A Killer Tail

by Addison Moore

  The three of us take a seat under the canopy of a bright blue umbrella, and soon Emmie shows up with the coffee and lemon tarts.

  Macy moans as she plucks one off the tray. “Now we’re talking. Too bad Bizzy isn’t as good with a knife in the kitchen as she is in the bookstore.”

  I cluck my tongue. “Macy, do you mind? A man is dead.”

  Emmie groans, “But she’s kind of right. You’re sort of a dead body magnet these days. And you had the guy’s blood all over you. Good thing you’ve got a lawyer in the family.”

  Hux frowns my way. “I’m no defense attorney, but I’ll make sure you secure a top-notch legal team. I hope you have a handful of change saved up to fight this.”

  “Fight this? I’m not going to fight anything. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Emmie leans in. “Don’t worry, Bizzy. Others might be too afraid to be around you now that you’re known as the Cider Cove Killer, but I’ll always be there for you. So long as we’re in thick crowds, and I have a blunt object to knock you over the head with in the event you go psychotic on me.” She gives a playful wink before heading back into the café.

  “They’re calling me the Cider Cove Killer?”

  Sherlock barks as he jumps into the seat next to Hux. I wouldn’t worry about it, Bizzy. I’ve heard them call you worse.

  I shoot him a look that says gee thanks.

  Macy shakes her head as she struggles to swallow down a lemon tart in haste.

  “I heard it was Cider Cove Slaughterer.”

  Hux shrugs. “Killer has a touch more flair.”

  “Flair?” I practically gag on the word as Fish hops onto my lap.

  Don’t worry, Bizzy. Fish meows. I’d never call you anything remotely in poor taste.

  Sherlock vocalizes something just shy of a laugh. I heard you call her cheap just last week.

  “Cheap?” I say out loud without meaning to. Oh heck, I meant to. I don’t really care if Macy and Hux think I’m losing my mind. They would be right, by the way.

  I’m not sure how, but somehow, the animals always seem to understand one another with a simple bark or meow, and nine times out of ten, it’s something even less than that.

  Fish rubs her head against my arm and purrs as strong as a jet engine.

  You and I both know you skimped on the Fancy Beast dinners and opted for Meow Mousse instead. Everyone knows Meow Mousse is the off brand, an awful second to the real mouse deal.

  I make a face at the persnickety kitty before lowering my mouth to her ear.

  “Jasper picked that up out of love,” I whisper. “That, and he didn’t know better.” I give her belly a quick tickle. “You win. I’ll pick some Fancy Beast up before dinner.”

  She lays her head against my chest and blinks up at me with those golden yellow eyes. Fish is so adorable I couldn’t deny her a thing, let alone her favorite brand of cat food.

  Macy nudges Hux with her elbow. “I’m thinking an insanity plea will work nicely.”

  Hux nods. “I’m thinking you’re right. Tell me everything that happened, Bizzy. The cat food will have to wait. I have a feeling we don’t have a minute to waste.”

  And I do. I spill all the bloody beans before tossing up my hands.

  “That’s what happened,” I say. “And in case you missed it, I didn’t do a darn thing.”

  Hux moans, “Except for grab the bloody weapon and announce you were the killer. I say you built a pretty good case against yourself. I think I’ll have to scrap the legal team I had in mind and go for the gold. Word of warning, you’ll need a twenty thousand dollar retainer.”

  “Twenty what?” I squawk. “Forget it. I’d rather defend myself. Or blackmail you into doing it for me. Mom still doesn’t know it was you who dented her old Corolla. She still blames that woman who used to live across the street.”

  Hux ticks his head to the side. “She made an educated guess. What can I say? Dianna Longhorn had more than her fair share of nightly visitors. Any one of them could have done it.”

  My lips pull back into a greedy grin. “But the point is, you did it. But you built a good case for your innocence at that time, and if it comes down to it, I’m sure you’ll build a good case for mine.”

  His phone bleats and he glances down. “Gotta run. Don’t do anything foolish like talk to the press, or return to the scene of the crime. The public seems to think killers always do that.”

  Macy nods. “As a member of the public, let the record show we tend to be right.”

