Country Cottage Mysteries Boxed Set

by Addison Moore

  “I did.” His brows furrow. “And I think I deserve to stick around.” And with Shelby gone, I will. Her old man caved to my pleas. And now he thinks it’s exactly what Shelby would have wanted as well.

  Luke might be dressed like a one-man boy band, but he’s a snake through and through.

  “Luke”—I say, trying to pull him out of his Ginger King stupor once again—“what do you think had Shelby all worked up that night? I bumped into her in the foyer and she said it had something to do with you.”

  His eyes twitch my way again as bodies crush us from every side.

  I’m not sure how many people have filed into the room, but I’m guessing the fire code is about to be tapped.

  “She was angry with me. Okay? We were having a fight over something stupid.” He tries to get a better look at Ginger, and I step in front of him again.

  “She said something about a wife,” I lie through my teeth and don’t mind at all. “What do you think she meant?”

  His Adam’s apple rises and falls. “I don’t know. But it’s not important anymore.” His entire body sags. “That wife sent her husband packing.”

  A small gasp emits from me.

  Luke glowers into the crowd a moment. Sarah gave me the boot and I thought it’d feel like a relief. She said she met some angel at the pumpkin patch who gave her perfect clarity. He rolls his eyes. I bet it was some dude. Here I thought I was the only player in the family. Go figure. He lets out a hard breath. If Shelby had lived, we could have had something real. I know it.

  “Look”—his gaze falls to mine—“I’m not like my dad or my brothers. Not anymore. I’m sorry about your boyfriend. I hope it works out for the two of you. I really do. But I need to get in that line before Ginger runs out of books—and looks. Wish me luck.”

  Luke gazes over at Ginger as he heads that way. Maybe this one won’t die or walk out on me.

  “Bizzy!” Georgie comes at me with a couple of pooches in tow and a tiny pirate hat bobbing in the background. Her long gray hair is flying every which way and she’s got an ear-to-ear grin. “This is magic! I vote we have a Monster Mash every weekend.”

  “That might turn me into a monster,” I say, looking back at Luke. His thoughts sure didn’t sound very guilty, but then, sociopaths are incapable of feeling anything.

  Fish entwines herself between my ankles. And I vote we never have a Halloween again.

  Sherlock gives a spastic glance in every direction at once. Where’s the bacon, Bizzy? Where’s the bacon?

  “I’m afraid I don’t have any bacon on me, Sherlock.” I shrug down his way.

  Georgie waves me off. “Ignore her. Both you and Peanut will get plenty of bacon. Stick with me, kids. I know how to have some real fun.”

  I give her orange and black kaftan an approving once-over. She has on an arm full of bangles, large hoop earrings, and enough necklaces to sink a battleship.

  “What are you supposed to be, Georgie?”

  “I’m a hippy artist.” She snaps her fingers up near her ears. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re a hippy artist every day. And I think you make a darn good one.”

  “You bet I do, sister.” She bumps her hip to mine. “Come on, friends! It’s time to show these kids a real fright on the dance floor.” She takes off and immediately starts a conga line in the process. Leave it to Georgie to be the life of the party.

  Too bad I don’t feel like partying at the moment.

  Close to an hour drifts by as I watch Luke slowly making progress in the book line until he finally gets his turn at bat with Ginger. She all but throws a book at him and sends him on his way—and he doesn’t look too happy about it either.

  Luke looks fit to be tied for all of ten seconds before a sultry temptress dressed as a mermaid catches his eye and he heads on over.

  Luke seems just fine bouncing from one woman to another. He does seem rather easygoing. Ginger all but slapped him in the face with that book she wrote.

  Something in me lurches.

  That’s it!

  I know who the killer is, without a shadow of a doubt.

  Chapter 19

  The crowd at the Monster Mash grows increasingly boisterous with each passing minute. And it looks as if the person I’m tracking has had quite enough of the party themselves—at least for the moment.

  I thread my way through the thicket of bodies until I hit the cool exterior of the courtyard and I step on out into the crisp fall air. Night has fallen hard, and it’s virtually empty out here, save for the hundreds of jack-o-lanterns glowing and flickering, giving the night the haunted appeal it deserves.

