Baby Bundt Cake Confusion (Murder in the Mix Book 31) by Unknown (best way to read books .TXT) 📕

to scoop up two as the waiter glides by. “You want one?” I hold one up to Everett and he shakes his head.

“Knock yourself out.”

“What is this place?” I ask. “And is everything free? How is the entire world not fighting to break down the doors?”

“Everything is free, but technically it’s not,” he says rather cryptically. “To get in you need to be a certified platinum member of the Fallbrook Country Club. Fortune is one of the perks. I’m not a member, but my father was a founder so it affords Meghan and me a lifetime membership along with passes for our friends.”

“Wow,” I marvel as I transform my mouth and soon-to-be my belly into a makeshift aquarium. A waitress walks by with a platter full of what looks like a giant noodle in the shape of a seashell smothered in marinara sauce, and if I’m not mistaken there’s ricotta cheese billowing out of either side of it. “Thank you,” I say, snapping up a tiny plate along with a fork. I take a bite and affirm the fact it is indeed dreamy creamy ricotta smothered in the best marinara I’ve ever tasted. A hard moan comes from me. “Mangias better watch out. This place could put them out of business. But don’t tell them I said so.”

Mangias is the Italian eatery across the street from my bakery that we’ve been known to frequent about seven days a week.

Everett’s chest bucks with a silent laugh. “I’d be the last to let them know. But they can rest assured this place won’t be taking them out anytime soon. Mangias’ average customer base can’t afford to eat here.”

“Good point,” I say just as we come upon a table near the bar where Noah and Carlotta are seated. The table is laden with a sea of dirty dishes and Carlotta looks a little green around the gills.

“Free,” she moans my way as she shovels another bite of the same ricotta filled delight into her mouth.

“I know!” I muse as I take a seat next to Noah, and Everett sits on the other side of me. “This is incredible! I want to come here once a week. This is literally the best food I’ve ever had.”

A waitress comes by and clears the counter of dirty dishes before setting down a few more plates of what look to be cheese and garlic stuffed mushrooms, deep-fried pauper purses—a breaded wonder filled with hot cream cheese—and a few plates of golden fried calamari.

“Now we are talking,” I say as the four of us dig in. And as fast as we can gobble down the fine food, another set of dishes arrives to take their place with even more exotic wonders.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” I say to Everett.

“I had no idea you’d be up for a place like this,” he says. “It can be a bit pretentious.”

“Who the heck cares?” Carlotta belches the words out. “Free,” she moos like a dying cow, and I’m suddenly genuinely worried for her.

“Okay.” I point to Noah and Everett. “I just want you to know I’m onto you both. I know that you’ve been keeping something from me, and it has nothing to do with the fact Jasmine Albright and Owen Kellerman are dead. Noah, you took the wrong way home fifty-two times yesterday and you didn’t think I’d notice? And all these secretive dirty looks you’re shooting one another? I bet it’s Jimmy Canelli and his boys that have got your boxers knotted up. Am I right or am I right?” I ask while filling my pie hole with the best crab cake I have ever landed my mitts on.

“You’re right.” Noah shrugs over at Everett. “It’s no use keeping her out of the loop. In fact, it might be safer pulling her into the circle.”

“Finally,” I say. “It’s nice to see you’re catching on.”

Everett tips his head back. He doesn’t look pleased in the least.

“Lemon,” he rumbles as he slits a glance my way without bothering to move his head. “I want you to stay out of this. And I mean it. I can handle it. I’ve got a plan. And there’s no way I’m dragging you into this. The Canellis are dangerous. Trust me. I’m going to be fine. I don’t want you to worry, and I don’t want you to get in the middle of it.”

Carlotta waves him off. “Jimmy Canelli just wants to make a point. Don’t get yourselves all worked up over nothing. I doubt Sexy will be taking a dirt nap anytime soon.”

Before I can get into the middle of the conversation, a spray of silver stars appears and that silky white Maltese materializes sitting right over my tummy.

“Lil’ Mama is here. Give me your hands,” I say to both Noah and Everett. I found out a while back that I act like a conduit for the dead. As long as Noah and Everett are holding my hands, they can hear the dead, too. Carlotta can hear and see them just as clearly as I can. “I guess you know we’ll be right on top of a suspect coming up soon.”

“That’s right,” the tiny terror trills. “I was plowing my way through a tray of cream puffs at the bakery when I got the niggling feeling.”

“Lil’ Mama,” I all but whisper to her. “Are you sure you only knew Jasmine and not Owen? Usually there would be a ghost that comes back to help solve the crime for each of the victims.”

She moans, “No, I’m afraid I hadn’t seen the man until that dreadful night. Perhaps his ghost is late to show up?”

I shake my head. “I guess it’s possible, but I’ve never heard of that before.”

“That’s because it doesn’t happen,” Everett says. “No one is showing up for Owen because he didn’t have a whole lot of love to give. He was coldhearted when I knew him, and this goes to show he’s been that way all his life.”

Noah nods. “It’s true,