A Winter Tail of Woe

by Addison Moore

  “Well hello, little ladies,” the one with a salt and pepper beard says as he sizes us up.

  “Howdy.” The one with deep frown lines and a demented twinkle in his eye winks at my mother. “Which one of you cowgirls would like to kick up her boots out on the dance floor?”

  In a stunning display of vigor and frightening determination, both Mom and Juni nearly knock over their seats as they lose their jackets and quickly scuttle over to the dance floor to kick up their proverbial boots like a couple of line dancing divas.

  “That escalated quickly,” I say and Georgie smirks.

  “And I’m glad about it,” she says. “That’s a bucket of frog legs for each of us, kiddo.”

  “I’ll take a hard pass.”

  “Are you kidding? I ordered those for you. Everyone knows that frog legs are aphrodisiacs. I’ve seen that big bad homicide detective give you the look. You’ve got a problem brewing, sister.”

  “Aphrodisiacs? On what continent? And what problem?”

  “The big one. And one bucket of frog legs will clear it right up. Face it, Biz, you’re hitting the seven-year itch a tad bit early.”

  “Georgie, we haven’t even been married for seven months.”

  She groans hard at the thought. “It’s worse than I thought.”

  “Bizzy?” a female voice emits from my side and I look up to see Fern Tuttle with her red hair curled and teased as it does its best to get cozy with the Almighty. Her lipstick matches her fiery tresses, and she’s wearing a green vinyl skirt with a flannel tied off under her bosom. “What in the world brings you out here?” Investigating already, I take it. I guess I can’t hold it against the woman.

  “I’m the reason we’re here,” Georgie shouts up over the music while doing a deep dive into that tote bag of hers, otherwise known as her weapons arsenal—or at least it was until my mother abducted Thor for the night. She pulls out a party horn and gives it a blow. “It’s my birthday! And if it’s one thing I demand on my birthday, it’s a bucket full of frog legs.”

  Leave it to Georgie’s endless bag of explosive wonders to save the night.

  “Well, happy birthday,” Fern says, looking a bit startled by the declaration, as am I.

  I shoot Georgie a look that says nice save.

  You’re welcome, kiddo. Watch and learn.

  “Take a seat, Toots.” Georgie pulls out a chair for her, and Fern promptly falls into it. “What brings a girl like you to a place like this?”

  “I’m actually on in about ten minutes. I’m the lead singer of Biscuits and Gravy.”

  “You don’t say!” Georgie gasps as if she’s actually heard of them. And I highly doubt it. I should probably signal for her to tone it down. “My favorite song in the world is ‘Another Mule in My Stall’ and I won’t let you off that stage, young lady, until you’ve sung it at least twice for me. Just between us girls, I get lucky every time I hear it.”

  “Really?” Fern looks downright giddy at the thought. “Thank you. I helped co-write that song. And I’m glad to hear it’s serving you so well.”

  Wow. Georgie is a powerhouse tonight. Who knew she was a huge fan of Bucket Full of Biscuits or whatever Fern said the name of her band was.

  Georgie gives a subtle shake of the head my way. Don’t buy the act, Bizzy. I did my homework. I’ve never heard that mule kicking song, and truth be told, the thought of locking up a smart and sweet mule makes me want to spray the joint with all of Thor’s rubber affection.

  I roll my eyes. Good grief. But then, I have to give it to Georgie. She’s on a roll. If it weren’t for her, Fern would have me pegged and she probably wouldn’t be sitting here either.

  Fern turns my way. “So how are things at the inn?” She winces. “I hope that horrible tragedy yesterday hasn’t hurt business. I can only imagine what something like that could do to your bottom line.”

  “I’m not worried about the inn at all.” Lie number one. “I just hope Morgan’s sister, Mabel, is doing well.” Lie number two. Mabel is dead. “From what I hear, Morgan was all the family she had left.” Lie number three? I’m not entirely sure about that.

  She gives a wide-eyed nod. “It’s so very sad. I called Mabel myself and told her the news. She’s such a sweet soul.” Unlike her sister. “She really does deserve better out of life.”

  My lips part as I take in her dark thought.

