Nosy Neighbor: All 7 complete Nosy Neighbor cozy mysteries PLUS: 2 short Christmas stories (A Nosy Neighbor mystery)

by Cynthia Hickey

  Okay. Kind of familiar fairly quickly, but it felt nice. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a date. My heart drummed hard enough to accompany the rock song on a radio someone had brought. “Thanks.” Before taking a bite of the ham and pineapple slice, I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants and let my gaze roam the crowd.

  “How many of these people are my neighbors?”

  “None, other than me.” Matt folded his slice of meat lovers pizza and took a bite, his eyes shrewd as he studied me. “Don’t get involved, Stormi. Nothing good will come from being a nosy neighbor.”

  Was that a threat? It sounded like one. Suddenly his close proximity didn’t feel so warm. Why the interest anyway? I narrowed my eyes. Was he the killer? Did he think I knew more than I did and was thus a danger to him being caught? I scooted my chair back.

  Matt fell backwards, upending his plastic cup on his chest. “Hey!”

  “Ooops.” I grinned and hopped to my feet. “Let me get you a towel.”

  “You did that on purpose.”

  “Why would—”

  A gunshot rang out. I dove to the ground.

  4

  Matt threw his body over mine, smashing me into the ground and into spilled beer. “Don’t move.”

  I unburied my face, spitting dirt and grass, and jerked back at the sight of a gun in Matt’s hand. Had he carried it the whole time? I wasn’t sure how I felt about a weapon on my property, but I was pretty sure it ranked low on my list. And I thought he said he was off-duty. Did off-duty cops carry a gun? Obviously, there was more to Mrs. Lincoln’s death than Matt was telling me.

  In the corner of the yard, Mom peered around the trunk of a huge oak tree. Cherokee lay flat on the ground like an uprooted worm. I guess she figured playing dead was her best option. Angela ran to and fro like a headless chicken until one of the moving guys tackled her to the ground.

  “Who’s shooting?”

  “I don’t know.” Matt’s warm breath tickled my ear. “But I aim to find out. Stay put.” And he was gone, leaving me vulnerable.

  Since I found myself lying in a puddle of sticky dirt, I had no intentions of being still. Inch-by-inch I sat up. Sadie bounded toward me, licked my face, and burped. A wave of beer breath washed over me. Great. A drunk giant dog. I narrowed my eyes and glanced around the yard. Who was leaving their drinks unattended?

  With a gruff bark, Sadie headed toward where the shots were fired. Obviously, a little alcohol gave my dog courage.

  Another shot rang out from my neighbor’s place. Then a mighty rustle and squeaking and the sky grew dark from a multitude of winged creatures. “Matt, wait. Someone’s shooting at bats. That’s all.”

  He stopped his mad dash across the yard. Slowly, the party guests got to their feet and came out of hiding, all of the cops holding guns. Matt shoved his weapon back into his waistband and pulled his tee-shirt down to conceal it. The others followed suit.

  Time for the party to be over. After folding my lawn chair and leaning it against the porch rail, I began cleaning up discarded cups and cans. The impromptu party I hadn’t been in the mood for anyway, but ended up enjoying, lost some of its zeal after hearing gunshots. I glanced around to see Mom and Angela stuffing garbage into bags while the other guests packed up their equipment and headed for their vehicles. Matt was nowhere in sight. Hopefully, he left to give the bat killer a piece of his mind.

  When Matt still hadn’t returned by the time the yard was back to rights, I moved into the house. Might as well see how my mother destroyed the rest of it with her decorating.

  The kitchen sported candy-apple red curtains that looked surprisingly nice with the cream-painted wooden cabinets. Someone had replaced the white plastic patio set I used as kitchen furniture with a fifties vintage-style dinette set with vinyl seats that matched the curtains. Nice.

  I purposely didn’t glance into the floral living room. Seen it, didn’t like it, and thank the Lord, Mom didn’t touch my office. I kept the door closed so she wouldn’t be invited to. My bedroom still remained pine wood and white Battenberg bedding and curtains. Wonderful. Mom at least knew not to cross certain boundaries. Whatever they chose to do with their own rooms would be fine with me.

  “So?” Mom stepped to my side. “Does the house meet with your approval?”

