Chapter 22
LOTTIE
“And why exactly do we have to surrender our keys and phones?” I ask, batting my lashes and feigning innocence right here in a hotbed of sin at some seedy hotel in Leeds.
“For privacy, of course.” Ronnie Crane says smoothly, and her smile is as sharp as a blade. “We can’t have people running off early, can we? After all, the night is just getting started.”
I frown at the dimly lit room crawling with bodies, all of which are coincidentally crawling all over each other. The mood music, the candles, the liquor flowing freely, it has brothel-in-the-making written all over it. Only at this brothel, the loving is a free-for-all.
Carlotta tosses her phone and keys into the fishbowl with a whoop. “Honey, I love a party with rules!”
She would.
I reluctantly add mine to the pile, as do Noah and Everett, as we watch our escape routes disappear into the glass bowl.
Percy hovers near the ceiling, tail feathers fanned in agitation. “This feels like a trap, Lottie Lemon. A very attractive, scantily-clad trap, but a trap nonetheless.”
“How about we start with some drinks?” Ronnie gestures toward the bar where a shirtless bartender is mixing something that involves fire. “That always loosens things up.”
“I bet it does,” Noah mutters.
We follow her deeper into the space as the music shifts, the bass drops lower, and the vocals all around us turn a bit breathier. A woman brushes past Noah with her hand trailing across his shoulder. She glances back with a smile that makes me want to cause her bodily harm.
“Sorry,” she murmurs, though she doesn’t sound sorry at all.
We reach a corner that’s slightly less populated, although privacy seems to be a relative term here. A couple on a nearby sofa is engaged in activities that would get them arrested in most public spaces, and I try my best not to stare. But really? I don’t think she’s wearing any underwear.
“So,” I train my eyes on Ronnie and do my best to keep them there. “You mentioned earlier that you know where bodies are buried.”
“Figuratively speaking, yes.” Ronnie accepts a glass of wine, as dark as blood, from a passing server who seems to have appeared from nowhere.
She takes a slow sip, her eyes never leaving mine.
“The Daughters of Honey Hollow are a fascinating collection of secrets and scandals. Vivienne knew all of them. And well, so do I.”
“Like what?” Noah asks. He’s standing so close to me, I can feel the heat radiating off him like a New York sidewalk in July. Someone is starting to sweat. And honestly, it just might be me.
“Go ahead,” I say to the woman. “Fill in a few blanks for me about those women. It’s getting a little hot in here.”
“Oh, I have all the dirt on those women.” Ronnie leans in, close enough that I can see the flecks of gold in her green eyes.
The candlelight makes her skin glow an eerie orange hue.
“Like the fact that Vivienne’s mystery man?
He was married. Very married. And rumor says it was someone whose wife is active in the group.
” She lets that hang in the air for a moment.
“Whoever this man was, Vivienne spent a lot of time with him. We’re talking late nights, weekend trips, you name it.
Good old Vivi was a homewrecker through and through. ”
My stomach tightens. “Do you know who this man was?”
“Vivi never said his name. But she loved dropping hints. She loved watching certain women squirm at meetings when she’d make little comments about his dedication and devotion.
” Ronnie swirls her wine. “I saw her corner someone at a charity gala back in December. She was one of the picture-perfect types. The woman looked like she’d been crying, and Vivi looked.
..” She pauses, searching for the word. “Triumphant.”
Everett’s hand finds my lower back. “What else?”
Ronnie purrs his way before she continues.
“Vivienne also recently told me that she was going to destroy someone’s carefully constructed perfect life at this event she was about to host. I think she called it a retrospective.
Said it would be the most satisfying moment of her career with the Daughters.
Someone who’d built their entire identity on a lie was about to have it all come crashing down.
” Ronnie’s smile is sharp and dangerous.
“She said the woman in question had been paying her to stay quiet, but Vivi was done playing nice. Done letting her play the victim when really she was just pathetic.”
The music swells. Someone laughs, someone screams—high and breathless, and they can’t seem to stop until they hit a crescendo.
“Oh my stars,” I hiss, practically burying my face in Everett’s chest.
“Stay focused, Lottie Lemon,” Percy trills as his glowing feathers seem to take up half the room. “You’re almost at the finish line. I can feel it. Think of the banana pudding!”
I frown his way. He’s not wrong.
“Ronnie, do you know who Vivi was talking about?” I ask.
“I have my suspicions.” Ronnie’s eyes glitter. “But that’s for you to figure out, isn’t it? I will say this—follow the money. Someone’s savings account went from plush to empty in six short months. The woman was making monthly installments like clockwork.”
Before anyone can respond, Carlotta’s voice rises above the music.
“Oh, this is wonderful!”
I turn to see Carlotta has somehow ended up surrounded by three men in various states of undress.
One has lost his jacket and most of his common sense.
Another has unbuttoned his shirt down to his navel, revealing a chest that’s seen way too much gym time and not enough sunlight.
The third is holding two drinks and gazing at Carlotta like she hung the moon and also invented happy hour.
“Carlotta Sawyer at your service, boys,” she belts it out while trailing a finger down one man’s arm. “And you three are exactly my type.”
“Your type is breathing,” I mutter.
A sultry voice cuts through the music. “Ronnie, darling, are you going to introduce us to your delicious friends?” A luscious blonde wearing what amounts to bandages shimmies up to Noah as she says it. “Or are you keeping these gems all to yourself?”
