“That’s surprisingly philosophical,” Effie laughs.
“I have my moments,” Carlotta grunts while taking another bite of coconut cake. “Usually between breakfast and my first shot of whiskey.”
I nod. “And that’s a one-hour spread as of late.” Less than fifteen minutes on days that end in Y.
She turns to me with a grin that suggests some serious mischief is brewing. “Lot Lot, you just keep finding killers everywhere you go. At least when Everett trades you in, you’ll know who to call to do the deed on Sexy and his Pretty Young Thing.”
Suze nods as if she’s made peace with moral flexibility. “Noah will cover for you. He’d probably volunteer to help dispose of the evidence and the body.”
Poor Everett has already been dumped in a metaphoric landfill.
Lily grunts as her eyes cut to the street. “As if he hasn’t already been covering for her in a dozen different ways already.”
I’m about to protest this casual discussion of murdering myhusband when another group of glamorous women glides past our window. They move in perfect synchronization, all flowing hair and designer handbags, chattering in voices that probably sound like wind chimes in a gentle breeze.
“What are all these glossy people doing in Honey Hollow anyway?” I ask because our little town doesn’t usually attract this level of high-maintenance tourism. “Did someone accidentally list us as a luxury destination in some fancy travel magazine?”
“Oh, that’s right!” Lily snaps her fingers with sudden understanding. “Fairbanks and Gina Whitmore are hosting the Annual Elite Chocolate Symposium over at the Evergreen Manor. I forgot all about it.” She checks her watch. “And it starts in about ten minutes.”
My ears perk up at this information. A chocolate symposium hosted by Duncan’s brother and sister-in-law, filled with people who would have known the deceased and his business dealings. This is exactly the kind of event where secrets get spilled along with champagne, and someone might accidentally reveal a motive for murder.
“The Elite Chocolate Symposium?” I repeat, already calculating how quickly I can get across town.
“It’s some kind of high-end industry conference,” Effie explains. “Chocolate makers, distributors, food critics, and people with too much money and not a care about a calorie in the world. Very exclusive, very expensive, very much the kind of thing that attracts people who think regular chocolate isn’t good enough for their sophisticated palates.”
“The kind of people who use words likemelt factorwhen talking about candy bars,” Suze adds with clear disdain.
I start untying my apron with determination because I’ve just discovered the perfect excuse to leave work early.
“Where are you going?” Suze calls after me as I hang my apron on its hook behind the counter.
“I just remembered I have a very important engagement at the Evergreen Manor,” I announce, grabbing my purse and checking my reflection in the stainless steel refrigerator door.
“Lottie,” Lily warns in a tone that suggests she’s seen this moviebefore, “you’re not seriously thinking about crashing an exclusive chocolate conference to interrogate potential murder suspects, are you?”
“Of course not,” I reply with a wink. “I’m thinking about expanding my professional network and learning about artisanal chocolate techniques that might benefit the bakery.”
“And if you happen to solve a murder while you’re there?” Effie asks dryly.
“Well, that would just be a chocolate-dipped bonus.”
Carlotta looks up from her cake with obvious interest. “Can I come? I’ve always wanted to see how the other half lives. Plus, rich chocolate people probably have excellent security, and I could use some tips for protecting my toy collection.”
“Absolutely not,” I tell her firmly. “I need you to steer clear of these people.” And my investigation, but I leave that part out.
“But Lot Lot?—”
“No buts. These are serious chocolate industry people, not your usual collection of dive bar conquests and questionable life choices. Besides, someone needs to make sure Lenny doesn’t eat all the inventory while I’m gone.”
It’s true. That supernatural feline has quite the affinity for every last one of my sweet treats. My kitchen staff thinks they’ve been working overtime due to the upcoming holiday, but the truth is, Lenny is a holiday all unto himself.
Lenny perks up at the mention of his name. “I resent that implication. I’m a sophisticated spirit with refined tastes.”
“You’ve been working on that coconut bunny cake for twenty minutes,” I point out.
“It’s research,” he replies with a sly smile. “I’m conducting a thorough investigation of your baking techniques.”
“See?” I tell Carlotta. “Someone needs to supervise his research.”
