Chapter 28
Lottie
Saturday night has finally arrived—the grand finale of the Sterling and Sons Circus, and everyone under the big top is alive tonight. Thankfully.
The tent is packed to the rafters, standing room only with every last seat filled.
The entire town of Honey Hollow has turned out for the Local Legends Circus Benefit, and the energy in here is electric.
The air is heavy with popcorn, funnel cakes, and enough sugar to keep every kid in Honey Hollow awake until next week.
String lights are draped overhead, throwing everything into a warm golden glow, and the band is playing something upbeat enough to make you clap along whether or not you’ve been blessed with rhythm.
Carlotta and Mayor Nash are schmoozing the crowd like a pair of candidates in the final stretch of a campaign, which is funny, because Mayor Nash has never lost an election in his life and still works a room like the polls close at midnight.
Carlotta is poured into a sequined leopard-print dress that throws sparks every time she breathes, and she’s got her arm hooked through the mayor’s as they greet, laugh, and generally carry on as the self-appointed king and queen of Honey Hollow society.
Nobody appointed them. That has never once slowed Carlotta down.
I spot my sisters through the bustling crowd.
Lainey and Meg are here with their kids and their husbands, and Charlie is here too, working her booth on its final night just outside the tent.
Keelie and Bear are sitting a few rows ahead with their two-year-old, Little Bear, who’s wearing a tiny bow tie that makes him look like the world’s smallest businessman about to deny someone a loan.
Mom and Wiley are parked near the front, along with Lyla Nell and the boys. Mom’s holding Ozzy, Wiley’s got Corbin, and Lyla Nell is wedged between them with a bag of popcorn roughly the size of her head.
Mom insisted on watching the kids tonight, because Everett, Noah, and I will all be doing our level best to stay alive.
In other words, performing. Which is either going to be the highlight of the evening or a complete disaster.
I’m not ruling out either, and frankly I’ve stopped ruling things out altogether this week.
People are scrambling for their seats, kids are tearing around with balloons, and the excitement is thick enough to spread on toast. I spot Noah and Ivy talking near the entrance, their heads close together, looking serious. Too serious for a night at the circus.
They part ways, and Noah makes his way over to where Everett and I are sitting. He’s wearing a suit, which I’m guessing has everything to do with his juggling act with Bear, and he looks annoyingly good in it. Dark fabric, a crisp white shirt, no tie. Classic Noah.
Bear is in a matching suit, and since I happen to know Bear wouldn’t be caught dead in one under normal circumstances, I can only assume the two of them weighed it against a leotard and tights and made the wise choice.
That probably explains why Everett is in a suit too, even though we won’t be performing until later.
I, meanwhile, have been stuffed into a purple sequined jumpsuit my mother thrust upon me.
It’s the fun kind that requires you to get completely naked if you so much as think about using the restroom, and nursing the twins is off the table entirely.
Good thing I packed bottles, because otherwise I’d be solving this murder topless, and the town has had quite enough excitement for one week.
“Hey,” I say as Noah slides into the seat next to me. “What’s going on? You and Ivy looked pretty intense.”
My first guess is that she’s not thrilled Noah became a viral sensation across every dating app in a fifty-mile radius, but that’s beside the point. I’d bet my kitten heels this has to do with the murder of Jumping Barnaby Blaze.
Noah’s dimples flex as he frowns my way. “All right, Lot.” He leans in until his lips are practically pressed to my ear. “Lavinia’s prints were all over that knife.”
“That’s the big news?” I shrug. “She already told us it was her knife. That part makes sense.”
“It’s all we’ve got at the moment,” Noah says with his jaw tight. “And we’re running out of time.”
Noah and I spent the last couple of days poring over the photos I took of the accounting ledger, and I was surprised I’d actually captured a full year of records. The circus is bleeding money, all right, but mostly on equipment.
I spot Suze, Effie, and Lily weaving through the crowd with baskets strapped to their chests, hand-selling the last of the circus animal cookies. Suze looks stressed. More stressed than her usual baseline, which is saying something this week.
