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

by Cynthia Hickey

  I’d just made up my mind to say so, when the paramedic put an oxygen mask on my face. My leg throbbed, I was freezing, and my brain refused to focus. Maybe I really was dying, and Mrs. Henley could add another murder to her belt.

  I lost consciousness again, not opening my eyes until I was in the hospital. Mom slept in a chair on one side of my bed, and Matt slumped in the other. I wanted a drink of water more than almost anything in the world. I groaned and reached for the nurse’s button.

  “Hey.” Matt stood and grabbed the water pitcher beside the bed. He poured water into a plastic cup and inserted one of those bendable straws before lifting it to my mouth. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I was shot.” I pursed my lips around the straw. The water was pure nectar from heaven.

  “You’ve slept for three days. The doctors had to give you a blood transfusion, which your sister gladly offered to donate.”

  Great. She would never let me live down the fact that she saved my life. “How long has Mom been here?”

  “Off and on the entire time.”

  Mom stirred and opened her eyes. “No more than he has. I sure am glad to see you awake, daughter. I thought for a while there we might lose you.”

  “I thought the same. God must have had other plans.” I held out my hands, taking theirs in mine. “Thank you. But, I’m going to be okay. You should go home now and get some proper rest.”

  They shook their heads like moving bookends. “Now that you’re awake,” Mom said, “you’ll most likely be released tomorrow. I’m sure we can hold it together that long.” She released my hand and sat back in her seat.

  Matt kept his grasp on mine and pulled his chair closer to the bed. “Mrs. Henley confessed to the murders. Rusty will stay with her sister indefinitely. She also confessed to having a history of mental illness and not taking her meds because they upset her stomach.”

  Mental illness wasn’t a surprise. “I guess I’ve lost my gardener.” I’d miss the neighborhood Peeping Tom. “Does he understand what has happened?”

  “Nothing more than that Mrs. Henley died.” Matt sighed and rubbed his chin. “Ann, may I have a moment alone with Stormi?”

  “Oh, sure.” Mom jumped to her feet. “I could use some coffee.” She winked and left.

  Matt glued his gaze to mine, the pain and anguish flittering across his eyes brought tears to mine. What had happened? Maybe my family didn’t all make it home. “What? Did someone die?”

  “No, everyone is fine. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to save you.”

  “But you did save me. You found us.” I put my other hand over the one he held, the one with the IV needle creating its own brand of torture for my body. “If you hadn’t gotten there when you did, I would have bled to death. Thank God, Mom called you.”

  “I was already on my way. The Edgarses were returning home and saw Mrs. Henley in the van with you and their foyer mirror shattered. They came looking for me the same time as Mr. Olson who looked out his window when he heard a horn honking. We put the pieces together, what with the bullet hole in the Edgars’ wall and your house dark with the doors wide open and Sadie barking loud enough to raise the dead.” His eyes misted over. “It wasn’t until your Mom called though, that we had a better idea of where to look.

  “Your sister flagged down the copter and we were able to trace her steps back to you. When I saw you lying on the ground, your gown soaked with blood and your Mom crying …” His shoulders shook. “I thought I was too late.” He laid his cheek against the hand with the IV, taking care not to knock the needle.

  “I was feeling a little woozy.” I smiled and placed a hand on his head. The wheat-colored strands were soft and thick to my touch. I ran my fingers through his hair. “You’re going to love how I portray you in my book.”

  “Oh, no.” He groaned and lifted his head. “Seriously?”

  I nodded. “If you aren’t still mad at me, do you think you would mind very much volunteering to help me research the love scenes?”

  He grinned, a dimple winking in his right cheek. “Now, that, I’m looking forward to.”

  24

  Two weeks after returning home, the constant company of my family hovering over me cast a pall of suffocation. I stared at the crutches in the corner, close enough at hand, I could leave if I wanted to, but Matt had just arrived. Very few things could make me flee his company.

