“Coffee cake, bear claws, cronuts, apple, blueberry, and lemon turnovers, cheese, apricot, and strawberry Danishes, chocolate horns—banana walnut, chocolate, poppy seed, and apple crumb muffins, cranberry scones, thumbprint cookies, Florentine cookies, cupcakes by the dozen, vanilla and chocolate,” I say to Lily while expelling a deep breath. “If I bake another thing, I’m going to fall to the floor.”

The Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery is bustling despite the snow falling softly to the ground. I wanted to get ahead in my baking so I can focus on trying out new recipes for Nell’s big birthday bash coming up in a few days. Those ominous words she said to me before she left the funeral still cling to my mind. There is one thing you must never do! What is that one thing? What could it possibly be? And, let’s be honest. The odds are—I’ve already done it.

Lily wrinkles her nose as she looks out the window. “There she is again.”

I follow her stare, only to see the woman in the red coat looking into the bakery, her signature scarf pulled to her nose. Sunglasses on.

“She’s so obviously up to no good,” Lily grunts. “Why don’t you sic that cop you’re dating on her and be done with it?”

I take in a lungful of vanilla sweetened air. The bakery always smells divine after a long, hard baking session, and considering the baking never ends, it always smells like heaven.

“She’s probably just a tourist waiting out her trip while the rest of her party goes on that haunted house drive-by of my mother’s B&B.” I growl as I say it. “I can’t believe people actually think it’s haunted.”

“Oh, it is,” Lily assures. “In fact, good luck getting me to set foot in there ever again. Word on the street has it your mother is putting together tours at sixty bucks a pop.”

“She is not.” I quickly wave the idea away just as the bell chimes and my sweet, innocent mother breezes this way. She’s donned a red dress and black coat, and a luminous string of pearls graces her neck. “You look fantastic.” When I asked if she was up for a little adventure, I should have specified casual attire would be more than enough.

“I agree,” Lily adds.

“Thank you.” She gives Lily a cheeky wink. “After Lottie and I get back from our little adventure, Brad is taking me to Leeds to a premier establishment for an adventure of our own.”

Gah! The Jungle Room!

“No,” I spit the word out so fast you’d think he were standing behind her with a ball gag. “Nothing good ever comes of going to Leeds, Mother. You have to trust me on this one.”

She averts her eyes. “So, where are we off to?” Her eyes meander to the freshly filled shelves. “Ooh, and Lily, can you box up a piece of coffee cake for me? A cup of coffee, too, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing.” Lily gets right to the task as I take off my apron and grab my purse.

“I’ll be back in about an hour or so,” I say, taking my mother’s goodies from her.

“Whatever.” Lily checks her long, dark locks in the mirror on the wall behind the register. “The girls might stop by again. Greer and Nikki still haven’t gotten the hang of the coffee machine, and they’re due to open up in a couple of weeks. Tinsley is learning how to master the chocolate chip cookie. And since you’re running low, we might just whip up a batch or two.”

I make a face as I usher my mother to the door. “Knock yourselves out, but don’t sell them. And don’t break anything while I’m gone.” And don’t steal any top-secret recipes, but I think it might be too late for that. I’m not thrilled with this soon-to-be coffee shop that suddenly has the urge to sell cookies, but I’ll deal with that headache when I get to it. Right now, I have yet another suspect in Eve Hollister’s murder investigation that I need to shake down.

Noah may not approve, but that’s just the way the cookie crumbles.

Honey Hollow General Hospital lies on the outskirts of town, a tall boxy building, white with dark, secretive windows. It’s always been one of my least favorite places to be. It was one of the last places I saw Joseph Lemon, my father, right after he had a heart attack down at the fire station. And it is exactly the place where he breathed his last. It was Joseph Lemon who found me abandoned as an infant lying on the floor of the firehouse. He and Miranda, my sweet, yet cagey mother, knew right away they wanted to adopt me, and am I ever glad they did. I can’t imagine having a family other than this one. Things truly did work out for my good in the end.

“Oh, Lottie.” Mom makes a face like she might be sick. “You do realize I’m practically allergic to this place.”

“You and me both. But don’t worry. We won’t be here for long. I just need to talk to Connie Chutney in a way that won’t arouse suspicion.”

She sucks in a quick breath. “You don’t think she killed Eve, do you? Connie Chutney is destined for sainthood. That woman runs more volunteer leagues than there are volunteer leagues.”

“I don’t know. But just pretend you’re interested in volunteering to fill Eve’s void or something to that effect and I’ll try to size her up.”

No sooner do we enter that venerable sick den than the scent of ketchup mixed with rubbing alcohol hits my senses. Mom and I gag as we head up to the second floor where the volunteers have an office of their own. The floor is bright and clean with green patterned carpet and white vinyl tiles that mark off the corridors. We follow the volunteer center sign until we come upon a desk with an all too familiar gray-haired well put-together, friendly-faced woman seated behind it.

