Felines and Fatalities (Country Cottage Mysteries Book 6)

by Addison Moore

  “Bizzy!” Georgie shouts as she spots me, her body in motion as she does an inglorious belly flop and slaps the mud hard. “Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”

  Carlotta surges from the mud, gasping for air. “I’m gonna die a dirty, dirty girl!”

  “Oh Lord.” Lottie muscles her way through the crowd and I follow along until we’re upon Jasper, Noah, and Everett.

  “Jasper!” I shout up over the noise. “I think they’re in trouble!”

  Lottie nods to Everett and Noah and soon the three of them hop on the stage, offering a hand to the flailing women.

  Georgie—or at least I think it’s Georgie, they both look interchangeable at this point—grabs ahold of Jasper, and in one svelte move she accidently pulls him into the muck.

  A groan comes from me just witnessing the sight.

  Carlotta’s torso leaps from the mud and she grabs both Noah and Everett by the hands, sucking them down into the slimy pit at the very same time.

  Lottie looks my way, and I shake my head.

  “Let’s do it,” I say.

  Lottie and I jump onto the stage and into the pit. I make sure I glide right into the lap of the man with the silver flecked eyes and we share a muddy kiss that I will never forget.

  Both Noah and Everett look to be genuinely trying to kill one another, and Lottie risks her life and her good, albeit wet, hair as she slithers in between them.

  Someone lets out a sharp whistle and the entire lot of us freezes and looks to find Macy pointing her phone our way.

  “Say social media!” she shouts while snapping a picture.

  It takes us a good half hour to roll our way out of the sticky soup. We hose ourselves off, laughing and making memories with our new friends.

  I don’t think we’ll forget this or them anytime soon.

  I’m betting on never.

  And something tells me our trip to Pirate’s Cove will be just as colorful.

  Let’s hope we don’t add to the body count.

  Chapter 8

  “I bet all of Vermont is loaded with tramps,” Macy opines as we watch both Everett and Noah doting over Lottie as the three of them lounge near the shoreline.

  Lottie has on an adorable pink-checkered two-piece with a ruffled bottom and a large white brimmed hat. It’s the middle of the afternoon and the sun is high overhead and hot as a skillet. The ocean looks calm and a cerulean shade of blue, bringing the tourists out of the cove in droves. Evie has found an entire slew of new friends and they’re playing volleyball at the west end of the cove.

  I wrinkle my nose over at my sassy sister. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not trying to insult Lottie with the word tramp?”

  Macy moans as she takes a sip of her smoothie. “It’s because I envy her. I aspire to be her. I’ve spent my entire life refining my tramp-like ways. Where did I go wrong, Bizzy? Where? What does she have that I haven’t got?”

  “Noah and Everett.”

  “I hate it when you make sense. Do you think there’s still time for Lottie to give me a few pointers before she leaves the inn?”

  “She’s not giving you lessons. She didn’t do anything special or perverted—in case your mind went there—to get the attention of those two men. It all just sort of happened.”

  Macy sighs. “And that’s exactly why I can never forgive our mother for not moving us to Vermont when we were kids. If she had, I could have cycled my way through both Noah and Everett in time for Lottie to have at ’em. The universe does not play fair, Bizzy. I’m in love with another woman’s life.”

  “If it helps, I’m in love with her bathing suit,” I say. “I’m going to have to ask where she got it. I’ll pick one up in every color if I can.”

  Jasper and I are delinquent in some serious beach time.

  Macy grunts, “That’s the difference between you and me. You’re focused on the clothes she’s wearing, and I’m focused on the clothes those men aren’t wearing. My God, have you seen Noah’s six pack?”

  Georgie pops up from behind. “Have you seen Mr. Sexy’s eight pack?”

  Carlotta shuffles up, and sure enough the Bobbsey Twins are at it again. Today’s color of choice is a pastel yellow that makes them both look like escapees from the nearest hospital—the psych ward to be exact.

  Fish runs over, and I scoop her up and give her tiny head a kiss.

  Is it time? Is it time? Her voice grows anxious even in her mind and I can’t help but laugh.