  “All except the front room. What possessed you to buy so much flowered stuff?”

  She shrugged. “It’s homey. Welcoming.”

  “That’s a matter of opinion.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s only until I get my own place.”

  Which I knew could be weeks, months, or years, depending on Mom’s mood. I sighed. There’s no way I’d kick my family out, and she knew it. “Good night, Mom.” I leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Thanks for the party.”

  A smile lit up her face. “You’re welcome. Biscuits and chocolate gravy for breakfast.”

  Just like that, all became right with my world. I practically skipped to my room and headed across the polished oak floors to close my curtains.

  A light flickered in the yard behind me. Was the bat man at it again? I peered through the glass. No, the bobbing light moved farther away. Curiosity got the best of me, and I opened the French doors to step onto my half-circle patio balcony.

  Tonight wasn’t any brighter than the one before and visibility was almost nonexistent. What could they be looking for after ten o’clock? I glanced at the unfriendly couple’s house next door. Dark windows greeted me. If I wanted to gather clues for my new novel, I’d need to devise a way to meet my neighbors, all of them. I stepped back in the room and locked the door.

  Maybe I could use the excuse of recruiting more people for the Neighborhood Watch, since the sign-up sheet was blank except for my name. I could call another meeting. No, door-to-door would work best. My stomach flipped over at the thought of initiating contact and conversation with people I didn’t know. Maybe Mom would come to the door with me.

  *

  I stuffed a bite of chocolate-covered biscuit into my mouth and closed my eyes. Heaven. As much as I liked cooking, I enjoyed someone else serving up a delightful dish once in a while, too. I sighed and set down my fork.

  “Mom, I need a way to meet the neighbors.”

  Angela wiped her mouth with a napkin and frowned as her kids heaped more gravy on their plates. “You could always have another party. That was fun.”

  “No, something more … intimate. More one-on-one.”

  Mom set another pan of biscuits on the table. “I couldn’t help but notice how much food you had in your freezer. Maybe you could find out which neighbors are elderly and in need.”

  “How would I do that? It’s not like I can knock on their door and ask them how old they are.”

  “Ask Matt which ones might benefit from your cooking.”

  Good idea but it wouldn’t allow me to ask questions. It’s not like I could ring the door bell and say, Hey, how well did you know Mrs. Lincoln? Did you like her? Did you kill her?

  “Well, y’all figure it out.” Angela stood. “But why you want to know all these people is beyond me. I’m taking the kids to enroll them in school and beat the rush when other parents wait until the last minute the first week of August. See you later.”

  I nodded and turned back to Mom. No way around it. I’d have to let her know my plans. Once Angela left the room, I folded my arms on the table top and leaned forward. “Okay. My real reason is I’ve decided to write romantic mysteries. I’d like to use the crime committed a couple of nights ago as my first book. What’s a clever way to get information out of people I’ve never met?”

  “As head of the Neighborhood Watch, why don’t you go around asking people about their concerns? Then you can fish for more information.” Mom began stacking dishes. “Take a clipboard or something so you look official. Maybe wear a suit.”

  No, thank you. I’ll stick to capris and gym shoes. I carried my plate to the sink and fought the urge to lick off the lingering chocolate. “
Thanks, Mom, that’s a great idea.”

  Sadie whined at my feet. “No, you can’t have the chocolate either. And you aren’t going on the walk with me. I can only concentrate on one thing at a time and your previous owner didn’t leash train you very well.” From the dog’s red eyes, I’d bet she nursed one heck of a hangover. I headed upstairs to change out of my pajamas.

  Ebony and Ivory meowed and stretched on top of my coverlet. The poor darlings rarely left my room since Sadie moved in. I scratched behind both their ears. “Sorry, about all the commotion, guys. But we’ll all have to get used to it. No one’s leaving any time soon.”

  I wasn’t going to follow Mom’s advice on the suit, but I did want to look presentable. I surveyed my sparse closet. An author’s job didn’t require a large wardrobe. No one saw you while you sat in your office chair, zoned out, staring at the computer screen. Most of the time I wore yoga pants and tank tops.

