“A bachelor party cruise?” Carlotta snorts. “Please. That’s code for ‘running from his problems on a floating buffet.’ I’ve dated a man like that. Twice.”
“Just twice?” I counter before turning to Noah and Everett. “We should verify that alibi because convenient vacations during murder investigations make me suspicious.”
“Agree,” says Noah.
Everett nods. “As in Noah should do his job. You should keep busy in other ways, Lemon.” He gives a half-pleading look because deep down he knows it’s pointless.
“Oh, I am,” I tell him as I wiggle in my seat because I just remembered something. “I’ll have you know I’ve been catching up with some light reading.”
Everett inches back, looking genuinely stymied, most likely because he realizes I have zero free time to crack a book. And with all the lack of sleep, it would be a miracle for the letters not to look like a bunch of ants crawling around on the page. But that miracle just so happened to take place. Both Noah and Everett look pleased as punch by this news.
“I read one of Scarlett Sin’s red-hot novels,” I say with a sassy grin, and both Noah and Everett lose the smiles from their faces. “Muffin’s latest romance novel features a chocolate empire heir who dies mysteriously. She claims it’s just fiction written before Duncan’s death, but the timing feels awfully convenient.”
“Oh, please,” Carlotta balks. “Mysterious death in her romance novel? That’s basically a confession with extra glitter, and you know it.”
“Carlotta,” I gag. “We’re having a private conversation.”
“About murder,” she shoots back. “How is that private? Murder is a community concern!”
Mayor Nash looks confused but doesn’t say a word, probably because he’s still trying to figure out why his dinner keeps disappearing into thin air.
“What about the business irregularities?” Everett asks, steering us back to the investigation.
I shrug. “Duncan had been creative with the company books—moving money around, hiding losses. Fairbanks discovered it and was asking uncomfortable questions. Plus, there’s the Luke Lazzari connection.”
“One we’re still not sure about,” Noah says, taking another bite out of his pizza. Collectively, we’ve already wolfed down half a pie.
“Muffin says Luke helps the company with regulatory challenges and international suppliers. Lots of vague talk about currency exchanges and shipping logistics. Duncan had been getting nervous about the partnership. He thought Luke was too visible, and the risk was getting too high.”
“Risk of what?” Everett presses.
“Scrutiny,” I reply. “Duncan wanted to end the partnership because he was worried about complications.”
Noah and Everett exchange a look, and it makes me wonder if their law enforcement instincts are connecting dots I haven’t quite assembled yet. It wouldn’t surprise me. I’ve had a shocking lack of sleep and a shocking heaping of Carlotta as of late. A lethal combo if ever there was one.
“Then there’s the twenty-million-dollar life insurance policy that Duncan increased a while back,” I add, because no murder investigation is complete without discussing life insurance payouts.
“Twenty million?” Noah whistles appreciatively. “That’s some serious money.”
“Serious enough to commit murder for,” Everett points out grimly. “And yet we’ve seen homicides doled out for less.”
I nod. “And the fact that the entire world had access to Duncan the day at the festival only complicates things by making everyone and their brother a suspect at this point.”
“So basically, everyone is on the list,” Noah summarizes.
“Basically everyone,” I confirm. “Bunny had business motives, Muffin had financial motives, Fairbanks had family business protection motives, and if Luke Lazzari was really involved in some kind of way, he’d have criminal exposure motives.”
Noah’s phone buzzes, and he glances down to read a text.
His brows rise a notch. “It’s toxicology,” he says, looking up at Everett and me with an expression that makes my stomach drop. “Duncan Whitmore wasn’t just stabbed in the heart.”
He pauses, and I can practically feel the other shoe preparing to drop with the force of a meteorite.
“He was poisoned.”
LOTTIE
Easter Sunday at Honey Lake holds the scent of cotton candy dreams and chocolate paradise, with undertones of funnel cake and the sweet spice of spring flowers that make everything look like a greeting card come to life.