  “Fish can’t wait to get into Lottie’s room,” I say. “And you will,” I whisper to my sweet cat. “Once she’s through with the beach, I’m sure she won’t mind taking you back there.”

  I’d better spend some time with Sherlock. He’s brooding at the reception counter. He said he doubts I care for him anymore. Men. She traipses off and I can’t help but feel a touch sorry for the poor pooch. I’ll have to stop by the café and pick up a little extra bacon to rock a smile back into his world.

  “Wait.” Macy shields her eyes with her hand. “Mr. Sexy has an eight pack? How is he even human? And how many laws does a girl have to break to end up in his courtroom?”

  Carlotta belts out a hearty chuckle. “Every woman in Vermont has asked herself the very same question.”

  Georgie gives a wistful shake of the head. “It’s easy to see why they call him Mr. Sexy.”

  “It is,” Carlotta agrees. “But it’s not just the obvious. His first name is Essex.”

  “Essex?” Macy hisses it out in what sounds like a fit of ecstasy. “My God, the man just gets better and better. I can’t wait to call him by his proper name. It’s perfect for him.”

  Carlotta shakes her head. “No can do. Only women he’s taken to sexy town are allowed to use it. To the rest of us, he’s simply Everett. Except for Lot, of course, she still calls him Everett even after they’ve done the deed. She’s a creature of habit that way.”

  Macy moans as she stares in their direction. “And do I ever like her habits. Carlotta? What do you think the odds of me snapping up Noah’s brother are?”

  “Considering he’s a womanizer who dates everything with a skirt, I’d say you were in the running.”

  “Well then,” my sister purrs. “It sounds like it’s time for a shiny new skirt.”

  Fish speeds back, running like a miniature cheetah with a determined look in her eyes.

  Bizzy, quick! Someone is at your cottage, and I think they’re tacking up a note onto the door.

  “A note on my door?” I spike up.

  Macy squints over at me. “What note?”

  I shake my head. I don’t have time to explain anything to my sister, nor think of any creative half-truths to cover the fact I just read my cat’s mind.

  “I think the killer might be at my cottage.” I jump out of my seat just as Lottie, Noah, and Everett head this way, but I can’t risk losing the killer. I run right past the three of them with Carlotta, Georgie, and Macy on my heels, and sure enough I spot a dark figure bolting from my front yard and into a car parked behind the bushes.

  “Macy, quick.” I snatch the purse off my sister’s shoulder. “I need the keys to your car.” I fish them out and sprint for her sedan.

  “I’ll stay behind and make sure Mr. Sexy stays safe!” she shouts after me.

  The car with the dark figure speeds off just as I jump behind the driver’s seat, with Georgie and Carlotta falling into the seats behind me.

  I speed off just as Jasper jumps into the road from out of nowhere, fanning his arms for me to stop, but I don’t have a second to waste. Instead, I circle around him, not daring to glance in the rearview mirror as I speed off the property.

  “They made a right!” Carlotta shouts from the back.

  “Shotgun!” Georgie shouts as she spontaneously flips herself into the passenger’s seat in the front, landing on her head, her rear plastered to the windshield of the car.

  Fun fact: Georgie’s underwear is the same shade as her kaftan. And now I’m left to wonder if s
he’s got a pair to match every dress. Then again, there are some questions I never want the answers to.

  “Georgie, are you all right?” I shout as I gun it down the road in an effort to catch up with whoever left that note.

  “Don’t worry about me!” She does a workaround with her seat belt and actually manages to buckle herself upside down with her full moon rising. It’s an off-putting sight that I’m sure can land me a ticket or twelve. Not to mention what it’s doing to poor Georgie’s back.

  I spot a Jeep on the incline up ahead. It’s dark in color and there’s some kind of a green triangle on the back. A sticker, maybe.

  They turn right before taking a blind corner and disappearing out of sight.

  We crest the hill and to my horror there’s a fork in the road.

  “Which way did they go?” I shout as I try to decide which way to spin the steering wheel. “Right or left? Right or left!”

  Carlotta shouts, “Right!”

  And Georgie counters, “Left!”

