Page 58 of Twice Baked Risky Whiskey Cakes

“True, but Lyla Nell will be someday and that has to count for something.”

“Very funny.” He offers me another quick kiss. “Please steer clear of trouble while I’m gone. No investigating, no confronting suspects, and definitely no chasing after anyone.”

“The only thing I’m chasing is adequate bladder capacity,” I promise.

“I'll keep an eye on her.” Noah winks my way before taking another bite of his donut. Someone screams in the crowd andNoah’s attention is quickly pulled away. “Right after I make sure everyone is okay.” He takes off and so does Everett.

I keep pulling out more whiskey-glazed desserts and the bustling crowd just keeps migrating toward my bakery. It’s apparent I’m not the only one craving one of my sweet treats.

But sugar and spice aren’t the only things I’m craving these days.

Right about now, I’ve got an insatiable craving for justice.

And I’ll stop at nothing to get it.

LOTTIE

The St. Patrick’s Day parade rages around me as I do my best to help fill orders, but I’m so exhausted I’m half-moved to go back to my office and take a nap.

While the twins practiced their synchronized swimming routine against my ribcage at four in the morning, I went ahead and did some digging into Sebastian Gallagher and his whiskey brand.

It turns out, his family’s original company, Gallagher Whiskey, collapsed decades ago amid a scandal. Buried in old newspaper archives, I managed to find a story about a woman named Margaret “Maggie” Murray, a chemistry professor turned craft distiller, who spent twelve years in prison for an elaborate whiskey counterfeiting operation.

According to the article, Sebastian had masterminded the whole thing, but Maggie took the fall when he planted evidence in her lab and testified against her.

The counterfeiting scheme resulted in three deaths from methanol poisoning, which were ruled as negligent homicide in her case. She lost her academic career and apparently her freedom while incarcerated.

And try as I might to find a picture of what this Maggie woman may have looked like, the only photo I could find was one of her being led away by police. And all that photo offered was the back of a blonde woman’s head.

A trumpet blast yanks me from my thoughts as the redheaded roundup float approaches—a massive shamrock-shaped platform populated by hundreds of glorious redheads.

“Look at that, Lot,” Carlotta yips. “That float has more gingers than your spice rack during the holiday baking season.”

I make a face her way before reverting my attention to the happy crowd as some of the members march alongside the massive float like a crimson army while tossing glittery green beads to the roaring crowd.

“It’s raining jewelry!” Carlotta shrieks with delight and immediately abandons her post next to the donuts to dive into the fray.

“Save some for me! I love free beads,” Suze calls out, proving to be surprisingly spry as she darts after Carlotta into the melee of bead-hunters. It would figure.Freeis Suze’s favorite word—four letter or otherwise.

I try to crane my neck to keep an eye on them—in the event one of them breaks theirs—when a familiar happy-go-lucky redhead with a touch of gray around the temples steps into my line of vision, and next to her is an all too familiar, always chic brunette.

“Lottie!” Glinda’s voice cuts through the chaos as she and Eliza approach our table. “We are in desperate need of caffeine and sugar. The parade is delightful, but it’s equally exhausting.”

I give a quick laugh in response. “I’ve gone pro in the exhaustion department as of late.”

“You look fabulous.” Eliza winks my way. “Two Irish coffees and two whiskey-glazed donuts, please,” she requests, looking elegant as always in that cream-colored coat of hers thatsomehow remains spotless despite the festivities. Come to think of it, unless she has a look-alike coat, she managed to get every drop of Sebastian Gallagher’s blood out of it, too. Good for her. The past is the past and dead bygones are dead bygones.

“Make thatthreedonuts,” Glinda adds with a wink. “I have a particular weakness for your whiskey glaze. Must be the scientist in me—appreciating the perfect chemical reaction of sugar and alcohol.”

“It’s a combo most can’t seem to resist,” I say, bagging up their order while Lily prepares their coffee. “So are you enjoying the parade?”

“It’s so very charming,” Eliza says as only she can. “Although I’m more interested in what Mayor Nash has planned at Honey Lake. Apparently, it’s going to be quite the spectacle.”

“Oh, the whole town is buzzing about it,” Glinda agrees as she shoves a twenty-dollar bill into Lily’s hand and tells her to keep the change. “Well, we’d better find a good spot for viewing this spectacle. Thanks for the treats!” They disappear into the crowd with Glinda already biting into her donut with obvious pleasure—and that’s exactly what I like to see.

As the owner of the bakery, the pleasure is all mine.

“One Irish cream latte, please,” a familiar voice requests, and I turn to find Della Crane at our counter, her red hair particularly vibrant against her green sweater.

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