Chapter 26 Lottie
LOTTIE
The Whitmore Chocolatiers booth is brimming with bodies, each one anxious to get their hands on one of those milk chocolate bunnies with the candy blue eyes and marshmallow nose.
I won’t lie, I can hardly wait to bite into one of those innocent ears myself.
The entire booth holds the scent of cocoa dreams and capitalist nightmares, with a side of impending doom that’s becoming my signature scent at this festival.
The air around the lake carries Easter cheer—children shrieking with sugar-fueled joy, the distant thump of terrible music that sounds like someone put “Here Comes Peter Cottontail” through a blender, and somewhere nearby is the unmistakable sound of Carlotta’s voice approaching at maximum volume.
Pink and purple streamers flutter overhead like manic butterflies, and chocolate Easter eggs are scattered across every surface as if someone had the idea that more is always better.
Giant inflatable bunnies loom over the booth, their plastic grins slightly unnerving in the late afternoon light, as if they know something the rest of us don’t.
“There you are, Lot Lot.” Carlotta strides this way, snapping up a chocolate bunny off a display, pulling back the foil as if she were peeling a banana before taking an obnoxious bite as she severs off both ears at once.
My stomach growls on cue because I happen to envy her.
Lenny rubs his mane over my side and purrs. “Once this is through, I say we celebrate with a mountain of chocolate.” He blinks those big brown eyes my way, and I can hardly resist him, let alone deny him anything. So I lean down and land a kiss on his big fuzzy nose instead.
“Don’t tell me you’ve roped another man into your reverse harem,” she says, trotting up behind Lenny and me with all the subtlety of a fire truck in a library.
“First, you’ve got Foxy and Sexy fighting over who gets to babysit you, and now you’re collecting supernatural wildlife?
What’s next, a geriatric bear? Maybe a deceased dolphin with commitment issues? ”
“Keep it down,” I mutter, scanning the chocolate booth for signs of our suspects. The place is drowning in Easter cheer, and hundreds of chocolate bunnies are arranged in tight little ranks as if they’re preparing for a cocoa-based uprising.
“Oh, come on, Lot Lot,” she continues, while ignoring my growing irritation.
“I need to know if I should start charging admission to your romantic circus. We could make a fortune. You’re collecting hot men and cold corpses at the same pace.
I’m thinking we could get sponsorship deals.
I can just see your face now on one of those metallic beasts they drive at NASCAR.
Not to mention the Lottie Lemon death merch would be a big hit at Halloween. ”
Lenny snorts, his ghostly form crackling with amusement as he prowls beside me. “The woman has a point, Lottie. Your love life does require its own schedule. And possibly its own HR department.”
I frown his way for participating in the madness, and after he flirted so proficiently with me.
“Can we focus on the murder investigation, please?” I whisper, looking around for either Fairbanks or Gina, but neither of them is anywhere near the booth.
Instead, I spot Fairbanks near the edge of the woods, deep in what looks like a heated conversation with Luke Lazzari.
Even from here, I can see Luke gesturing wildly, his face red enough to make a tomato jealous, while Fairbanks looks as if he’s trying to negotiate with a very unhappy mobster—perhaps negotiating for his life.
Which, considering what I suspect, is probably exactly what’s happening.
Carlotta, meanwhile, has discovered yet another chocolate display and is scooping up chocolate bunnies with the dedication of someone preparing for the Easter apocalypse. She tosses one to Lenny, who catches it in his massive jaws and gulps it down whole, foil and all.
“Carlotta, you can’t just take—”
“It’s called quality control, sweetheart,” she interrupts, unwrapping another bunny with haste.
“I’m making sure these chocolates are fit for human consumption.
It’s sort of a public service I’m providing.
Someone has to protect the good people of Honey Hollow from potentially substandard Easter confections. ”
An entire thicket of people turns and gives her a dirty look. Everyone here knows there’s not a substandard Easter confection within reach.
She bites the ears off yet another innocent bunny and chews thoughtfully. “Not bad. Could use more sugar. And maybe some brandy. Everything’s better with brandy.”
“Would you stop?” I pick up an errant bunny nearby and swat her with it. “There’s no brandy in these.”
“Well, that right there is the problem,” she says, snapping up a few more and shoving them into her purse. “Say, I think I’m onto something. How about you and me go into the chocolate bunny business? I’ll even let you use my secret recipe. Hint: it involves brandy.”