  Sherlock, Peanut, and Fish scuttle out behind me, but my gaze is unbreakable from the sight before me.

  Standing next to the makeshift shrine Jordy placed over the very spot where Shelby Harris breathed her last breath is the very last person I would have suspected. But I should have. The truth was there before me all along.

  She places a single red rose over the large pot brimming with pumpkins of every size.

  “Ginger?” I whisper her name as I come upon her and she spins on her heels. Her dress glitters purple under the duress of the lavender twinkle lights, and everything about Ginger King is a bewitching sight.

  “Bizzy,” she hisses my name like a reprimand. Her eyes flit to the furry creatures surrounding me and she looks as if she’s about to be sick.

  Is it her, Bizzy? Is it? Sherlock dances left then right, alive with nervous energy.

  Fish lets out a ferocious meow and Ginger lifts a brow her way. But Peanut scuttles off toward the woods, whimpering and whining as if he were afraid she was about to chuck her shoe at him—something I have no doubt she’s done before. She’s capable of far worse.

  “You put a flower over the very spot where Shelby was killed,” I say the words so low I wonder if she’s heard them.

  Ginger sniffs hard, her eyes glinting with tears. “That’s right. Shelby and I were friends.”

  “You were friends. You were very close friends, weren’t you?”

  She glances out at the woods lit up like a supernatural wonderland. “Some might say too close.”

  “You did a lot together.” I take in a steady breath, trying my best not to spook her. “You were good friends. She let you borrow her dog to make you more affable to the crowds.”

  She gags as if the thought offended her. “I never cared if anyone liked me, let alone because I was holding some silly little dog,” Ginger grunts as she plucks the rose back from where she laid it and tosses it to the ground, grinding her shoe over the bloom as if she were putting out a cigarette.

  Fish runs up to get a better look at the floral malfeasance, and she looks adorably like a miniature pirate ready to wreak havoc with that tiny sword stitched to her costume.

  Did you see that, Bizzy? Fish twitches her head my way. She just killed that flower—the same way I bet she killed Shelby.

  I clear my throat. “Shelby was a great writer, wasn’t she? I heard she helped teach English at Whaler’s Cove Community College a while back. I bet she gave you great input on your book.”

  Her eyes widen a notch. Her lips pull down, giving her that beauty queen gone feral look.

  I take a steady breath. “Luke said there was something going on between you and Shelby. Is that what it was? The book?”

  She blinks hard as if she were trying her best to look affronted. However, according to her clenched fists, she looks angry.

  “Excuse me?” She squints over at me. “Are you trying to imply something about my writing?” What in the heck is happening here? Does this nitwit think she’s about to outsmart me?

  “I’m not implying anything about your writing,” I say. “The other day in the café when we were discussing the party, you mentioned that you couldn’t write your way out of a paper bag.”

  Her mouth rounds out. “Oh, that.” She does her best to laugh it off. Thank God. For a second there I thought she had me.

&nb
sp; “But Shelby wrote the book.” I nod as I say it. “That’s the secret she was about to spill the night she was killed, wasn’t it? That’s why Shelby told Luke that the truth was going to come out and you wouldn’t like it.”

  Ginger’s face bleaches out of all color.

  Oh God, she knows. She’ll tell everyone—I’ll lose everything. The whole world will know I’m a fraud.

  I shake my head at her. “The whole world is going to know you’re a killer.”

  “What?” Her eyes bug out in horror. There’s no way she just read my mind. I must have said that out loud. Her fingers float to her lips as if to conceal any more truths from seeping out.

  I take a bold step forward. “Chelsea said the three of you took a safety course together at the range with Nessa.” My adrenaline picks up and I begin to pant.

  “So?” She eyes the door to the ballroom.

  “You knew how to handle a gun. Not just any gun—the same gun you used to kill Shelby with.”

  Ginger takes a stumbling step backward as she staggers toward the woods and I’m quick to follow.

