on my cookies. I have complete faith in the girls. It’s Carlotta I’m worried about.
Noah falls into step beside me with his hands shoved in his pockets. “We need to talk to my mother.”
“I know,” I say. “Something is definitely up. Apparently, Jump was a ladies’ man, and your mom had some kind of history with him.”
I fill Noah in on everything I gleaned from Celeste—the affairs, the side pieces, the fact that Jump was an adorable jerk who couldn’t keep it in his pants if his life depended on it. Which, given how things turned out, it apparently did.
We pass the midway, and I spot Mom with the twins in their stroller and Lyla Nell bouncing beside her as if she’s powered by springs and questionable decisions.
Peanut floats alongside them, happily accepting pieces of funnel cake and what appears to be a wad of cotton candy bigger than Lyla Nell’s head.
“Your daughter is going to be impossible later,” Noah observes.
“She’s your daughter, too,” I remind him.
“That explains the confidence.” Noah grins. “So, I hear I’m coming up ahead in the comparison rating.”
I blink. “What?”
“The girls were filling me in. Apparently, I’m winning on dad jokes and cooking skills.” He looks entirely too pleased with himself.
“Oh, good grief,” I mutter. “Did they show you the spreadsheet?”
“They did. Very thorough. I’m particularly proud of my score in the likelihood of winning in a fight category.”
“You tied with Everett.”
“I know. I’m working on pulling ahead.”
I shoot him a look. “This is not a competition.”
“Everything’s a competition, Lot.” He chuckles, and I shoot him another look for good measure. “Oh, and they said I have a treat coming tomorrow.”
“I wonder what that could be,” I say, and I don’t dare tell him that I’m sort of fearing for his life, his sanity, or possibly both.
“I have no idea. But I’d like to think I can handle whatever two thirteen-year-olds toss my way.” Famous last words, spoken by a man who has clearly never been on the receiving end of a teen girl scheme.
We pass a game booth, and Noah stops abruptly. “Hold on.”
Before I can protest, he’s handing cash to the booth operator and picking up three baseballs. He winds up and throws—one, two, three—knocking down every last bottle in rapid succession.
The operator hands him a massive stuffed giraffe, and Noah presents it to me with a flourish. “For you, Lottie Lemon.”
I hug the giraffe, which is roughly my height and twice my girth. “You are ridiculous.”
“You love it.”
“I do,” I admit. “And I love you, but you know that.”
“I do, and I’ll cherish it in my heart forever.”
We finally make our way over to the bakery booth, set up beneath a cheerful yellow-and-white striped canopy.
The booth is stocked with rows and rows of my animal cracker cookies, each one the size of your hand and decorated with colorful icing and candy details.
Elephants with pink bows. Lions with golden manes.
Monkeys clutching tiny bananas. They’re almost too cute to eat.
Almost.
Noah immediately snaps one up and starts eating it. “These are amazing.”
Suze and Lily are helping customers, handing out cookies and making change, but the crowd thins after a few minutes and they both come over to join us.
“Hey, Lottie. Noah,” Lily says, wiping her hands on her apron.
Suze gives Noah a look. “And what do you want? If it’s not cookies, I can’t help you.”
“Mom.” Noah winces her way. “If you have a second, we really need to talk about Jump.”
“Ooh, I want to hear about this,” Lily says, leaning against the counter.
Suze’s face goes tight. “There’s nothing to talk about.” She holds up an animal cracker shaped like a purple poodle in a bright pink tutu as if she might use it as a weapon. I iced that one myself, and I’d hate to see it weaponized.
“Mom—”
“He was just someone I was seeing,” Suze says, her voice tight with frustration. “As much as you won’t like to hear this, he was just a quick fling after your father left me. That’s it.”
Both Noah and I wince at the thought of Suze having a quick fling with anyone, and before we can voice our displeasure, Carlotta materializes holding five corn dogs in her hands as if she’s about to audition for a carnival juggling act.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “I thought you were supposed to be in there with the girls.”
Carlotta waves a corn dog dismissively. “They wanted me to stretch this way and that. Do you know what happens when I stretch that far? Things pop that shouldn’t pop. Joints, mostly. And possibly my dignity.”
“You have dignity?” I ask.
“Not anymore,” she says cheerfully. “Not after that trapeze incident. Besides, I don’t show off how limber I am unless there’s a man in the vicinity worth impressing.”
