Felines and Fatalities (Country Cottage Mysteries Book 6)

by Addison Moore

  Goodbye, Trevor. Another voice rings out. I would say it was nice knowing you, but I think we both know it’s a lie.

  The room begins to clear out, and I head back to the foyer to make sure the reception counter is still staffed by either Nessa or Grady, but they’ve both stepped away at the moment.

  A blue sheet of paper catches my attention as it sits over my keyboard, no bigger than the size of my hand, and I snatch it up.

  They have been known to fill up divorce courts.

  Men often say you can’t live with them. You can’t live without them.

  Any woman could become one.

  Any one of them could be a killer.

  Chapter 4

  Cider Cove is a jewel in the spring. The briny air is warm and holds the scent of the evergreens that line either side of the white sandy cove.

  The Lobster Festival isn’t for another day, leaving the tourists and guests of the inn free to enjoy another pristine day of sun and sand. But it’s the Atlantic that steals the show with its great navy expanse. I can’t take my eyes off the unknowable ocean, wide with secrets.

  It seems everyone is out on the sand this afternoon. Lottie’s daughter, Evie, is out on the sand playing a spontaneous game of volleyball with a group of local teenagers—mostly boys—and Sherlock is right there giving chase to the ball right alongside of them.

  I head over to the outdoor patio where a handful of friendly faces greet me. Noah, Everett, Lottie, Jasper, and I have all congregated just outside of the Country Cottage Café on the expansive patio overlooking the Atlantic. I made sure to provide a breakfast spread for the ages of pancakes, French toast, eggs, bacon, sausages, biscuits and gravy, and there’s plenty of hot coffee and fresh squeezed blood orange juice, my personal favorite.

  “Evie sure makes friends quickly,” I chirp as I set down a pitcher of fresh brewed coffee.

  Everett frowns over at the sight. “She’s not wearing any clothes. Of course, she’s making friends—the wrong friends.”

  Lottie gives his hand a pat. “She’s wearing a two-piece with a cover up.”

  Everett grunts at the thought, “If the cover up is made of mesh, I don’t see the point.”

  Noah expands a dimpled grin my way. “You’ll have to excuse Everett. This is two decades of womanizing coming home to roost for him.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it,” I tease as I scoot the platter of Danishes his way. “Maybe these will help.”

  Lottie belts out a laugh. “He’ll get used to it. Or die trying.”

  Jasper pulls out his phone and wags it my way. “Speaking of death, the coroner is working on Trevor Harrison right now. I should hear back in a couple of days as to whether he died of natural causes or not.”

  “Oh, he didn’t.” Lottie shakes her head. “A ghost never comes back from the other side if they don’t have to. This was murder.”

  Noah winces at her. “Does Jasper know?”

  I lean in. “I let him know last night.” Lottie and I agreed to spill one another’s secrets to our own plus ones, or in Lottie’s case, plus two.

  Jasper’s chest expands with his next breath. “And for that reason alone, that note Bizzy found on her desk makes a little more sense.”

  Noah leans in. “What note?”

  Jasper took the note in as evidence yesterday, but in all the chaos I forgot to mention it to Lottie.

  “Yes, what note?” Lottie echoes as she leans in.

  Jasper holds his phone out and Lottie’s hazel eyes do their best to read Jasper’s screen.

  Jasper glances to his phone while he reads the note out loud. “They have been known to fill up divorce courts. Men often say you can’t live with them. You can’t live without them. Any woman could become one. Any one of them could be a killer.”

  “A riddle.” Noah’s head ticks to the side. “Do you think the killer left that?”

  Everett’s chest pumps with a dry laugh. “And you wonder why you haven’t solved a single homicide since you’ve been in Honey Hollow.”

  Lottie shakes her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It looks like the killer is trying to play a game with us.”

  “With me,” Jasper says as he puts his phone back into his pocket. “I’m the homicide detective. I’ll take care of this one.” Jasper’s lips curve at the tips as he looks my way. “I’m sorry, Bizzy. I just don’t want to see either of you women putting yourself in harm’s way.”

