Chapter 11 Lottie #2
“What family talent is that specifically?” Everett asks with wariness because he long ago learned that Carlotta’s family revelations are rarely good news.
“Oh, you know.” Carlotta gives a dismissive wave. “Breaking and entering, safecracking, the usual skills that come in handy during a midlife crisis. It’s a condition that gets worse as the Sawyer women age.”
“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Noah says, though his expression suggests he already knows the answer.
“Mostly,” Carlotta grins. “But hey, a girl needs hobbies.”
Evie giggles. “At least she’s honest about it.”
“Honesty is overrated,” I mutter, watching Lyla Nell parade the rhinestone-leashed cats around the coffee table. “And let’s hope that’s all she inherited from you, Carlotta. Some things are better left as mysteries.”
“Like where Mommy’s special chocolates disappear to?” Evie asks with a laugh, and I nearly choke on my pizza.
“We don’t talk about Mommy’s emergency chocolate stash,” I tell her with a wink. “That’s classified information.”
“You’ve got emergency chocolate around here?
” Carlotta looks affronted by the news, but before I can say another word, a spray of brilliant blue stars takes over in the middle of the room, swirling and dancing before Lenny the lion materializes in front of us—or at least to the three who can see him.
He appears with a mighty roar that would probably terrify anyone who could actually hear it.
“Lenny’s here,” I announce to the room, because apparently my life now includes providing supernatural commentary during family dinner.
“Aww! A real live, dead lion?” Evie whines hard as if she’s just been told she can’t attend the party of the century. “I wish I could see him! It’s so unfair that you, Carlotta, and Lyla Nell get to be supersensual and I’m stuck being boringly dopey and normal.”
“You are not dopey,” Everett is quick to tell her.
“Trust me, being normal is underrated,” I tell her. “Seeing dead people sounds fun until you realize they have no concept of boundaries, bedtime, or why you can’t drop everything to solve a murder.”
Both Noah and Everett hike a brow my way. But thankfully, they’re both in midbite and can’t be bothered to reprimand me at the moment for interfering in a homicide case. But let’s face it, I know it’s coming.
“Lenny!” Lyla Nell shrieks, hysterical with delight. “Mine! My big fat lion! Mine, mine, mine!”
“Oh, good grief.” I cringe as she hops up and down as if a Disney character just dropped through the ceiling.
“My big kitty!” She quickly drops the cat leashes and launches herself onto Lenny’s back with fearless enthusiasm because she’s never met a supernatural creature she didn’t want to befriend—or keep locked up forever.
“Giddy-up!” She clings to his ghostly mane, and suddenly she’s riding an invisible lion around our living room, bouncing and giggling with pure joy.
“Geez!” Noah screams and nearly drops his pizza. “It looks like she’s floating! This is not okay.”
“I have to admit, it is a disconcerting sight.” Everett shakes his head with the resigned expression of someone who’s accepted that his life will never be conventional. “Watching your daughter ride thin air takes some getting used to.”
“I think it’s awesome,” Evie says, jumping up and immediately taking nonstop pictures with her phone, snapping shot after shot of what appears to be Lyla Nell levitating around the room. “This is going to get so many likes on social media!”
“Don’t you dare post those!” I warn her with the authority I usually reserve for keeping Lyla Nell from eating crayons. “We have enough problems without Lyla Nell becoming a supernatural meme.” And she so would.
Carlotta waves me off with a dismissive hand. “Aw, let her. Go on and post away, Evie Stevie. With all the filters and editing software they have these days, no one will think it’s real anyway. They’ll just assume it’s some new app that makes kids look like they’re flying high as a kite.”
“Flying children are not a marketing demographic I want to lead the charge in,” I point out.
“Why not?” Carlotta grins. “Think of the possibilities! Flying lessons, aerial photography, superhero birthday parties—”
“Absolutely not,” Everett cuts her off with stark finality.
And how I love it when he wields that superpower in bed.
