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

heads this way with another couple platters of my chocolate chip cookies. Lily was one of my high school tormentors, but now that I give her cold, hard cash in exchange for her time, we get along a whole lot better.

“Coming through!” she says, and both Noah and I part ways as she lands the cookies on the table. “I can’t believe you guys are starting to squabble already. This is going to be so exciting. Lottie, I just know one of your men is going to rip the other’s head off. Candace’s viewers are really going to get their who’s-your-daddy money’s worth today.”

My mouth opens to say something to her before my attention is hijacked by a red and brown rooster quickly scuttling his way across the studio floor, and he seems to be headed right for the stage.

“How do you like that?” I mutter to myself. I bet it’s for one of their animal segments. Wait, does this show have an animal segment?

“Don’t start with me, Noah,” Everett says it low and like a threat just as that tall, lanky woman I saw having a tense moment with Candace speeds in our direction. She looks about my age, adorable face with big brown eyes and a loose smile. She’s wearing jeans and a plain white T-shirt and is heading this way with a couple of men ensconced on either side of her.

“And these are our guests for today,” she says to the men as she looks my way. “I’m Kit Knickerson, your point person for the show. I run the behind the scenes activities. I believe you’re Lottie, Noah, and Everett?”

We give a quick nod and a polite hello in response.

“The three of you are going to do great,” she says as she pats the man on her left on the back. “This is Woody Hawthorne,” she says, nodding to a man clad in black with what looks to be a Western style shirt, button-down, white whipstitching around the seams, and tucked in his chest pocket is a red handkerchief poking out like a warning. He’s tall, thin, gray stubble on his cheeks and the top of his head, nice light eyes, and a toothy smile. “And Burt Walker.” She nods to the older man on the other side of her dressed in an ill-fitting suit, long face, hound dog eyes, and a shock of dark hair. Both seem to be in their late fifties, if I were to guess. Both are nominally handsome, and seem nice enough. “Woody is the director, and Burt’s the producer.”

“Woody?” Noah gives the man a quick handshake. “How ya doing, buddy? It’s me Noah, from the sheriff’s station. We met a month ago when your production company was filming a PSA. Moody Productions, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right. Hey—” Woody’s smile quickly fades. “Did you ever get your job back?”

“Reinstated just a few weeks ago,” Noah says with pride.

Both Noah and Everett were suspended from their jobs right after they were arrested for moving Florenza Canelli’s body. And at the moment it’s only Everett taking the heat. And boy, do I ever feel terrible about it, too.

“Glad to hear it,” Woody says. “Hear that, Burt?” He nods to the man in the suit. “You’ll only have one potential felon on the air today.” He laughs as he looks to Everett. “I’m just teasing, Judge Baxter. But let’s face it, Candace gave the green light because you’re a controversial bunch.”

“Don’t listen to him.” Burt offers a warm smile. “This is all about you and that beautiful baby. Are you all ready for the results?”

The sound of voices escalating comes from somewhere near the stage and we look that way to see Candace Cottonwood arguing with a redheaded woman in a matching red dress and a pillbox hat.

Kit sighs. “I’d better take care of that,” she says, taking off.

Woody shakes his head at the sight. “Nobody can put that fire out but me.” He speeds off in their direction as well.

Burt takes a breath as he offers the three of us a stern look.

“Gird yourselves, gentlemen,” he says as he looks to Noah and Everett. “One of you is about to become a father. Show starts in twenty minutes.” He takes off as that rooster pops up again and lets out an ornery caw.

“Good Lord, as if this wasn’t a circus already, they’ve got a rooster on the loose.” It starts to strut in this direction and I do my best to wave it off with my hands. “Shoo,” I say. “I know you’re after my cookies. Go on, get,” I say as the rooster flaps his wings and catches air as he rises a good three feet and lands right over the refreshment table. “I knew it!” I say as I grab Everett and push him in that direction. “Get him out of here!” I squawk. “Go on! Get out of here,” I shout at the rogue bird.

“And here I never thought I’d hear you say those words, Lottie,” Noah says as he grabs Everett by the lapel and starts to drag him toward the open maw of the back exit.

“What? No!” I say, pulling Everett back. “I’m talking about that rooster.”

I point behind me, but there’s no sign of the ornery fowl in sight.

“Lemon?” Everett’s voice is tight. “Did you say you saw a rooster?”

I give a slow nod. “And you didn’t?” I close my eyes a moment.

“You know what this means, Lot.” Noah stiffens as he grows serious.

“Yes,” I whisper. “It means murder.”

Lottie

“And these are my Vermont Best in Show awards,” Candace Cottonwood says as she waves a hand over an entire shelf of thick, long spears that look like crystal bowling pins with her name etched onto them. “And that concludes the tour of my office.” A laugh trills from her as she offers the three of us a tight smile.

The office in question sits directly behind the set. It’s painted a deep shade of navy, has plush white carpet,