Murder Bites

by Addison Moore

  “I guess I can’t blame her.” I try my best to shake all of that weirdness out of my head. For so long Mackenzie has treated me as if I killed her mother, and here she’s been worshiping at the altar of mine. “Let’s get in there. I’m ready to do this thing. Try not to break anything, would you?”

  “The only thing I’m looking to break is my record.”

  A dull moan expels from me. “Do I want to know?”

  She makes a face my way. “My record for how many numbers I can collect. Everyone knows there’s nothing hotter than a mysterious artist who’s looking for his muse.”

  I make a face right back at her.

  “What?” She laughs. “I happen to look good in the nude.”

  “I’ve heard enough.” I link my arm through hers as we head on in. “Remember, big sisters are better seen and not heard. Work actively not to get us kicked out on our ears, would you?”

  “Will do. Just remember, you invited me to this party.”

  Inside, the building has an airy appeal with cavernous ceilings and a modern staircase that looks to be pieced together with acrylic and string that leads up to a second level. The secretary out front quickly points us in that direction once I tell her I was invited to ogle the artwork in the boardroom, and Macy squeezes the life out of my arm all the way up.

  “I did not sign up for some hippy skywalk experience,” she whimpers as she closes her eyes. “My God, they should have had us sign a waiver. Bizzy, if I fall to my death, I want you to sue their pants off.”

  “I’m not suing their pants off—because you’re not falling to your death. You can open your eyes now. We’ve arrived at our destination,” I say in the same monotone style as the navigation device in my car.

  The second level holds more of a corporate appeal with its isolated cubicles and rows of walled off offices.

  Just as I’m about to ask someone for assistance, a small crowd emerges from a set of double doors to our left.

  An entire mob of well-dressed men and women stalk out with long faces as they whisper amongst themselves, and I can hear a few errant thoughts.

  Emily Carter is a wicked witch if ever there was one.

  And to think Paige promised us change if she ever succeeded in giving Lad the boot. And here he’s dead and nothing has changed.

  I need to get some chowder in me, start a fire, and contemplate the sad state of my life. Maybe it’s not too late for a career change? I hear political PR has its charms. It couldn’t be worse than this.

  I pull Macy in. “It looks as if their corporate meeting just got out.”

  Macy nods. “And by the looks of things, it didn’t go well.” She gasps as she glances to our left. “A bunch of them are heading off to that room down there. I can see coffee, cookies, and hot men. It’s a trifecta of perfection. I’ll see you later, Bizzy. Good luck catching your killer.” She stalks off and I’m about to protest when Paige steps out of the boardroom and lands her gaze right on me.

  “Bizzy?” A genuine smile comes to her lips. “I’m so glad you could make it.” Her entire face opens up with surprise.

  “Thank you,” I say as I make my way over to her. Her pale blonde hair is pulled back into a low bun and she’s wearing a tweed power suit, a trend I seem to be missing out on. “I was just in the area and my curiosity got the better of me.”

  “Your timing is perfect. My mother is here. You remember her from that night, don’t you?”

  “Oh, that’s right. I do,” I say as my heart thumps wildly. Emily Carter just so happens to be the exact woman I want to talk to and it looks as if it’s my lucky day.

  “In fact, she’s right inside talking to someone who’s working on the case.”

  “Case?” I ask just as I step into the spacious boardroom, only to freeze solid once I spot a rather brawny looking homicide detective and his very pregnant sister—who happens to be a curator of fine art, standing right beside them. “Oh no,” I whimper as I do my best to shrink out of existence.

  Ella spots me first. She’s so adorable with her standard Wilder issued face. No kidding, all of the Wilder siblings are basically knockoffs of one another, same dark hair, same pale gray eyes. Ella is a stunner, and her pooched belly is adorable as can be. I happen to know she’s due at the end of next month.

  Her eyes grow wide.

  “Bizzy?” Her mouth rounds out with a laugh, interrupting the conversation Jasper was knee-deep in with Emily Carter.