Before I can respond, the lights dim and the ringmaster steps into the center ring.
Milo now, since Jump is gone. And he looks magnificent.
He’s in a black tailcoat that fits him like a glove, a tall top hat perched at exactly the right angle, and a sweeping cape lined in crimson velvet that catches the light every time he moves.
His handlebar mustache is waxed to a Victorian curl, and his pale blue eyes gleam with showmanship.
He looks born to stand in that ring and command a crowd with nothing but his presence and possibly that mustache.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to the Local Legends Circus Benefit!”
The crowd erupts.
“Tonight,” Milo continues, his voice booming and theatrical, “you’ll witness the incredible talents of your very own friends and neighbors as they perform death-defying acts alongside our professional circus stars!”
More applause. More cheering.
“First up,” Milo says, gesturing grandly, “our ribbon dancers!”
Ava and Olivia run into the ring with Keelie and a cluster of other girls, all in matching pink leotards and leggings with wreaths of flowers in their hair.
They look like a dream. Graceful, coordinated, and absolutely adorable, which is impressive considering I watched these two catfish a sheriff’s deputy not seventy-two hours ago.
The second they hit the ring, we’re all on our feet.
“GO AVA! GO OLIVIA!” I shout, cupping my hands around my mouth.
“THAT’S MY GRANDBABIES!” Mom screams from a few rows up.
Carlotta lets loose a whistle sharp enough to etch glass. “WORK IT, GIRLS! SHOW ’EM WHAT YOU GOT!”
Noah is clapping and grinning. Evie is cheering. Wiley is hooting and hollering like he’s got money on the game. Everett is filming the whole thing on his phone, his face lit up with so much pride I half expect him to levitate.
The music starts, and the girls begin their routine.
The ribbons swirl through the air in arcs of color that shimmer under the lights.
Ava and Olivia move in perfect sync, their faces focused and serious, and the whole crowd is mesmerized.
Keelie leads them through a series of spins and leaps, the ribbons weaving into patterns that look impossible.
The girls finish with grace, striking a final pose as the ribbons cascade around them like waterfalls.
The crowd goes wild. People are jumping, clapping, and cheering, and Ava and Olivia are beaming.
I’m fairly sure I catch Carlotta wiping away a tear.
Okay, fine, that tear might have less to do with the beauty of the performance and more to do with the fact that the girls go home tomorrow, and Carlotta has developed a healthy, well-earned fear of them.
Milo steps back into the center ring, applauding. “Let’s hear it one more time for our lovely ladies!”
The crowd roars.
“And now,” Milo continues, his cape swirling as he gestures, “please welcome two of Honey Hollow’s most viral strongmen, Detective Noah Fox and Bear Fisher!”
Noah and Bear walk into the ring in their matching suits, and I brace myself. If he pulls this off, I’ll never hear the end of it. If he doesn’t, I just hope there’s an ambulance parked nearby.
Everett leans my way. “Ten bucks says one of them requires medical attention before this is over.”
I elbow him in lieu of a response. I wouldn’t take that bet on a stack of Bibles, because I have a feeling Everett is right.
Bear tosses Noah a bowling pin, and Noah catches it.
Then another. Then another. They’re juggling back and forth, tossing pins in increasingly complicated patterns, and somehow, miraculously, nothing hits the ground.
Until it does. A pin goes flying. Bear ducks.
Noah lunges. They very nearly knock each other senseless in the process, but Bear snatches the pin at the last second, and the crowd roars with laughter.
They recover, juggle a few more rounds, and finish with a dramatic bow.
I’m equal parts impressed and horrified, mostly because there’s a visible bump rising on Bear’s forehead where a pin found him. Something tells me Keelie will be making an emergency room run before the night is out.
I knew one of us would.
“Told you so,” Everett says, and I nod.
“Selfishly, I’m just glad it’s not Noah.”
Milo steps back into the center ring, his cape billowing.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, for our next act of the evening, it is my distinct honor to introduce two of Honey Hollow’s most esteemed citizens!
” He sweeps an arm toward us as though unveiling the greatest show on earth.