  The air grows cold and damp and our breath crystalizes in long, papery plumes.

  “Ginger, you asked me to put your things underneath the counter tonight. You knew that’s where Nessa kept her purse that night, didn’t you?”

  She takes a breath and shakes her head in horror as she backs into the woods.

  “You took Nessa’s gun and killed Shelby, then placed it right back where you found it. Did you wipe your prints? Were you wearing gloves? You had thought about it, after all. This was no accident, was it?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She turns and runs into the forest and I’m right there after her.

  “Then why are you running?” I shout after her as I try to keep up pace.

  Ginger stops short as she comes upon one of those oversized spider webs Jordy scattered throughout the woods to keep the guests from wandering into the endless labyrinth of evergreens.

  “Get out of my way.” Ginger barrels past me and tries her best to exit the woods, only to hit one dead end after another. “What the heck is wrong with this place?” Her voice thunders through the forest with an echo.

  Fish jumps up between us, and Ginger lets out a sharp yelp.

  “Oh God, that thing scared me.” She cranes her neck past me as Sherlock and Peanut scamper this way. “What is this? The pet parade?”

  Peanut gives a few aggressive barks. Let me know when you want me to bite her ankles, Bizzy. It’s been a long time coming, and it’ll be a pleasure to do it.

  “Fine.” Ginger tosses her hands in the air. “I killed her. I killed Shelby right here at your stupid inn because she couldn’t keep her ridiculous mouth shut. If you think I’m a piece of work, you should have known Shelby. Now she was a real witch with a capital everything. Of course, she wrote my book. And if she were smart, she would have kept that little tidbit to herself. I was giving her a share of profits under the table. But Shelby came from money. She didn’t need it or crave it. The only thing she craved was power.”

  “You’re right.” My breathing is uneven. “She made Chelsea take the fall for the jewelry she stole. She made sure Scout and her aunt kept quiet about the thefts she was responsible for at the open houses. Did she threaten you, too?”

  “Ha!” Ginger belts it out so loud, her voice shoots straight to the moon. “She knew better. I’m no amateur. With me, her power lay in actually pulling off the threat. She wanted to humiliate me.” The veins in her neck distend as she says it. Her red hair shines like fire under the duress of a paper-white moon. “She was about to pull the plug on everything I’ve worked for. I’m sure it’s what she was aiming for all along. The only thing she cared about was her persona, her fans. She wanted them to see how wonderful she was. She wanted them to feel pity once they found out that I took advantage of her—and she was going to make sure of it. Shelby thought it was going to propel her to new heights—and in a way she was right. That is, if you believe in the afterlife.” Her left eye twitches. “Do you believe in the afterlife, Bizzy?” She takes a careful step forward. “Because if you do, I’d make peace with your maker right about now.”

  Ginger lunges forward as her hands collapse around my neck like a vise grip and we tumble to the ground.

  Bizzy! Fish gives a spastic cry.

  Oh, Bizzy! Peanut wails. Don’t let her kill you, too. Do something! He pauses to glance to his left. Get in there, Sherlock. Stop this madness. He lets out a sharp bark, and soon Sherlock is right there with him as they do their best to attack her.

  Fish leaps through the air and lands on Ginger’s back and she flinches long enough for me to get out of her stranglehold.

  I gasp for air as I try to crawl from beneath her.

  “Would you stop, you dirty little mutt!” She jerks her knee and Peanut rolls across the forest floor like a bowling ball.

  “Sherlock.” I gag on his name. “Get Jasper.” It comes out just above a whisper as my throat tries to recover from the death grip Ginger had on it.

  Sherlock takes off, but Ginger doesn’t miss a beat. She picks up a jagged rock twice the size of her hand and holds it precariously over my head.

  “If only you hadn’t pried.” Her chest heaves with every word. “This is all your fault, Bizzy. You could have lived. I wouldn’t have to kill again. Nessa wanted Shelby dead as much as I did. I practically did her a favor.”

  “And if you kill me? Who will you blame this time?” My voice quivers as I say it. Honestly? I had better not die. As far as last words go, those might go down as the worst.

