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

by Cynthia Hickey

  “Probably.” I brushed his hair off his forehead. “Thanks for not getting killed.”

  He laughed. “When you took off out of the restaurant, I didn’t think twice about following. You’ve guts of steel, Stormi.”

  “And a head as thick as a cement block.”

  He stood. “That, too. Stay here. I need to talk to the officers investigating my car. I’ll come get you when I’m ready to leave.”

  Maryann returned the bowl and napkins, then climbed into the back seat with me. “Do you want me to call your family?”

  “No, Mom will worry and Angela will start screaming about her dress.”

  “You really need to buy your own clothes.”

  I rested my head against the seat back, suddenly exhausted. “I know.” My hands and knees stung, and I shivered in the dress that no longer kept away the winter chill. I lifted my bottom and wrapped in the blanket I had been sitting on.

  My intentions for having a literary assistant did include research, mailings, setting up book signings, etc., not actually hitting the streets armed with a gun to solve crime. Matt wouldn’t stand for it, and I hated to think of my best friend, I’d had so few close friends in life, in danger. Still, Maryann was an adult. If she wanted to follow me while I pounded the pavements, she would.

  Matt returned a few minutes later. “The guy I chased was not much more than a kid. It wasn’t Stinger, but he could have been the one who flattened my tires. I’ve given his description to the officers, and now I’m ready to go home.” He got into the driver’s seat. “I can pick my car up at the mechanics tomorrow.”

  “Home sounds really good right now.” I closed my eyes.

  Maryann climbed into the front with her brother. “When we moved to Oak Meadows, I thought we’d be bored silly.” She clicked her seatbelt. “Who knew small towns were so exciting.”

  “Stop it right there.” Matt glared at her. “This is dangerous, not exciting.”

  “Stop being such a bully. Can’t you see Stormi is in pain?”

  Way to go, Maryann. I often wished I could distract Matt from the subject at hand as easily as she did.

  We pulled into my driveway a few minutes later. I took a deep breath and opened the car door. I might as well face my sister’s wrath and get it over with.

  Matt helped me up the drive, my knees swelling and growing stiff, and into the house. Maryann carried my shoes, purse, and gun.

  “For crying out loud.” Angela stopped between the kitchen and the living room, a bowl of popcorn in her hands. “You are not allowed to borrow my clothes again.”

  “I’m fine, thanks for asking.” I winced and made my way to the sofa.

  “What happened?” Angela set the bowl in my lap. “You look like hell.”

  “I feel like it.” I smiled. She might be the meanest sister on the planet, but she also knew popcorn was one of my comfort foods. “We were chasing a suspect that we think slashed Matt’s tires. I broke my toe.”

  She gasped and dashed to the kitchen, yelling for Mom. “Stormi is hurt again!”

  Angela returned with ice, Mom following, belting her robe around her waist. Mom put some of the ice in a baggy and plopped it on my toe.

  “Ow!” I set a napkin between the ice and my foot.

  “You, my daughter, are a walking disaster zone.” Mom crossed her arms. “You’re off your feet for a few days.”

  “Which is a good thing,” Matt sat, sitting beside me. “She won’t be able to get into trouble if she can’t get around.”

  “Could someone please tape my broken toe to the middle toe?” Where was the sympathy when someone was injured?

  I also didn’t have time for this. I could spend my mornings writing, but by the afternoon of each day, I’d be going stir crazy and wanting to get this case off my back. Maybe I could use crutches. No, I’d never been able to master the torture sticks. I’d have to wear sandals and walk on my heel. Where there was a will, there was a way.

  “Look at her.” Mom shook her head. “She’s trying to work out in her mind how she can snoop with that foot. She’s hopeless.”

  Matt grabbed a handful of popcorn. I hated sharing my popcorn. “God definitely broke the mold when he made her.”

  “I’m right here.” I shifted so the bowl was on the other side of me, out of his reach.

  “I can see that, dear.” Mom pulled some medical tape out of the pocket of her robe and knelt in front of me. “It seems like I’ve been doing a lot of taping you up over the years.”

