Felines and Fatalities
Country Cottage Mysteries 6
Addison Moore
Bellamy Bloom
Contents
Book Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Recipes
Lottie Lemon’s
Preview: Cutie Pies and Deadly Lies
Snippet
Preview: Meow for Murder
A Note from the Author
Books by Addison Moore
Acknowledgments
About the Authors
Hollis Thatcher Press, LTD.
Copyright © 2020 by Addison Moore, Bellamy Bloom
This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination. The author holds all rights to this work. It is illegal to reproduce this novel without written expressed consent from the author herself.
All Rights Reserved.
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Copyright © 2020 by Addison Moore, Bellamy Bloom
Created with Vellum
Book Description
The Country Cottage Inn is known for its hospitality. Leaving can be murder.
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My name is Bizzy Baker and I can read minds. Not every mind, not every time, but most of the time, and believe me when I say, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
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A bake-off for senior citizens is being held at the inn, and baker Lottie Lemon has arrived as one of the judges. But when someone turns up dead, accompanied by a mysterious riddle, both Lottie and I are determined to find the killer. But as the riddles grow more sinister, and other threats begin to manifest, it’s clear someone has a bone to pick with both Lottie and me. Our very lives are in danger, proving that this case might just be too big for the both of us.
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Bizzy Baker runs the Country Cottage Inn, has the ability to pry into the darkest recesses of both the human and animal mind, and has just stumbled upon a body. With the help of her kitten, Fish, a mutt named Sherlock Bones, and an ornery yet dangerously good-looking homicide detective, Bizzy is determined to find the killer.
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Cider Cove, Maine is the premier destination for fun and relaxation. But when a body turns up, it’s the premier destination for murder.
Chapter 1
My name is Bizzy Baker and I can read minds. Not every mind, not every time, but it happens, and believe me when I say, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Like now for instance.
I’d give anything for a killer to show up and hunt me down.
I frown over at my sister and shake my head. Macy Baker is my older, sassier sister. She’s pretty, with a blonde bob, lake blue eyes, and a tongue sharper than any double-edged sword. Her superpower is sarcasm and she’s not afraid to use and abuse it—apparently, not even in the recesses of her mind.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I say. Macy doesn’t have a clue that I have the ability to pry into her mostly perverted mind.
Macy and Georgie Conner, a wonderfully wacky older woman that I’ve adopted as my own family, sit with me at the reception counter of the Country Cottage Inn this afternoon. I’m the manager here, and the inn has been my baby for the better half of the last decade. It’s the middle of a bright and sunny May day, and in just a few short hours the inn is playing host to Cider Cove’s senior bake-off, where a dozen teams of senior citizens will do their best to outwit, outlast, and out bake one another in an effort to take home the coveted gold plated mixing bowl as a trophy.
And not only are we playing host to the senior shenanigans, but the sandy shores of the cove in the back of the inn will be filled to the brim with tourists and townies this weekend for the big annual Lobster Festival. I’ll need to keep a steady stream of coffee in me if I plan to survive the next several days.
My other co-workers, Nessa and Grady, a couple of recent college grads, have taken over the reception duties for the regular guests of the inn, while Georgie, Macy, and I welcome the seniors and their entourages as they plod their way in.
Georgie elbows me in the ribs. “Dibs on the round one with bulging eyes.” She does her best to utter the words through clenched teeth while nodding to her right.
Macy and I glance in that direction and, true to Georgie’s description, the specimen she has in mind is as round as he is tall, and his eyes look as if they’re about to have a major medical issue ensue once they fall to his feet.
Macy grunts, “At least he’s got the bald thing going for him.”
Georgie lets out a whoop of approval. “You got that right, sister. There’s nothing like running your bare feet over a shiny bald head.”
My mouth opens and not a single word comes out.
Truthfully, I’m not sure there’s a decent rebuttal.
Macy moans, “Would you look at that?” She elbows me in the ribs from the other side as I look straight ahead. And sure enough, a tall man with dark hair and piercing green eyes steps up to the counter.
I clear my throat. “Welcome to the Country Cottage Inn. Are you here to sign in as a guest?”
Macy checks me with her arm like a linebacker about to steal the green-eyed ball before running to score a touchdown.
“Please say you’re here for the senior bake-off,” she pants with an air of desperation that I’ve yet to see in my older, lusty-riddled sister. “I’ve volunteered my services to assist today—and, dear God up in heaven, I suddenly realize why. And here I thought fate dealt me yet another cruel hand.”
I look over at my spellbound sibling. “You do realize you’re saying all those things out loud.”
The man gives a soft chuckle as a warm smile takes over his features.
“Actually, I am here for the senior bake-off.” He’s about to say something else when another tall, dark-haired man with the bluest eyes in existence steps up next to him, and a wheezing sound expels from my unsuspecting sister as if she were punched in the gut.