A redhead appears beside her, wearing even less fabric and twice the confidence. The blonde has already claimed Noah with her eyes. The redhead is doing the same to Everett, looking at him like he’s dessert and she hasn’t eaten in days.
“We’re leaving,” Noah says.
“Great,” the blonde chirps while glomming onto his arm. “I’m sure there’s a free bedroom here somewhere.”
The redhead drapes herself on the other side of him. “Why bother with the bedroom when you can have the hall?”
I go to lunge at the hussies just as Everett circles his arm around my waist and pulls me in.
“Noah’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”
“That’s right, he can,” I spit the words out at the sluts ready and willing to drag him off to a dark bedroom, hall, or corner. “I’ll have you ladies know he’s with the sheriff’s department, and he happens to be packing heat!”
They coo twice as hard, and I think Ronnie just fanned herself.
The blonde runs her finger down Noah’s tie. “I just love a man in uniform. Even when he’s not wearing one.” Her smile is all teeth. “Especially when he’s not wearing one. What do you say, handsome? Want to play?”
Before I can initiate a proper takedown, a man the size of a refrigerator appears behind me. His cologne is so strong I can taste it.
“Hey there, beautiful,” he rumbles as he picks up my hand. “I’ve been watching you since you walked in.”
Everett growls, “She’s with me.”
“I’d let you watch,” the refrigerator dares to offer.
Percy shrieks. “LOTTIE LEMON, ABORT MISSION! ABORT! Everett is going to blow his top!”
“Oh no,” I whisper.
“Oh yes,” Ronnie purrs. She slides closer to Everett, pressing against his side, running her hand up his arm. “Time to play, Mr. Sexy. I’ve been dying to get my hands on a judge.”
The blonde wraps both arms around Noah’s. “And I’ll take the detective. I’ve always wanted to be interrogated.”
The refrigerator dares to pull me out of my husband’s arms. “Ready to have some fun?”
The music drops lower. Someone dims the lights even further. A woman giggles. Someone moans.
Everett’s expression shifts from hostile to absolutely murderous in about two seconds flat. “Take a step back from my wife or risk losing a limb,” he thunders.
The refrigerator doesn’t blink, and the next thing I know, Everett lands his fist over the man’s jaw.
A loud pop goes off, the man staggers back, and I grab both Noah and Everett and make a mad dash for the door.
Okay, so it’s more of a very aggressive conga line toward the exit as we mow through clusters of startled party-goers.
“Where are you going? The game just started,” Ronnie shouts after us. “Don’t you want to know who you’ll end up with?”
“I know exactly who I’m ending up with,” Everett says, his voice dropping to that dangerous level that makes lawyers sweat.
“But the bowl—” Ronnie starts.
“We don’t care about the bowl,” Everett says.
“Carlotta!” I shout over my shoulder.
“Do we have to leave?” She’s sitting on one man’s lap while another man rubs her shoulders, and a third offers her champagne. “I was just getting comfortable!”
“YES!” all three of us shout at once.
“Fine,” she grouses. “You know what they say—every party needs a party pooper. And this one’s got three.” She extracts herself with visible reluctance, blowing kisses to her admirers who actually do look devastated.
We make it to the fishbowl, and Noah dumps the entire thing onto a side table, keys and phones cascading everywhere in a metallic avalanche.
“You’re really leaving?” Ronnie calls out, looking more amused than offended. “I was just starting to enjoy myself!”
“Thanks for the information!” I shout back, frantically pawing through keys. “And the trauma!”
“The trauma was complimentary!” she laughs.
Percy swoops through the elevator doors ahead of us. “MOVE, MOVE, MOVE! Before someone tries to partner swap with a ghost! Oh, the wiggling and jiggling Jell-O I witnessed!”
Flesh-colored at that.
Everett shakes his head. “That was...”
“Aggressive?” I offer.
“I was going to say traumatic.”
“The blonde touched my tie,” Noah says, sounding personally offended.
I wrinkle my nose. “The redhead asked Everett if he wanted to explore boundaries.”
“And a human wall of cologne tried to negotiate spectator rights,” Everett finishes.
We all go quiet for a second.
“I had three offers,” Carlotta grouses. “I could’ve had four if you people hadn’t ruined my night. Just so we’re all clear on who the real victim is here.”
“Noted,” I mutter. “I’m just glad we escaped.”
“I didn’t escape,” Carlotta is quick to inform me. “I was forcibly removed. There’s a difference, and I’m filing a complaint.”
Percy materializes between us, feathers ruffled. “I’ve seen many things in my spectral existence, Lottie Lemon. That was in the top five most disturbing things.”
“Only top five?” I ask.
“Death provides perspective.”
“A Jell-O mold with eyeballs was number one,” he says, shuddering as silver stars dart from his wings. “That party just claimed the number two spot.”
I so get that whole eyeballs thing.
The elevator dings. We spill out into the parking lot, and I’ve never been so happy to see sketchy pavement, flickering streetlights, and the comforting smell of car exhaust.
We pile into Everett’s sedan in silence. Nobody speaks for a full minute.
“Pizza?” Noah says.
“Yes, please,” I all but beg.
“Mangias it is,” Everett agrees, starting the engine.
As we pull out of the parking lot, leaving Leeds behind, one thing is clear, someone in the Daughters of Honey Hollow had motive, opportunity, and a secret worth killing for. Somewhere behind those perfect smiles, those poodle skirts and pearls, there’s a killer who thinks she got away with murder.
She’s dead wrong.
Now we just have to figure out who.
Right after pizza.