Lenny chuckles with warm amusement. “I have to say, this is the most welcoming family I’ve encountered in the afterlife. Most people would be running screaming by now.”
“Oh, we’re well past the running and screaming stage,” I tell him. “We moved straight into acceptance and pizza.”
“Smart approach,” Lenny agrees. “Though I have to admit that pizza smells incredible. I don’t suppose ghostly lions can partake in Italian cuisine?”
“Have at it,” I tell him. “In fact, have a box or two.”
Carlotta perks up at the sight of the luminescent lion. “Hon, you’re built like a gladiator and got the appetite of one, too. That’s my kind of man.”
“He’s commenting on the pizza.” I fill in the blanks for Noah, Everett, and Evie.
Carlotta chuckles. “If you ever want something spicier than pepperoni, sweetheart, I take walk-ins. And I’ve got entertainment options,” she says with a wink and the sane among us all cringe in unison. “What are your thoughts on leashes? FYI: I look great in them.”
“Carlotta!” I gasp, horrified. “He’s dead! Not to mention an entirely different species.”
“Oh, hush your pie hole, Lottie Dottie. Death is just another adventure,” she replies with the confidence of the living.
“We’re not having this conversation,” I interrupt, covering my ears. “There are children present. And adults who can’t take much more of your insatiable, unbelievable appetite.”
“Well, I’m not talking to the adults or the little yippers in the room.
So why don’t you all just stop eavesdropping on my conversation.
I’m talking to the furry and fabulous among us,” she says, completely ignoring my plea for silence.
“What do you say, tall, dark, and feral? I’ve got leashes that would make even a king of the jungle roar with appreciation!
Harry’s coming over in about twenty minutes, but I can always make time for a little demonstration of what’s cookin’ in my sexy stash. ”
Lenny looks distinctly uncomfortable, as he should be. “Perhaps we should focus on the murder investigation at hand instead.”
“Good idea,” I agree quickly, before Carlotta can extend any more inappropriate invitations to our ghostly guest. “He thinks we should change the subject.” I’m not suggesting murder because I have zero intention of letting Noah and Everett in on the fact that I’ve already started my investigation.
They wouldn’t be nearly as impressed as they should be.
“How was your day, Lemon?” Everett asks, and just like that, my plans are foiled.
I take a bite of pizza to buy myself some time, watching Lyla Nell continue her supernatural joyride around the coffee table.
“It was... educational. I went to Honey Lake to listen to Bunny Whitmore’s seminar called Wellness and Wisdom from the Wild Side.
She’s got some fascinating ideas about nutrition and natural healing.
I’m thinking about implementing some simple lifestyle changes. ”
Both Noah and Everett growl simultaneously, a sound that would be intimidating if I weren’t holding a slice of pizza and watching my daughter ride an invisible lion while cackling at the top of her lungs.
“You spoke with a suspect,” Noah states with a flat tone, and I can tell he’s trying very hard to remain patient.
“Did I?” I bat my eyelashes with practiced innocence that would fool absolutely no one. At least no one in this room. Or this town. Or maybe the state of Vermont.
“Lemon,” Everett says, and oh my goodness, when he uses that voice—all stern authority mixed with barely controlled desire—I almost forget we’re talking about murder instead of our impending medical clearance.
Waiting six weeks post-delivery to return to normal bedroom activities is a real struggle when you have a husband as handsome as I do.
The man may not be impressed with my investigative activities, but he’s sexy as heck when he’s trying to be protective.
“The killer is dangerous, Lot,” Noah adds gently. “Maybe you should focus on Easter preparations instead. I bet the bakery is brimming with orders.”
I sigh, because he’s absolutely right and I’m not entirely thrilled. “It is. We’re booked solid through Easter Sunday, and I’ve got three custom cake orders that are going to require architectural engineering at that.”
“Well, I don’t want to change the subject, but—” Evie interjects from her position as official family photographer, still documenting Lyla Nell’s supernatural circus act as if she’s about to make a scrapbook out of it.