“Holy hotties,” Macy bleats. “Can I take you guys on a tour of the facility? We can end it at my place with pizza and all the beer I can get you to drink.”
Before either of them can respond, a caramel-haired blonde bounds her way into our midst. She’s holding two sweet, fluffy Himalayan cats with silver-blue eyes and long creamy yellow fur that takes over their whole bodies, and my own feline, Fish, perks to life at the sight of them—as does Sherlock Bones, my fiancé’s adorable white and red freckled mixed breed.
“Never mind.” The woman looks to the two men beside her. “I’ve decided I should probably check in before I barge into their kitchen,” she says as the blue-eyed man takes one of the cats from her. Sh
e glances down at my nametag and smiles. “Oh, hey! You’re Bizzy! I’m Lottie Lemon—the baker from the Cutie Pie Bakery and Cakery? I was invited to judge the baking competition today.”
“Oh my goodness, yes!” I straighten with enthusiasm. “I’m excited to finally meet you after all those email exchanges. I have your room ready, and those for your guests as well.”
“Thank you so much. And how rude of me not to make any introductions.” She nods to the dark-haired man with the dimpled smile and verdant green eyes. “This is my boyfriend, Noah Fox. He’s a homicide detective at the Ashford Sheriff’s Department back in Vermont.”
Macy pulls her shoulders back. Okay. So one option is off the table. That leaves the Greek god with the blue bedroom eyes that looks as if he’s going to teach me a lesson I will very much enjoy.
Lottie butts her arm up to the man on the other side of her—the blue-eyed Greek god per my sister.
“And this is my husband, Everett Baxter. He’s a judge down in Ashford County.”
Georgie lets out a whoop. “Now we’re having a good time!”
What in the…? A husband and a boyfriend?
An older version of Lottie wiggles her way to the front, along with a teenage girl with long black hair and deep blue eyes herself.
The older woman scoffs at Georgie. “I’ve been telling her for the last solid year she’s got a party happening like nobody’s business. But Little Miss Uptight doesn’t want to get her reputation tarnished with the good people of Honey Hollow.”
Lottie gives the woman a look that says stop or die before she clears her throat.
“I have a business to uphold. I’m not too concerned about my reputation.” That’s already been dragged through the mud ten times over. “Bizzy, this is Carlotta, my biological mother, and that’s Evie on the end, the daughter I share with Everett.”
Evie walks like a zombie toward the counter, landing right in front of Grady Pennington, our very own Irish deity per just about every young woman in Maine who has attested to this fact. He has dark hair, a milky white smile, and muscles for days. And according to those stars in Evie’s eyes and that white noise going off in her mind—a sure sign of far too much excitement—she’s already under his Irish spell.
“Wait a minute.” Macy steps forward with that no-nonsense tone in her voice. “Let me get this straight.” She’s looking right at Lottie, and I’m guessing this conversation will take a dark turn sooner than later. “You mean to tell me, you’re married to this guy?” She points to Everett. “And you’re dating him?” She swings her accusing finger over to Noah.
Lottie gives a quick nod while pulling the cat in her arms closer to her as if she might need protection from my stupefied sister, and she just might.
A horrible groan expels from Macy as she continues to bore a hole through poor Lottie with that twisted gaze of hers.
“Master”—Macy moans—“teach me thy ways.”
We all share a warm laugh, and soon enough Grady is off to help Evie and the rest of them with their bags.
Noah leans in toward Lottie. “I’ll go make sure everything gets where it needs to be.”
Everett looks over at him. “Put Lemon’s bags in my room.”
Noah scoffs. “You wish.” He kisses Lottie on the cheek before taking off.
Everett does the same to Lottie’s other cheek, and, I’ll admit, it stirs strange feelings to witness the event. “I better make sure Evie doesn’t put the moves on that poor kid.”
Lottie gives a quick nod. “And let the kid know she’s only fifteen.”
Everett takes off and Macy cranes her neck after him while some strange noise emits from her, mimicking the sound of an injured seal.
“Would you stop?” I don’t hesitate to swat her. “That’s Lottie’s husband.”
“But she’s got a boyfriend.” She shoots Lottie a look. “Who is unfairly hot as well. And by the way, what kind of a spell are you casting? And where exactly in Vermont are you from?”
“Honey Hollow,” Lottie says it with a laugh. “And don’t worry, your reaction is perfectly normal.”
“Hey?” Macy leans in hard. “Do all the men look like that down in Honey Hollow? I’m suddenly interested in vacationing there—or moving.”
Carlotta snorts. “Sorry, sis. My little Lot Lot here has scooped up all the prime beef real estate for herself. She’s greedy that way.”
Lottie shakes her head at my sister. “Don’t listen to Carlotta. Noah has a brother and they practically look like twins.”
