Felines and Fatalities (Country Cottage Mysteries Book 6)

by Addison Moore

  “It’s from the killer.” I nod to Lottie. “Jasper just has to keep his options open. It’s what they pay him to do. He’s programmed to give everything the benefit of the doubt.”

  He shoots me an amused look, and I offer him an apologetic shrug right back.

  “But, you’re probably right,” he concedes. “I’ll take this into forensics and see what they can find.”

  Noah nods. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to tag along.”

  “You bet.” Jasper looks my way. “I’m not sure when we’ll be back. Maybe you can take Lottie, Evie, and Everett out for dinner? Noah and I will try to catch up.”

  Evie speeds down the stairs with Pancake, Waffles, and Fish snuggled in her arms. Fish just so happens to be sandwiched between the two blond handsome kitties. Judging by that content look on her face, those half-closed eyes, and that blatant smile, I’m guessing she’s in her happy place.

  Fish bleats out a saucy meow. Look at me, Bizzy! Snuggled between two handsome men just like Lottie. We must insist that Lottie moves to Cider Cove. Or maybe she could leave the boys here with me? I’ll take extra good care of them. I purrromise.

  A tiny laugh rides up my throat.

  Evie shakes her head at her father. “No way, I’m not going to dinner. I’m staying right here.” Her long dark hair is perfectly coiled in waves and her makeup looks freshly applied. She really is a stunning girl. She looks more like twenty-five than fifteen. Lottie and Everett are going to have their hands full just trying to keep the boys at bay. “Grady and I are going to the movies.”

  I wince. I’ve already made it crystal clear to Grady he’s not to have one inappropriate thought about her, and believe me, I’d know about it.

  Everett gives her a stern look. “No dates.”

  She averts her eyes. “Cool it, Dad. We’re watching it in the grand room, and all the other guests at the inn are welcome to join us—even a party pooper like you,” she snips it out like a threat. Don’t ever think about it, old man.

  “As long as you stick around the inn, I’m fine with it.” Everett nods my way. “Dinner sounds great, Bizzy.”

  Jasper gives me a quick kiss. “Don’t get into any trouble.” He frowns a moment. “Call if you need me. I’ll have my phone on.” He glances to Everett. “I’d keep an extra eye on those two if I were you.”

  Evie takes off, as do Jasper and Noah. I give Nessa a few brief instructions before doing a quick change and meeting up with Everett and Lottie at the front of the inn.

  It’s a beautiful night with a lush velvet sky, stars glittering like crushed diamonds and the lazy eye of the moon sitting at a crescent.

  “Bizzy Baker!” Georgie and Carlotta hurry this way in matching neon green kaftans, and it’s an alarming sight for many reasons. The first one being that it looks as if they’re testing their sanity with those day-glow accouterments. And the second one being they’re testing the sanity of everyone else, too.

  Lottie sighs. “I’m still not sure how I feel about their need to twin.”

  I nod in agreement. “At least they’re getting along. Maybe a little too well.”

  Georgie wags a crooked finger in the air.

  “I’ve got a bead on the killer.” She cranes her neck past us. “Where are Detective One and Detective Two when you need them?”

  “If you mean Jasper and Noah, they’re off to the forensics lab,” I say.

  “Ooh.” Georgie wiggles her shoulders. “I bet that’s a real turn-on for you girls.”

  It sort of is. Lottie winks my way.

  Carlotta swats her on the arm. “Not to worry. We’ve got Mr. Sexy with us. He’ll make sure the killer doesn’t strike thrice.”

  Georgie sways his way. “Don’t feel shy about frisking me for weapons, big boy. I’ve been known to pack heat.”

  “Georgie, really?” I’m shocked to hear it.

  “They don’t call me Hot Flash Fanny for nothing.”

  A groan comes from me. “Never mind your hot flashes. Tell us about the killer. What did you learn?”

  “Anna Hayes, the killer ex-wife, works at a place called the Whiskey Hop. A cheap dive bar in Edison. And lucky for us, it’s mud-wrestling night. Who’s up for a round in the ring?”

  “Not me,” I’m quick to make the point clear. “That brings a whole new meaning to dirty underwear, and I’m not up for a mud mask either.”

