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

by Cynthia Hickey

  I did, but that wasn’t the point, and my novels weren’t trashy. Why did people always assume that a romance writer wrote smut? “This is a family heirloom. Priceless and irreplaceable.” I stabbed Jaxon with a stare. “God knows who the thief is.”

  The boy glanced at his brothers and avoided my gaze.

  “I’ll start with Lucy Snyder,” Matt said. “In the kitchen, Ms. Snyder, if you please.”

  Tears welled in Kyle’s eyes. He said something to Jaxon, who shook his head.

  Surely, they would confess before long. Especially when they saw what happened in the next few minutes. My heart actually went out to them, for a second. The belligerent look on Jaxon’s face erased any trace of sympathy.

  I understood their pain and anger at their father’s arrest, but the man had embezzled money from the bank he worked for. Not the children’s fault, but they needed to accept the fact that when a person did something wrong, there were unfavorable consequences.

  “I don’t think they’re going to crack,” Mom said. “That oldest boy has a chip on his shoulder the size of Mount St. Helen’s.”

  “He’ll crack.” If he loved his mother, he would confess. Oh, I prayed we weren’t wrong as to who had taken the baby Jesus. I hated to think we were punishing the boy for no reason. But, what if we were wrong?

  I moved to the kitchen. Maybe Lucy could give me more insight on her children.

  She stood next to the sink, dabbing some kind of oil in the corners of her eyes. She grinned and blinked at me. “Clove oil. Works wonders when you need to drum up some tears. I haven’t had this much fun in ages.”

  “Are you sure one of your boys took it?” I capped the bottle for her.

  “I’m positive. Jaxon didn’t, but he will always cover up for his younger brothers. I see guilt written all over their faces.” She held out her hands to Matt. “Cuff me.”

  “Why?” He took a step back.

  “More dramatic. The boys never saw their father cuffed and hauled away. I want them to know without a doubt what happens when you break the law. If I don’t turn them from their bad ways now, I may never be able to.”

  “I don’t have any cuffs with me.” He shook his head.

  “I do.” Tony Salazar passed through the kitchen. “Sorry for eavesdropping, but we’re out of punch.”

  I wanted to ask why he would have handcuffs, but decided it was probably best not to know. “Are you really sure, Lucy?”

  She nodded. “I know it’s a small thing, really, that they took, but the next time it might be a DVD, then a car. My heart won’t be able to take it if they follow in their father’s footsteps. My boys love me. They’re protective of me. If they have it, they’ll confess as soon as Matt leads me out of this room.”

  The handcuffs clanked as Tony handed them to Matt. He grabbed a jug of punch out of the refrigerator and headed back to the living room.

  Lucy winced as Matt clicked the cuffs around her wrists, then took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Does it look like I’ve been crying?”

  I nodded, real tears springing to my eyes. This was a woman willing to do anything for the sake of her children. I felt privileged to call her friend.

  Those in the living room gasped as Lucy and Matt stepped out of the kitchen, me close behind. Without a word, Matt guided her toward the front door.

  “Wait!”

  5

  Kyle raced to his mother’s side, tears streaming down his six-year-old face. “I took it.” He opened his palm. “I’m sorry. Jaxon told me to keep quiet or I would go to jail like daddy.”

  Tony handed Matt the key to the cuffs, and he unlocked them, then squatted down to peer into the little boy’s face. “Can you tell me why?”

  “Are you going to arrest me?”

  “No, son.” He took the figurine and handed it to me.

  I gazed at the porcelain face. “Mom, can you get the wooden nativity out of the garage?”

  She nodded and rushed away.

  “Why did you take it, honey?” Lucy sat on the sofa and pulled Kyle down next to her.

  “The preacher at church said that if we ask Jesus the desires of our heart, he will give them to us. I wanted to put the baby Jesus under my pillow so daddy will come home.” He buried his face in his mother’s shoulder.

  “Oh, sweetie.” Lucy pulled him onto her lap. “All you have to do is pray. You don’t need to steal a figurine of Jesus. He’s with you all the time.”