“I’ll take him!” Macy slaps her hand down over the counter so hard and fast, I’m shocked it’s still attached at the wrist.
A hearty laugh expels from Lottie. “Well, you’re all welcome to come to Honey Hollow anytime. My mother owns a B&B.” She gives a quick look around. “Her place is much smaller. But there would be plenty of room for you all. That is, if you don’t mind a ghost or two.” She gives a little wink. If only I were kidding. Good thing they’re friendly ghosts. And speaking of which. She gives another sweep to the vicinity. Thankfully, I don’t see a single creature of the dearly departed variety. I’ll take that as a sign that today’s senior bake-off will conclude without a single homicide thrown into the mix.
My mouth falls open at her odd thoughts.
Fish jumps onto the counter and nuzzles her head against my shoulder. What is it, Bizzy? I recognize that look on your face, and it’s not good. Do you see a killer in our midst?
My God, I hope not.
Fish is a long-haired black and white tabby I found outside of my sister’s candle and soap shop, Lather and Light, almost a year ago.
Along with reading human minds, I can read the minds of animals as well, and they usually have nicer things to say.
Macy peers past Lottie’s shoulder. “Oh, look!” she says it with feigned excitement. “Noah needs help with his bags. Duty calls. And if I’m lucky, I’ll be calling his brother soon, too.” She zips off, and I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks.
“Sorry about that,” I say. “My sister is of the spicy variety. She can be a bit difficult to contain on occasion.”
Lottie tips her head to the side. “Believe me, I understand. I have a couple of spicy sisters myself.”
Carlotta slaps her hand over Lottie’s shoulder. “Don’t forget me, Lot. I’m one spicy hot mama you couldn’t get rid of if you tried.”
“You said it, not me.” Lottie offers her a tight smile.
Georgie claps up a storm. “And you’re a good-lookin’ hot mama to boot. How are you in the kitchen?”
Carlotta glances to the ceiling. “Depends if I’ve got a man in there with me or not.”
“Ha!” Georgie dances an odd little jig. “Tell me you’ll be a part of my team, Goldie. I need a winner like you to pull off the W. The key ingredient all bakers must bow down to this afternoon is maple syrup. And I’ve got enough to roll around in it once I’m through. I’m baking maple monkey bread for the big senior send-off.”
“Bake-off,” I correct for the hundredth time today. Send-off sounds a bit ominous, and the last thing I need or want is a hint of anything ominous—especially considering the fact we’ve had our fair share of homicides around the inn for the last few months.
Carlotta juts her head forward. “Of course, I’ll be on your team. You wanna win, don’t cha?”
Georgie hoots and hollers her way around the counter, and Carlotta hoots and hollers her way right back as they link arms and head for the ballroom.
A laugh stifles in my throat. “Oh, good Lord, I’m sorry, Lottie.”
“Don’t be.” She’s quick to shake her head. “I’m the one who should apologize in advance for any and everything Carlotta is about to do, break, and perhaps even steal.” She gives a little shrug. “She came back into my life recently. I was actually raised by the Lemon family, and my mother—the other one, Miranda Lemon—is the one that owns the B&B. And I meant what I said. You’re all welcome, anytime you like. You really didn
’t have to give us all free rooms for our stay.”
I’m quick to wave her off. “You’re a judge. Cider Cove is footing the bill.” I give the fluffball in her arms a quick pat on the head. “My, aren’t you a looker.”
“Oh”—Lottie positions the sweet cat my way—“this is Pancake. His brother Waffles is out there somewhere with Everett. You mentioned the inn was pet-friendly and I couldn’t leave my babies for long, so I just had to bring them.”
“No problem. I can have a couple of litter boxes and pet beds brought up to your room. And I’ll make sure housekeeping cleans the litter boxes out each morning.”
“Wow, thank you. Now that’s hospitality. I may never leave.”
Pancake purrs and meows up at her. Thank goodness. After Carlotta threatened to lock Waffles and me in the van for the duration of our stay, I thought we were done for. A bed and a litter box sound like heaven.
Fish yowls. Great news, big boy, she says in an odd, little flirtatious way, and I’m starting to wonder if she’s got a crush on the cutie pie. Bizzy can hear your thoughts, and she can understand you, too.
Sherlock Bones lets out a hearty bark. That she can. And she has an all-access pass to the kitchen. Be extra nice to her.
What’s this? The precious cat tips his head my way and I give a covert nod in his direction. Oh, do tell, my sweet Lottie. I’d love to communicate with the girl. I have thoughts on the shenanigans she’s forever dabbling in, and I’d like an extra helping of my Fancy Beast cat food now and again. My brother tends to steal bites off my plate when I’m not looking.
Felines and Fatalities (Country Cottage Mysteries Book 6) Page 1