Page 13 of Twice Baked Risky Whiskey Cakes

Although, I’ll admit, it’s not looking so good right about now. A getaway, quick or slow, might just be necessary.

I waddle my way toward Everett, who happens to be sitting with his mother on a bench safely away from the chaos. That cute little ghostly fox comes to mind, but it’s nowhere to be seen at the moment. And honestly, I’m thankful for that. Right now, I want to focus on the living.

Carlotta falls in step beside me because, let’s face it, she’s harder to shake than the glitter Lyla Nell peppered the house with.

“Well, Lot,” she sighs, “I guess I won’t have to worry about making Sebastian Gallagher my next mistake after all. When you’ve been in as many relationships as I have, you start to appreciate when fate does the dumping for you.”

I shoot her a look.

“What? I collect near-miss relationships with future murder victims. We all have our hobbies.”

I glance back at the body, now fully surrounded by officers and crime scene technicians.

A night that began with happy little shamrock cookies and whiskey-glazed donuts has ended with the Grim Reaper and flashing lights.

Someone in this sea of redheads turned this auburn affair into a death sentence, and unfortunately for Eliza Baxter—she’s looking like the prime suspect.

I know for a fact the only way for Everett and me to put our focus back on the birth of these babies where it belongs is to solve this case.

And whether Everett or Noah likes it or not, that’s exactly what I’m about to do.

NOAH

Red and blue lights flash across the parking lot, painting Sebastian Gallagher’s lifeless body in slashes of alternating colors.

Another body in Honey Hollow.

As much as I’d like to say I can’t wrap my head around it, a part of me wonders what took so long.

The scent of sugar and whiskey permeates my senses along with a metallic twinge in the air.

My eyes drift to the donut in the hands of the dead man. How I wish Lottie and her baked goods weren’t forever getting tangled up in these blatant acts of evil.

But on the bright side—if there is a bright side—Lottie has singlehandedly brought each of those killers to justice. However, I can’t let her do that this time, not in her condition. And if Eliza has anything to do with this, justice might be found on a sliding scale.

The coroner kneels beside the poor man sprawled on the ground, already making preliminary notes while officers secure the perimeter. But it’s the handle of that knife still protruding from Sebastian’s chest like a pearlescent sundial that prickles the hair on the back of my neck.

Someone thought it was fitting to end that man’s life tonight. And I’m hoping with everything in me that the someone in question is not Eliza Baxter.

“Noah.” Ivy waves at me with her notepad already filled with statements as I make my way over. “Three witnesses saw Mrs. Baxter arguing with the victim earlier this evening.”

“Wonderful.” I blow out a breath as I scan the crowd. I spot Lottie and Carlotta immediately but no sign of Everett and Eliza. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if he’s already shipping her off to Europe. It’s certainly something I would have considered. And if he needs help on my end… I blow out another hard breath, and this time it stretches into a white desolate plume.

I’ll admit, I would turn a blind eye for a handful of people and Eliza is one of them. But Ivy is involved and so is the rest of the department at this point. In theory, turning a blind eye would be a cinch, but this is reality and things not only got bloody tonight, they got complicated fast.

“I’m handling this case solo,” I tell Ivy before making my way through the crowd.

“Fox,” Ivy calls out, but I don’t turn around. I’m sure I’ll get an earful later, but I’m not up for it tonight. I’m the lead investigator, and that means I get to call the shots—whether or not she likes them. Whether or not they lead to an internal investigation or cost me my career.

I speed over to where Lottie and Carlotta stand huddled nearby just feet away from the crime scene. Lottie looks exhausted with her hands cradling her enormous belly and I’d do anything to get her home and in bed.

“How are you holding up?” I ask while offering her a firm embrace and one of the twins kicks me in the gut because of it.

“Oh, she’s fine, Foxy,” Carlotta interjects before Lottie can answer. “Finding bodies is practically a cardio workout for her.The twins will probably pop out asking where the next corpse is hiding.”

Lottie shoots her a look, even though we both know she’s right.

“What?” Carlotta juts her neck out like a chicken. “I’m just saying, most women nest before giving birth. Lot Lot here collects dead bodies like they’re limited-edition Beanie Babies.”

---