slept since," I mutter, taking a deep breath. "Georgina, I don't know why that car was parked outside Otto's house, and I don't know why it ran us off of the road."
"I do." She laughs. "Whoever's in town is pissed off by all your poor attempts at sleuthing."
"I'm not even going to comment on that," I reply, tilting my head toward the door. "Otto is in denial about the whole thing, and there's still a killer out there trying to frame me for something I didn't do, so if you'll excuse—"
"Whatever Chef Otto is mixed up in," she butts in, "I can get him to confess."
"Come again?" Bree chortles.
"I've been thinking, and I've decided that you need my help." She bounces to her feet. "You're welcome."
"Is she serious?" Bree whispers.
Georgina makes her way back toward the front door and waits.
"Well?" She checks the time on her cell phone. "Get dressed and let's go."
"Go where?" I ask. "I've had to limit my trips around town now that my car is a human fryer."
"I'm driving," she informs me. "We're going to Chef Otto's house." She checks the time again. "And just in time to bring him a batch of my homemade, chocolate-glazed croissant doughnuts."
"You mean cronuts." I correct her.
"Sure, whatever." She forces a fake smile.
"I'm coming with." Bree races to her room, taking her plate of flapjacks with her.
I'm out of options other than driving all the way down to New Orleans and forcing the soap sisters to talk. A confession is a confession, right? Whether or not it is brought on by the wrath of Georgina Levens.
* * *
"Poppy. Bree. Georgina?" Chef Otto looks shocked when he answers his door to find the three of us. I look over my shoulder, waiting for the black Cadillac to zoom toward me and crash into the front lawn.
"Hello, Chef." Georgina outstretches her box of baked goods as if it's a peace offering, but really it's a bribe. "Can we come in?"
"Actually, Georgina." He flips the collar of his polo and steps aside so Susu can greet us. "I was just on my way out." He retreats to the nearest mirror to give his gelled hair one last look. "I was going to call you, Poppy, to see if you could check on Susu tonight."
"Sure," I agree, bending down to let Susu lick my hand.
"Perfect." He approaches Georgina's box of sweets and flips it open. Chef Otto grabs the first doughnut he sees and takes a bite. He doesn't bother commenting on the taste of it as he grabs his car keys and waves a hurried good-bye. The sound of the garage door opening fills the front foyer, and Susu trots over and sniffs the door.
"What's the matter with him?" Georgina drops her doughnuts on the kitchen counter looking frustrated.
"He always gets like that when he goes out with Victoria," I comment, knowing that my mention of Chef Otto's pet name for his cherry Ferrari will piss her off at first.
"Victoria?" Georgina places her hands on her hips, and her cheeks turn the color of Otto's supercar.
"His Ferrari," I clarify. "That's what he calls it."
Georgina rolls her eyes.
"It's like a croissant that melts in your mouth," Bree says. She takes another bite of one of Georgina's doughnut experiments and observes the shiny glaze on top.
"Those aren't for you," Georgina snaps.
The door leading into the garage opens again, and Chef Otto pokes his head into the house.
"Um, if you ladies don't mind." He tilts his head back toward the front door. "I need to set the alarm."
"Of course." Georgina's wide smile is back on her face. "Come on, girls." She waits for Bree and me to walk back through the front door. Susu follows me outside—her leash in her mouth. Georgina shuts the front door and joins Otto in his garage after he locks the doors and sets his house alarm.
"I haven't changed the codes yet, Poppy," he shouts from his car. "Do you need me to write them down?"
"I've got them," I respond, pointing to my head. It's not that hard to remember two codes that conveniently spell his first and last name.
Chef Otto hops in his Ferrari and
"I do." She laughs. "Whoever's in town is pissed off by all your poor attempts at sleuthing."
"I'm not even going to comment on that," I reply, tilting my head toward the door. "Otto is in denial about the whole thing, and there's still a killer out there trying to frame me for something I didn't do, so if you'll excuse—"
"Whatever Chef Otto is mixed up in," she butts in, "I can get him to confess."
"Come again?" Bree chortles.
"I've been thinking, and I've decided that you need my help." She bounces to her feet. "You're welcome."
"Is she serious?" Bree whispers.
Georgina makes her way back toward the front door and waits.
"Well?" She checks the time on her cell phone. "Get dressed and let's go."
"Go where?" I ask. "I've had to limit my trips around town now that my car is a human fryer."
"I'm driving," she informs me. "We're going to Chef Otto's house." She checks the time again. "And just in time to bring him a batch of my homemade, chocolate-glazed croissant doughnuts."
"You mean cronuts." I correct her.
"Sure, whatever." She forces a fake smile.
"I'm coming with." Bree races to her room, taking her plate of flapjacks with her.
I'm out of options other than driving all the way down to New Orleans and forcing the soap sisters to talk. A confession is a confession, right? Whether or not it is brought on by the wrath of Georgina Levens.
* * *
"Poppy. Bree. Georgina?" Chef Otto looks shocked when he answers his door to find the three of us. I look over my shoulder, waiting for the black Cadillac to zoom toward me and crash into the front lawn.
"Hello, Chef." Georgina outstretches her box of baked goods as if it's a peace offering, but really it's a bribe. "Can we come in?"
"Actually, Georgina." He flips the collar of his polo and steps aside so Susu can greet us. "I was just on my way out." He retreats to the nearest mirror to give his gelled hair one last look. "I was going to call you, Poppy, to see if you could check on Susu tonight."
"Sure," I agree, bending down to let Susu lick my hand.
"Perfect." He approaches Georgina's box of sweets and flips it open. Chef Otto grabs the first doughnut he sees and takes a bite. He doesn't bother commenting on the taste of it as he grabs his car keys and waves a hurried good-bye. The sound of the garage door opening fills the front foyer, and Susu trots over and sniffs the door.
"What's the matter with him?" Georgina drops her doughnuts on the kitchen counter looking frustrated.
"He always gets like that when he goes out with Victoria," I comment, knowing that my mention of Chef Otto's pet name for his cherry Ferrari will piss her off at first.
"Victoria?" Georgina places her hands on her hips, and her cheeks turn the color of Otto's supercar.
"His Ferrari," I clarify. "That's what he calls it."
Georgina rolls her eyes.
"It's like a croissant that melts in your mouth," Bree says. She takes another bite of one of Georgina's doughnut experiments and observes the shiny glaze on top.
"Those aren't for you," Georgina snaps.
The door leading into the garage opens again, and Chef Otto pokes his head into the house.
"Um, if you ladies don't mind." He tilts his head back toward the front door. "I need to set the alarm."
"Of course." Georgina's wide smile is back on her face. "Come on, girls." She waits for Bree and me to walk back through the front door. Susu follows me outside—her leash in her mouth. Georgina shuts the front door and joins Otto in his garage after he locks the doors and sets his house alarm.
"I haven't changed the codes yet, Poppy," he shouts from his car. "Do you need me to write them down?"
"I've got them," I respond, pointing to my head. It's not that hard to remember two codes that conveniently spell his first and last name.
Chef Otto hops in his Ferrari and
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