Chocolate Chip Cookie Conundrum (Murder in the Mix Book 32) by Unknown (the lemonade war series .TXT) 📕

a hankering for a cheeseburger. And believe me, I hit one burger joint after the other until I got clear across to Arizona.”

“What were you doing in Arizona, anyway?” I ask, all the while craning my neck and waving like mad at my mother and Lyla Nell, neither of which can see me, and sadly it feels as if neither of them cares.

Everett and Noah are conferring about something a few feet away before heading in this direction.

Noah said he didn’t need my invitation to come down with us this afternoon. That contrary to what I thought, he was still the lead detective on the case. Then he proceeded to lean in and whisper that we both knew I was in charge, but since he appreciated the paycheck his title afforded him, he asked kindly that I play along.

“You ready to head in?” Everett looks tense. Come to think of it, so does Noah.

“What’s going on between the two of you?” I ask, stepping forward and straightening Everett’s dress shirt a notch. “And don’t even try to deny it. You’re both a walking bundle of nerves.”

Everett and Noah exchange glances.

“I won’t deny it, Lottie.” Noah’s shoulders sag. “But truth be told, I’m in the dark, too.”

Everett looks fit to kill. “You would do and say anything to get in her good graces, wouldn’t you?” His cheeks flicker. “Lemon, let’s get inside before there’s another homicide on the grounds.”

I suck in a quick breath. “Everett, you know who Cormack pegged as the killer, don’t you?”

He gives a solid blink. “I plead the fifth.”

“Knew it.”

“Don’t worry, Lottie”—Noah’s dimples dig in deep, no smile—“I won’t leave your side, and I have my weapon on me.”

“And I’ve got Ethel.” Everett pats his waist.

“You brought Ethel?” I ask, almost amused. Ethel is the name of the Glock handgun Noah and Everett chipped in to buy me a couple of years back. “But we were just going to the bakery.” I bring my hand to my mouth. “You’re afraid of the Canellis, aren’t you? Or that crazed woman who keeps nosying around.” Come to think of it, I may have forgotten to tell Noah and Everett that I saw her at this very location yesterday. But I think I’d best keep quiet about it for now lest they forbid me entry. They’ve been trying to put their foot down an awful lot as of late, in the name of protecting me—trying being the operative word.

“I’m not afraid of the Canellis in the least,” Everett says it so convincingly, I almost believe him. “I had an inkling this might happen.” He nods to the studio behind me.

“Come on, Lot.” Carlotta pulls me close. “We don’t have time to listen to your men strutting around like a couple of peacocks trying to prove who’s got the bigger weapon. We’ll play that game later at the house. You bring the food scale, I’ll bring the ruler.” She pulls me toward the door at the back of the building that sits wide open. “I can’t wait to see what they’re filming in there today. I hope we see famous people.”

“This is Leeds. We won’t see famous people.” I’m quick to burst her starry-eyed bubble. “Besides, we’re here to grill a suspect. We need to stay focused.”

The four of us head on into the cavernous studio where the walls are black, the floors are concrete, and there are steel beams that look to be holding up the entire structure. The smell of stale coffee fills the air and instantly I groan.

“I can’t believe I forgot to bring cookies!” I tap myself over the forehead a little harder than I meant to. “I blame the lack of sleep.”

“It’s the lack of something else, Lot.” Carlotta ticks her head to the side. “I know for a fact you’re not getting any Sexy time. And knowing how that makes you tick, I’m not surprised you’ve got two different pairs of shoes on.”

“What?” I squawk as I look down, and sure enough, I’ve got two different navy flats on. “Points for same color?” I shrug over at Noah and Everett.

“See that?” Carlotta looks to my feet. “You’ve got Sexy on the brain. You can’t think straight.”

Noah groans.

“Don’t listen to her, Noah,” I tell him. “Getting frisky is the last thing on my mind these days. The lower forty-eight are still recovering from that adorable meteor that tore through them. And my boobs are cracked and bleeding. You’ve seen that yourself.”

It’s true. I’ve been topless more than I’ve had a top on these last three weeks, and neither Noah nor Everett bats a lash when I’m wincing through a feeding session with Lyla Nell. Both Keelie and Lainey assured me it would get easier and well, I’m not exactly there yet. I’m beginning to think they’re both big liars.

“Geez, Lot.” Carlotta swats her hands my way as if my hair was on fire and she was trying to put it out. “You don’t have to go and get so graphic. It’s not too late to save second base. We can make a side trip to the Honey Hollow Fire Department on the way home.”

“Yes, we can,” I say a bit too aggressively. “To drop you off.”

“Whoa,” a female voice calls from our left and we turn to see Kit Knickerson looking adorable in jeans and a tan tank top. Full disclosure, because of the nude color of her shirt, I thought she was topless at first glance. Her short hair is coiled around her scalp and cropped around her neck. Her big doe eyes have a pair of two-inch false eyelashes adhered to them, and her painted cherry red lips are offering us the biggest smile. “Well, if it isn’t Lottie Lemon and the Daddy Bunch.”

“Don’t forget the mama.” Carlotta’s chest expands with pride—the chest that never cracked or bled in my honor, mind you.

“What’s going on?” Kit lowers her voice a notch as she steps in close.

Everett nods her way. “We came for the envelope.