Page 11 of Twice Baked Risky Whiskey Cakes

Carlotta gasps at the sight. “The woman carries crime scene tape in her purse!”

“Where Lottie goes, murder follows,” Ivy says without missing a lethal beat.

Carlotta shrugs at the thought. “She really does know you, Lot.”

I poke her in the ribs and she jumps. Clearly,shedoesn’t know me.

“Don’t worry, Noah,” Ivy says as she inspects the body. “I called for backup on my way over. When I heard your voice on the dispatch, I figured you might need support.”

Of course, she did. When doesn’t Ivy Fairbanks come running at the first hint of Noah needingsupport? We all know exactly how she would like to support him, and it just so happens to be behind closed doors.

I’ll admit, just the thought boils my blood. I can’t help it. I’m surging with hormones—most of which need to find a Sexy outlet, and soon. I nod up at Everett as if I had said those words out loud and he offers a reassuring nod right back because it’s clear he understood my every unspoken word.

Everett gently guides his mother away from the body while saying something softly to her. I can’t hear the conversation, but his protective stance speaks volumes. If Eliza Baxter isresponsible for landing this poor man in the next life, then she will most assuredly be getting away with murder. It really does pay to have a high-powered judge as your son.

One of the babies gives me a swift kick.Ooh, maybe one of the twins will be a high-powered judge someday, too. And if that’s the case, I suppose I can start picking out my victim.

I cast a side glance at Ivy and give a knowing nod, and this time I don’t blame the hormones at all.

People begin to pour out of the community center, drawn by our screams or perhaps just seeking fresh air. Or maybe it’s the army of screaming sirens all heading this way that did it.

The first woman to round the hedge lets out a shriek that could shatter glass. More screams follow as others discover the grisly scene, and that alone inspires Ivy to move with impressive speed as she cordons off the area with her magic purse tape.

My mother and Meg push through the growing crowd as both of their faces contort with deep concern. My mother’s lemon blonde locks bounce around her shoulders with each hurried step, and her green and white checked wool coat stands out among the sea of emerald party attire.

Next to her, Meg is basically a contrast in every way. My older sister is a self-professed Goth princess and, case in point, has dyed her hair a harsh shade of midnight that seems to absorb light rather than reflect it. She’s dressed in black from head to toe, is wearing combat boots to keep her tootsies toasty, and has on lipstick in the darkest necrotic shade to add that extra level of the undead look she’s going for.

“Lottie!” My mother rushes to my side, narrowly avoiding a collision with the caution tape. “Are you all right? Are the babies okay?” Her eyes narrow in on me. “What have you done now?”

And just like that, this night takes another step sideways.

LOTTIE

“I’m fine and so are the babies.” I pat my belly to assure my mother of the fact as we stand just shy of Sebastian Gallagher’s body outside of the community center. “Carlotta and I just found him like this.”

My mother and Meg take a moment to cringe at the body among us.

“Well, not exactly like this,” Carlotta interjects. “Five minutes ago he was just your garden-variety corpse. Now thanks to Lot Lot, he’s Honey Hollow’s hottest tourist attraction.”

I shoot her a look. Although judging by the size of the swelling crowd, she’s not wrong.

Meg peers around the hedge at Sebastian’s body. “Cool knife. Good choice of a murder weapon, Lot. That’s a Victorian handle, right? Now that’s some vintage craftsmanship.”

“Meg.” I shake my head her way.

“What?” she grunts back. “Someone has to appreciate the finer points of homicide. You’re really honing your craft.”

“You always say the sweetest things.” Mom pats Meg’s arm before turning back to me. “This is becoming quite the nasty habit, young lady. Now that the twins are almost here, you really should find something else to occupy your time.”

I suck in a quick breath. “Mother. It’s not like I pencil it into my schedule. Tuesday—bake scones, find corpse, prenatal yoga.” I toss my arms in the air in a fit of frustration. Although I would writedeliver twinswith a Sharpie on every wall in the house if I thought that they were guaranteed to arrive that way.

“Oh, never mind, honey,” she says, giving me a quick hug as best she can. “Get yourself inside, Lottie. It’s freezing out here.” Mom wraps an arm around my shoulders. “You poor thing. This can’t be good for the babies.”

Ivy strides by and stops cold in her tracks when my mother says those words. “Yes”—Ivy snips my way with those dead eyes of hers—“because finding a dead body is normally so beneficial for fetal development.” She takes off to document the scene with her phone.

“Ignore her,” I say to my mother. “And if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to stay out here for a minute longer.”

“That’s right.” Carlotta nods by my side. “Lot likes to keep an eye on her work.”

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