  He planted a tender kiss on my forehead, then a more intimate one on my lips that made me forget about the healing throb in my thigh. “Hey.” His husky greeting washed over me like a gentle rain.

  “Hey.” I puckered for another kiss, which he gave before sitting next to me on the loveseat and pulling me under his arm. I snuggled in and breathed deep of Matt.

  “Mrs. Henley’s hearing is next week. I think it’s a good idea for all of you to go. The evidence against her is overwhelming, but it never hurts the judge to see the living victims, especially young people.”

  I nodded. “We’ll be there. I’m hoping they’ll put her away for a long time.”

  “For life, most likely.” He rubbed my bare arm, his touch as soothing as a favorite silk blouse. “Are you going stir-crazy yet?”

  “No, I’ve spent most of my time writing. My agent, while relieved my research didn’t result in my death, is ecstatic at my progress. The book should be done by the end of summer.” I couldn’t wait. The title, Anything for a Story, couldn’t be more perfect.

  “Have you had your fill of solving murders?” He gave me a gentle squeeze.

  “I think so.” I chuckled. “After all, how many times can there be a murder in a peaceful subdivision like Oak Meadows?”

  Mom laughed as she entered the room. She set a tray of tea and cookies on the coffee table. “If there is one, you’ll stumble over it. I have to admit, I’ll miss the excitement.”

  “Maybe you can join the Edgarses for Bingo on Friday nights,” I suggested with a grin.

  “Heaven forbid. I’m not that old.”

  “Mom needs a man,” Angela said, studying her nails. “Dating Wayne has really brightened up my life.”

  Cheyenne rolled her eyes and continued texting away on her phone. “No mushy stuff or I’m out of here.”

  I glanced around at the faces of everyone I loved. Even Cheyenne’s pretty but surly teenage face couldn’t dispel my mood. If only they didn’t feel the need to be around me every waking moment. Finding solitude to write had become more than enough of a challenge for me. But, I was grateful for my family. Having had to go through what I did alone would have been ten times more horrifying, yet I still wished they hadn’t had to experience the adventure.

  Matt put his ears close to mine, his breath tickling my neck. “Want to research a kissing scene?”

  “Oh, gross.” Cheyenne pushed to her feet and stomped from the room. Dakota grinned and followed his sister, Mom and Angela also taking the hint.

  I tilted my face to his. “I’m hoping to research a lot with you. You’re the perfect novel hero.”

  His mouth quirked at one corner. “I’m not sure about the hero part, but I think more research can be arranged.” He lowered his head and claimed my lips.

  Yep, the danger was all worth it if it meant I had this handsome man at my side. I couldn’t help but wonder, and look forward to, whatever came next.

  The End

  A KILLER PLOT

  A Nosy Neighbor Christian Cozy Mystery

  Book 2

  By Cynthia Hickey

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  Copyright 2015

  Written by: Cynthia Hickey

  Published by: Winged Publications

  Cover Design: Cynthia Hickey

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  No part of this book may be c
opied or distributed without the author’s consent.

  1

  “How does it feel to be on the NYT Best Seller’s list again?” My agent, Elizabeth Swanson, asked.

  “Just as wonderful as the first time.” Few things were better than seeing my name, Stormi Nelson, on the cover of a book. I sipped my coffee and watched my Irish Wolf Hound, Sadie, chase a squirrel across the yard. After the murders six months ago, and the publication of my first mystery novel, I relished the peace.

  “How is your hunky hero?”

  “He’s been on an undercover assignment for a few months. I’m lucky if I get a phone call from him.” Not to mention how much I missed his kisses. After all, I’d designed the hero in my book after him.

  “Have you started the next book in the series?”

  “I’m waiting for inspiration.” Which arrived daily in the form of ever-increasingly disturbing emails. Something I chose to keep to myself at the moment. “I’ll keep you updated. Bye.”

  I hung up, dropped the phone on the table next to me and studied the email I had received that morning from “Your biggest fan”.

