Murder in the Mix Boxed Set 28-30: Cozy Mystery Addison Moore (the reading strategies book .txt) 📖

“Oh, Chad.” Verity looks fit to kill before bearing her fangs back at the women before her. “Ignore him, I do.” She holds up the tart. “In just a moment, you’ll all get to hear my new single, ‘Raspberry Dream’, live for the very first time!”

The room breaks out into a wild applause as my mother quickly hands Verity a cordless microphone.

“Protect your ears,” Chad, the man in the ill-fitting suit, shouts. “She’s liable to blow out your eardrums.”

Verity grunts over at him, “I won’t have your bad energy here. Get out of this room, and get out of my life. You’re a bore.”

“And you’re a whore,” he shoots back, and the room is right back to gasping. “You’re nothing but a cheap floozy.”

Verity sniffs before pushing the microphone to her lips, her left hand holding up the raspberry tart as music begins to seep through the speakers once again.

She begins to hum along and bob her head before leaning into the mic. “When you walked in…” she sings weakly before coughing and sputtering.

“Ha!” Chad barks. “And there you have it. The great song you’ll all pay ten bucks to download on your phones in the next hour. You’re nothing but a bunch of sheeple,” he bellows to the crowd.

Verity makes an awful groaning sound into the mic before clearing her throat.

“When you walked in…” Her voice comes out far more strangled than before. “Raspberry…” She drops the mic and clutches at her throat, my raspberry tart still firmly in her hand as she begins to writhe and spin.

The room gurgles with whispers of concern just as Verity Prescott falls to the floor in a heap.

Mom jumps over and quickly checks the woman’s pulse before looking my way and shaking her head.

It looks as if the world will never hear Verity Prescott’s debut single.

Verity Prescott is dead.

Lottie

“Lottie!” a familiar deep voice shouts as Noah makes his way over to me as fast as he can. And on his heels is Detective Ivy Fairbanks waving her badge.

“Ashford Sheriff’s Department,” she calls out. “Back away from the body. There’s an ambulance on its way.”

Both Noah and Ivy quickly check Verity’s vitals before rising to their feet and shooting a suspicious look to the crowd.

“Lottie.” Noah pulls me in close. “Are you okay? What the hell happened? Did she choke?”

Ivy scoffs. “Please, Noah. That woman is holding one of Lottie’s cookies. It’s clear she’s been offed in some less than celebrated manner.” The feisty redhead glowers at me. “I am not amused, Lottie Lemon. And just to be clear, this is my investigation. And I expect you both to stay out of my way.” She stalks off just as a medical team bursts into the room, along with a bevy of sheriff’s deputies, and the crowd around us begins to hum with nervous chatter.

“Lottie, what happened?” Noah swings us out of the swarm of bodies entering into the vicinity.

“She was about to sing, I think. And the next thing we knew, there was a man heckling her.” I quickly scan the crowd until I come upon the man in the ill-fitting suit. “That’s him.” I point in his direction. “She called him Chad.”

Noah’s dimples dig in as his chest pumps wildly. “Okay, stay put. I’m going to go and talk to him, see if I can get a read on what the hell went on.”

Noah takes off just as Carlotta trots up. “Did you see it, Lot? Did you? Did you?”

I press a finger to my lips in an effort to quell her bizarre level of enthusiasm.

“Yes, I saw the whole thing unfold,” I hiss. “Everyone in the room did.”

“Not that.” She waves off poor Verity with an aggressive flick of the wrist. “The cute cuddly little chestnut that’s floating around like he owns the place. That little supernatural spitfire, Lunatic Lea, chased him right out of the room with her machete. I’m hoping he’ll come back in one piece so I can get some good cuddles in before bedtime. He’s a living, breathing teddy bear.”

“He might be a she,” I’m quick to point out. “But for certain, whatever it is, it isn’t living and breathing. It’s dead, Carlotta. Just like that poor woman lying over there with one of my raspberry tarts in her hand. Why does this keep happening to us?”

“I know, Lot.” She ticks her head to the side. “I often wonder how in the world we got so lucky myself.”

“Lucky?” I practically choke the word out, and the baby gives a kick to my ribs as if he or she were just as incensed as I am.

“Yes, lucky.” Carlotta doubles down on her lunacy. “If it wasn’t for one of your desserts being present in each and every one of these homicide cases, your little bakery would have been flushed down the financial toilet ages ago. The one thing new businesses are good at isn’t making a killing—it’s closing their doors forever. And your little hole-in-the-wall is making a killing the old-fashioned way. The sacrifices of those corpses have given the Cutie Pie life. With each death in Honey Hollow, the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery grows stronger and stronger. There’s not a marketing genius on the planet who could have come up with that deadly scheme.” She pats me on the back. “And don’t worry, Lot Lot. I just know your good luck is going to rub off on Foxy and Sexy, too.”

Foxy would be Noah, and Sexy would be Everett.

“Oh, my luck has already very much rubbed off on them,” I assure her with a nod. “You know, after both my house and Everett’s burned down, I was convinced that Hearst curse had fallen on me.”

Ichabod Hearst died back in October, and I was warned from the great beyond by my Grandma Nell not to meddle in that case or else risk Ichabod’s family curse reigning its terror down over me.