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

“Oh right!” Her eyes widen to the size of silver dollars. “The paternity test.” She winces. “Oh no, it’s still in Candace’s safe,” she says just above a whisper. “I don’t have access to it. I don’t know that anyone does. She was pretty guarded when it came to her things. But I’m sure I can get a locksmith out and they can bust it open somehow if we have to.”

Noah shakes his head. “I’m sure we can get the doctor to make up a new one. But since I’m investigating the case, I’m afraid I’ll have to get into the safe anyhow.”

“Oh hey.” She points right at me. “I almost forgot. Burt mentioned this morning that as soon as he recasts the lead, we were instructed by the higher-ups to start the new show where the old one left off. Are the three of you game for another round?”

“Yes,” I answer in haste for the three of us. “I mean, we’re dying to find out the results, but we were sort of set on finding out on the show.” So I can get my mother back half of her haunted B&B, but I leave that part out. “How soon can we come back?”

“We don’t have a host yet.” She grimaces. “But on the bright side, some blonde just rushed into Burt’s office demanding to audition for it.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure she’s auditioning for it the old-fashioned way. I heard a bunch of noise and walked in on a blouse flying through the air.” She shudders. “Anyway, we’re filming another show in the studio right now. We have several shows that tape here, so the studio won’t miss out on Candace too much.”

Carlotta’s mouth falls open. “Whatcha filming?” She irons out her blouse as if she were getting ready for her close-up.

Who cares what they’re filming? It’s not like we’re going over there. We’ve got a suspect to grill. Speaking of which, where is our new feathered friend? I would have expected to hear him yodeling by now.

No sooner do I have the thought than a spray of stars erupts right over Kit’s head in colors of gold and red. It takes less than five seconds for the proudly plumed bird to appear in his full glory and he juts his tiny head back and howls out a hearty cock-a-doodle-doo.

He’s here! I do a little hop. I’ve had all sorts of animals appear to me but never a rooster. I used to be a bit rooster obsessed when I was kid if for no other reason than Keelie had a stuffed animal of one and I thought it was cute.

“My name is Lottie Lemon, and I’m so glad to finally meet you!” I shout to the disembodied among us without meaning to.

Kit inches back with a look of slight confusion. “Nice to meet you, too?” She gives Noah and Everett a curious glance.

“Lemon?” Everett tries to step into my line of vision, and I take up his hand and give it a squeeze. A clear signal that the dead are among us. I’m not sure why, but we discovered a while back that I act like a conduit, and when people are holding my hand, they can hear what the dearly departed have to say, too.

“About time, good lookin’.” Carlotta bleats to our new feathered friend. “We don’t have all day.”

“Oh, right.” Kit looks mildly affronted. “We’re taping an episode of Catching Up with the Kellermans today. It’s the season end tell-all so the sisters are all in the studio.”

Both Carlotta and I suck in a sharp breath.

“I love that show!” we both shout at the very same time.

“Shh!” Kit gives a choo-choo train of a laugh. “We don’t have a studio audience, but we have plenty of crew. Why don’t you come on over and catch a glimpse? They’re just as glamorous in person as they are on TV.”

She doesn’t have to ask us twice. Both Carlotta and I speed our way to the front where the stage is, while Noah says something about checking out the office once again and Kit agrees to it. And judging by the fact Everett is missing, I’m guessing he went with him. So much for never leaving my side and protecting me with their arsenal of weaponry. But right now, I don’t care a lick about protection because all I can think about is meeting the Kellerman sisters! I’ve been watching their reality series for years—seven years to be exact. I've seen them through their breakups, their makeups, their marriages, their divorces. And their—

“Babies!” I cry out as soon as I spot the gaggle of children ranging from infants to pre-teens.

Kit takes off to tend to the crew, but Carlotta and I stand frozen, mesmerized by the glitzy and glamorous sight before us.

There they are, all five sisters wearing matching nude-colored tank tops and yoga pants. Their matching long black hair looks glossy and thick, and it’s probably fake, too. I know this is a fact because on one show they’ll have short hair, and on the next it’s right back down to their waist again. The kids are all wearing white from head to toe and the entire scene has an ethereal-like feel.

The set has been transformed since yesterday. Gone is the stuffy sofa, the wingback chair, and the coffee table that, honestly, we may have broken in all the melee. And in its place are oversized squishy looking white beanbags in the shape of couches as the Kellermans lounge over them with their svelte limbs outstretched like a bunch of Siamese cats.

“Look at them, Lot! They’re beautiful,” Carlotta says as she staggers toward the stage, and I manage to pull her back.

“You can’t go out there,” I whisper. “They’re still taping.”

She starts taking off her blouse and I give her a jostle.

“Would you stop?” I hiss. “You’re going to get us tossed out on our ear.”

“But if the Kellermans are naked,