  The three of them look my way and Jasper’s eyes grow in size, matching his sister’s.

  “Bizzy.” He says my name as if it was a fact he was resigned to, and his lids hood a notch. How did I not see this coming? But, then again, one of the things I like best about her is her ability to surprise me. Although, this shouldn’t have surprised me. I should have preempted this. In the future, I’ll do just that. Bizzy Baker doesn’t realize it yet, but I’m about to handcuff her from endangering herself in any more investigations.

  I scoff over at him without meaning to. Okay, fine. I so meant to.

  “Hello,” I force the word out brightly. “Paige had invited me to come out and see the artwork. Georgie, too, actually, but her daughter is in town and she couldn’t make it. She asked if I’d take pictures.”

  Someone calls for Paige from behind and she groans.

  “Excuse me, Bizzy. I’ll be right back, but I’m sure my mother will be glad to show you the display.” I hope the three of them laugh in her face. A quarter of a million dollars could have bought something real, not some worthless pieces of art.

  She takes off and I gasp at the revelation.

  A quarter of a million dollars?

  Emily must have been out of her mind to shell out that kind of cash.

  “Hi, Emily,” I say warmly as I stride their way. “We met at the inn that night. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  The older blonde gives a mournful nod. “It’s been an adjustment.” One I can live with.

  Ella pulls me into a warm embrace. “It’s so nice to see you, Bizzy.”

  “And you look great.” I glance down at that basketball she has tucked under her shirt. “I bet you can’t wait to hold your little one soon.”

  She lands her hand on her belly and groans, “It won’t be soon enough.”

  Emily gives a warm laugh. “I remember that feeling. There are some moments in life that just can’t seem to get here fast enough. Like the birth of a baby, or a wedding.”

  Or a death, but that came surprisingly on time.

  I clear my throat. “That must be especially hard for you,” I tell her. “I mean, you were about to get married yourself.”

  She takes a quick breath. “I’ve spent all week canceling venues now that he’s gone.” Of course, after what I heard, I would have canceled them regardless.

  Knew it. She did hear something that night, and that’s what sponsored the argument and perhaps the fatal gunshot.

  Jasper tips his head thoughtfully. “I’m sure that couldn’t have been easy. When was the wedding due to happen?”

  “Spring—first week of May to be exact.” Emily sags with the thought. “But now I’ll spend spring alone.” As I should have all along. And so will he, just the way he deserves to. “Lad was a good man. It’s too bad his life was cut short. In those few months I knew him, he made me feel like the queen of the world. I would have given him anything and often did.” She raises a hand to the row of acrylic and oil paintings behind her, all on a uniform canvas about four by six feet. They run a rainbow of colors, each one washed in one basic hue with paint running down the front along with a few splatters ala Jackson Pollack. I can see why Paige wasn’t that impressed with them, especially if they’re from a virtually unknown artist.

  Ella shakes her head. “Emily? Tell us what you know about the artist.” I won’t have the heart to tell her my true thoughts on these disaster pieces.

  Emily laughs. “Detective Wilder says you’re the professional. All I know is that they’re from someone name
d Land Wei. It sounded exotic enough. He’s got a gorgeous website, stunning reviews, but I’ve never heard of him.”

  “That’s strange,” I say. “I mean, you’re in the art world. I would think you would have heard of just about everyone.”

  She twitches her lips. “Not true. I specialize in turning a profit out of art classes. I’m far from a connoisseur. But Lad loved them. That’s what drew me to him initially— his love for the creative side of life.” He was creative himself come to find out. That little tart of his thought she would wait in the wings until they sucked me dry. I couldn’t be more thankful that she showed up that night—that my courage showed up that night. “But now that he’s gone, I’m going to replace these with something more my style.”

  She’s thankful that her courage showed up that night? As in showed up to kill Lad?

  My eyes lock over Jasper’s with concern.

