Chocolate Chip Cookie Conundrum (Murder in the Mix Book 32) Unknown (me reader txt) 📖

you, me, and the wind, I think murder was well inside Candace Cottonwood’s wheelhouse.”

Carlotta narrows her eyes over at the woman. “How come none of the last names line up?”

Fern lifts a finger. “Kit took her mother’s maiden name after their parents divorced—thus Knickerson. It was her way of choosing sides. And well, Candace changed her legal surname from Ross back to her maiden name, Cottonwood, because it was too painful to be a Ross without Zack by her side. Or so she said. Candace had a propensity to make whatever story she wanted fit her narrative. She was a pro at getting things to go her way.”

I give a few solid blinks at the woman before me.

“Fern, you don’t really think Kit killed Candace that day, do you?”

“I wouldn’t let your boyfriend rule it out, but if I had to bet money, I’d put my dollars on that sleazy director of hers, Woody Hawthorne. The guy is as shady as they come and possessive, too. Boy, Candace knew how to pick ’em when it came to men.” She looks to Carlotta. “Now she could have used your book way back when we were in college.” Her lips twist. “So could have I.” Her expression goes dark a moment.

“Fern”—I dip in to catch her gaze—“are you saying Candace had a boyfriend who cheated on her in college?” Noah just told me the cheat fell from a three-story frat house. And Cluck Norris mentioned that Candace once said something to the effect that no man was going to take advantage of her. I bet she wasn’t going to let them cheat on her either.

Fern stares off past me with a hardened look on her face. “Let’s just say we both had a boyfriend who cheated on us in college.”

I give a curt nod. “Welcome to the club,” I say a bit too morose as I reflect on my own louse of a college boyfriend.

A crowd of eager readers pushes through the entry to the room, right along with my mother, and soon both Fern and my mom are signing books for the masses.

I pull Carlotta to the side. “So Kit was Zack Ross’ little sister! She might have wanted revenge.”

Cluck Norris materializes right on top of Carlotta’s head and she makes a face up at him.

“Yeah, and that means Kit had a motive,” she snips. “But did you get a look at how angry she got when you mentioned the cheating college boyfriend? Maybe we should look him up and ask him a few questions?”

“No can do. He’s dead.”

“Dead!” Cluck Norris flaps his wings as his talons grip Carlotta by the hair.

“Get off of me!” Carlotta thrashes about and does her best to pluck the squawking specter from her follicles, but he’s flapping away, digging in his heels as the two of them squawk and scream as if it were the newest dance craze.

Soon, everyone in the entire room has pinned their attention on the two of them, or one of them as far as the rest of the human population goes.

Noah and Everett come back my way, and I take Lyla Nell into my arms.

She’s so excited to see me, her own arms are flapping like a bird’s. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth is moving.

“Hey? I think she’s going to smile!” A breath hitches in my throat as I wait with anticipation, but the smile never fully materializes.

“She’ll get there,” Everett says, wrapping his arms around me.

Noah pins his eyes to mine. “Did you get anywhere with her?” He nods toward Fern’s table.

I nod. “And then some. I’ll tell you all about it when we get home.”

Kit Knickerson had a motive to kill Candace Cottonwood. Fern Cranston had a shady history with the deceased. And Woody Hawthorne is next up at bat.

“Whoever killed Candace Cottonwood is just within my grasp, I can feel it,” I say before gazing over at Lyla Nell. “And this little one is just about to smile.”

Noah hikes his brows. “Once that killer is put away, we’ll all have something to smile about.”

Everett’s eyes stray to the lobby and the muscles in his jaw tighten. That hit the Canellis put on him is taking its toll.

I won’t be able to smile until Jimmy calls off his dogs.

Good thing I have an invite to extend to both him and Luke Lazzari. Maybe I can find a way to have him call off the dogs myself.

But something tells me I won’t.

Everett

Lyla Nell is exactly one month old today.

An entire month.

It’s Sunday, and it seems all of Honey Hollow has come down to the bakery to celebrate.

I hold the sweet babe in my arm and Lemon in the other as I land a kiss to my wife’s mouth.

“A month,” I say as the revelry goes on around us. Lily is doling out chocolate chip cookies to any and everyone while Suze keeps the coffee flowing. Both my mother and my sister Meghan have shown up for the occasion. They’ve both been chomping at the bit to see Lyla Nell again, and I can’t blame them. I can’t get enough of her myself. “I can hardly remember life without her. It’s as if we needed her with us to start living.” And I mean every single word.

Lemon nods, her eyes locked onto mine. “I feel the exact same way. It’s as if we were just rehearsing before, but now we’re really living.”

Her eyes are swollen and red, and I can see the exhaustion written over her face. Heck, I’m feeling it, too—that darn rooster went off at five in the morning, not one hour after the two of us fell into a coma-like sleep, but none of that seems to weigh down our elation. I know I can shut off the supernatural sound effect by simply letting go of Lemon, but there’s not a ghost in the universe powerful enough to make me do that.

“Everett”—a pained smile flickers on her lips—“I know you probably don’t