  “Just call me Graceful.”

  She scoffed. “Foolish is more like it.” She cut the tape to size, then gentle positioned the injured appendage against the toe next to it. “Were the bumps and bruises worth it?”

  “Matt?”

  “All we have is another suspect.” He tried reaching for another handful of popcorn. I pushed it farther away. “Hey,” he said. “I thought you loved me.”

  “I do, but I don’t share my popcorn.”

  “Nope. She never has.” Angela brought in another bowl and handed it to Matt. “But, I do.”

  “I’m sorry about the evening,” I said, meeting Matt’s gaze.

  “I’m not. If I have to run down dark streets, there is no one I’d rather do it with than you.”

  “How sweet.” Maryann shoved her hand in his bowl. “We need a plan. Now that Stormi is injured, we need to divvy up the responsibilities.”

  Matt groaned. “The police will handle things from here.” He muttered something about saying the right things, but wasting his breath.

  “He’s right,” I said. “We can’t all go off running up and down the streets to catch a killer.”

  “Thank you.” He looked at me as if I’d grown horns and felt my forehead.

  I slapped his hand away. “Stop it. I’m just saying that too many people out asking questions isn’t very subtle.”

  Whatever I couldn’t do, Greta could. We’d come up with a plan in the morning. We could rent another wheelchair if we had to. One way or the other, I was putting an end to the crime before it put an end to me.

  21

  I called Greta the next morning, after waking to find that Mom had already left for the day. She agreed to pick me up around lunch time and take me to Mom’s shop so we could discuss our next step.

  Managing to get a sock on my foot, I struggled into some sweats, trying not to lean too much to one side and step down, then took the steps one at a time until I was on the ground floor. All I’d managed to do, other than get dressed, was to tie my hair back into a ponytail. My entire body ached from its contact with the sidewalk.

  After making myself a mug of coffee, and saying goodbye to the kids who had to return to school, I grabbed a package of powdered doughnuts and made the painful return trip up the stairs to do some writing. My inbox showed several emails from my agent, checking on the progress of the book. If she only knew. I responded that I was making progress, then pulled up an empty word document which I titled suspects.

  I put Reed at the top and Stinger in parenthesis. Then, I listed Ivy, Ginger, and Sissy. I left Lacey off. My gut told me she was guilty of nothing more than creating her hybrids. The girl seemed as elusive as her attempt to come up with a “never before created flower.”

  We really needed to follow Ivy for a few days to find out who her gentleman friend was. Find him, we would find Stinger, I was certain.

  The sound of a lawn mower pulled me to the window. I’d almost forgotten that Rusty had returned as my gardener. I’d need to write him a check. Next door, Tony Salazar waved, trying to get Rusty’s attention. Every time Rusty circled in that direction, he’d turn his head. What was up with the guy now?

  Sadie chased after the lawn mover, barking her fool head off. Mom must have let her out before leaving for work. I sighed. I’d have to hobble down the stairs again.

  “Hey, Tony!” I waved as I stepped out the back door.

  “Can you get him to turn that off and talk to me?”

 
I limped to Rusty’s side and tapped his shoulder. He turned with wide-eyes.

  “Why won’t you talk to Tony?”

  Rusty shrugged. “He wants me to cut his lawn. He doesn’t want to pay enough.”

  Ah. “Wait here.” I made my way to the fence. “Are you offering him something other than ten dollars to mow your yard?”

  “Yeah. I offered him a hundred and twenty-five dollars a month to keep my yard up. He insists on ten dollars. Now, he won’t speak to me because he says I’m robbing him.”

  “He doesn’t understand. I agreed to ten, but pay him more. Just tell him what he wants to hear.”

  “Okay.” He started to hop off his ladder, then turned back to me. “You haven’t been doing much of the neighborhood watch.”

  I shook my head. “I’m sorry about that. Some other things have claimed my attention.”