“What are you doing with all those corn dogs?”
“I worked up an appetite,” she says, taking a massive bite.
I reach for one, and she pops me on the hand with it like I’m a misbehaving toddler who’s wandered too close to the good silverware.
“Ow!”
“Get your own,” she says.
Noah turns back to Suze. “Mom, please. We need to know about Jump. Anything you can tell us could help clear your name.”
“Ooh, yes, spill the tea, Suze,” Lily says, settling in. “And I want all the dirty details.”
Oh, good grief. I’d say count me out, but an investigation might be hanging in the balance, and apparently my dignity goes wherever the clues do.
Suze crosses her arms and takes a moment to blow the hair out of her eyes, though it settles right back where it was, defiant as its owner. “There’s nothing to spill. We dated. Briefly. It didn’t work out. End of story.”
“That’s not the whole story,” Noah says.
“Well, it’s the only story you’re getting,” Suze snaps.
Carlotta leans in, corn dog pointed at Suze like the world’s least intimidating weapon.
“Just admit you killed him, Suzie Q, and let’s get on with the show.
Noah here will help you bury the body, and Lot Lot will bake cookies for the celebration.
We’ll make a whole thing of it. It’ll be very festive. ”
“Carlotta,” I hiss.
“What? I’m just saying, if she did it, we should know now so we can start planning the cover-up.”
Lily snorts. “I’ll bring the shovels.”
I ignore them both and focus on Suze. “What really happened between you two? That man did you dirty, didn’t he?”
Suze’s jaw tightens. “He was a liar. And a cheat. And a manipulative son of a—” She catches herself, glancing around. “He wasn’t a good man.”
“Did he hurt you?” Noah asks, his voice going low and dangerous.
Suze hesitates. “Not physically. But he made promises he didn’t keep. And he took things from me that I can’t get back.”
“What kind of things?” I press gently.
“Things that are none of your business,” she says, her voice sharp enough to slice one of my poodle cookies clean in half.
Carlotta takes another bite of corn dog. “Sounds like money. Or maybe her reputation. Could be both. The good ones usually take both.”
Lily nods sagely. “Definitely sounds like money.”
“He was a con artist,” Suze says finally. “He sweet-talked women, made them feel special, and then he took whatever he could get from them. Money, favors, whatever. And then he moved on to the next one.”
Noah’s expression grows dark. “Mom—”
“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “I’m over it. And honestly? I’m glad he’s dead.”
The words hang in the air, heavy and sharp. About six different heads swivel our way, and not one of them is pretending to shop for cookies.
“Mom,” Noah says quietly. “People can hear you. Trust me, you don’t want that. You look guilty enough as it is.”
Suze buttons up immediately, but the damage is done. She looks furious and hurt and guilty all at once. And judging by the way her hands are shaking around that poor poodle, I can tell she wishes she did the deadly deed. That is, if she didn’t already.
“He deserved what he got,” she mutters. “I’m only sorry I didn’t do the deed myself.”
Knew it.
“Nah, it’s better this way,” Carlotta is quick to assure her. “Have Lot Lot do your dirty work. She’s basically the Grim Reaper’s favorite assistant at this point. That way you can sit back and enjoy all the lethal benefits.”
“She’s not wrong,” Lily chimes in, and I narrow my eyes at the pair of them, the two least helpful character witnesses in the state of Vermont.
Mom appears with the stroller, the twins fussing and squirming, Lyla Nell bouncing beside her in a full-blown sugar craze.
“Lottie! Lottie! I won a goldfish!” Lyla Nell shouts, holding up a plastic bag with a very confused-looking fish swimming circles inside.
“Oh no,” I mutter. The cats will love that poor thing to death, and I do mean that literally.
Noah helps wrangle Lyla Nell, who’s now spinning in circles and belting a song about elephants that has no discernible tune and no foreseeable end.
I scoop up the boys, soothing Ozzy while Corbin squirms in my arms. I settle into the chair behind the booth and start nursing Ozzy, his little hand gripping my finger like I’m the last steady thing at this entire fair.
Suze is still glaring at the horizon like Jump’s ghost might wander past so she can kill him all over again.
And honestly? The way she’s clenching her jaw, I’m starting to wonder if she handled it just fine the first time.