Felines and Fatalities (Country Cottage Mysteries Book 6)

by Addison Moore

  “Is the day finally catching up with you?”

  “Who said anything about being exhausted? I have more energy now than I did this morning. I’ll have to figure out a way to burn it off.”

  “I have a few ideas on how I can help you with that.”

  We say goodnight to Sherlock and shut the door behind us.

  The world ceases to exist, and it’s just Jasper with those heavily lidded eyes and that dangerous smile.

  I may not be safe, but I am one lucky, lucky girl.

  Chapter 14

  It’s another scorching afternoon and we’re inching closer to the weekend.

  The winters in Maine can be brutal, but seeing that we’re nearing triple digits this afternoon, it’s proving that spring can be tough, too.

  The entire lot of us is seated outside the Country Cottage Café, finishing up a lunch of fish and chips made extra crispy and delicious by the kitchen. Each of us has a fruity drink in hand and we’re watching the waves lap the shore while Evie plays fetch with Sherlock. Fish is nestled in Georgie’s lap, and Lottie holds Pancake while Noah holds Waffles.

  My saucy sister—being the insatiable vixen she is—has nestled herself between Noah and Everett and takes turns swooning at the two of them regardless of the fact she doesn’t have a chance at either of them.

  “What should we do today?” Macy bats her lashes at Everett.

  “I think”—Everett takes a breath that expands his chest to impossible lengths—“we should deep dive into those riddles.”

  Carlotta harrumphs. “I think we should hit the funerals. I read in the paper they’re about to dunk those bodies in the ground in tandem. Funerals are a hotbed of perps. Every homicide detective and judge worth their salt knows this.” She squints over at the only homicide detective and judge seated at the table.

  Jasper is at work today in Seaview, and he made me promise I wouldn’t do anything that might put my safety in jeopardy while he was away. A part of me wonders if funerals fall under that umbrella. As long as it’s not my own, I don’t see the problem.

  Emmie swings by with a platter of fresh baked maple pecan shortbread cookies.

  “How’s it going?” She offers a bright and cheery smile. If there’s one thing I can count on, it’s my bestie trying to brighten the day.

  Georgie grunts, “There’s a funeral in a few hours that might have a spread of good eats at the after party. I don’t own any black kaftans unless you count the one with cute little puppies printed all over it.” She snaps her fingers. “I’ve got a purple number with pink sequins! That little ditty could pull anyone out of a forever funk.”

  Carlotta sits up. “You got one for me? I’m all for cheering up a moping crowd.”

  “I always buy in pairs, sweetie.” She gives a sly wink. “Shall we change?”

  “No,” I say, nodding to Emmie before she shudders and takes off. “We’re not crashing a funeral.”

  Carlotta slaps her hand over the table. “Why not? That’s where I get my best makeup tips.”

  “Ooh!” Georgie points her way. “I knew you were holding back on me. We need to get to the funeral home and see if we can chat with the makeup artist. I’m always up for a good makeover. I just have to know what gives the dead that rosy glow.”

  “It’s called embalming,” I flatline. “And you could get the same tips from a makeup artist at the mall.”

  Carlotta shakes her head. “But the mortuary beautician does hair, too. It’s a two-in-one, and I’m all for a deal.”

  “A deadly deal,” Lottie smarts.

  Carlotta postures herself. “Well, what do you propose we do? It’s not like we’re about to storm Trevor’s house and blast our way into the family’s safe looking for clues.”

  Lottie and I exchange a look.

  Pancake rears his furry head before letting out a tiny mewl. I’ll bet my next bowl of Fancy Beast that’s what they do.

  Fish yowls. I can’t bet against you.

  Waffles growls. Everett and Noah will never allow it.

  “I won’t allow it,” Noah says without missing a beat.

  Everett takes a breath. “And as much as I don’t like to agree with this guy, I agree with this guy.”

  Macy gurgles out a dark laugh. “Lottie, how do you contain yourself? These men are ceaseless entertainment.” She leans in. “And please tell me you’re entertaining yourself with the both of them.”