  “Me either,” Lottie says as we all pile into their passenger van.

  Everett starts up the engine. “So where are we off to, ladies?”

  I look to Lottie. “Whiskey Hop sounds like a good option to me.”

  Lottie sheds a sly smile. “It’s as if you read my mind.”

  Chapter 7

  The Whiskey Hop, much like its name suggests, is indeed hopping. It’s so loud and rowdy inside you’d think they just announced free drinks for everyone—for the next solid year. There are dark floors and dark walls, and the combination gives it a cloistered appeal.

  There are just as many women as there are men here tonight, and each one of them is at the edge of their seat as they lean collectively toward a stage that protrudes into the room. And situated in the middle of it is an overgrown blowup swimming pool filled with sticky mud as a couple of women wallow in it while attempting to wrestle one another. Both women are covered from head to toe with the brown-gray muck, their hair is slicked back and glossed with it, and only the whites of their eyes remain pristine.

  “No way,” Everett says, looking at Lottie. “This is where I draw the line, Lemon.”

  Lottie’s mouth falls open. “Now, I didn’t say a single word.”

  “You don’t have to,” he says. “I’m a judge. I can read minds, too.”

  Georgie purrs over the loud rock music and catcalls from the crowd. “Try to take a guess what I’m thinking, hot stuff.” But before he utters a single word—most likely a safe word to Lottie, signaling the end of their trip to the great state of Maine—I spot someone I know as she tries to walk on by.

  “Macy?” I pluck my sister out of the crowd and gawk at her.

  “What?” She wrangles herself loose from my stronghold. “It’s ladies’ night. Drinks are half off and the men grope me for free.”

  “I’m not even going to ask,” I say.

  Lottie pulls me to the side. “There she is.” She points to the back of the room, and sure enough Anna Hayes stands there managing a group of girls lined up to head into the wrestling ring.

  I suck in a quick breath and yank my sister back. “Macy, keep Mr. Sexy company while Lottie and I do a little investigating. There might be cash in it for you if you promise not to sit in his lap.”

  “Who needs cash? I’ll take this one on for free.” She heads over and threads her arm through Everett’s. “Why, Judge Baxter, I have the perfect seat for you.”

  Carlotta leans in. “Don’t worry, Lot Lot.” She snaps up both Lottie’s purse and mine. “I’ll distract him any way I know how.”

  Georgie snaps her fingers. “We’ll take off our tops if we have to.”

  They zip away and Lottie leans in.

  “Why do I get the feeling they’re just dying to do that?”

  I shrug. “Because you’re pretty good at reading minds yourself.”

  “Maybe, but I’m excellent at seeing ghosts, and right now I see two of them. Delora is back and she’s got the pig with her.” Lottie takes up my hand. “Delora! Who is this adorable pudgy piglet?” She bends over and gives a quick scratch to seemingly thin air.

  A disembodied chortle drifts through the air. “This fabulous little pork-bellied lady is Stella. Apparently, Celine Harrison had quite the love affair with the little darling.”

  A snort filters through the air. “Right up until her father butchered me in time for the holidays.”

  Both Lottie and I wince at the thought.

  Stella gives a wild squeal. “Dear Bizzy, my stay at the inn has been nothing but a fantastic feast so far. Don’t be afraid to leave a few extra ca
kes and cookies out for me. I especially like the pecan shortbread and the white chocolate chunk maple cookies as well.”

  “Duly noted,” I say.

  Lottie leans in. “If it’s all right with Bizzy, I’ll bake you a fresh batch when we get back tonight.” She looks my way. “I do my best thinking in the kitchen.”

  “Not a problem,” I say. “I’ll be right there, thinking with you.” I nod to the back. “How do we do this?”

  “Follow my lead.”

  I do just that, and in less than five minutes we’ve both donned sparkling pink one-pieces and are at the front of the line, face to face with Anna Hayes herself.

  She’s a touch shorter than me, dark hair cut just above her neck, and a permanent scowl set in place that hasn’t left her face since we walked through the door.

  She blinks to life once she spots me. “Hey! You look familiar.” She leans in and squints. Does she work at the distillery down the street? The bank?