  Noah nods. “Something I’ve been trying to drill home for a long time.” He looks to the woman who refers to him as her boyfriend. “Lottie, he’s right. This is his investigation. He’s in charge. I’m sure the Seaview Sheriff’s Department’s track record is much better than mine.” He glares over at Everett a moment.

  Lottie shoots Everett a look before glancing to Jasper. “Noah is a great detective. And so am I,” she says boldly. “And from the little research I did last night, Bizzy is a pretty exceptional detective as well. And no disrespect to you, Detective Wilder, but I think that note was meant for someone else. It was left on Bizzy’s desk.”

  I bite down on a smile as I look to Jasper. “She’s got you there. Besides, I think it’s pretty easy to crack.”

  Lottie glances skyward. “They have been known to fill up divorce courts? Men often say you can’t live with them. You can’t live without them.”

  I nod. “Any woman could become one. Any one of them could be a killer.”

  Lottie takes a slow breath as she considers this. “A woman?”

  “An ex-wife,” I counter.

  Jasper shoots a glance my way. “Trevor had two.”

  Everett shakes his head. “Maybe. But they were his current wives—in a roundabout way.”

  Noah lifts his drink. “Not anymore.”

  Jasper drums his fingers over the table. “I’d better get going. I want to take another look at the ballroom before I leave.” He lands a kiss to my lips and my insides squeeze tight. Every kiss with Jasper feels like the very first one. “I’ll see you tonight.” He nods to everyone at the table and Noah rises with him.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like another look at the ballroom myself.” Noah offers Lottie a quick kiss to the lips and it looks intimate. I can’t help but note that Everett doesn’t look all that thrilled with it.

  Take a shot while you have it, Fox. Everett remains stone-faced. Your little joyride with Lemon won’t last forever. She’ll work you out of her system soon enough.

  Noah and Jasper disappear back inside and Everett leans in, looking from Lottie to me as if he were about to issue his verdict. He looks to be every bit the judge he is, and I’d hate to be at the receiving end of his courtroom.

  “You both have that same look in your eyes.” He nods amicably. “A thirst for justice. And I get it. I share your desire. But that note tells me someone isn’t looking to play a game. They want to bait you. Don’t fall for it. You’re both smarter than that.” He leans back a moment, his eyes lingering on Lottie’s. “I need to check in with the courthouse, make sure it’s still standing. How about we get some sun in a few hours?”

  Lottie purrs as she leans his way like a kitten on a hot tin roof, “Sounds like a plan.”

  “I’ll have a cabana ready for you,” I volunteer. “Jordy is bringing them out today for the big weekend. I hope you both like lobster. We’ll have clams, oysters, and the best clam chowder you’ve ever had, too.”

  Everett pats his stomach. “Bizzy, we may never leave.” He offers Lottie a kiss on the cheek before taking off.

  I shoot Lottie a look without meaning to.

  She gives a little laugh. “I may not read minds, but I know what you’re thinking. I know it’s odd. I was dating Noah—and then well, the wife he forgot to mention strolled back into town. And I dated Everett while Noah cleaned up his mess. I guess I fell in love with them both somewhere along the way. Anyway, after Noah’s divorce, Everett decided he was going to back off and let Noah and me see where things went. And then last Christmas, Ever
ett’s trust fund was about to go south unless he had a spouse, so I volunteered to help him out—as a friend.”

  “Wow, you should really have a road map handy when you’re trying to explain all that. Complicated sounds like too simple of a word to describe it.” I shrug over at her. “But you’re going to end up with just one, right?”

  She takes a deep breath as if it pained her to think about it. And when you’re in love with two different men, I suppose it does.

  “That’s what I’m aiming for. I really am, Bizzy. The horrible thing is, I can easily envision myself having a wonderful life with either of them. And the thought of breaking one of their hearts is almost too much to bear.”

  “It sounds as if you’ve dated Noah far more than you have Everett. Is that telling of your true feelings?”

  “Oh”—she’s quick to brush off the idea—“Everett has just insisted that Noah and I finish what we started.”

  “Sort of like working Noah out of your system?” I don’t dare tell her those were Everett’s thoughts, not mine.