  Carlotta barks out a laugh. “Lot Lot’s motto is waste not want not.”

  Georgie squints over at the two men in question. “You ever get bored with the baker, you know where to find me.”

  “All right,” I say, dropping a kiss to Fish’s forehead. “I think I know what our next move needs to be.”

  Everett offers me a stern look and he looks shockingly handsome in a slightly demented sort of way.

  “It’s time to discuss those notes?” He lifts a brow, and I hold back the urge to giggle. Poor Noah, Everett really doesn’t fight fair.

  Georgie sniffs the air. “I was hoping you’d say a day trip to the mall.”

  “Actually…” I look to Lottie and tick my head to the side. This is one of those moments I wish she had the ability to read minds as well.

  She gives a slight nod as if she knew exactly what I was thinking.

  The Harrison residence? She cocks her head my way.

  I give a hint of a nod. “You know, speaking of the mall, why don’t we head out that way? I hear they’re having a huge sale in every single store.”

  Lottie perks up. “Ooh. And I do love to try on miles and miles of clothes.” If that doesn’t scare Noah and Everett, nothing will.

  “And we can go to the home decorating department,” I say. “I hear they’re having a huge sale, too. I need to buy new curtains for the inn. Of course, I’ll have to look at all the patterns first, though.”

  “Oh, and towels.” Lottie gives a frenetic nod. “I can just lose myself for hours and hours looking at towels.”

  Noah sighs as he glances over to Everett and the two of them share a nod.

  “We’re onto you.” Noah strums his fingers over the table. “Look, you can’t just barge into the Harrisons’ house.”

  “He’s right.” Carlotta leans our way. “They’ve probably got five of those fancy alarms that automatically make chili appear in the local firehouse.”

  My lips part, but I don’t quite know what to say to that. She’s probably right about the alarms. And maybe the chili, too.

  Georgie snorts. “I haven’t met a single home security system that can stand up against my wire cutters.”

  Everett moans as he tips his head back, and I think he may have fainted momentarily.

  “Nobody is cutting any wires.” He offers a disparaging look to Lottie and me. “I’ll go with you. I’ve been trained to disable an alarm by the crème de la crème of criminals.”

  Noah looks ready to spit nails. “I know what you’re up to, Baxter. You’re putting your professional life on the line just to play to Lottie’s good graces.”

  Everett glances to the side with a level of bored disinterest, which only seems to suck my sister deeper into the Baxter black hole of disarming charms.

  Everett leans back and glares at Noah. “Have you met her?”

  Noah gives a long blink. “I’ll keep watch out front. You girls have less than ten minutes to scout the place. The office is the heart of the home for a man. The bedroom closet for a woman—top shelves to be exact.”

  Everett looks to Lottie. “Evie has a thumb drive sitting next to her laptop upstairs. You can swipe files if you need to.”

  Macy slices a finger through the air. “And if anyone asks, this conversation never happened.”

  Waffles belts out a sharp meow in Fish’s direction. If they go to prison, I say we stick together.

  Fish gurgles. Jasper will take us all in. Right after he sends this rogue group of thugs up the river.

  I don’t dare translate, mostly because they might be ri
ght.

  But hopefully Jasper won’t find out.

  At least not today.

  And just like that, we’re off to the Harrisons’ estate.

  Chapter 15

  As luck or fate or some twisted sense of humor dispensed by the universe would have it, the home right next door to the Harrisons’ mansion is hosting an estate sale, and it just so happens to be crawling with people.

  The Harrisons live in Eubanks, about a twenty-minute drive up north from Cider Cove, and for the entire drive over, both Carlotta and Georgie regaled us with stories of their wild and often wacky youth. The more I’m with them, the more convinced I am they were separated at birth.

  Everett instructs us to mill around the estate sale for a few minutes, and we happily do as we’re told. Dozens of tables set out on an expansive lawn, and he suggests we make ourselves seen in the event we need witnesses to prove that we mistakenly wandered over into the Harrisons’ estate. In all fairness, these are not your average tract homes. These are sprawling universes that look as if each one stretches out forever. So it might be a flimsy excuse if we’re caught, but if the judge deems it plausible, I’m all for it.