  Bizzy Baker. He sighs as a soft smile plays on his lips. How I can’t wait to get her alone. How I can’t wait to show her the surprise I have for her. I hope she likes it. Heck, I hope she loves it.

  My cheeks heat.

  Whatever it is he’s hoping to surprise me with, I already love it.

  Emily takes us from one strange spectacle to the next as Ella gets up close and personal with each one. Her thoughts confirm to me what I already believed to be true. These are nothing more than a farce designed to bilk money from this poor woman.

  Hey? I wonder if she knew about Lad’s gambling addiction?

  “Emily”—I whisper as we step off to the side while Jasper and Ella inspect the final green and blue blotched mess a few feet away—“did Lad have any hobbies other than art?”

  She blinks back as if my question caught her off guard.

  I give a quick shrug. “I was just thinking maybe someone in the art world, or perhaps someone involved with another one of his hobbies, held a grudge against him and that’s who he met up with in front of the inn that night.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so.” She’s quick to dismiss it. On second thought, I’d better go with it. “But you could be right. Lad had two more paintings commissioned and we missed the down payment on both. Apparently, the artist was very angry.” She nods to the wall of horrors. “But that was my fault. I was in the middle of inventorying my assets, both liquid and non-liquid. It was a part of analyzing my estate. I was in the throes of rewriting my will, reorganizing who would get what, should I pass one day. Lad did mention the artist had threatened him. Lad tried very hard to get the rest of the money from me, but I stood my ground. I needed time. And am I ever glad I did so.” She glances over her shoulder to affirm the fact Jasper and Ella are steeped in conversation. “It turns out, you can’t always trust the men in your life. I’m afraid my life has become a cautionary tale.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My daughter unearthed some disturbing information just a few days ago. There were other women still very much interested in Lad even though we were engaged. I think one of them might have been angry enough to kill.”

  My lips part as I examine her. “Did you tell the detective?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m not ready to face the public with this. It’s too humiliating.”

  “You should. It can be anonymous.”

  Jasper steps over, his brows hanging crooked over his eyes.

  “Ladies.” His expression is stone cold. “Everything all right?”

  Emily swallows hard, and I nod over at her.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “It’s the right thing to do.”

  “Oh, all right.” She shudders. “Detective, after Lad died, I found out through my daughter that he might have been having multiple affairs. I’m afraid one of those relationships may have resulted in his death.”

  I grill her twice and nothing. And yet I leave her alone with Bizzy for five minutes and she’s handing me the keys to the kingdom. I guess I have to give credit where credit is due. Bizzy really is that good.

  Jasper leans her way. “Do you know who they could be?”

  Emily pulls her shoulders back, her lips pulling in a tight line. “An old friend of his, Natalie Pyle, and possibly one of my employees, Madeline Harper.”

  Natalie Pyle?

  Jasper jots it down in this phone. “I’ll look into both of those women. Thank you for letting me know your suspicions.”

  “Oh, they’re not suspicions.” Emily growls out an incredulous laugh. “I found evidence at my home. That’s where Lad had been staying on and off. I found an earring that didn’t belong to me in my guest room—the bed looked poorly made. But Lad said the housekeeper must have taken a nap. I knew she didn’t, but I played along. Anyway, my daughter said she had it on good authority that those women were very much seeing my fiancé.” She glowers at the wall behind me. “And now he’s dead.” And I don’t feel sorry for him in the least. “Excuse me.” She touches her hand to her chest. “I need to go collect myself.” She stalks off and a stunned silence crops up in her wake.

  Jasper leans in, bearing those icy eyes into mine.

  “Bizzy Baker, I thought we had an understanding?”

  “What was that, Detective?”

  His features soften. “That I escort you to speak with a suspect.”

  “And as fate would have it, you are.”

  He closes his eyes, and I swear on all that is holy, the lights in the room just dimmed.

  “Jasper”—his name expires from my lungs—“I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you. It’s just—I was invited to look at the art, and I was curious.”