  “I’ve heard. I thought you might want to know that other than your watchdogs, there is a red Cadillac that cruises past your place several times a night.”

  “Oh.” I glanced toward the street. Since I didn’t know anyone with a red Cadillac, and most security people drove automobiles that didn’t stand out, it had to be one of Stinger’s people. It looked as if I’d be staring out of my window that night. “Thanks. I’ll clarify things with Rusty for you.”

  I returned to Rusty. “He’ll pay you ten dollars.”

  He nodded. “I don’t like being robbed.”

  “I understand. Who takes care of your finances?”

  He looked confused.

  “Your money. Who pays your bills?”

  “Mama used to. Now she has an old man who makes me give him my money, then he gives me fifty back to buy candy with. I told him I wanted ten!” He tensed.

  “I’m sure you did. He’s giving you plenty to buy candy with. Who buys your food or clothes?”

  “The church. I love overalls.”

  I was relieved to know that someone was looking out for my friend. I made a mental note to find out who his accountant was. “Have you seen anything lately?”

  He nodded.

  As usual, I’d have to drag it from him. “Can you tell me what? Have you seen any strangers?”

  “The streets are busy at night.”

  “What do you mean?” I plopped onto a lawn chair to take weight off my legs.

  “Cars, people, all going up and down the street, like zombies.”

  “Zombies?”

  “They don’t talk.”

  I sighed. I wasn’t going to get any information out of him today. “I need to get back to work. We’ll talk later.”

  “The zombies carry guns, Miss Stormi.”

  I froze halfway out of my chair. “You stay away from them.” I would definitely be spending time at my window tonight. Mrs. Olsen had nothing on me when it came to nosiness. I glanced across the street to where she pretended to water flowers that weren’t there. I changed direction and slowly crossed the street.

  “Hello.”

  “What do you want?” She turned, narrowly missing me with the hose spray.

  “I know you’re one of the most concerned residents on this street, and since I’m the head of the Neighborhood Watch, I’m wondering whether you’ve seen anything that might concern you.”

  “Cut the hogwash.” She turned off the water. “Everyone knows you’ve gotten yourself into another fix. Because of you, this street isn’t safe to walk down once the lights go off.”

  “Do you feel in danger?”

  “I keep my doors locked and my curtains closed.”

  “Have you called the police?”

  “Why?” She grabbed a rake from near the porch. “They don’t do anything except walk back and forth. There’s no law against that, unless they’re underage of course. Not that I’m going to be the one to go outside and ask them.”

  “Zombies,” I whispered.

  “What’s that?” She frowned.

  “Oh, nothing. Have a good day.” I turned and limped back home.

  If Stinger was trying to intimidate me, why isn’t he making more sure that it’s me seeing his people rather than my neighbors? Before now, I’d had no idea the danger was literally in my front yard. I stopped with one hand on the doorknob and turned to stare at the security detail across the street. Were they concerned at all that non-residents were wandering the neighborhood?

  My poor legs were getting way more exercise than they should. I crossed the street again. The SUV was empty. I scratched my head. Was the vehicle only for show? It wasn’t working very well as a deterrent if Rusty and Mrs. Olsen were to be believed. Where were the security people?

  I opened the door and almost fell back from the stench. It was obvious no one had opened the door in a few days. Blood spatter covered the two front seats and parts of the dash. I gagged and glanced at Matt’s house. His car still sat in the driveway. Hopefully, that meant he was home.

  Leaving the door open, I went to Matt’s house and banged on the door. He opened it, looking finer than he had in his dress clothes the night before. He stood there, toothbrush in hand, and dressed in nothing more than a pair of flannel lounge pants.

  “Oh.” I put a hand over my heart to keep it from beating free. “Yeah, um, the security guys are missing and their vehicle is full of blood.”

  “Repeat that.”

  I tore my gaze away from his chest and repeated my words. “There’s also talk of zombies, I mean, strangers, walking the street at night.”

  He thrust his toothbrush in my hand and pushed past me, running barefoot and bare chested to the SUV. He stopped and put his forearm over his nose and mouth. By the time I got there, he had gained a bit of composure. “Call the police, Mrs. Olsen.”