  “Miss Nelson, I continue to anxiously await your next novel and book signing. Maybe I should help move things along for you? I have certain talents that will help take your mystery writing to the next level. If I don’t see a second book soon, I’m afraid I’ll have to implement some serious action.”

  I shuddered. The latest email might not be cause for alarm, if not for all the ones prior. I received one a day from this person, and after answering the first one and letting the sender know it would be well into the next year before a new manuscript would be finished, I’d stopped answering.

  “Come on, Sadie.” I stood and held the kitchen door open. Sadie bounded inside, almost knocking Mom over in her haste.

  “Gracious, that dog is like a bull dozer.” Mom set a plate of pancakes on the table. “I wish I had her energy.”

  “Me, too.” I grabbed a pancake, and carrying the disc of fluffy fried batter, headed to my office to start the writing day.

  While I ate, I booted up my laptop. Feet pounded down the stairs outside my office. My nephew, Dakota, and niece, Cherokee, were running late for school, as usual. They spent more time in sweep at the high school than they did in class, it seemed. Their mother, Angela, should make sure they’re up before she headed to her job as receptionist at the local police station. Still, it wasn’t my place to judge.

  My laptop came to life and alerted me to another email. The blood drained from my head to my feet as I discovered it was from my biggest fan. Was the person going to email me every hour from now on? I really needed to let Matt know the next time he called. Maybe he could trace the emails somehow and tell the person to layoff.

  Speaking of phone calls, I’d left my cell phone outside. Getting out of my chair, I yelled for Mom to bring me the phone when she had a minute. Distractions of one sort or another kept me from actually starting my writing until eight a.m. each morning. That gave me ten more minutes to piddle around until the house quieted down.

  “Here you go.” Mom pushed open the door and tossed me the phone. “I’m headed out for supplies. A lot of orders to fill.”

  Mom had started an in-home bakery three months ago and, to my surprise, worked very diligently filling orders. Someday, maybe she could actually have her own bakery and I could have my kitchen back. I felt as if I rarely got to relax by cooking anymore.

  “Thank you.” I checked for messages from Matt. Nothing. I sighed and settled back into my chair, fingers poised over the keyboard. I needed to write a minimum of three thousand words to stay on track of finishing a rough draft in less than two months.

  Two hours and the first chapter done, I was well on my way to a juicy little murder. I’d chosen the crime of, A Killer Plot, to be about an author cyber-stalked by a fanatic fan. A bit close for comfort, considering I’d received two more emails, one an hour, from my very own stalker, but the annoying emails needed to be good for something, right? Why not fodder for a new book? It might be just the thing I needed to avoid an all-out fear fest.

  I saved the manuscript and headed to the kitchen for lunch, sticking my phone in the pocket of my new skinny jeans. Matt hadn’t called in over a week. Today might be the day he called and erased my worry about him.

  Mom had a rack of cupcakes cooling on the table and filled another pan with batter. “I haven’t fixed lunch, yet. Sorry.”

  “I can fix myself a sandwich. I know you’re busy.”

  “Haven’t bought groceries, either.”

  I sighed. Hadn’t she said earlier that she was headed to the store? “No problem. I’ll go.” I grabbed my purse from next to the refrigerator and grabbed the never-ending list of groceries my family couldn’t, or wouldn’t, live without. I really needed to start charging people rent.

  Once behind the wheel of my Mercedes, I backed out of the driveway and headed to the grocery store. I filled my shopping cart with almost everything on the list, how many candy bars did a teenager need anyway? And got in the long line by the cashier.

  “Stormi, it’s good to see you.” Sarah Thompson, local erotic and horror novel writer, tapped me on the shoulder. “It’s been so long, you haven’t seen my newest work.”

  I didn’t want to either. The last I’d read had given me nightmares for a week. My neighbor definitely had a twisted mind, and the writing wasn’t very good either. “How’s the self-publishing business?”

  “Booming. There’s a real market for steamy stuff. You really should change genres.”