  “You didn’t disappoint me.” His hand cups my cheek. “You scared the hell out of me. Bizzy, you came alone.”

  “No, I promise I didn’t come alone. Macy’s here. She just so happens to be appreciating art of the human variety in the next room.” I frown over at him. “And you brought your sister. I don’t remember getting an invite.”

  “Touché.” And if I tell her why I really brought Ella, it would ruin everything.

  I look up at him through a new lens. I get the feeling Ella has something to do with this surprise he’s working on.

  Ella strides up. “They’re trash.” She shrugs. “The poor woman was bilked. If the guy was still alive, I’d suggest she have him arrested. I’ve never seen anything so blatant. I’ve taken pictures. I’ll ask around. But I’d be very curious to know where he got these.”

  “Thanks, Ella.” Jasper gives her a quick pat on the back. “Let’s get you home and off your feet.”

  We leave the room and run into Macy talking to a tall man in a black turtleneck and sandals.

  “Macy”—I do my best impression of a ventriloquist as I say her name—“it’s time to say goodbye.”

  She snarls my way a moment. “And this is my sister, Buzzkill, that I was telling you about. It seems I’m needed. You have my number. Don’t waste it.”

  “You’re lovely,” I say as I help her back down the invisible staircase.

  Once we get outside, Jasper gives Ella the keys to his truck and I give Macy the keys to my car so I can have a private moment with Jasper.

  “Try not to leave without me,” I say as she traipses off into the lot.

  Jasper wraps his arms around me, his warm embrace only rivaled by that warm smile rising at the tips of his lips.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  And he inches back with a look of dismay on his face.

  “Don’t apologize.” He touches his forehead to mine. “My only concern is for your safety. You’re everything to me, Bizzy. And above all, I need to know you’re safe.” He swallows hard. “And my biggest fear is that I can’t protect you.” Especially from herself.

  My mouth opens to say something in rebuttal, but nothing comes out.

  And nothing has to because Jasper comes up with a brilliant solution. He lands his lips over mine and we end the conversation in the very best way.

  Jasper is right. My thirst for justice usurps his ability to keep me safe.


  But this will be the last time.

  The very last time.

  I’ll stop stepping in front of the proverbial train as soon as I track down Lad Warner’s killer.

  They shot him at the inn.

  I picked up the murder weapon and became a suspect myself.

  This isn’t just another homicide.

  This time it’s personal.

  Chapter 14

  Juniper Moonbeam is a ball of energy that could rival nuclear fission in both its instability and all around destruction.

  Juni, Georgie, and I are all huddled around a table in the Country Cottage Café munching on raspberry cheesecake bites like they were about to go out of season. It’s a bit unnerving to see this younger version of Georgie with their matching wild hair, albeit blonde to Georgie’s gray, same wily eyes, and same Rolodex of exaggerated expressions. I don’t remember much from Juni the first time around, but on this go-round it’s unmistakable that the fun-loving fruit didn’t fall far from the kooky tree.

  In the corner of the café, Emmie and Leo Granger have the nerve to whisper amongst themselves. Emmie has even let an errant giggle or two stream from her lips and it’s all I can do not to throw a chair in their direction. I’ve decided the best course of action is to actively ignore them. Hear no evil. Speak no evil. See no evil. And yet whenever I happen to glance that way, Leo doesn’t disappear.

  I turn my attention back to Juni. “So what exactly were you in prison for again?” I pull Fish onto my lap as we wait for her response together. I seem to vaguely recall Jasper saying something about unpaid parking tickets. Or was it speeding tickets?

  She swills the coffee in her hand and it curves over the rim of the mug precariously, splattering onto the floor where Sherlock laps it right up and gags.

  Tastes terrible, Bizzy. He growls before doing his best to chase his tail. I’m sorry they make you drink so much of it.

  “Manslaughter.” Juni’s blue eyes hang heavy over mine before she bursts out with laughter. “Kidding!”

  Georgie fans herself as she sighs with relief and Cinnamon yelps in her lap.