Chapter 26
Everett
The house smells like pizza and chaos when I walk through the door after a long day at the courthouse.
Lyla Nell is giggling about something in the living room, one of the twins is winding up toward a full-blown cry, and over all of it I can hear Carlotta’s voice, pitched somewhere between a pep talk and a declaration of war.
I set down the takeout bags from Green Zen, a vegan place in Hollyhock I’m told is excellent, just as Noah comes through behind me with pizza boxes stacked to his chin.
“Reinforcements,” he says by way of greeting.
“Much needed,” I reply.
I wasn’t sure what to order from Green Zen, so I got a little of everything.
A Buddha bowl with roasted vegetables and tahini dressing.
Cashew pad thai that smells better than it has any right to.
Coconut curry with tofu and sweet potatoes, spring rolls with peanut sauce, and some manner of quinoa situation that looks more appetizing than I expected.
“Hey, Dad.” Evie offers up a quick embrace, and I kiss her temple.
The girls’ eyes light up at the spread.
“You got us vegan food?” Ava says, looking genuinely touched.
“Of course,” I say. “You’re staying with us. We feed our family.”
“And I grabbed dessert from the bakery,” Lemon says, nodding toward a box on the counter. “Vegan cupcakes, cookies, and chocolate avocado mousse.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Chocolate avocado mousse?”
“Trust me,” she says.
I’m deeply skeptical and willing to try it anyway, which is, in fairness, the story of my marriage.
Ava and Olivia each shoot Lemon a look and don’t come anywhere close to thanking her.
A red flag goes up in my mind and stays there.
I spend a fair portion of my professional life reading the gap between what people say and what they’re actually telling me, and these two have left that gap wide open.
The boys are in their playpen, happily gnawing teething rings. Lyla Nell sits cross-legged on the floor, feeding Peanut, the ghost elephant only she, Lemon, and Carlotta can see. She holds out pieces of what looks like a cookie, and they vanish into thin air.
Ava and Olivia watch with open fascination.
“Is she a magician?” Olivia whispers to Evie.
“Something like that,” Evie says, declining to elaborate.
We’re all sprawled across the living room.
Noah claims the armchair, Lemon and I take the couch, Carlotta sits on the floor with a plate piled dangerously high with pizza, and the girls hold court on the loveseat with their vegan feast. Evie perches on the ottoman, scrolling her phone, though she’s clearly tracking every word.
I take a bite of the pad Thai. It’s good. Better than it has any business being.
“So,” I say, surveying the room. “What has everyone been up to today?”
Every eye in the room swings to Ava and Olivia.
I pause with my fork midair. “What happened now?”
Ava scoffs. “We may have had an accident with the raspberry jelly.”
Olivia nods solemnly. “It’s not our fault Lottie’s bakery isn’t organized with safety in mind.”
Lemon sucks in a breath, her eyes going wide, and I watch her physically restrain herself from answering that.
Carlotta laughs. “You covered yourselves in jelly and scared everyone in the bakery. That’s not an accident. That’s a choice.” Her wicked grin widens. “Go on, Double Trouble. Tell your daddy what else you got up to.”
Ava and Olivia turn matching death glares on Carlotta, and she lets out a small yelp and scoots back in her seat.
I glance at Noah and Lemon, both of whom appear to be waiting on the reveal as eagerly as I am. Evie is fighting a losing battle against a smile.
“Someone tell me now,” I say, patience thinning by the second.
“I’ll do it,” Noah volunteers.
Ava gasps. “Uncle Noah, no!”
“Too late.” Noah turns to me. “They signed me up for dating apps.”
I blink. “What?”
Ava jumps in, her voice climbing into defense. “We felt sorry for Uncle Noah, since Lottie is nothing but a big tease—”
Lemon gasps. “Excuse me?”
“So, we decided to help him find love,” Ava finishes. “Is that so bad?”
Noah pulls out his phone and shows me a handful of screenshots. Messages from women, photographs that are, to put it charitably, not appropriate for family viewing.