  Without putting much thought or logic into my next move, I decide to listen to Georgie, who is momentarily visually impaired. Traffic is at a stall and I don’t have the time to hit the brakes, so I pull us off the road and we go over every bump and pit until our wheels give way from beneath us and we come to a sudden stop as we fall into a ditch.

  “Georgie? Carlotta? Please tell me you’re alive,” I say, almost too afraid to look their way.

  Georgie contorts herself until she’s sitting upright. “Two cheeseburgers, a side of onion rings, and a Neapolitan shake for me!”

  Carlotta barks out a laugh. “She’s still got an appetite. I think she’s right as rain.” Carlotta leans in. “Can you throw in a shake for me, too?”

  A brisk knock erupts on the driver’s side window and it’s Jasper with a stern look on his face. I take it he’s not too amused at the fact I almost sideswiped him on my way to catch a killer.

  I roll down the window and bat my lashes up at him. “Two cheeseburgers, a side of onion rings, and two Neapolitan shakes?”

  “Bizzy, are you all right?” He leans in. “Carlotta? Georgie? Do you need me to call for help?”

  Georgie unhitches her seat belt. “Not unless help comes in the way of that shake.”

  We get out of the car and Jasper pulls me close.

  “Bizzy.” He dots a kiss to my lips. “It’s my job to get the killer. Please don’t put yourself in that position again.”

  “I’ll do my best.” I give a tiny shrug. “Fish said they left a note on my door. Jasper, that could have been the killer.”

  He pulls his phone out. “Noah just sent this.”

  It’s a picture of a blue note tacked to my door, and I suck in a breath as I read it.

  A Bizzy-body such as yourself shouldn’t stick your nose in other people’s lives. Perhaps you should read a book like The Maltese Falcon?

  Or perhaps “The Adventure of Silver Blaze”, the short story of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time? However, required reading for a snoop like you might just be Murder on the Orient Express.

  My eyes meet up with Jasper’s. “This is from the killer.”

  He gives a slight nod. “And they are pleased that you’re feeding into their games. Leave this to me, Bizzy. I will make all of this go away.”

  My mouth opens to say something, but I can’t promise Jasper I’ll stay away from the case. If anything, these notes have coiled me around the killer’s little finger just the way they intended.

  I have a feeling the killer won’t be penning me love letters for long.

  Not if I have my way.

  But tonight we have reservations at Pirate’s Cove, where hopefully a merry little wench named Hailey Ross will have a few answers for me.

  Chapter 9

  Pirate’s Cove is nestled at the water’s edge of Whaler’s Cove. I’ve heard about this place—heck, I’ve gleefully recommended it to tourists who have small children. I know for a fact it touts itself as being fun for the whole family. But I’ve yet to set foot through their swashbuckling doors—until now.

  Lottie, Noah, Everett, Jasper, and I all arrive in our regular attire while Carlotta, Georgie, Evie, and Macy all turned up the volume on their inner wenches.

  But only Lottie and I are apprised of the true nature of our visit at this themed restaurant ready and willing to rouse our inner pirates.

  The entire restaurant looks as if it’s situated on the deck of an old, weathered pirate’s ship and it only adds to the yesteryear charm.

  A young woman dressed as a wench seats us, almost immediately, toward the front where there’s a stage set up to look like a ship’s hull overlooking the Caribbean.

  She does a double take, then a triple take, and if there’s such a thing as a quadruple take, she’s doing that, too, in the direction of Noah, Everett, and Jasper.

  My God. What UFO dropped off these gorgeous creatures? I’ll have to find out what mother planet they’re from.

  She twists a glossy red smile at the three of them.

  “What parts do you fine pirates hail from?”

  I sense a faint country twang in there somewhere.

  “My girlfriend and these fine folks all hail from Vermont.” Noah nods as he sweeps a finger over Lottie and the rest of the Honey Hollow crew.

  Jasper wraps an arm around me. “And we’re from Cider Cove.”

  Her expression darkens. At least the blue-eyed god is still available.

  Everett pulls a page from Jasper’s playbook and wraps an arm around Lottie’s shoulder and the young girl looks morbidly confused.

  Is that girl dating both of those hotties? That can’t be right. There’s not a girl on the planet who’s that lucky. She passes out the menus before taking off.