  “But I thought that since his birthday is coming that it would be more important if I could hold him.”

  My heart melted. Especially when I saw tears gathering in Jaxon’s eyes. Not only his, but most eyes in the room shimmered.

  Kyle looked up. “I’m sorry, Miss Nelson. I won’t steal from you ever again.”

  “Me or anyone else.” Mom handed me a cardboard box. “I have a gift for you, Kyle. Now, before you think it’s a reward for stealing, I need to tell you otherwise. I set the box in his lap. “I do have an extra nativity set,” I made a point of staring at the woman who had commented earlier that I could afford several. The one that had been stolen was actually Mom’s, but meant the world to me and my sister. It took some of the shine off Christmas not to have the heirloom under the tree.

  “This was my first ever, very own nativity set. Now, your mother is right in that you don’t need a figurine of Jesus for him to be with you, he’s with you every day, and most importantly on Christmas. But if it helps you to have this until your daddy comes home, then this is my gift to you. Do you understand that stealing is wrong?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He opened the box and picked out Jesus from the pieces inside. “Is it okay to keep it in my room everyday?”

  I glanced at Lucy, who nodded. “Yes, it is.”

  He grinned and dashed to Jaxon’s side. “I want you to have it. You’re the man of the house right now and can use Jesus.”

  “We’ll share it,” Jaxon said.

  The party dispersed, everyone returning to their homes. Despite the cold in the air, I snuggled on the front porch swing with Matt, cozy under a thick quilt.

  “This has got to be the best Christmas I can remember.” I laid my head on his shoulder. “It’s amazing how children can bring back the true meaning.”

  “They’re good boys. They’ll be fine.” Matt slid an arm around my shoulders. “It was a good plan you had, dangerous, but not like the ones in the past where I had to worry about you getting killed.”

  “I was afraid they were going to let you take Lucy out of the house. That Jaxon is a tough kid.”

  “He’s had to be. It was sweet of you to give them a nativity of their own.” Matt rested his cheek against the top of my head.

  “I’d like to see whether the church will adopt them for Christmas.” If not, I would do so myself.

  “You’re a gift, Stormi. A true gift. Merry Christmas.”

  “You aren’t so bad yourself.” I lifted my face for a kiss. “Merry Christmas.”

  The End

  A Christmas Deception

  A Nosy Neighbor short holiday mystery

  By Cynthia Hickey

  1

  I don’t know why we have to leave town for Christmas.” I was a creature of habit. A keeper of tradition. Going out of town to attend a Christmas masquerade did not fit in either category.

  “Because it will be fun, Stormi,” Mom said. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud.”

  “I also don’t understand why I can’t go as myself.” I sat on my suitcase, trying in vain to stuff a 19th century dress into a 21st century suitcase. “The theme is literary. I’m an author.”

  “It’s literary characters.” Mom pushed me off the suitcase and pulled out the green and brown dress. “Use a garment bag. You’re crushing the petticoats. You’re too pretty to be Jane Eyre, but the character suits you.”

  Gee, thanks. “Who are you going as?”

  “Agatha Christie.” She grinned. “I know I’m slimmer and not gray haired yet, but
that’s the fun of a masquerade. Your sister is going as Hester Prynne. You know, from the Scarlet Letter?”

  Of course I knew who Hester Prynne was. This was also more like a costume party, but who am I to correct Mom’s high school friend? I’d keep my mouth shut and let them call it what they wanted to. Matt was going as Edward Rochester, so I’d be happy anywhere as long as he was there.

  “You can’t be Katniss!” My niece, Cherokee, shouted down the hall. “You’re too old.”

  “Ah,” Mom said. “She’s discovered what Matt’s sister is going as.”

  “Go as Hermione,” Mary Ann said. “Your brother is Harry Potter.”

  “My hair is too dark to be Hermione. Oh, you’re ruining everything.” Footsteps stomped past the door right before someone knocked.

  “Come in.”