  With a sigh, I pulled out a pair of Capri pants in stripes of sherbet colors, very summery. I chose a bubblegum pink tee shirt to go with them, slid my feet into blue glittery flip-flops, and I was ready to go.

  “You look like you’re six years old,” Mom said as I dug some paper out of a drawer. “All you need is the clown makeup and pig tails. You really need more fashionable clothes. After all, you’re an author, and need to market yourself.” She always lowers her voice when she says that, like being an author is a big secret. “Your red hair clashes with those colors.”

  “I have an outfit I wear to book signings and conferences. That’s good enough for me.” I waved two sheets of lined paper at her. “Gotta go.” I dashed out the door before she could remark any further on my lack of style.

  Going from one neighbor’s house to the next would be hard enough without worrying about my clothes. I grinned as I snapped the paper onto the fluorescent pink clipboard I found in one of my office cabinets. Folks would see me coming a mile away.

  Sadie whined through the screen door as I strolled down the driveway. I really hoped she wouldn’t break through the mesh and join me on Hickory Road. I turned left. Right would take me to Mrs. Henley’s house, and I already knew how she felt about the victim. Besides, I didn’t want to walk past the crime scene until I absolutely had to.

  I hadn’t gone far when I approached the sprawling ranch style house of the bat killer. Or at least I assumed it was the place since a middle-aged man in overalls and carrying a shotgun stared into the recesses of a tall oak tree.

  “Good afternoon,” I sang, forcing myself to forget people terrified me. Especially ones with guns. “I’m Stormi Nelson, head of the Neighborhood Watch, and I …”

  “Know how to get winged creatures out of a tree short of burning down the tree?”

  “No, and I’m quite sure that wouldn’t …”

  “Darn Detective Steele told me I can’t shoot my gun in city limits.” He glared at me. “What’s this world coming to?”

  “Well, I don’t …”

  “And if I have to see another bat snatch a drink out of my pool, I’ll shoot ‘em anyway. I swear I will.”

  “That sounds—a”

  “Norma, come meet the new gal.” His yell almost burst my eardrum. Maybe Norma would allow me to get a word in edgewise.

  “I’m going to kill you, Bill.” A rotund woman wearing overalls that matched her husband’s, burst from a storage shed on the side of the house and marched toward us. In her hands, she carried the biggest pair of gardening shears I’d ever seen.

  5

  “Who in tarnation are you?” Norma snipped the shears. “’Cause if you’re here to snoop around my man, you can light a fire under your rear and keep moving.”

  “Excuse me?” Seriously. I’d stepped into an alternate universe. Oak Meadow Estates no longer existed. Instead, somehow, someone transplanted me to a planet far, far away. I clutched my clipboard to my chest.

  “Oh, I didn’t stutter, girlie.” She narrowed her eyes while her lump of a husband crossed his arms and glared. Really. What woman in their right mind would want Pillsbury doughboy?

  I took a deep breath and a step back, then forced the words out of my mouth in a rush. “I’m the head of the Neighborhood Watch and wanted to check to make sure you’re okay after the unfortunate death of Mrs. Lincoln.” Wow. I think that’s the most I’d ever spoken to a stranger in one sentence.

  Tears welled in Bill’s eyes, while Norma’s face reddened. “Got what she deserved, if you ask me,” she said. “Chasing around after other women’s husbands.”

  “Uh, wasn’t she, like, sixty-two?” I didn’t think she could chase anyone.

  “Don’t matter. A cougar if I ever saw one.” She motioned her head at Bill. “Look at him crying like a baby. That tells you all you need to know.”

  Bill shook his head. “It’s very sad.”

  “I’m asking you to leave now, girlie.” Norma grabbed her husband’s arm and dragged him toward the back of the house.

  That woman had motive. I wrote her name on my paper and put a giant check mark next to it, signifying she was my top suspect. So, I had Marion Henley, and Bill and Norma, who? I’d neglected to get their last names. I banged my pencil against my head. Some Nancy Drew I was.

  “You taking a census?”

  I squealed and tightened my grip on the clipboard before it crashed to the sidewalk.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you,” said a woman who looked like the model for a Barbie doll.

