Murder Bites

by Addison Moore

  They shared a bookie?

  I have a feeling Lad Warner had a hard time keeping his hands on a dollar bill.

  That’s exactly why he’d need a dicey loan.

  And that just might be why he needed a sugar mama, too.

  Now to do a little digging to see if I’m right.

  Chapter 11

  “We should definitely have a crudité platter,” Emmie says while working on her Valentine’s Day craft project.

  It’s Monday afternoon, and I’ve yet to find evidence to solidify the fact Lad Warner had a gambling problem.

  I spent the morning checking out old guests and checking in new guests, and there’s finally a lull at the reception desk so I can get back to my research.

  “Vegetables?” I glance up at Emmie. We’ve been tossing menu ideas for the Valentine’s Day dance back and forth. Mayor Woods hired the Country Cottage Café to bring refreshments, simple appetizers, and desserts to the community center. To quote Mack, Lots and lots of those raspberry cheesecake thingies. They make me tingle.

  Neither Emmie nor I was sure what to make of that.

  I wave a cheesecake bite at Emmie, and we both break out into laughter.

  “Try not to tingle,” she says, picking one up herself.

  “It’s hard not to. These taste so good, I’m surprised Mackenzie hasn’t outlawed them yet.”

  “Something tells me she won’t outlaw vegetables.” Emmie shrugs. “We need to have a variety and veggies aren’t complicated.”

  “Crudité it is.”

  Sherlock lifts his head from the floor, his eyes still heavy with sleep. Don’t forget the meat tray, Bizzy. And make sure to leave one platter behind on the counter at the café.

  I tip my head at him curiously.

  Sherlock moans. Georgie says you have to toss meat that’s been left out on the counter overnight. And I say, feel free to toss it my way.

  Fish yowls, Always thinking, while furiously licking her paw.

  Cinnamon lets out a sharp bark. I like how he thinks. I’ll help him eat it, Bizzy. Leave twice as much out on the counter overnight. My mouth is salivating already.

  I nod her way before looking to Emmie. “We’ll need a few charcuterie boards as well—a variety of cold cuts and cheeses—maybe a little bacon to round things out.”

  “Consider it done,” she chirps.

  Fish jumps up onto the marble counter, watching attentively as Emmie fills four large glass tubes with candy conversation hearts. She plans on putting a small votive candle at the top of each vase once they’re full. It’s going to look adorable, even if it does have the potential to melt hearts literally.

  “Emmie, where do you get these bursts of brilliance?” I ask, leaning in to inspect one of the works of candy-based art before her.

  “Where I get all my bursts of brilliance. Pinterest.”

  A laugh thumps through me as I get back to my laptop. “If only I can get a burst of brilliance and figure out who killed Lad Warner in cold blood right here at the inn.”

  Cinnamon lets out a few sorrowful moans and Emmie quickly scoops up the curly-haired cutie.

  “Don’t you worry.” Emmie kisses Cinnamon on the top of her auburn head. “Nobody is going to hurt you,” she says in her best baby voice. “In fact, I’m going to make sure you’re safe and sound.”

  I suck in a quick breath. “Emmie! Are you thinking about adopting Cinnamon?”

  Cinnamon lets out a happy yelp, and Emmie laughs as she dots the pooch’s face with another kiss.

  “Only if no one comes up to claim her. Obviously, the poor girl’s family is in shock. They might come looking to collect her after the funeral, or who knows when.”

  “Emmie, that’s so nice of you.” I reach over and give Cinnamon a scratch over the back. “Hear that? You might have just found yourself a brand new mama.”

  Fish yowls. That means we’ll be neighbors. Emmie lives a hop, skip, and approximately three scampers up the road.

  Sherlock lifts his head again, slow and lumbering as if it weighed a thousand pounds. In all fairness, it is his naptime. He vocalizes something shy of a bark. I’m glad you’re not leaving, kid. Georgie keeps a pocket full of bacon at all times. She’s our supplier. And according to my nose, she should be here in less than five minutes.

  My fingers dance over my keyboard. “I just can’t find anything on Lad Warner that leads anywhere. I give up.”

  “You’re not allowed to give up, Bizzy Baker.” Emmie dumps another bag of conversation hearts into a tall glass vase. “Try looking up a suspect.”

