We work together to separate the warring factions with the diplomatic skills that come from years of dealing with people who think violence solves problems. By the time we’ve got everyone calmed down and heading home with warnings about public disturbance charges, the afternoon sun is starting to wane over Honey Lake.
“Not bad teamwork, Fox,” Ivy says as we watch the last of the teenagers disappear toward the festival. “We make a decent crime-fighting duo.”
“Don’t let it go to your head, Fairbanks,” I reply, but there’s no heat in it. “Besides, breaking up teenage drama hardly counts as crime fighting.”
“Hey, we prevented at least three assault charges and probably saved someone’s Easter outfit from total destruction.” She pauses, studying me with that investigative look that means she’s about to ask uncomfortable questions. “Speaking of crime fighting, how’s the Whitmore case going?”
I blow out a breath, watching the festival blossom all around the lake. “Getting more complicated by the hour.”
“Complicated how?”
“Toxicology said that Duncan Whitmore had enough digitalis coursing through his veins to put down an elephant,” I tell her.
Ivy’s eyes widen. “But he was stabbed!”
“I know.” I run a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of another impossible case. “And to add another odd element to this mess, Luke Lazzari is somehow involved in a roundabout way. I don’t think he offed Duncan, but I can’t get the angle.”
Ivy snorts. “Lazzari’s the kingpin of money laundering, not stabbing. The guy is too smart to get his hands dirty with?—”
We both freeze as the thought hits us at once.
I shake my head. “Who would be desperate enough to wash Lazzari’s money through a multi-million-dollar chocolate enterprise?”
Ivy shrugs. “I’d start with the?—”
“The one with lesser stakes than Duncan,” I cut her off, as it hits me like a punch to the gut. “Someone who had every reason to want to turn an extra buck.” I look out at the shimmering water, thinking about mansions and money and family dynamics that make murder seem reasonable. “Like purchasing a mega mansion on the lake.”
I take off toward the festival with adrenaline surging through my veins.
Ivy trots behind me, hot on my heels. “Oh no, you don’t, Fox. I’m going to help you take down this killer.”
“Not if Lottie gets to them first,” I call back over my shoulder.
And knowing Lottie Lemon, that’s exactly what’s about to happen.
EVERETT
Icatch Noah with a firm hand to his chest before he can bullet past me, stopping him in his tracks with the kind of authority that comes from years of keeping order in a courtroom—and occasionally keeping Noah from doing something stupid.
“I want Conner arrested.” I bite the air with the words because I’ve reached my limit with teenage boys and their wandering eyes.
“For what?” Noah inches back as Ivy catches up. Her red hair looks as if it could double as a siren.
Ivy glances between us with a hint of amusement. “Let me guess—Essex here is having a paternal meltdown about his daughter’s dating choices.”
I’ve never slept with Ivy, but she’s one of the few women who insists on calling me by my proper name despite the fact.
“I want him arrested for ogling my daughter all day,” I mutter, gesturing toward the lake where a group of teenagers in various states of undress are supposedly having innocent fun.
Ivy squints toward the water, then turns back to me with a smirk. “If your daughter is with that group of nearly naked girls, then I have news for you, Essex. Her boyfriend isn’t the only one ogling her.”
The growl that escapes me sounds more feral than judicial.
Noah shakes his head with the patience of a detective who’s dealt with overprotective fathers before. “I don’t like it either, but right now?—”
He’s cut off as a platinum blonde approaches with a look on her face that lets us know she’s never met a situation she couldn’t make more complicated.
Jolene Johnson struts up in a micro pink bikini and a sun hat the size of a kiddie pool, looking like she’s trying way too hard to be someone’s Spring Break dream—despite being old enough to remember the ’70s.