  Her chest rumbles with a quiet laugh. “The party is rife with monsters. I’m just one of them.”

  She lifts the rock a notch, and out from the lowest evergreen bough sails a flying miniature pirate with a tiny sword and fierce looking fangs that can do some real damage.

  Fish lands right smack on Ginger’s head, and I don’t wait to see how this fantastical scenario plays out. Instead, I jab my foot into her gut and send her toppling backward as her hands try to work my tiny kitten out of her hair.

  I land over Ginger with a thud just as the sound of heavy footfalls stampede in this direction.

  “Freeze!” a male voice riots from our right, and I look up to see Detective Jasper Wilder with his weapon drawn, his jaw redefining itself with what looks like rage. “Leo, cuff her,” he thunders.

  Leo Granger falls to his knees, and before I know it, Jasper pulls me to him and his arms are tight around me.

  “Bizzy Baker.” Jasper plants a feverish kiss over my ear. “You gave me one hell of a scare. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” I pant. “Ginger confessed. She confessed to killing Shelby. She told me everything.” I glance back at Ginger lying on her stomach with her wrists cuffed together behind her back. “It’s over, isn’t it?”

  Jasper rubs my back and warms me. “It’s over.” His glowing gray eyes press into mine. “You’re safe, Bizzy. That’s all that matters.” Jasper lands a tender kiss over my lips, slow and lingering, before diving into something far deeper, something that says we’re official in a far better way than words.

  My heart thumps wildly into my chest, and as horrific as this night has been, a part of me wants to remember this moment forever.

  Justice for Shelby.

  True love for me.

  It’s not a bad night, after all.

  Chapter 20

  Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays for so many reasons, but the true lure was the ability to transform myself into someone or something else entirely—the donning of a costume, a mask. It allows you to walk around in someone else’s skin for a single magical night.

  All morning the Country Cottage Inn has indulged its guests in the haunted splendor that only this day can bring. The Cottage Café has served a themed menu all day long starting with pumpkin spice pancakes, pumpkin oatmeal, pumpkin scones, pumpkin French toast, and Emm
ie even fried up some donuts and glazed them in yellow, white, and orange stripes to make them look like candy corn. There are mummy wrapped hot dogs, spaghetti molded to look like brains, deviled eggs, stuffed jack-o-lantern bell peppers, spicy pumpkin chili, and dirt pudding for dessert.

  I really do love Halloween, but if I’m being perfectly honest, I always feel a touch of relief once it’s over. As hauntingly exhilarating as the fright fest of a day can be, my soul takes a breather knowing the cheeriest holiday of them all is right around the corner. Christmas.

  And I’m breathing a sigh of relief a little early this year as well.

  Ginger King was arrested and booked for the murder of Shelby Harris.

  I still find it hard to imagine that Ginger would go as far as evicting someone off the planet to keep her ego from being deflated. She’s about to learn the hard way that there could have been a much more amicable way to handle things.

  Nessa was immediately released upon Ginger’s arrest, and all charges against her were dropped. I told her to take as much time off from the inn as she needed. As elated as she is, there is still so much to process on her end as well.

  The sun is getting ready to set on this, the last day of what has been a dizzying October, and Jasper asked me to meet him out on walkway just past the Cottage Café.

  He strides over, looking sharp and heart-stopping in every capacity, with both Peanut and Sherlock by his side.

  Fish jumps out of the bushes, sending both of the dogs barking and running toward the water, and Jasper and I share a warm laugh at the sight.

  “Bizzy Baker.” He lifts a brow as he takes me in. He’s so cuttingly handsome that just looking at him makes my stomach bisect with heat. “You make a mighty fine looking innkeeper. Can I request that uniform be worn each and every day—and every night we’re together?”

  I give a little curtsy in my black and white short fitted dress. “I’m a French maid. And just so you know, this happens to be my standby costume I pull out once a year. So yes, there is a very strong chance you’ll see it again.” My cheeks heat in an instant. “I mean, that is if you’re, you know, at the inn, or something like that.”