“Please change the subject,” Noah, Everett, and I all shout in perfect unison. It’s something she’s getting used to.
“I’m just saying, Noah and Dad could be doing so much good in the world by donating their DNA for a worthy cause.” Evie is nothing if not persistent. “Think about it—they could help Dash’s mom have another baby, and then Dash and I would practically be sisters forever!”
“Evie.” I gag as I struggle to get another word out.
“I thought you said this was strictly a clinical procedure,” Carlotta narrows her eyes at Evie. “I’ve got a business plan due to Suze in the morning, and I can’t go complicating it with words like family and child support.”
“It is a clinical procedure,” she insists with an earnestness that’s honestly starting to worry me.
“And just in case you wanted to know, our potential new sibling would definitely be attractive. Or in Dad’s case, siblings as in plural, since he doesn’t mess around when it comes to producing offspring. ”
Everett nods with wry acceptance. “I don’t mess around, apparently. And somehow, I managed to achieve both quality and quantity. I guess you can say it’s my strong suit.”
Evie laughs at the thought. “I bet I have an evil twin out there somewhere. It would be just like Cressi-duh to split us up. She’s extra damaged that way.”
Cressi-duh as in Cressida Bentley. Evie’s biological mother is an uptight, questionably sane socialite who hid Evie from Everett and the world until a few years ago.
The woman essentially raised her daughter in a series of boarding schools, which makes it miraculous that Evie turned out as well-adjusted as she did.
Oddly enough, it was Luke Lazzari who helped bring her home to us, though we don’t discuss the details of that particular family rescue mission. It involved a strip club, the mob, and lots of pizza to cope with the aftermath.
“Oh, speaking of Luke,” I say, blinking as I make an unexpected connection. “Sorry, I sort of fell down a rabbit hole in my brain for a minute there.”
“Happens to the best of us, Lot,” Carlotta chirps. “Though some of us live in those rabbit holes permanently. They’re quite cozy once you get used to the décor. I’ve decorated mine with whips and chains.”
She would.
“As I was saying,” I continue, “I saw Luke on Sunday at the Hop ’Til You Drop Easter Festival.”
Noah inches back, and I can tell he’s bracing himself for whatever comes next. “Luke Lazzari? You mean he turned out for what should have been a wholesome family event?”
Everett shakes his head. “A day that ended in murder, no less. Holiday festivals aren’t necessarily his style, but murder definitely is.”
“Don’t even think about it, Lot.” Noah holds up a warning hand. “As pleasant as some of our interactions with Luke have been, he’s still a mobster. I’ll handle this one.”
I frown over at him because I hate being told what I can and cannot investigate. “The guy was stabbed, though. That’s not exactly Luke’s style. He’s more of an I’ve-got-a-bullet-with-your-name-on-it kind of guy.”
Everett looks at Noah, and for a second, they both seem to be considering all the angles. “She’s right. Was there more than one cause of death?”
Noah frowns with the exasperation of a man who’s trying to keep his family out of mob-related trouble. “Everett, the guy had a blade running through his heart. Isn’t that enough?”
“Well, when you put it that way,” I say, “it does seem like overkill to stab someone AND shoot them. That’s just showing off.”
“Well, I’ll be darned if I’m missing out on the Lazzari rodeo,” Carlotta sniffs just as Lenny traipses in front of her with Lyla Nell spurring him on with her heels.
“And I’m not missing out on this rodeo either,” she declares, deciding that Lyla Nell is having too much fun without her.
Carlotta has never met a party she couldn’t crash.
“Room for one more, handsome?” she asks, somehow managing to land herself behind Lyla Nell.
And suddenly both Carlotta and Lyla Nell are riding an invisible lion around the living room, hooting and hollering with the enthusiasm of two people who’ve discovered the world’s most unconventional amusement park ride.
I watch them circle the coffee table for the third time and decide this is exactly why I don’t host book clubs.
But if my life keeps moving in the trajectory it is, I might start hosting a murder club.