Page 10 of Twice Baked Risky Whiskey Cakes

I open my mouth to scream, but before any sound emerges, a figure steps from the shadows on the other side of the body.

Eliza Baxter stands over Sebastian with her hands covered in blood.

Oh my word!

It seems Sebastian Gallagher just may have been Eliza’s biggest mistake of all.

LOTTIE

Asickly metallic scent mingles with the crisp night air, creating a nauseating cocktail that makes my stomach lurch.

Sebastian Gallagher’s vacant eyes reflect the security lights above, giving them an eerie glow. The pearl knife handle protruding from his chest looks more like a prop from a bad murder mystery dinner theater. Except for the fact the sanguine pool spreading beneath him is all too real.

My brain struggles to process the scene. Sebastian Gallagher is dead, while Eliza Baxter stands over him with her hands awash in crimson. So much crimson everywhere.

A scream tears from my throat, high and primal. Carlotta joins in as well and her wail rises an octave above my own.

Footsteps pound against the pavement and we look up to see Everett and Noah sprinting toward us from the direction of the parking lot. They skid to a halt and their expressions transform from concern to shock as they take in the grisly scene.

“Lemon?” Everett wraps me in his arms in an instant before he does a double take in his mother’s direction. “Mom?” His entire body grows rigid. “What happened?”

“I’ll tell you what happened.” Carlotta manages to find her voice before either Eliza or I do. “Looks like your mama taught this whiskey-guzzling fool the ultimate lesson about crossing a Baxter—death by accessorizing.” She nods to Eliza. “That knife really brings out the dead in his complexion.”

A hard groan expels from me. “Not now, Carlotta,” I whisper her way. Not that my words have ever stopped her before.

“Geez.” Noah drops to his knees beside Sebastian and presses two fingers against his neck before sighing. “He’s gone. I need to call this in.” He pulls out his phone and quickly does just that.

“Don’t worry, Sexy,” Carlotta spouts off. “We’ll help you cover up your mama’s little homicidal hobby. In fact, we’ll cheer on Foxy as he helps bury the body.”

I’d protest, but it wouldn’t be the first time that whole bury-the-body thing happened—but that’s another story entirely. And for the record, we weren’t responsible for that person’s death either. Mostly.

Behind us, in the community center, the party continues in full swing. The muffled thump of Irish music and bursts of laughter create a surreal backdrop to the horror before us. Life and death, separated by nothing more than a hedge and a few feet of concrete. It always seems to be this way, and it’s a pattern that I don’t care for at all. But one I seem powerless to stop.

“Everett”—Eliza holds out her hands and examines the glossy sanguine liquid under the patio lights. “It’s not what it looks like.” Her voice trembles, which is so unlike her. Her hands—those perfectly manicured hands that I can guarantee you have never touched anything remotely dirty—appear to be wearing glossy red gloves. “I found him this way. I tried to pull the knife out, but it wouldn’t budge.”

“Yeah,” Carlotta snorts. “That’s her story and she’s sticking to it! Just like I’m sticking to my ‘I’ve only had one glass of whiskey’story after I drain the whole bottle. No harm in getting ahead of my alibi.”

Everett moves to his mother’s side and wraps an arm around her shoulders. His face is unreadable, but I can tell he’s torn between the instinct to protect his mother and his ingrained respect for the law.

The exit door behind us opens with a bang as Ivy Fairbanks strides onto the scene as if she’s been waiting in the wings for her cue. Her red hair gleams under the security lights as she takes in the scene with professional efficiency. Those long legs eat up the distance between us in seconds, and soon she’s standing in front of us with that all-too-familiar scowl on her face.

“Noah,” she acknowledges her counterpart at the homicide department with a curt nod that somehow still manages to convey her undying devotion. She’s been crushing hard on Noah ever since they met. Which also explains her undying disdain toward yours truly. Her gaze slides over me with all the warmth of a January blizzard. “Lottie.”

Carlotta snickers at the woman despite the somber scene. “Fancy meeting you here, Poison Ivy. Good thing Lot Lot here keeps stumbling over bodies or you’d be out of a job. Or I guess in this case, you can thank Sexy’s mama for the corpse.”

“So much for covering up a crime,” I mutter and Everett’s eyes flash my way.

I guess the party is still on in that respect.

Noah shoots Carlotta, Everett, and me a quick warning look as well before turning to Ivy. “The victim is Sebastian Gallagher. I don’t know much more about him, but multiple witnesses inside were speaking with him. I’m sure he has ID on his person somewhere.”

Carlotta harumphs. “Why don’t you ask Baxter the Butcher to ID the body? She knows exactly who he is,” she spouts off once again, unprovoked. Although, let’s face it, she seems to beprovoking the rest of us just fine. Carlotta juts her head in Eliza’s direction. “Ain’t that right, Toots?”

Eliza grunts as she holds up her bloodstained hands. “Carlotta, do you really want to get on my bad side tonight?”

Ivy shakes her head. “I’m pretty sure it’s Lottie’s bad side you want to stay away from. And don’t think I don’t see that donut in the man’s hand.” She nods my way. “It’s practically your calling card.”

My mouth falls open, but before I can say a word, Ivy plucks a ream of yellow caution tape from her bag.

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