“Miranda!” Connie Chutney springs out of her seat and offers my mother a firm embrace. If she is a killer, she’s a darn nice one. “And Lola, is it?” Her forehead erupts in wrinkles. “I’m afraid I’ve never been good with names.”

“Lottie,” I offer, and we quickly shake hands.

“Oh, please.” She pulls a bin of bright yellow muffins from off her desk. “Rich Dallas, one of the male volunteers, baked his famous cheese jalapeño poppers for us today.”

I politely decline, but my mother snaps one right up.

“Did you say male volunteers?” My mother’s hormonal antennae just went up, and usually this is the part where I would roll my eyes, but, my God, if it means steering her away from the likes of kinky Brad Rutherford and that janky Jungle Room, then I’m all for it.

“Oh, we’ve got men.” Connie waves it off as if they were a burden. “Mostly widowers or divorcees who are living off their investments and have nothing to do with their time but volunteer and play golf.”

“Living off their investments?” Mom chortles with delight, her fingers twisting her pearls. “Did you hear that, Lottie? I think I’ve found my new home.” Her shoulders do that shimmy thing, and for once I’m glad about it. In no way am I going to remind her that she has a plus one. Besides, my mother has happily dated around ever since she lost my father. If she hasn’t tied herself down yet, I don’t see it happening any time soon.

Connie sets the cheesy jalapeño poppers down. “Now, what can I do for you, ladies?”

“I’m ready to volunteer!” Mom raises a hand as if she were in class. And judging by my mother’s exuberance, she might just be telling the truth. “Eve only had high praise for this place and you.”

Connie turns her head as if she didn’t believe it. “Eve had things to say about me, and none of them were kind. The volunteers talk among one another, and I’m firmly apprised of the things she’s said about me. She complained that I had my own spotlight in the newsletter. Well, I’m the editor! I can certainly choose to spotlight myself if I want. And if my name is in a bigger font, it’s simply to highlight my own branding. It’s the twenty-first century! You’ve got to brand yourself these days. Everybody knows that. I can’t help it if people couldn’t read her articles because the background color was a bit garish.”

I shake my head. “But I thought you said you edited the newsletter. Couldn’t you control the background hue of the article?”

She scoffs. “It’s nice to have a pop of color now and again. I like to keep my own articles plain and light, so the color has to go somewhere.”

“Right.” Mom nods in agreement and cocks her head my way for me to do the same. No use in making Connie defensive, even though she’s clearly in the wrong, so I go along with it. “Eve sure did put in a lot of time in this place.” My mother’s eyes gloss with tears.

“Not as much as I have, but she was close,” Connie muses.

“Would you look at that?” I say, uncertain where this might go next. “Two of Eve Hollister’s best friends in the whole world right here in the same place. I bet she would love this.”

Mom nods, her expression forlorn. “We spoke every single day.”

“We hardly ever spoke,” Connie confesses. “We may have worked side by side for years, but that woman held a grudge against me at every turn. My husband spoke to her more than I did in the end. Poor Bill had been working on her house for almost a year. There simply was no pleasing that woman.”

I lift a finger. “That’s right, the remodel.” It seems all Eve did for the last solid year was complain of how terribly it was going.

“I assume he finished the work?” I ask.

Connie blows out a breath of exasperation. “Well, he would have, but the whole place has been deemed a crime scene.”

Mom shakes her head frantically. “Not anymore. They opened it up again just a few days ago. I’m helping her housekeeper box up a few of Eve’s clothes. Eve let me know a while ago that if anything should happen to her she wanted all of her clothing donated to the women’s shelter.”

Connie averts her gaze. “With her millions, she could have bought each woman at the shelter a whole new wardrobe from top designers. Eve never did know how to spend her money. A Frugal Franny right to the bitter end.”

Mom and I wrap up our visit and head back out to the frosty air.

“So, what do you think, Lottie? Do you really think she’s capable of doing something so horrible?”

“I don’t know. She’s just as bitter as every other suspect. And every suspect has the same alibi. They were all at the B&B that day—right down to Connie’s husband.”

“He’s not a suspect, is he? I’m really considering using him to do the addition.”

“What about Bear?” I don’t know why I automatically assumed my mother would give my ex-boyfriend the job.

“Bill came in thousands cheaper. I just figure if he was good enough for Eve, he was good enough for me.”

“But Eve wasn’t happy about the work he did.”

“True, but there was rarely anything Eve was happy about. What’s your next move?”

“When is the next time you’ll be boxing up Eve’s things?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“Great. I think I’ll stop by and see if you need a hand.” I give a sly wink.

It’s really Eve Hollister I’m giving a hand to.

If only I could get that boisterous black bear to give me a hand and lead me to the killer.

In the least he could give me a heads-up and tell me why he’s here at all.