Page 59 of Twice Baked Risky Whiskey Cakes

“Coming right up,” I tell her. “How are you enjoying the parade?”

“It’s exactly the distraction I needed,” she admits. “Between my financial disaster and being questioned in a murder, I could use a little leprechaun magic.” She mutters that last part mostly to herself.

“Couldn’t we all,” I agree, handing over her latte in record time.

“Lottie!” My mother’s voice carries over the crowd as she maneuvers Lyla Nell’s stroller back to our booth.

“Hello, ladies,” I say to two of my favorite females. “How about a donut for each of you?”

“Dough-knee!” Lyla Nell belts out with a clap. “Sebby need dough-knee, too,” she says, reaching under her blanket and pulling the cute little fox up by his ear.

He looks my way with a bewildered expression. “I’d complain, but she just keeps the sweet treats coming.”

“I wouldn’t complain either,” I say, offering Lyla Nell two donuts—vanilla cake with vanilla frosting and lots of green sprinkles. “One for each hand,” I tell her.

My mother helps herself to a whiskey-glazed donut and leans my way. “Lottie, you will never guess who I just spotted across the street.”

“I sure hope it’s the stork,” I say, rubbing my belly.

“Heavens no.” She waves the idea away as if that wily bird never plans on paying a visit to Honey Hollow. And I’m beginning to believe it. “It’s my old friend, Kay! I haven’t seen her in years.” She takes an indulgent bite out of her donut and moans.

“Kay?” I inch back, trying to remember where I’ve heard that name recently—and then freeze solid. “Which one is she?”

Mom cranes her neck for a moment before pointing directly at Keegan Meryl, deep in conversation with Venus.

“There, in the green jacket. She was friends with one of my roommates in college. I know her from way,wayback when.”

My brain stutters like an engine missing a spark plug—not exactly an anomaly these days. “But that's Venus’ mother, Keegan.”

“Oh, she went by Kay back then. I guess we all grow up sometime.”

A particularly glittery leprechaun passes by and manages to capture Lyla Nell’s complete attention.

“Glam Glam,” she cries as she does her best to reach out and touch the walking, talking good luck charm. “I want! Gimme gimme, please!Pa-lease! Right meow!”

“Oh, all right. Let’s go try to catch him,” Mom says, already whisking my sweet baby girl away. “Hey, stop, leprechaun! My granddaughter would just love to have a picture with you!”

They wheel away in a blur, leaving me frozen in place as puzzle pieces slam together in my mind with the force of a falling piano.

Keegan is Kay?

Could she be the mysterious Kay Gallagher—as in Sebastian's abandoned wife?

She does have three children. Although Della mentioned Sebastian left Kay with two children. Maybe she meant three? Or maybe Venus doesn’t belong to Sebastian. He didn’t seem to have any real connection to her that day we spoke to him. But he sure did have a real interest in speaking to Keegan. And I have a feeling I know why.

The blonde woman in the prison photo. Maggie Murray. That couldn’t also be Keegan, could it? No, that doesn’t make any sense.

Not much does these days.

A float sails by and opens up my view to the crowd across the street. There she is, huddled by her daughter’s side, so seemingly innocent.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” I say to my staff as I waddle my way toward the crowd.

“Where are we off to, Lot?” Carlotta asks as she jumps by my side with enough beads to fill a pirate’s chest.

“Off to speak with a friend.”

And maybe a killer.

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