  Mary Ann, my literary assistant and sister to my boyfriend Matt, poked her blond head into the room. “The labels for the postcards are printed. Anything else before I run home and pack my last minute items?”

  “No, that’s it. See you in an hour.”

  “An hour?!” She whirled and dashed away.

  “You shouldn’t have had her work today,” Mom said, zipping my suitcase closed.

  “I told her it could wait, but she insisted.” I carried my makeup bag into the bathroom and tossed my toiletries inside.

  Matt said he rented a eight passenger van for the trip and would pick us up at two. We’d be at her mountain home by six.

  I didn’t remember much of Mom’s friend, having met her once when I was a teenager, but I did recall her being … flamboyant. And dramatic. It was going to be an interesting few days. The party was on the twenty-third, and we’d drive home on Christmas Eve. It wouldn’t be the same. I liked stretching my family celebration over the entire week, and it didn’t involve a house full of strangers.

  “Stop pouting.” Mom tugged my hair when I re-entered the room. “You might actually have fun.”

  “Maybe.” I dragged the suitcase off the bed and rolled it down the stairs, leaving it by the front door.

  As if that were the signal for the rest of the household to hit frantic mode, everyone raced around as if there were a fire, shouting about the lack of time. I shook my head and checked the ice chest, making sure we had enough drinks and snacks for the ride. It wasn’t as if I didn’t give them half hour updates on the time.

  “Hey, beautiful.” Matt entered the house and kissed me. “Ready for an adventure? I’ve always wanted to play the brooding hero with a checkered past.”

  “Silly.” I kissed him again and motioned to the suitcases. “I’m ready. The others are finishing up. We’ll only be about fifteen minutes late. I told them they only had that long so that they’d hurry.”

  “That’s my smart girl.” He flashed a dimpled grin that set my heart in overdrive. His arms snaked around my waist, pulling me close. “What do you say we send the others on ahead of us and we can conveniently forget to go.”

  “Tempting.” I tapped his nose with my finger. “But Mom is looking forward to showing off her best-selling daughter. She’d kill me and that would ruin our Christmas.”

  He stuck out his lower lip. “You’re breaking my heart.”

  I laughed and pulled free. “Load up the van, Edward.”

  “Yes, Jane.” He grabbed my two bags and carried them out as if they weighed nothing.

  “Ready.” Angela wheeled two large suitcases down the stairs.

  “You do know we’re only going for a few days, right?” At least one of my bags was a carry-on size.

  “I might change my mind on what to wear.” She breezed past me, dumped her bags next to the door, and sashayed into the kitchen, leaving a trail of sweet-scented cologne in her wake.

  “Wash off that smell before we all get in the van or you’ll gag us.”

  She poked her head into the foyer, stuck out her tongue, then withdrew again. “I’m not going anywhere without my wine.”

  I rolled my eyes. Mom was going to have a coronary. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get my sister to leave behind her fast ways. It was very surprising that she actually chose a character from such a modest time in history to dress as.

  Mom, followed by the teens, dragged their cases to the front door. Mom clapped her hands and grinned. “Now, if we can get through the next few days without Stormi stumbling over a dead body, we’ll all have a Merry Christmas.”

  2

  “My husband is trying to kill me.” Mom’s friend, Sylvia Duncan, opened the door with a flourish.

  “Merry Christmas, Sylvia.” Mom hugged her and breezed into the house so large it could fit two of mine. And my house was exactly small.

  “You never take me seriously, Ann.” Sylvia fluttered hands covered with rings. “Martin has discovered that I’m leaving him and has vowed to kill me.”

  Mom smirked at me over the woman’s shoulder. “Well, Stormi is adept at solving crimes, and her boyfriend is a cop. Matthew, please make sure Sylvia stays alive through Christmas.”

  “I’ll do my best.” He panted and dropped the suitcases inside the door, sending me a questioning look.

  I shrugged. I had long ago stopped trying to figure out my mother’s strange friends.

  “Since none of you will take the threat against me seriously, I’ll show you to your rooms.” Sylvia lifted her nose in the air and stomped up the stairs.