I look from the screen to the twins, who sit there radiating an innocence no one in this room is buying.
I have thoughts. Many thoughts. None of them appropriate to voice in front of children.
“And then,” Olivia says, crossing her arms, “Lottie punished us and wouldn’t let us go to the circus while she clearly went to investigate a killer without us. All we got to do was sit around reading steamy romance novels.”
Lemon opens her mouth, then pivots. “What steamy romance novels?”
“The ones from Cray Cray’s personal library,” Ava says, waggling her eyebrows at Carlotta.
Carlotta gasps. “Those Double Mint Fiends were in my room! Touching my things with their sticky little fingers!” She narrows her eyes. “What else did you help yourselves to? Fess up, you naughty little terrors.”
“Nothing,” Olivia says sweetly. Then she adds, “Although I have to say, Cray Cray, you’re very organized. I admire your collection. Especially all those dog toys and collars.”
Lemon gasps, and believe me, it takes everything in my judicial training not to follow her lead. These girls are far too young to be within a county line of Carlotta’s bedroom.
“And Lottie was so mean about that whole Uncle Noah thing,” Ava presses on. “She’s actually trying to ruin our summer by keeping us locked up inside. There are laws about these things, you know.” She pauses to level a glare at Lemon.
Olivia nods along. “Lottie is so mean.”
“Lottie so mean,” Lyla Nell parrots from the floor.
Carlotta laughs, and the rest of us turn on her in unison.
“What?” Carlotta squawks. “Can’t a woman chuckle when Little Yippy’s being cute?”
I take a breath and fix my attention on Ava and Olivia.
“All right. Let’s rein it in from here on out.
You’re guests in this house, and that means respecting boundaries.
No more going through people’s things. No more catfishing detectives.
And no more terrifying an entire bakery with fake blood, edible or otherwise. ”
The girls offer somber nods and look appropriately chastised.
Lemon softens. “You’re welcome to come with me tomorrow, whenever you like. I won’t keep you locked up.”
“Actually,” I say, tipping my head toward her, “I have good news of my own. Judge Whitmore is back from sick leave, which means I have the rest of the week off. How about a family outing tomorrow? We could take the boat out on the lake.”
The girls cheer, and even Lyla Nell claps her hands.
“Oh, that sounds like heaven,” Lemon says.
“And speaking of heaven.” She slips into the kitchen and returns with dessert.
“Vegan chocolate chip cookies, vanilla cupcakes with coconut frosting, lemon bars made with aquafaba, and the chocolate avocado mousse I was skeptical about earlier.” She sets them on the coffee table.
“I’ve had my bakers working on treats for you girls all week. The customers love them, too.”
The girls and Evie make short work of the sweets, lavishing praise on every last crumb before retreating once more into their phones. The living room finally quiets.
Lemon, Noah, and I end up shoulder to shoulder on the couch, and I turn to her. “So. How’s the case going?”
Noah doesn’t look amused.
I shrug. “I’m a judge. I’m all about honesty. Lemon, what have you got so far?”
She fills us in. Lethal Lavinia and her history with Jump. The stolen knives. Celeste and Milo’s closeness with the victim. Poppy’s affair and the blackmail. A circus quietly hemorrhaging money.
“And,” Lemon adds, with a glance at Noah, “we managed to get snapshots of the accounting ledger.”
I frown at Noah. “Breaking and entering. Really.”
Noah shakes his head. “Lemon and I are so good, Graham himself let us into his office.”
Lemon nods. “He may not have noticed all the picture-taking going on.”
I lean back and let it settle. I’ve spent years on the bench watching cases assemble themselves one motive at a time, and I know the shape of this one before either of them says it out loud.
“So you’ve got motive for at least three people,” I say. “Four, if you count the financial angle.” The arithmetic is sound. I just don’t care for the answer it keeps circling back to.
“At least,” Noah says. Then, quieter, “And my mother.”
The room goes silent.
Because no matter how long the list of suspects grows, Suze remains stubbornly at the top of it.
And the clock is ticking.