  “That’s a good idea. I need to track down Colt Ferguson. Natalie said he dealt in crooked loans—as in a loan shark. I bet he knows all about Lad’s gambling problem.” I input his name, and to my surprise the entire screen is populated.

  “Would you look at this? I finally hit pay dirt. I think I need to listen to my bestie more often.”

  “I agree.” She leans over and gives a quick glance to the screen.

  Fish jumps into my lap and gurgles. Don’t keep us in suspense, Bizzy. What do you see?

  Cinnamon gives a soft bark. Is it Lad’s killer?

  “I don’t know if he’s the killer. But it looks as if Colt Ferguson is a part owner of a seafood restaurant out in Edison called Marty’s Got Crabs.”

  “Ohh!” Georgie comes barreling this way with a bright red kaftan flowing behind her like a kite. “Marty’s Got Crabs is the perfect snazzy place to meet my Juniper Moonbeam. She’s on a bus as we speak. She’s getting dropped off at Bar Harbor and then taking a cab to a secluded spot where the feds won’t find her.”

  Both Cinnamon and Sherlock spring up at attention.

  Our queen is here! Sherlock spins in a circle and moans right at her. Georgie is here, and she’s rich with bacon!

  Cinnamon lets out a quick bark. Don’t forget me. For goodness’ sake, I can’t exactly jump to the floor. She whimpers up at Emmie with those big brown eyes. You’ll have to feed me.

  Emmie flicks her fingers at Georgie without hesitation. “Hand over the bacon, woman.”

  And Georgie does just that before tossing a few strips to Sherlock as well.

  I shake my head at her. “Georgie, why would the feds care where your daughter is headed? Jasper said she was released.”

  She waves me off. “You can’t trust those guys, Bizzy. Once they’ve set their sights on you, they’ve got a bead on you for life.” She pulls out her phone and starts tapping away. Less than a second later, her phone pings. “Juni is meeting us at Marty’s Got Crabs at six o’clock.”

  Emmie gives a little hop. “I am so going.”

  “I’m going for sure,” I say as I look down at the screen at a picture of Colt with his hand wrapped around a man who looks as if he could be his brother. I bet that’s Marty. And I bet Colt put up the funds to finance the place.

  Now if only I could prove all of my suspicions, especially the ones I have about Lad.

  Georgie scoops Cinnamon right out of Emmie’s arms.

  “My baby is coming home! My baby is coming home!” She dances an odd little jig, wiggling and giggling in places that leads me to believe one could inadvertently weaponize select body parts. Georgie’s chest springs around the room as if she were throwing yoyos and both Emmie and I duck for cover. “Oh, you girls.” She waves us off. “So what if I don’t wear an upper decker flopper stopper? One day you’ll wake up and draw a line in the chest basket sand.” She makes a dash for the door. “I’ve got to get dolled up if I’m going to get me some crabs. I’ll see you out front in a couple of hours!”

  Emmie waggles her brows. “Georgie seems to think this place is snazzy. If I’m lucky, the place will be crawling with single hot guys—none of which will have crabs themselves.”

  “Georgie thinks a taco night at the local commune qualifies as a debutante ball. I’m pretty sure the single women of Maine should steer clear of any establishment that boasts of having crabs. All single women who enter those questiona
ble, most likely STD riddled doors should abandon all hope of finding good honest men whose crotches don’t double as petri dishes for fun new diseases. Promise me I won’t find you in some corner making out with a man named Marty.”

  “Fine.” She picks up Fish and now they’re both glaring at me. “This is purely a reconnaissance mission.”

  Sherlock gives a little bark. Bizzy, you promised Jasper you’d let him know if you were even thinking about speaking to a suspect.

  I twist my lips over at the freckled pup and nod.

  So I did.

  I pull out my phone and text Jasper to see if he’s up for dinner tonight. No sooner do I hit send than those dancing ellipses appear on my screen.

  Sorry. I’m on a secret mission. But if you don’t mind, I’d love to stop by and steal a kiss or two or twelve.

  I text right back. Make it a baker’s dozen and we’ve got a lip-locking deal.

  Jasper is on a secret mission. I’m not sure what it means for him, but I certainly know what it means for me. I’m heading to Edison. And if I’m lucky, Colt Ferguson will be there, too.