  I would be sharing with Maryanne, Angela with Cherokee, and Matt with Dakota. Since Mom was a close friend of our hostess, she got a room to herself. Of course, the rooms were more like suites, each having their own bathroom and king-sized beds. Ours was done in blue and white with a cast-iron headboard complete with sheer valance. A tabletop Christmas tree with blue and silver ornaments graced a corner table. Beautiful. I would have to ask her for decorating tips for my Victorian. I tended to be sparse until something was needed.

  “It kind of stinks that we’re saving gift opening until we return home the day after Christmas,” Maryanne said, rolling her suitcase into the room. “I love presents.”

  “We’ll survive. Tomorrow night is the party.” It might actually be fun.

  *

  The weatherman had predicted an ice storm the night of the party, but it didn’t stop the long line of guests from strolling inside, dressed like every literary character imaginable. I hung over the banister and watched as Sherlock Holmes escorted a sexy black spider through the door. Charlotte from Charlotte’s Web, I presumed. Cute.

  Sylvia, dressed as Scarlett O’Hara in the infamous green curtain dress greeted each guest with a smile. I could stand on the second floor landing and watch the people stroll by all night. It would be way more fun than having to mingle and talk to everyone.

  “Ready?” Matt crooked his arm. “There’s quite a spread of food in the dining room. Lunch was several hours ago.”

  I sighed. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” I smiled as Cherokee and Dakota, err Hermione and Harry Potter, thundered down the stairs and past the twelve foot Christmas tree in the foyer. I held my breath until they raced past, afraid they’d send the entire thing toppling.

  A buffet table in the dining room held enough food to feed a small city. Turkey, ham, and a goose filled large platters. Every side dish to complement each meat stretched along several tables.

  Sylvia strolled by, her hoop skirt swaying from side-to-side. “If you see Sherlock Holmes,” she said. “who also happens to be my husband, tell him I need to speak with him in the library. That man is not going to get out of his host duties.”

  Uh-Oh, I’d seen the famous detective slip out to the backyard with the spider just moments before. Sylvia seemed to be enjoying a dalliance of her own as she patted the face of a Rhett Butler on her way to the kitchen.

  I grabbed a flute of what I hoped was sparkling cider from a passing server and sat back to watch the show. The night promised to be more entertaining than an Oscar winning drama.

  I sipped my drink. Yuck. Champagne.
I set it down. “I hope they have something nonalcoholic to drink.”

  “They’re bound to. There are several people under the age of eighteen here. Let me find you something, although the almond champagne is very good.” Matt squeezed through the crowd to the beverage table across the room.

  Sherlock and his curvy spider reentered the room and made a beeline for the foyer. The spider’s face was flushed and her wig askew. Wait until Scarlett got a look at her.

  Which took about two seconds. Sylvia stepped out of the kitchen with a tray of cutlery. Her eyes narrowed and she took off after them like a bowling ball from a cannon. Everything in me wanted to follow.

  Instead, I peered through the crowd to see Matt talking to a man with a black face and wearing a trench coat. Was he supposed to be the invisible man? I glanced back to where Sylvia and the other two had disappeared. I had to watch the scene play out.

  It took me a while to fight my way through the crowd. Why did everyone stand in my way and grin like fools? How many people had Sylvia invited?

  I pushed through Hansel and Gretel and practically fell into the foyer. Drats. I’d lost them.

  Just as I turned to rejoin Matt, a scream rippled down the hall.

  3

  I burst into the room, designated a library by all the books on the shelves, and tripped over a sexy spider with a bleeding head. Standing over her was Sylvia, clutching a bronzed bust of Einstein. I might not be law enforcement, but even I couldn’t miss the tufts of Miss Spider’s hair on the bust.

  Sylvia screamed and dropped the bust. Einstein’s head rolled across the oriental carpet. “I didn’t kill her. I found the head next to her.” She put a hand over her forehead and gracefully fell onto a chaise lounge.

  Matt and several others tripped over each other almost falling into the room. My love took one look, felt for a pulse, then ordered the others out. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called 911.