  Right now, Everett is next door disarming any security systems that might still be in play. And not to be outdone, Noah chose to head off to the Harrisons’ as well. He said he’d scout the place and find out where the downstairs office is in an effort to save us time.

  Lottie and I head to the tables laden with trinkets of every shape and size sparkling over them.

  Carlotta, Georgie, and Macy are busy perusing the tables themselves. We couldn’t stop them from tagging along, but now that there’s genuine shopping involved, I don’t feel so bad. This is just as good as the mall, if not better.

  “Georgie,” I hiss as I come upon the troublesome trio. “You three girls stay here.”

  Macy scoffs as she picks up a crystal bowl. “You can bet your jailbird hiney I’m staying here. Have you seen these prices? I’ll have my Christmas shopping done in an hour.”

  Georgie and Carlotta exchange a wily look.

  “All right, you two,” I say. “I recognize that wicked gleam in your eyes. What gives? And before you say you’re joining us, let me tell you, it’s a hard no. Those bright purple kaftans, equipped with enough pink sequins to signal the space station, do not an inconspicuous outfit make. You sealed your fate by donning a reflective device.”

  Carlotta and Georgie exchange a sly glance before pulling off their kaftans like a well-choreographed move.

  “Oh my God.” Lottie’s hands slap over her chest as if she’s just been shot.

  Both Georgie and Carlotta glow like flashlights with nothing on but a pair of matching nude bras and granny panties.

  “You’re going to get arrested for public indecency,” I snip.

  Macy smirks. “Something tells me they’ll get less time than you and that new friend of yours.”

  Noah and Everett speed over, and Noah’s eyes bulge with horror at the nude review before him.

  “What the hell is going on?” he hisses.

  “Never mind,” I say. “We’ll drop them off at the local psych ward on the way home. That should buy them seventy-two hours of together time they’ll never forget.”

  The muscles in Everett’s jaw pop, and Macy lets out a wild gasp in response.

  He leans in. “It’s all set. The alarm is taken care of. They can blame it on a chipmunk.”

  Noah nods. “There’s a set of French doors that lead into the office that I left ajar. You’re welcome.” He twitches his brows. “There’s no fence separating these two properties. Walk to the table at the top of the lawn and make a sharp right. The office is the first door in the back of the house. You have ten minutes. If you can return in half the time, I have a nice surprise for the both of you.”

  Lottie’s mouth rounds out. “What is it, Noah?”

  He dips his chin her way. “Your freedom—because the sheriff’s department won’t be here in time to arrest you.”

  I shrug over at her. “It looks as if we need to hurry.”

  Lottie and I take off like a lightning bolt, and before we know it, we’re standing inside the Harrisons’ office surrounded by mahogany paneling and bookshelves that line two walls. A stately desk stands prominent to the left, and on it sits a silver five-by-seven frame that holds a picture of Trevor and Celine holding one another at the beach. Just behind that there’s an old wooden filing cabinet that looks as if it’s seen better years.

  Lottie gasps as she looks my way. “We don’t have gloves!”

  “I don’t think it matters. Jasper mentioned the sheriff’s department already shook the place down for clues. That probably includes prints.”

  The door bursts open and in stumble a couple of naked looking grannies.

  “You are a terrifying sight,” I scold without meaning to—oh heck, I meant it. “Would you please leave?”

  Carlotta sniffs the air. “House breath.”

  “What?” Lottie looks stymied, and yet fit to kill at the very same time.

  “Every house has it.” Georgie waves us off as she zips over to the filing cabinet and helps herself. “I lived in a shack that smelled like an onion. You can’t get rid of the smell once it permeates the walls. It’s like an uninvited guest. It just lingers and lingers.”

  Lottie gives a hard glance to Carlotta. “I’m familiar with the concept.”

  Lottie and I get right to work opening Trevor’s old wooden desk, but find nothing with the exception of a few errant pens, a highlighter, a pack of unused staples, and a knot of paperclips.

