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

“Maybe,” I say. “And I’m starting to think you should test that tart for poison as well.”

Another death.

Another killer.

Another cursed night right here in Honey Hollow.

Another ghost and another mystery to solve.

When will it all end?

Something tells me it won’t.

Noah

I ended up bringing my golden, Toby, over to Lottie’s place and we hung out all night.

Toby thankfully gets along great with Pancake and Waffles, Lottie’s white, fluffy Himalayan cats, and a good time was had by all. I had Mangias deliver a large pepperoni pizza, and I made a fire while Lottie put on some movie about Valentine’s Day on the Holiday Channel. Evie raved all night about the fact she was on a dead woman’s Insta Pictures account, and seemed more than thrilled with the street cred that was already giving her at Honey Hollow High. Carlotta boasted about selling out of her new self-help book and shared that she’s already planning another one. And I held Lottie on the couch, our minds drifting from that fresh new homicide then straight to Everett and back on a loop.

I never did go home last night. I tucked Lottie in then read to that sweet baby in her belly. And once Lottie fell asleep, I hung out on the bed until I fell asleep, too.

I’ll admit, it felt right. It felt as if I had come home. I don’t need a paternity test to let me know that the baby she’s carrying is my own. I’m not sure how I’ve become so convinced of it—most likely from sheer desperation—but I’d bet everything I’ve got that the baby is mine.

Valentine’s Day is coming up, and it stings a little more each year it sneaks up on me. It was just two years ago on the day that I was set to propose to Lottie when my ex-wife, Britney, came back into the picture and planted an axe right between Lottie and me.

It was painful then, and it’s painful now.

I don’t know why I didn’t just tell Lottie that Brit and I were separated. I had already told her about Brit, but I may have made it sound as if we were already divorced. I probably figured it was inevitable at that point. We hadn’t seen one another in a year. I was already pursuing the effort.

Regardless, Lottie and I blew apart. And I sent her sailing right into Everett Baxter’s arms. My nemesis, my brother, all rolled into one. And even though Everett and I aren’t blood, I do consider him just that.

The Ashford County Sheriff’s Department sits gray and lethargic this afternoon with mounds of pristine snow butting up against it as I head in its direction. And oddly, this tired building feels like home, too.

Hell, I miss it just a notch less than I miss Lottie.

This is who I am. My identity is sunk in this place. They took my gun away the night they arrested me, but I simply pulled one out of my own weapons cache and planted it right into my holster. I need it almost as much as I need my badge. In truth, I feel naked without both.

I trek on into my old stomping grounds. Heck, my suspension is so new that none of this feels old at all.

A few deputies nod my way with a friendly hello as if nothing at all had transpired—as if they didn’t show up just a few days ago and haul me down to the station like some common criminal. Not that they shouldn’t have. I’ve certainly given the department more than a few reasons to distrust my judgment. Hell, I don’t know if I trust myself anymore.

Lottie asked me what I thought that fated night. She wanted my opinion regarding the fact Florenza Canelli’s ghost demanded we move her body from the morgue. Deep down, I knew I should have said no, but I didn’t. And now here we are. Both Everett and me with our careers on the line, and Everett with the balance of his freedom on the line as well.

I make a beeline to the processing department then use my affable charm to convince the guards to let me speak to my brother. Yes, I very much played the family card just so I could get through those iron doors, and before I know it, I’m back in a cell with him, a far smaller cell with a single bed.

Everett looks like a deconstructed version of himself in his government-issued tan jumpsuit. He surrendered his Italian tailored suit to Lottie a few days ago, citing it was too good for this place. I happen to think he’s too good for this place as well.

“What do you want?” he grunts as he slowly brings himself to a sitting position.

“Don’t get up on my account. The bed looks cozy.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m not inviting you to join me.” Everett slings his legs over the side of mattress as he glares at me with those violently blue eyes. That scruff on his face is so dark and furry he looks like a feral version of himself.

“There was another murder.”

“What?” he barks it out. “Is Lemon okay? Evie?”

“Yes, they’re both fine.” I quickly fill him in on the details I know.

Everett takes a deep breath as he lands his elbows on his knees. “I take it you’re not on the case.”

“Nope. But I’m hoping that will change.”

“With your luck it will.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’ve never been lucky, and you know it.”

Everett shoots me a look. “When you step outside of this cell in five minutes, I’d ask you to reevaluate. In fact, the pity visit ends now. Go walk your dog, or watch a basketball game, or hang out at the bakery. There’s nothing you can do here.”

“I know. I just—I want you to know you won’t be going through any of this alone. I talked to Fiona, and she said