  “Put some clothes on Mr. Steele!”

  “Please.” He cut her a stern look. “I’m asking as an officer of the law.”

  She huffed and headed inside.

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “I haven’t checked on them in days. This is my fault.”

  “Wouldn’t their supervisor have wondered something?”

  “That is curious. Would you mind waiting here while I grab my cell phone and some clothes?”

  I shook my head and sat on the curb. Sirens wailed in the distance, the sound becoming too familiar.

  Rusty pushed his lawn-mower across the street and stopped by the SUV. “Zombies,” he said.

  I was tempted to agree with him. I wrapped my arms around my knees and rested my chin on them. This was the weirdest case I’d ever gotten mixed up in. If Stinger knew where I lived, if he was worried about me getting close, why not just come and get me? None of it made any sense.

  Two squad cars pulled up, one on each side of the SUV, blocking the street, and turned off their sirens. “Where’s the officer on scene?”

  “I’m here.” Matt ran up, now wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. Poor guy, getting called to work on his day off. He explained that I was the one who had discovered the blood-filled automobile.

  I sighed and headed for my house. I wasn’t in the mood to give a statement. I wasn’t in the mood for the neighbors to stare through their windows, and I definitely wasn’t in the mood to be looked at by the police as if I were somehow responsible. They could come and get my statement, or better yet, send Matt. My legs hurt and Greta would be picking me up very soon. It was another day with no writing.

  Once inside my house, I headed straight for the pantry and pulled out the makings of a cheese and broccoli casserole. Cooking soothed me, and it had been way too long since I’d filled my freezer. It wasn’t until a tear dropped on my hand as I reached for a can of cream of chicken soup that I realized I was crying.

  Matt’s arms wrapped around my waist and he pulled me to my chest. “Shhh. What’s wrong?”

  “People keep dying.” I hadn’t heard him come in. “No one is safe around me.”

  “This isn’t your fault. Those men were professionals.”

  “If so, and they couldn’t stay alive, then why am
I? It’s almost as if Stinger’s hands are tied against me and all he’s able to do is intimidate.”

  “That is strange.” His chest rumbled under my cheek. “Come sit down.”

  “I’m cooking.”

  “Come.” He led me to the living room and sat me on the sofa. “You’re exhausted, in pain, and distraught. Take a nap.”

  “But Greta is coming in an hour.”

  “Why?” His eyes narrowed.

  “To take me to the shop.”

  “Are you telling the truth?

  “Yes.” She was taking me to the shop. It’s where we planned to go after there that he didn’t want to know about. “Can you call her and tell her to come in two hours instead?”

  “Gladly. I’ll get your statement later this evening.” He pulled an Afghan over me. “I love you.” He kissed me.

  I was asleep before he was out the door.

  The banging on the front door and Sadie’s barking woke me. I silently thanked Matt for letting the dog in and crawled stiffly from the sofa. I started to open the door when my cell phone rang. I recognized the number as Starr’s.

  “Hello?”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at home. Why?”

  “I just heard about a red head being fished out of the lake and thought it was you. No worries.” Click.

  I stared at the phone as I opened the door to let Greta in. “Starr, who didn’t sound like Starr, but sort of did sound like her, thought I had been killed and tossed in the lake. Now, why would a prostitute I’d just met care whether I was alive or dead?”

  22

  “I think we’re surrounded by people who aren’t who they say they are,” Greta said. She held up a fast food bag. “I brought lunch. Let’s go spy on some people.”

  “Do you mind if we run by the hospital first? I’d like to visit Ryan.” I grabbed my purse, slapped a baseball cap on my head, and set the alarm.

  We ate on the way. Greta’s driving was erratic enough that I had to reach several times for the “Oh, crap” handle that hung to my right. Eating and driving were not two things she did together well. By the time we arrived in the hospital parking lot, the food in my stomach was well-shaken and my shoulders tense.