  “He’s not very exciting.” Carlotta plucks the books off the bookshelf as fast as she can.

  Lottie groans, “Would you stop making a mess?”

  “I’m looking for the secret door,” Carlotta says as she pushes ahead with her literary apocalypse.

  “Woo-wee,” Georgie yelps. “Our man Trevor might have been boring, but he had a hankering for sizzling girls. He’s got an entire collection of Hot Mama magazines that date back to the sixties. I bet these are worth some serious money. Wish I had my kaftan, so I could sneak a few out of here.”

  Carlotta turns her way. “Put ’em in your underwear! Just remember if we get caught, you’re blind and I don’t speak English,” she belts it out as she flings a book across the room, knocking the picture of Trevor and Celine right off the desk. The glass shatters, and the four of us stop breathing for a moment.

  “Good Lord.” Lottie crouches down and does her best to pick it up. “Now look what you’ve done.” She shakes the glass off into the trash and the picture of Trevor and Celine drifts to the floor.

  “I got it,” I say as I catch it and hand it back to Lottie.

  “Look at this,” she says. “There’s another picture behind it.”

  I glance over, and there it is. It looks heavily faded. A sepia toned photo of a young woman sitting on a boulder, smiling in the sunshine. Her long hair crawls down to the middle of her back, her eyes are squinted in the light, and her bottom lip veers ever so slightly to the left.

  “Looks old,” I whisper. “It almost looks like one of those pictures that comes with the frame.”

  She whips her phone out and takes a photo of it, and I do the same.

  Lottie pulls it out and turns it over. “It says ’69. Bar Harbor.”

  I peer over her shoulder and see it’s written in faded pencil.

  “Do you think this is a younger version of Anna?” I ask, leaning in to get a better look.

  “I don’t know.” Lottie quickly puts the picture back and replaces the one of Trevor and Celine over it.

  “We’d better get going,” I say, frustrated that our covert inspection didn’t yield much more than a couple of underdressed grannies. “We’re not exactly invited guests.”

  Georgie heads this way. “Judging by these girly magazines, Trevor would be honored to have us.” She wags a fistful of old glossy rags in our faces before shoving them into her
parachute panties.

  “I’m betting you’re right,” I say. “And really? Must you steal?”

  “He’s dead, Bizzy. He’s practically begging me to free those nude cuties into the wild. I’ll put ’em up on eBay and we can split the profits.”

  “Don’t forget me, sister.” Carlotta heads over to the filing cabinet, and Georgie helps her stuff her panties full of spicy spoils herself.

  “I’d better clean up this mess,” I say as I get right to work putting the books back onto the shelves, and Lottie is right there with me, replacing each dusty hardback where it belongs. Almost all of the books are lined with cloth on the cover with gold embossing on the spines. These are collectors’ editions, old books in general, and as I place the last hardback onto the shelf, one of the titles on the shelf above catches my eye.

  “The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes.” A dull laugh pumps from me as I pull the book down and open the front flap. Written by A. Conan Doyle. I peruse the listing of short stories, and sure enough there it is, “The Adventures of Silver Blaze”.

  “Look at this.” Lottie pulls down a pale blue hardback with worn edges. “Murder on the Orient Express.”

  “How much do you want to bet we’ll find The Maltese Falcon?”

  Carlotta waddles over. “Right there.” She points to the top shelf and Lottie plucks it down.

  “Let’s get out of here.” I clutch the book to my chest and head for the door.

  In less than ten seconds, the four of us are back at the estate sale, each proudly brandishing our stolen loot as we meet back up with Everett and Noah.

  Macy helps Georgie and Carlotta slip into something more uncomfortable before we jump into the passenger van and head back to Cider Cove.

  It’s been clear since the beginning that Trevor Harrison had a history of hiding things, and now I wonder exactly what else Trevor might have been keeping from the world.

  And whatever it was, I bet it killed him.

  Chapter 16

  After that impromptu book club we just had at the Harrisons’, Lottie and I congregate back in my cottage to defuse from the afternoon.