  “The inn.” I nod, and her mouth widens. “I manage the Country Cottage Inn over in Cider Cove.”

  “That’s right.” She glances to the ceiling. “No offense, but I won’t be setting foot anywhere near that place again. I think the rumors are true. It’s cursed.” Her expression darkens as she narrows her gaze over at me. Wait a minute. What is she doing here? Didn’t those rumors also include the fact there was some member of the staff running around, pretending to solve crimes?

  “Cursed?” I force a laugh. “Everyone thinks so. Even my guests from out of town.” I point over to Lottie. “That’s why I’m entertaining her as far away from Cider Cove as possible. It’s been a dark week at the inn.”

  “I’ll say.” She all but snarls. “You know, I was married to the guy who bit the big one. His wife was—”

  A shrill bell goes off overhead, and a couple of muddy girls slop their way past us.

  Anna pulls both Lottie and me forward. “We’ll continue the conversation once you girls get out of the ring!” she shouts over the cheering crowd as she shoves us over the rim of the blowup pool and my feet sink into the cool and slimy mud until we’re just about knee-deep in it. That sinking feeling I get when I’m about to be immersed in anything comes upon me and I try to will it away.

  This isn’t water. This isn’t water.

  Maybe if I keep saying it, I’ll start to believe it.

  “Lottie?” My voice is shrill as she stumbles in next to me. “Now what?”

  The crowd goes wild with raucous screams at the sight of us.

  My guess is we’re new blood.

  She gives a little shrug. “When in Rome take a mud bath?”

  A hard groan comes from me.

  “All right,” I lean in and whisper. “But let me take you down quick so we can get out of this mess and continue that conversation.”

  A dark laugh sputters from her. “You want to take me down?”

  “What’s the matter? Afraid of getting beat by a telesensual?”

  Another huskier laugh belts from her. “I think the suspersensuals are going to take this one.”

  Lottie and I join hands and start in on a somewhat tense struggle, and the crowd begins to boo and hiss.

  “Lottie, get into the mud,” I whisper. “We need to get this over with before Anna takes a break or leaves the country.”

  “You get in the mud, Bizzy. I finally managed to tame my hair in all this humidity.”

  “So you won’t go down because you’re having a good hair day? I just had my eyelash extensions done. Lashes trump hair.”

  “Ha!” she belts it out while struggling to sink me into the mire. “In what universe?” Her eyes grow wild as she glances at something behind me. “Oh no! Stella, no!”

  And just like that, both Lottie and I are knocked down into the muck. And I swear on all that is holy, I felt that supernatural beast as sure as if she were alive and in the flesh.

  “Lottie!” I shout as I struggle to regain my footing. No matter how hard I try to stand, the mud does its best to suction me toward the bottom.

  “Bizzy!” she shouts as she’s seemingly knocked backward and submerged. And just like that, the weight of a Volvo lands on my back and my face smacks right into the slimy mess.

  I cork right back up with my hair in my face, my lids glued shut, much to the delight of the crowd roaring with laughter.

  Lottie grabs ahold of my hand while I do my best to wipe my face, and soon we’re slipping and sliding back into the sludge. Lottie and I pull and tug, and yes, even inadvertently submerge one another to my horror, while attempting to help one another out of this mess. In our efforts to escape this quicksand, we get low-down and dirty, both of us nearly sliding right out of those skimpy one-piece bathing suits we voluntarily crammed ourselves into.

  “Bizzy?” an all too familiar voice booms from the audience and I look up to see three horrified men standing at the foot of the stage—Jasper, Noah, and Everett.

  “Lottie?” Noah looks equal parts confused and aroused. And judging by that white noise going off in his mind, he’s just that.

  Everett dips his chin a notch, giving him a daring appeal that I’m sure has my sister ready to pounce—if not every other woman in the room.

  “Lemon,” he says it sharply and Lottie lifts her chin at the mention of her surname.

  It’s a disaster of muddy proportions, and finally, mercifully, the bell rings and the new girls who traipse on in help roll us right out of that blowup pool full of toil and trouble.