  Lottie gasps and I look her way.

  Bizzy, our suspect is here and she just spotted us! It’s Hailey Ross, I’m sure of it. She ticks her head toward the left. She just stepped into the bar. I suggest we head over before her shift ends and she bolts.

  She’s probably right.

  Lottie and I excuse ourselves to the little girls’ room and Evie decides to join us.

  Shoot.

  Evie can’t see us grilling Hailey or she’ll put two and two detectives together and we’ll get busted—most likely right in front of the suspect.

  Lottie’s eyes bulge as Evie scoots her way out of her seat.

  “Carlotta”—Lottie gives her biological mother a stern look—“knowing your overactive bladder, you’d better come to.”

  Georgie grunts as if we had forced her hand to head to the loo as well. “If there’s a party in the ladies’ room, this old wench isn’t missing out.”

  Macy bounces into Lottie’s seat, sandwiching herself between Noah and Everett.

  “Don’t worry, girls.” A wide grin takes over her face. “I’ll make sure no one tries to steal your men while you’re away.”

  I pull Georgie to the side. “Divert the teen, would you?”

  Her mouth rounds out. You’re in hot pursuit of the killer, aren’t you?

  I give a covert nod her way.

  Don’t you worry your cute patootie. I’ve got the teenybopper covered.

  “Come on, kid.” Georgie slings an arm over Evie’s shoulder. “First, we’re going to check out all the cute pirates below deck. I happen to know there’s a hole in the men’s dressing room.”

  “Really?” Evie suddenly has a spring in her step. “Finally some action.”

  They take off to the right and Carlotta takes off after them.

  “I get first dibs on the hole!” Carlotta shouts. “I need to vet it just in case we’ve got a fleshy situation on our hands!”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I call after Georgie, but it’s too late. “Sorry,” I whisper to Lottie as we speed for the bar. “I promise, Georgie means no harm.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she says as we enter the darkened room that reeks of fries and fresh off the tap beer. “Evie woul
d have made her way down there eventually. She’s got a heightened sense of awareness when it comes to good-looking boys and men. Everett and I are just hoping she limits her curiosity to looking.”

  “Speaking of looking, there she is.”

  We spot Hailey in an off-the-shoulder dingy white dress, and her red hair is combed back into a small ponytail. She looks a little miffed at the customer she’s speaking with, and she hardly jumps out of the way before he tries to grab her by the bottom.

  Gross.

  “Oh, look!” Lottie startles as she grabs my hand. “Delora and Stella are here, too.”

  “Evening, ladies,” the disembodied voice of an older woman trills. “This is quite the place. I’ve always had a hankering for pirates.”

  A snort infiltrates the air. “And pirates have always had a hankering for me.” I can tell that was Stella from the warbling tone of her voice. “They serve pigskin here. I might just knock over a barrel or two as retribution.”

  Delora laughs. “Let’s eat them out of their shipwreck stew.”

  Stella snorts again. “I do have my eye on Captain Jack’s rhubarb pie. How about we head to the kitchen?”

  “It’s right through this wall,” Delora says.

  “Whoa.” I hold up a hand. “What about the case? You’re here to help, remember?”

  Delora chortles. “We’ll be back!”

  Lottie makes a face. “They just zipped through the wall. But don’t worry. They’ll help in their own time. They’re pretty much compelled to.”

  I spot Hailey and straighten.

  “Here she comes,” I whisper.

  Hailey is about to stalk on by when she spots us and takes a step back.

  Her eyes lock with mine. “Hey? You’re the girl from the inn.”

  “Yes!” I say, feigning surprise. “Are you a guest?”

  She shakes her head. “No, I’m actually a local here. I was there the day of the horrible misfortune.” She makes a face as if she were about to be sick. “But I recognize you. I don’t forget a face.” She looks to Lottie and nods. “Hailey Ross.”

  “Lottie Lemon.” She attempts to shake the woman’s hand, but they’re both currently occupied with plates and trays. “It’s nice to meet you.” Lottie cranes her neck past her. “I think I saw that man trying to grope you. I’m sorry you have to put up with that.”