  She twitches her lips. “Maybe that’s what Everett is thinking.” She sighs deeply. “It seems that just about everything goes wrong for Noah and me. Sometimes I wonder if it would just be easier with Everett. We had a great time when we were together.” Her tongue presses to the side of her lips and her mind quickly flits to white noise, a sign of things going from mild to wild. “Anyway, I need to narrow it down, and I need to do it fast. It’s not fair to either one of them—no matter how patient Everett can be. You know, they used to be stepbrothers a long time ago, and on top of that, Noah stole Everett’s girlfriend. It was a big mess. They’ve never fully recovered from it, but as of late they can at least stand to be in the same room. Of course, both Noah and Everett have crazy exes who never seem to give us any rest. Evie’s biological mother is one of them. But she’s more or less out of the picture. Noah’s ex, however, is a clinger like nobody’s business.”

  “I feel you,” I say. “Jasper’s ex is a woman by the name of Camila Ryder. She cheated on him with Leo, thus causing the big riff in their friendship. And she somehow found out Leo could read minds. Then she found out I could do it, too, and well—let’s just say the threats were never-ending.”

  “Is she out of your lives for good now?”

  “She’s the secretary down at the homicide division. She sees Jasper for eight straight hours each and every day. I’m not sure that qualifies as being out of our lives. Camila pretty much has that stalker thing on lock. But Jasper and I are so in love, I’m not even sure he knows she’s in the room anymore.”

  “I envy you.”

  “My sister envies you.”

  We both share a laugh on Macy’s behalf, but Lottie stops abruptly as the chair beside me gives a quick jiggle.

  “Bizzy, quick”—Lottie twitches her fingers my way—“give me your hand.”

  No sooner do I set my hand out than she takes it up with hers.

  “The ghost is here. She’s sitting right next to you.”

  A little yelp comes from me as I inch my seat in the opposite direction.

  “Oh, she won’t bite,” Lottie assures. “She’s a sweet older woman with short red hair and a warm smile.” Lottie tips her head at the empty chair. “What’s your name?”

  “Trevor knew me as Mrs. Burns,” an unearthly voice declares. She sounds older, and something about her tone comes from a place of knowing. “But you ladies can call me Delora.”

  Everything in me screams run, and yet I’m oddly fascinated by the ethereal exchange.

  “Hello, Delora.” Lottie nods to the empty space. “May I ask how you knew Trevor?”

  I take a moment to marvel at how natural this all seems for Lottie. I guess if I could pick a transmundane gift, it would be the one fate opted to give me. I draw the line at dead people.

  “I was his third grade teacher,” Delora answers, sounding every bit natural as if she were sitting right here beside me, and well, I guess that’s exactly where her dearly departed spirit has landed. “He was a mischievous child. Always pulling on some poor girl’s pigtails. A clear sign he was interested in them. People were much more primitive in expressing themselves back then. I understand the world is changing, but I can’t say it’s getting any better. Trevor is dead. And someone has killed him. Who do you think could have done such a thing?”

  I clear my throat. “We’re thinking it was one of his wives. Apparently, he had two of them.”

  Delora chortles. “That doesn’t surprise me one bit. I just knew he was destined to be a wily fella. Now, who do we see about arresting those wayward women?”

  Lottie shakes her head. “We can’t just arrest them. Bizzy and I will talk to each of them and hopefully get to the bottom of this in no time.”

  Delora huffs, “What about the sheriff’s department? Don’t they care to catch a killer or two?”

  I bite down on a smile. “We’re actually pretty good. Lottie and I have caught a few killers ourselves.”

  Lottie’s smile expands my way. “Something tells me we can beat the sheriff’s department to the guilty-party punch. Not that we’re trying to.” She gives an innocent shrug. “It just seems to work out that way more often than not.”

  “Have it your way,” Delora says while the chair she’s presumably seated in scoots back a good foot all on its own and a chill rides up my spine at the sight. “I’m headed to the kitchen. I was always one to watch my calories while I was living. A lot of good that did me. I went and died anyhow. But word on the golden streets is, those who visit you, Lottie Lemon, are fortunate enough to enjoy a sandwich, a pie, or an entire sheet cake at their leisure.”

  Lottie belts out a short-lived laugh. “You mean, the supernatural word has gotten out?”