  “I take it you and Morgan were good friends?” I examine her while she considers this.

  “We were as close as sisters ourselves at one point.” There was a time I would have died for her, but there’s no use in highlighting that fact now.

  “Did you have a falling-out?” I scoot in her direction a few inches, eager to hear more.

  Georgie clucks her tongue my way. “Do you have to ask?” She shakes her head at Fern. “Sometimes I wonder if this one lives on the same planet with the rest of us. Everyone knows that friendships expand and contract. You gotta have a good blowout every now and again so you can come together stronger than before. Who better to take it all out on than one of your nearest and dearest? She’ll learn with age.” She looks to Fern. “But at the moment, she’s down a friend or two, if you know what I mean. It’s harder to socialize when you’re so high and mighty.” I’m working her in for you, Bizzy. She’ll be thinking about their last spat in seconds.

  Here’s hoping. But I shoot her a look for the less than friendly depiction of me.

  A warm laugh shakes from Fern. “Hey, I really like you.” She pretends to shoot Georgie. “As for Morgan—” The smile dims from her face. “We had some dark moments. Like I said, we were as close as sisters. And if you’ve got a sister, you know the two of you don’t always get along.”

  “Hear, hear,” I say just as the waitress comes by and sets down four glasses of ice water. “But then, I only want to wring my sister’s neck on days that end in Y.” I lift my glass to Fern as if I were toasting her and threatening Macy by proxy.

  We share a laugh on my sister’s behalf and Fern gives a few blinks as her features iron out.

  Nope. She gives a wistful tick of the head. I wasn’t about to physically wring Morgan’s neck, but Lord knows I wish I would have squeezed at least one beatdown in there before she left the planet. I should probably say something.

  Her lips fidget as she looks my way. “Morgan was one of my biggest cheerleaders as far as the band goes. She knew how much this meant to me.” She knew how much other things meant to me, too. But thankfully, that’s all done now. Dead men tell no tales and all that other good stuff.

  Morgan knew one of Fern’s secrets! And I bet it was a doozy for her to be relieved that the poor woman is supposedly gone.

  Fern lifts her shoulders to her ears. “And Morgan had a dark side, too.” If Bizzy is going to investigate, and face it, that’s all but inevitable, she might as well be apprised of the truth.

  Amen to that, sister. Now spill it.

  “What kind of dark side?” I don’t dare break eye contact with her.

  “The best kind.” Georgie gives a sultry chuckle. “I’d bet a bucket of frog legs that dark side involved a pirate with the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen, a boat in the South Pacific, and a treasure map that led to his tattered doubloons.” She looks my way. “Doubloons are pants, right?”

  “Georgie,” I hiss without meaning to.

  Fern bubbles with laughter. “You’re the life of your own party, Georgie.”

  “Somebody’s gotta do it,” she says through her teeth while hitching a thumb my way. “By the time this one so much as blinks a smile, I’ll be arms crossed and ready for that dirt nap. Why do you think I brought my own party horns?”

  “Aww.” Fern presses her hand to her chest. “How about this, I’ll play ‘Another Mule in My Stall’ three times before the night is through.”

  “I knew I liked you.” Georgie winks while toasting her with a glass of water. “So what’s the dirt on the dead girl?”

  “Georgie!” I cry out without meaning
to.

  Fern rumbles with a laugh. “You remind me of my grandmother. Boy, was she feisty.” She looks my way. “And she couldn’t filter out a darn thing either. That was the best part about her.” Her shoulders jump. “Anyway, you feel like family, Georgie. So I guess I don’t mind spilling a secret or two. It’s not as if it were my secret. But don’t say a word if you happen to come across her sister. I’d hate to taint her memory of Morgan.” She bites down on her lip a moment. “Mabel and Morgan’s mother died when they were young. Six? Seven, maybe? Anyway, they got a mean ol’ stepmother in her place. You know how the story goes. Morgan mentioned that Brenda, that was her name, was going to be the sole heir of everything their father worked so hard for should anything happen to him. And well, he was in his late eighties and Brenda was much younger than that. Brenda announced one day that Mabel and Morgan should go out and get real jobs. Apparently, some big bookstore conglomerate had their eye on the Haunted Book Barn and Brenda convinced their father that they should take the deal. Mabel and Morgan were up in arms. The Book Barn was their mother’s baby. They felt closest to their mother there.”