  I fought back a shudder. “I’m having too much fun to change.” My bank account wasn’t suffering much either.

  “It’s a lot more fun to research murder, mayhem, and deviant acts.” Sarah wiggled her eyebrows. “Oh, but you’re man has been away for a while, hasn’t he? You poor thing.”

  Thankfully, the cashier motioned me forward, saving me from having to answer. At one time, I’d suspected Sarah of being a murderer. After all, she’d said she’d do anything for a story, and her last book had followed the crimes happening in Oak Meadow Estates to a Tee. Still, it had also given me plenty to write about and landed me at number five on the NYT Best Selling list. Write about what you know, right? Since I had been the one to stumble across the first dead body, I’d had plenty of words to put to paper.

  “That will be two hundred dollars and thirty-six cents,” the cashier said.

  I definitely needed to charge my family rent. I pushed my heavy cart back out to the car.

  Bill Olsen waved a hand in greeting. His wife, Norma, promptly shoved him away from me and toward the store. The woman’s jealousy hadn’t dissipated one iota. I grinned. Maybe some women found older, balding, paunchy men attractive, but I was happy with my hunky detective. Now, if he would only call. Matt, not Bill.

  Trunk full of food I wouldn’t have to buy if I still lived alone, I drove home, unloaded and put away the groceries, and let Sadie into the yard to run. I watched for a few minutes, then filched one of Mom’s cupcakes. “Oh, filling!”

  Mom glared. “I only made enough extras for each of the family to have one. Don’t think you’ll get another one tonight when everyone else is enjoying theirs.”

  “As if Angela would risk the extra calories.” I would get my sister’s for sure. “Who are these for?”

  “The Women’s Auxiliary at the church is having a bake sale. They paid me fifty dollars to make two hundred of these to sell.” Mom chuckled. “I would have made them for free.”

  “No sense if they’re willing to pay.” I took another bite and bit back a moan. “You are a baking genius.” Maybe I could help set my mother up in her own shop. I had the money. They could be partners, with me handling the financial aspect.

  My pocket vibrated, alerting me to a call. I dug the cell phone out and dashed to the back porch and privacy. “Matt.”

  “Hey, sweetheart.”

  “I’ve missed you.” I plopped onto a lawn chair. “W
hen are you coming home?”

  “A few more days, I promise. How are things over there?”

  I almost told him about my cyber-stalker, but hesitated. He had enough to worry about. “I’ve started my next book, which will make my agent happy. I could use some research help for the love scenes.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  His husky voice sent my pulse racing. “I’m thinking about funding Mom’s bakery.”

  “That’s sweet of you.”

  I grinned. “Her birthday is tomorrow. I’ll tell her then. She’s amazing, Matt. I’ve gained five pounds since she started this venture.”

  “In all the right places, I bet.”

  “Maybe.” And maybe not. My pants had grown a bit snug. I closed my eyes and leaned against the chair back. “Are you staying safe?”

  “As much as I’m able. Look, baby, I’ve got to go. Take care of yourself, okay?”

  “You, too.” Tears pricked my eyes as I said goodbye and sent up a prayer for his safety. Less than a year ago, I hadn’t known he existed, now he filled my heart. Six months was a long time for him to be undercover. Each day, each week, that passed filled me with dread. Each sight of a squad car driving down the street left me cold.

  “Hey, Aunt Stormi.” Dakota joined me on the porch, handing me a cold diet soda. “Things aren’t the same out here without a murder, are they?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re missing a nighttime hike at gunpoint.” I popped the soda tab.

  “Maybe a little.” He grinned and guzzled his soda. “The good thing is it brought us all closer together, don’t you think.”

  I clapped a hand on his knee. “I know it did. I might have grumbled at first when y’all moved in, disrupting my quiet life, but I prefer the occasional bouts of noise.” To my surprise, I truly did. Living alone had been a miserable existence. Now, instead of living between the pages of my novels, I actually lived. “Now, to get your sister and you to stop fighting and get to school on time.”