“From the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery, the woman who sweetens our lives one pastry at a time, the incomparable Lottie Lemon!”
The crowd erupts.
“And,” Milo continues, his voice rising, “presiding over justice in our fair county with wisdom and grace, the Honorable Judge Essex Everett Baxter!”
More applause. More cheering. A few catcalls from various women scattered around the tent. As expected.
“Together,” Milo says, his handlebar mustache twitching with barely contained showmanship, “they will attempt the impossible alongside myself and my beautiful assistant, the magnificent Celeste Vale! Prepare to witness illusions that will astound, bewilder, and leave you questioning the very fabric of reality!”
Everett and I step into the ring with Milo and Celeste, and my heart is slamming so hard I’m convinced the back row can hear it. Milo the Magnificent is in full showman mode, his black velvet cape swirling as he gestures.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, prepare to witness the impossible!”
Celeste, in a shimmering silver gown that catches the light like water, steps into a large cabinet. Milo closes the door, spins it around, and opens it again. She’s gone.
The crowd gasps. Everett and I exchange a glance. What sorcery is this, and more importantly, where exactly did she go? More importantly—where will we go?
Milo motions for Everett to step into the cabinet. Everett raises an eyebrow at me, then climbs inside. Milo shuts the door, taps it three times with his wand, and opens it.
Everett is gone.
I blink in horror. Where the heck is my husband?!
Milo gestures to the far side of the ring, and there’s Everett, standing next to Celeste, looking as baffled as I feel and considerably less inclined to demand an explanation than I’d expect from a judge.
The crowd goes wild.
Oh wow. None of this feels remotely safe or sane.
Milo motions for me to step into the cabinet.
“Bye Lottie,” a tiny voice that happens to belong to Lyla Nell shouts, and the audience erupts in laughter.
I hesitate, then step inside the coffin-like box.
It’s dark and cramped, and I can hear Milo’s muffled, theatrical voice somewhere on the other side of the door.
And then, without warning, it distinctly feels as though I’m somewhere else entirely.
I step out of a different cabinet across the ring, and Everett is there, raising a brow my way.
“How—?” I start.
He shakes his head. “There are some questions we may never get the answer to.”
Milo and Celeste run through a few more illusions.
They levitate objects off Everett’s head, yank disappearing scarves out of my ear, and at one point I appear to float clean off the ground.
The audience eats up every second. Carlotta is screaming things like “THAT’S MY LOT LOT!
” and “SEXY, SHOW HER YOUR WAND!” and “NOW THAT’S A TRICK I CAN GET BEHIND! ”
An alarming number of women seem to be howling along with her on that one.
We finish with all the drama the circus budget can bankroll, and the crowd is on their feet, clapping and cheering. I’m breathless. Exhilarated. And still completely stumped as to how a single bit of that worked.
“And now,” Milo announces, “we’ll take a short intermission. Enjoy the concessions, stretch your legs, and we’ll see you back here in fifteen minutes!”
The lights come up, and everyone starts shifting and stretching and stampeding toward the exits as if the tent’s on fire.
Everett appears beside me with a bouquet of roses. “For you and the girls,” he says with a nod. He really is a magician. “I’ll take the girls to get treats and hit the concession stands one more time.”
He heads off with Ava and Olivia in tow and I spot Ivy making a beeline for Noah. They trade a few words, and then they slip out of the tent in a hurry.
I frown. What in the world is that about now?
I decide to follow under the time-honored cover of checking on my booth. I weave through the crowd, dodge a couple of kids armed with balloons, and step out into the cool night air.
And that’s when I see her.
Lethal Lavinia is standing alone near the edge of the fairgrounds, staring out at the glittering lights of Honey Hollow below. Her dark braid hangs over one shoulder like a noose, and she looks defeated. Sad, even.
A spray of hot pink stars erupts beside me, and Peanut materializes, floating along happily.
“Well, well, well,” Peanut says. “Are you ready to confront a killer?”
I take a deep breath. “I guess there’s no time like the present.”
Because if Lavinia is the killer, this is my last chance to find out before the circus packs up and takes my answers with it.