  Maybe if I could get past the bouncing boobs in a tight spaghetti-strapped top, I might be able to answer. My gaze traveled from her scarlet tennies, over the tight jogging outfit in the same fire-engine red, to the crimson scrunchie holding back a mass of platinum hair. “No … problem.” I suddenly felt the six-year-old Mom said I resembled.

  “I’m Victoria Lanham. Most people call me Torie. You’re the author.”

  “Yes.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Could you stop jogging in place, please?” The bobbing of silicone-enhanced body parts made me seasick.

  She giggled. “Sorry. I saw you talking to the Olsons. Strange woman, that Norma. Thinks everyone is out to steal her husband.”

  “Yeah, I discovered that.” I clasped the clipboard to my chest, suddenly feeling inferior in a small C-cup. “I’m checking on folks after the murder.”

  Torie’s smile faded. She spoke through clenched teeth. “Yeah, Mrs. Lincoln was a … real nice woman. Well, see ya later!” She tossed me a wave and jiggled down the sidewalk.

  I glanced at my list of names. They could all be suspects in my book. I wanted to put Torie at the top, but there was no crime in being beautiful. Sighing, I continued to the next house.

  A lovely Tudor home with a devastatingly handsome detective pruning bushes in front. He glanced up and grinned. “Hey, Stormi. My sister’s inside. Let me go get her. She’d love to meet you.” He set down his gardening tool and dashed away. I stared so long at the view I thought someone would have to get the acetone remover to unsuper-glue my gaze from his backside.

  He returned moments later with a pixie of a woman who shared his dark blonde hair and chocolate eyes. “This is Mary Ann.”

  Mary Ann’s arms were full of books, my books. The day brightened like a sunrise. “Would you sign these, please? I’m so excited to meet you. I love your novels. They take me away and let me experience wild and crazy romance in a clean, moral way.”

  “I’d be honored.” I followed her to the porch where she spread the paperbacks on a patio table. I’d never tire of hearing someone recite my tagline to me. While I signed to my heart’s content, she left me and returned with two glasses of lemonade.

  “Where’s mine?” Matt frowned.

  Mary Ann waved him away. “Get your own. I’m visiting with my new best friend.”

  I liked the sound of that. Not having had a close friend since high school, I hadn’t realized how much I missed female companionship or any human contact for that matter. Ebony and Ivory,
while wonderful listeners, weren’t much for conversation. Sadie occasionally barked a response while I rambled, but it still wasn’t enough. Now, I had a houseful of people and next to no quiet. Still, friendship sounded nice. I took a sip of the offered drink, and puckered up like a prune.

  “Too sour?” Mary Ann leaped from her seat and disappeared, leaving Matt grinning at me like a Cheshire cat. When Mary Ann returned, she dumped two teaspoonfuls of sugar in my glass. “That ought to do it.”

  “My sister isn’t much of a cook. She can’t boil water without scorching the pan.” Matt chose a wooden rocker and plopped muddy boots on the porch railing. “Maybe you can teach her. Your mother said you’re a good cook.”

  “Would you?” Mary Ann clasped her hands together. “We could bond over food.”

  I nodded and took another drink. This one tasted like the inside of a sugar bowl with a splash of lemon for seasoning. I set the glass on the table. “Thanks for the drink. I’d love to do lunch sometime, Mary Ann, but I’ve got to be going.”

  “What are you up to?” Matt lowered his feet with a thud. “Why the clipboard?”

  “As head of the Neighborhood Watch, I’m going door-to-door to see whether any of the residents have concerns about their safety.” I tilted my chin. What was it about this man that made me want to skirt around the truth?

  “You’re snooping.” A dimple winked in his cheek.

  “No, I’m not.”

  He made a forward motion with his fingers. “Let me see the clipboard.”

  “It’s personal.” I clutched it tighter.

  “Stormi, don’t make me wrestle you for it.”

  “Fine.” I thrust it at him, not entirely certain I didn’t want to wrestle.

  “What’s with the checkmark? You don’t really think Norma killed Ethel, do you?”

  “Do you have any better ideas?”

  “Not at the moment. What grounds do you have?”

  “She thought Ethel was after her husband.”

  He laughed so hard, he snorted. “She thinks everyone is after Bill. She sicced her dog on Mary Ann once when she passed on the sidewalk. I’m pretty sure she’s harmless.”