  “Oh dear, yes.” Delora sounds as if her voice is growing small. Lottie tracks her with her gaze, and it lets me know she’s about to enter the café—right through the sunroom window. “You wouldn’t believe how many people are hoping for a Honey Hollow homicide to land them back on the mother planet. Those who have returned to paradise rave about your baked goods, my dear. Your cookies are delicious. I may have sampled a few at the bake-off. And Bizzy? The Country Cottage Café has the most amazing shortbread. Is it selfish of me to hope this case goes unsolved? You girls just don’t know how wonderful you have it.” And with that, her voice is altogether gone.

  My hand presses over my chest. “I think we were just guilted into not solving this case.”

  Lottie laughs at the thought. “They all say that. But when it’s time to go, not one of them protests. As soon as the killer is apprehended, they just up and disappear. But I’ve seen other spirits, too, that aren’t necessarily related to a homicide. The ghosts at my mother’s B&B are wonderful. It’s an adorable young couple, their adopted daughter, and the ghost of a cute black cat who finally lost his ninth life.”

  Georgie and Carlotta step out of the café, each holding their very own furry creature in their arms and Fish striding alongside them.

  “Speaking of cute cats—who hopefully have plenty of lives to spare,” I say as Georgie and Carlotta plunk down in the seats beside us.

  “All right, let’s have it.” Carlotta leans my way. “Georgie here says you can read my mind.” What am I saying? Huh? Huh?

  “Georgie.” I make wild eyes at the wily old woman in the hot pink kaftan. Oddly enough, Carlotta has donned one in a bright blue and they look as if they belong to some neon-colored cult.

  “Don’t you Georgie me. Carlotta told me what Lottie is capable of.”

  Carlotta slaps her fingers to the table. “Hey, I’m capable, too. Just not as capable as she is.”

  Georgie wags a finger. “Watch it, sister. When Bizzy isn’t reading brains, she’s eating them.”

  Carlotta quickly inverts her lips.

  “Good grief,” I groan. “She’s teasing. The only one capable of eating brain cells around here is Georgie with her loose lips. Georgie, please try to keep th
e people you tell about my questionable gift to a minimum.”

  “Ditto,” Lottie says it sharply to the woman who is essentially her look-alike.

  “Never mind that, Lot Lot. Let’s get to the mind reading nitty gritty. Word on the transmundane street is, this girl can get deep into the thoughts of these hairy, scary furballs that do nothing but eat and shed—not to mention the fun they have in their litter boxes.” She gives the cat in her arms a slight rattle, and Lottie is quick to take him from her.

  Fish leaps onto my lap. Those boys are so excited. I can’t decide which one I like more, the one with the wicked silver eyes or the one with the gloriously long tail.

  I lean down to my sweet cat’s ear. “Fish, they’re practically identical.”

  Then, in that case, I’ll just have to take both of them.

  A laugh bounces from me as I look to the fuzzy beasts before us.

  “Which one is Pancake and which is Waffles?” I ask, examining them for a trace of a difference, but I can’t seem to find one.

  “This is Pancake,” Lottie says, holding up the cat in her arms, and he lets out a clear meow.

  Please do tell Lottie we appreciate all she does for us.

  Waffles perks to life and lets out a hearty yowl himself. And we’re officially putting in a request for an extra helping at dinner. My brother is a thief.

  The furry cutie to his right belts out a meow in protest. You are the thief, and apparently, you’re quite the little liar, too.

  A laugh bubbles from me as I quickly translate the conversation.

  Lottie’s mouth rounds out as she looks to the creamy balls of fluff.

  “I love you boys so much!” She peppers them both with an alarming number of kisses. “And, of course, I’ll give you an extra helping at dinner. But you’ll have to share. The vet says we’re about to tip the scales. Hey? Can you see the ghosts that drop once in a while?”

  Pancake tips his head her way. Now and again we can sense them.

  Waffles yodels. Only because Carlotta insists on plying them with whiskey. And for the love of all things four-legged and furry, please tell her we’ve chosen not to imbibe. We each lost one of our nine lives the last time we lapped up that brown drudge. How is she still living?