  Chapter 12

  Marty’s Got Crabs is more or less what you’d expect it to be. The building itself takes up quite a bit of raunchy Edison real estate. There’s a towering neon sign with a picture of a fisherman clad in a yellow slicker, and over his crotch sits a shiny red crab. Surprisingly, this doesn’t seem to deter the masses who are busy streaming their way into the establishment.

  “Look at that crowd, Bizzy.” Emmie butts her arm against mine. “We’ll be lucky if there’s not a two-hour wait.”

  “We can sit at the bar,” I say, cinching my coat tight around me. It’s freezing out, and I’m thankful I’m still dressed in my jeans and a sweater underneath my winter coat. “Most places will still serve the full menu even if you’re bellying up with a vodka tonic.”

  “Sounds good.” Emmie gives a frenetic nod, which turns into a full-blown chatter of the teeth. She’s opted to wear a little black dress and heels, along with a tiny pink faux fur coat. It’s clear Emmie decided not to heed my warning about abandoning all hope, and instead, it looks as if she’s made peace with the fact a fisherman with a crustacean hanging off his blue jeans might be the one for her.

  Georgie links arms with me. “Let’s get in there, girls, before our tatas freeze and fall right off our bodies.” She hustles us inside where the air is warm and holds the scent of French fries and cheese biscuits—two scents that I just so happen to wholeheartedly approve of.

  There’s a crowd in the foyer and the waiting area is packed, so I nod for Emmie and Georgie to follow me to the bar where it’s dimly lit, the music is upbeat and a touch too loud, and a group of men are having a salty conversation at a table in the corner.

  “The entire left side of the bar is empty,” I say. “Let’s get a move on, ladies.”

  “Save a seat for Juni!” George swats me with the enormous tote bag she’s got strapped over her shoulder with a picture of a cat on the front, and I can’t help but note the fact it feels as if she struck me with something solid.

  “What the heck do you have in there, Georgie?” I say, giving the bag a poke as we take up four barstools on the end. “A human head?”

  She rolls her eyes before looking at Emmie. “Can you believe this one? She’s the weirdo that keeps stumbling upon bodies and I’m the one with the human head in a bag?” she balks as she pulls the bag onto her lap. “It’s just a few clothes I threw together for Juniper Moonbeam. My best fuchsia kaftan for the big V-Day dance coming up at the community center and a pair of your father’s favorite sweatpants.” She tips her head my way. “And believe you me, kid. It wasn’t easy getting them off him. By the way, I need to see Jasper about filing assault charges.”

  “Against my father?”

  “Against that broad he’s engaged to,” she says the word engaged in air quotes. “She swatted me out of her room with her broom.”

  Emmie chuckles. “So Nathan was in Gwyneth’s room when you pantsed him?”

  Georgie nods. “I was just moving up their plans for the evening. How was I supposed to know the man likes to go commando?”

  “Ugh.” I slap my hands over my ears and do my best to stave off any visual from popping into my brain. Note to self: Disinfect room twenty-three asap.

  “Anyway”—Georgie fiddles with the straps on her tote bag—“Juni requested Nathan’s sweats. She said they were her favorite PJ’s.”

  Emmie coos, “That’s so sweet. I sure wish I had a boyfriend so I could steal his clothes.”

  Georgie gives Emmie’s own clothes a onceover. “You wish you had a boyfriend so you could pants him.”

  A laugh belts from me. “She’s got you there, Em.”

  “Ha ha.” Emmie does a double take at something near the door. “Excuse me. I think I’m going to head to the restroom.”

  She takes off and Georgie looks into her tote bag and screams before shutting it tight.

  “What?” I squawk, nearly falling off my chair. “Geez, Georgie, you gave me a heart attack. What did you see in that bag of yours? And it had better not have a story about my naked father attached to it.”

  Her eyes grow wide. “I saw a head!”

  “A what?” I pull the bag forward and peer inside and a tiny yelp comes from me. “Georgie!” I hiss as I pull the tote bag onto my lap. “You have Cinnamon in there.” I pull the tote bag open just a notch for her to see me, and breathe. “What are you doing here, you little cutie pie?”

  I curled up in a comfy pair of sweats while I was at Georgie’s and I must have fallen asleep. The next thing I knew that wild woman was screaming at me.