  “A bookstore with a ghost?” Georgie leans in, riveted. “Take all my money and tie me to a bedpost.”

  “Ignore her,” I say, nodding for Fern to go on.

  Fern sheds an easy grin toward Georgie. “Well, just when it looked as if the deal was about to go through, tragedy struck.”

  Georgie gasps and so do I.

  Fern nods. “Morgan’s parents went up to the Big Bear Resort for a winter getaway and their brakes cut out about halfway down the mountain. The police report said it looked as if someone tampered with the lines, but they couldn’t be sure. I happened to know that because I was dating one of the lead investigators at the time. We’ve since gone our separate ways but… guess who just so happened to be dating the manager of the Big Bear Resort?”

  “Morgan?” I blink back at the implication. “Are you suggesting Morgan had her boyfriend do the dirty work? To her own father and stepmother?”

  “I didn’t say a word. Your logical mind went there.” A loud twang emits from the band and the room breaks out into a raucous applause. “Ooh, I’m up next. Happy Birthday, Georgie.” She gives a quick wave before jumping on the stage. “This one goes out to my girl, Georgie. Happy Birthday, Mama!” She starts in on the mule kicking song and I’m left twisting my lips in her wake.

  “Did you pick up what she wasn’t laying down?” Georgie lifts a brow and nods my way.

  “I’m not nearly smart enough to decode what you just said. English, please.”

  “The woman implied that she and her sister”—she says sister in air quotes—“had a falling-out. And she cleverly evaded the topic of what that fallout was about. Instead, she threw you some dirt about someone else to take the heat off of her. I think she slipped Morgan the mickey. Cuff her, Danno.”

  I close my eyes a moment too long. “You’re right. But I think I have a way of finding out what rift the two of them might have had. I’ll go straight to the source.” The source as in Morgan Buttonwood herself.

  Mom runs over. “Give me my purse,” she snips as she all but dives for her handbag. Her hair is mussed and she looks more than a little irate.

  Before I can ask what’s the matter, two things happen. Those frog legs land on our table and Thor makes his second debut of the night.

  I’m not sure if it’s me or the waitress who screams. But I jump up, sending the table tipping, and those frog legs jump right out of that bucket and fly between my mother and me as I make a play for her weaponry.

  “I’m not giving it up!” she cries. “Nobody calls me their old lady.”

  A horrific boom expels from the gun in my mother’s hand, and before we know it, my mother, Georgie, and I are physically escorted out of the Merry Frog.

  “Happy birthday,” I say to Georgie with an edge to my voice while the manager agrees to find Juni for us. “We’re lucky he’s not pressing charges.”

  A sheriff’s car drives this way and belts out a whoop as the red and blue flicker of those lights on top of its roof illuminates the night.

  “He’s not.” Mom pulls her coat around her tightly. “But they might.”

  “Just great,” I say as a plume of fog blows from my lips. “I’ve got more questions than answers. And it looks as if the only one being arrested tonight is me.”

  But as for those questions, Morgan Buttonwood just might be able to fill in the murderous gaps.

  And if I can make bail, I just might get the answers I’m looking for.

  Chapter 6

  “Rumor has it, your night ended with a bang,” Jasper says with a tense look on his face that doesn’t show an ounce of amusement.

  “Would you believe me if I said there was a man named Thor involved? A rather explosive man at that.” I bite down on a smile as I look at the dapper, far too handsome, a tad bit ornery homicide detective that’s ended up in my living room—our living room.

  Jasper came home early, if you can call ten-thirty early. And I’m thrilled that I came home at all. It turned out, my mother used her womanly wiles (not a sight to behold), Georgie used her circular speak (somewhat of a daily phenomenon), and Juni utilized her tomfoolery (something within her wheelhouse that she can access and execute with expert ease) until somehow we were let off with a warning.

  And thankfully so.