  Lottie and I stagger to Anna who leads us right out the back door. We end up in the alley where a hose is attached to the side of the building and we take turns bathing ourselves in front of a rapt audience comprised of random men amassed at the edge of the road.

  “Good Lord.” I shiver as Anna comes at me with a towel. “Thank you,” I say as she does the same for Lottie.

  “It’s the least I can do.” There’s an edge to her tone. Not only did they knock the crowd dead, but I bet they’re interested in my connection to the dead—namely Trevor. It is an oddity. Everything about Trevor and me was an oddity.

  Lottie wraps an arm around me as we shiver together, and I can hear Stella snorting up a storm.

  “I want to know if she killed my Celine!” the pouty pig shouts it out in a series of oinks and snorts.

  “Or my darling Trevor,” Delora says with much more calm in her ghostly voice. “Even if he was a lying little cheat, I still adore him.”

  Lottie looks my way and shrugs. At least she’s honest.

  I give a little nod.

  “Anna?” I lean in. “Who do you think would slaughter both Trevor and Celine so heartlessly?”

  She hitches a brow. “You think it’s the same person?” Of course, it is. They were both equally loathed by me and just about everybody else.

  Lottie and I exchange a quick glance.

  “I have no idea,” I say and it’s a genuine response at the moment.

  “All those years.” She shakes her head, her expression darkening as she fixes her gaze onto some unknowable place. “He just left me in Bangor—said he had business to tend to. Eventually, he just stopped calling and coming home altogether. And that woman?” She gives an incredulous huff. “She was just as bad as he was. I had called her a few months ago, but she wouldn’t hold a conversation with me. She said I was senile and hung up the phone. I moved to Edison a few months back. Got a job at this place until something else shows up. You know, half the Harrison baking fortune is rightfully mine. Trevor and I never divorced.”

  Someone shouts for her from inside.

  “We’d better get in.” She herds both Lottie and me back into the warmth of the club.

  “Anna?” Lottie calls out as the woman starts to head back toward the ring. “How did you know Trevor would be at the inn that afternoon?”

  Her lips knot up. “A friend of mine came by to let me know. Hailey was actually looking into the Lobster Festival. She’s one of those fanatics that never misses a year. Anyw
ay, she was there first and stumbled on the bake-off. She recognized his name as a sponsor and gave me a call. I raced right over. Oh, my blood was boiling.” I was fit to kill. I wanted revenge. And witnessing his death was the cherry on the cake. It made my year, my life. I’ll celebrate that day as a holiday from here on out. Cake and ice cream, the whole nine yards.

  “Wow,” I mutter and Anna lifts her brows. “Wow‚ um, these bathing suits are sopping wet.”

  Lottie feigns a look of surprise. “Did you say Hailey? Hailey Sawyer, right? She works with my best friend, Keelie, down in Seaview.” How’d I do?

  I tip my head.

  We shall see.

  Anna grimaces. “No, I don’t think it’s Sawyer. I think it’s Rosemond.” She scratches her chin as she squints at the ceiling. “No, it’s Ross.” She snaps her fingers and shouts it with assurance. “And she works at that theme restaurant in Whaler’s Cove. That cheesy pirate place. She plays the part of a merry little wench.” She rolls her eyes.

  “Oh”—I perk to life—“Pirate’s Cove?”

  She winks my way. “That’s the one.”

  Someone calls for her again and she heads that way.

  “Thanks for the entertainment!” she shouts as she heads back into the bar.

  Lottie takes a breath. “It looks as if we’re going to get a traditional seafood dinner yet.”

  I wrinkle my nose at her. “I wouldn’t call what you’re about to experience at Pirate’s Cove as a seafood dinner—more like dinner theater you might just regret.”

  She chuckles as she slings her arm over my shoulder. “I think we’ll manage to squeeze a good time out of it. I haven’t had a dull moment with you yet.”

  “Or a sane one.”

  We share a laugh before we get dressed and head back out into the bar, only to find the entire place on their feet, screaming with glee at the top of their lungs.

  Lottie and I look into the ring to see what’s stolen everyone’s attention, and to our horror we see two vaguely familiar women in mud-covered kaftans knocking each other around as if they were pros.