  A moan comes from me. “Georgie, it sounds like you must have scooped her up when you picked up the sweats.”

  She makes a face. “I thought they seemed extra sweaty.”

  The bartender comes by and we each put in an order for a drink. Georgie opts for a shot of whiskey, and I opt for something fruity and virgin, picking up a fruity virgin delight for Emmie as well.

  “Don’t worry, Cinnamon,” I say to the adorable pup curled up in my lap—albeit in the warmth and safety of that tote bag. “We shouldn’t be that long. I’ll have you back in my cottage in no time. I bet Sherlock and Fish really miss you.”

  “Pish posh.” Georgie pulls a wad of meat from her pocket and lands it in the tote. “That little redhead is my new best friend.” Her phone pings. “Speaking of new best friends”—she glances to the screen—“Juniper Moonbeam is about to make a landing. She’s less than a mile away!”

  “I’m really happy for you, Georgie.” I give a quick glance around and a breath gets caught in my throat. “That’s him!” I hiss. “The dark-haired man in a suit with the pointed chin and gold cufflinks. He’s near the doorway.” Colt stands holding an amber-colored drink as he talks to one of the waitresses. “Save my seat, Georgie. I’ll be right back.”

  Reflexively, I pull the tote bag over my shoulder and head his way with Cinnamon in tow.

  It’s probably for the better. There’s no telling what hysterics will break out once Juniper Moonbeam hits ground zero. For as long as Georgie has lived with me at the Country Cottage Inn—and it’s been over four years—that little Moonbeam of hers hasn’t paid her a single visit. In all fairness, Georgie and I have never discussed what her relationship was like with her daughter, but I’m guessing it wasn’t a good one.

  The waitress takes off and I step it up, landing before him as if I were the defense trying to keep the ball from running down the field.

  “You look familiar!” I’m really going to have to add a little variety to my interrogation game. “Didn’t we meet that night at the Country Cottage Inn?” I grimace to emphasize the nature of the night at hand.

  Colt leans back, examining me from head to foot. He’s a handsome man by anyone’s standards, but there’s something hard in his eyes that lets you know there are dirty dealings going on in that head of his.

  Spe
aking of which, I do my best to focus in on his thoughts.

  Pretty lady. I wouldn’t kick her out of bed for eating crackers.

  I all but roll my eyes. This is exactly why I don’t make it a habit to pry into anyone’s mind. Typically, when someone is having thoughts of the lusty variety, their mind goes straight to white noise. And the fact his hasn’t probably signifies his thoughts aren’t all that bad.

  And just like that, it’s snowing behind those glazed-over eyes of his.

  Perfect.

  I’ve got a pervert on my hands and I’m his mental victim.

  “That’s right. We did meet…the night of the murder.” I get right to it as Cinnamon begins to squirm before poking her head out the top of the tote.

  “Geez.” He jolts as if I had garnered the power to electrocute him with my words.

  Hey! I know him! Cinnamon gives an odd little moan.

  “Yes.” I turn my body, hoping he won’t see that I’m toting Lad Warner’s dog around with me. “That night was pretty horrible.”

  Bizzy, he tried to help Lad. In fact, he was always helping Lad.

  I bet he was. With bad loans.

  Colt squeezes his eyes shut tight and the white noise dissipates as if on demand.

  “I still can’t believe he’s gone,” he says. “Lad was family. I guess you never know how long someone’s got. Appreciate the people in your life.” He leans in. “What was your name again?” He’s scrutinizing me with his eyes. I don’t trust anyone. And I don’t think I’m getting a good feeling about her.

  A breath hitches in my throat. “I’m here with my friends.” I’m quick to point over to Georgie. “That’s one of them. Her daughter just got out of prison and she wanted to meet up with us here.” That’s right. I’ll throw the whole Conner clan under the bus if I have to. “This must be quite a place.” If I’ve learned anything, I’ve learned that I’m much better at telling the truth than I am at telling a lie. People can sense something is off even with the tiniest deviation from gospel.

  His entire body relaxes. “This is quite a place.” A smidge of pride takes over his face. “I should know. I’m a half owner.” All right. She’s a good egg. I need to chill. Not everyone is working to take me down. “So any word on who killed Lad?”