  With everything that’s happened, the last place I need to be is in the pokey awaiting arraignment on terrorist charges. It was something the deputy threw our way to chew on in the event my mother or Georgie decided to think about discharging a weapon again in a public venue.

  Jasper takes off his jacket and sets it on the recliner. It’s already nice and toasty in the cottage, the fire is crackling, and I’ve been sipping hot cocoa, snug in my pj’s and fuzzy socks, hoping I’d see my handsome hubby sooner than later. I stole a platter of those snowballs cookies from the Country Cottage Café, and I’ve been noshing on them while trying not to remember any details of the last few hours. But every time the fireplace lets out a loud snap, it comes to me again like some PTSD-inspired flashback.

  Jasper narrows his brows as he looks my way. “This Thor person wouldn’t happen to be my competition, would he?” His lips flex in a short-lived smile as he holds up a bag of takeout. “Hungry? Or has Thor already fed you?”

  “Believe me, there’s no competition on the horizon. And do flying frog legs count as a meal?”

  He cringes. “Only if they made it into your mouth. And if they did, maybe don’t tell me.” Jasper wraps his arms around me tightly and plants a wet one over my lips. Instinctually, my hands press to the back of his neck as I make him linger there a little while longer.

  Detective Jasper Wilder has magic buried in his kisses that I’m not so willing to part with at the moment. There’s nothing better than a little alone time with the hottest man in all of Maine, especially on a dark, snowy night.

  Here we go, Fish mewls. Cover your eyes, Acorn. You’ll never be able to unsee what’s about to happen next. Here’s a hint. They’re not very good at licking, but boy, do they ever try.

  I pull back and look up at my husband’s lightning gray eyes. “Guess what lesson my mother learned the hard way?”

  His brows hike a notch as he pulls back to view me.

  “That accompanying her youngest daughter on the town could be hazardous to her health and reputation?”

  I don’t hesitate to swat him on the arm.

  “You’re hilarious.” I frown up at him. “But no. When a man calls you his old lady, it’s more or less a compliment.”

  “Did your mom slug the guy?”

  “No. Shots were fired. That’s where Thor came in.” I tell him all about Georgie’s new rubber bullet weaponry as we get situated on the sofa with the takeout. “Ooh, Thaime for Thai? I love them. I guess we’re going to have a spicy yet tasty night.”

  “Red curry on rice, drunken noodles, and dumplings. And it will
most certainly be a spicy yet tasty night.” He waggles his brows my way and I giggle like a schoolgirl. “But that doesn’t change the fact I’m horrified Georgie is armed. Who should we be angry with?”

  “You know me well,” I say as we both take a box and dig right in. “How about we take out our shared aggression on this food? I’m starved.”

  “So who did you manage to shake down tonight?” He comes shy of glowering at me for a second as he asks. It’s not a secret this little homicide-related hobby of mine doesn’t thrill him. It doesn’t necessarily thrill me either, but let’s face it, I’m addicted to bringing justice to light. That’s exactly why Jasper and I make such a good pairing.

  “Fern Tuttle.” I tell him about that strange stuff she mentioned regarding Morgan and Mable’s father and stepmother, and the fact she alluded that Colt Avian might have been the one to cut the brakes. “Oh, and Georgie is convinced Fern was hiding something else from me. She hinted at the fact she and Morgan were fighting over something and never extrapolated. Instead, she switched storylines and told us about the Buttonwoods unfortunate trip down Big Bear Mountain.”

  “I should be able to verify that pretty easily. Especially if it just happened last year.”

  “And I should be able to get Morgan to tell me about the things she and Fern were disagreeing about. Fern mentioned they were like sisters.”

  Jasper tips his head back and his pale gray eyes look backlit from the inside.

  “Just to put it out there, I’ve been moved to want to kill a sibling before,” he rumbles.

  “Me too,” I say. “More than once. Don’t worry. I haven’t taken Morgan off the suspect list just yet.”

  “Oh really?” His cheek rises on one side with a note of amusement. “That’s funny. Neither have I. By the way, they tell me I’m the lead homicide detective on the case.”

  Don’t believe the rumors, Fish yowls from the hearth where both Sherlock and Acorn are sitting a few feet apart rolling a ball to one another.