“I’m going to fill a barrel with brandy, shove you in it, and roll you into Honey Lake if you don’t behave.”
“Don’t tease me with a good time.”
Lenny crunches through yet another chocolate bunny, colorful foil paper and all. “This is quite good, actually. Much better than the usual fare I had on the planet. Do you think they have any with nuts?”
“Focus, Lenny,” I say. “We’re supposed to be investigating, not having a chocolate tasting party.
” I reach over and grab a chocolate fudge egg with walnuts and toss it to him on the sly.
I can’t help it, he really is that adorable.
Plus, if he gets really hungry, he might just take a bite out of me.
“Thank you,” he says, but I notice he’s already eyeing another bunny.
I guess he and Carlotta have more in common than I thought.
“It’s just been so long since I’ve had proper chocolate.
Death really limits your snacking options.
” He toys with the box that contains the fancy fudge egg before wolfing it down, packaging and all.
Something behind the booth catches my eye, and I spot Gina crouched near several boxes of chocolate, inspecting labels and counting inventory with the intensity of someone conducting a drug deal. Which, considering what I suspect, might not be far from the truth.
Her movements are quick and furtive, checking over her shoulder every few seconds while she examines what looks like a shipping manifest.
“There she is,” I say, pointing her out to Lenny. “Let’s go have a chat with the queen of creative bookkeeping.”
We race over, Carlotta trailing behind us while still clutching stolen chocolate bunnies and providing a running commentary.
“You know, Lot, for someone who’s supposed to be solving murders, you sure do attract a lot of chaos,” she says.
“It’s like you have a special talent for turning peaceful Easter festivals into crime scenes.
It’s very on-brand for you,” she says as we leave the confines of the booth.
“Hey,” she crows as she glances back at the bustling makeshift shop.
“You just turned me into a thief!” she protests as we approach Gina.
“Please,” I reply without breaking stride. “You were already a thief. The chocolate is just making it official. Besides, considering your track record, this barely registers.”
“That’s true,” she admits cheerfully. “Remember when I stole that Christmas tree from the town square? Good times.”
“That’s because you chased a dozen elves into its branches beforehand.”
“I’ll have you know they were hot elves, and someone needed to show them a good time while they were in town.
They were a long way from the North Pole.
Speaking of poles, Santa met up with us at Red Satin that night, and boy, could he ever rock a banana hammock.
Or should I say, a sugar cookie hammock? ”
“Please don’t say anything at all,” I whisper as we come up on our suspect. “Speaking of thieves,” I mutter as we approach Gina, who looks up with a smile that could sell ice to penguins and make them ask for seconds. Come to think of it, she’s always had that talent.
She’s dressed in a sultry red number that screams femme fatale at an Easter festival, which is quite the fashion statement.
The dress clings to her curves as if it were painted on, and her platinum hair is styled in perfect waves that probably took three hours and a team of professionals.
Her lipstick is the exact shade of trouble, and her eyes are doing that thing where they try to look innocent, but instead, they’re sending my radar pinging.
“Well, if it isn’t our resident amateur sleuth,” Gina purrs, her grin widening to show ultra-bleached teeth that probably cost a mint. “Did you have a chance to speak with Bunny? I imagine that was quite enlightening.”
There’s something in her tone that suggests she knows exactly how that conversation went, which means she was probably counting on Bunny looking guilty as sin.
Not that she didn’t, but still.
I step closer, and Lenny moves by my side like the intimidating beast he is, albeit invisible. “Nice flowers you gave her,” I say. “They really helped with the setup, or so you thought.”
Gina’s smile falters just a fraction, like a crack in expensive porcelain. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Oh, I think you do,” I continue, getting into my investigative stride and feeling like I’m finally putting together a puzzle made of chocolate, murder, and family dysfunction. “Those gorgeous foxgloves were quite the conversation starter. Too bad the digitalis didn’t work the way you planned.”
Lenny begins pacing around Gina in increasingly tight circles, his ghostly mane bristling with righteous indignation.
He’s sparkling and shining, and well, glowing with white-hot rage.
“She’s lying through her perfectly veneered teeth, Lottie,” he growls.
“I can smell deception on her. Also, expensive perfume and what might be sweat laced with guilt.”