  Hux jumps out of his seat just as Mackenzie Woods crops up like a bad apparition.

  “Mayor Woods,” I say it stiff. I can’t help it, though. After that whiskey barrel incident, I haven’t exactly been Mack’s biggest fan.

  Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and that navy pant suit she’s sporting looks a bit too fitted and too stifling for this clammy day. Come to think of it, everything about Mack looks a little uptight.

  “Lounging around, I see.” She smirks my way. “Must be nice to have a job that doubles as a vacation.”

  Hux laughs. “Well, I wouldn’t know. Good to see you, Mackenzie. Much like you, I’ve got a real job.” He takes off, and she steps in closer to the table.

  “Main Street is hosting its first summer nights party. It’ll be kicking off in just a few weeks. All of the businesses on Main are having a sidewalk sale each Friday night starting at the end of this month through the end of August. Lucky for you, Macy, Lather and Light is right in the thick of the action. As usual, you are the brighter of the two Baker sisters.”

  Macy straightens in her seat. “I’ve always liked you, Mackenzie.”

  Fish yowls in protest.

  I give Fish a quick pat while looking at my sister. “They have a name for people like you who like to pucker up.”

  “Brilliant?” She gives a few sarcastic blinks.

  Mackenzie rolls her eyes. “All right, Bizzy. That wasn’t a put-down. It’s not like you own this beautiful inn. You’re just the lackey that tends to the grounds.”

  “No, that would be Jordy.” I don’t mind correcting her at all. “I’m the manager. What do you want, Mack?”

  “I was going to offer the Country Cottage Café a booth, but since you’re too wrapped up in your ego, I’ll just—”

  “I’ll take it!” I say quickly. “In fact, I’ll put up my booth right next door to Lather and Light. Who knows? Maybe my sister’s business acumen will rub off on me, and I’ll actually pick something up. ”

  Mackenzie squints out in the direction of the café. And maybe I’ll pick something up, too— like, say, Huxley Baker.

  “Try not to commit another homicide, would you?” Mackenzie doesn’t bother with goodbye. She simply takes off in the direction of her prey, aka my brother.

  “I think she has the hots for Hux.” I stick my finger down my throat as I say it.

  Macy shudders. “Here comes divorce number four. Don’t say I didn’t call it.” She opens her purse and drops in the remaining lemon tarts.

  “Really, Macy?” I shake my head at her. “I would have given you the plate.”

  “Spoken like a true up-and-coming felon. I don’t take what’s not mine, Bizzy. And I don’t kill people either. If I were you, I’d take a page out of my book.” She starts to take off. “Try not to slaughter anyone while I’m gone. I prefer to have front-row seats.”

  I watch as she quickly disappears down the stone-cobbled path that leads to the parking lot.

  “I’m going to kill someone, all right,” I say as I land a kiss to Fish’s furry forehead.

  Sherlock lets out something between a moan and a bark. How about we take a walk, Bizzy? Right down Main Street. I want to see this bookstore for myself.

  “Not a bad idea.” I hop to my feet and Fish hops right out of my arms.

  I think I’ll stick around here before this gets way out of hand and someone stages a protest.

  “About what?” I call out after her as she trots toward the f
ront of the inn.

  About the Cider Cove Killer.

  Fish is right. This is about to get out of hand.

  I’m about to head to Main Street, straight for Killer Books, much against the legal advice of my attorney slash brother.

  And maybe, just maybe, I can get a piece to this murderous puzzle.

  Chapter 5

  The Country Cottage Inn sits at the base of Main Street just a few hundred yards from Killer Books itself, so all I needed to do was ask Nessa and Grady to watch over the front desk while I grabbed a leash for Sherlock.

  The sun is searing, so I make sure to stop by my cottage and pick up a baseball cap—Jasper’s baseball cap to be exact, the one that reads SSD, which stands for Seaview Sheriff’s Department.

  “How do I look?” I give the bill of the cap a cheeky tug as I model it for Sherlock.

  He lets out a friendly yip. Cuter than Jasper.

  One of the biggest perks of being Jasper’s girlfriend—fiancée—is that I get free access to his closet, hats, and comfy thick socks included. Not only have I doubled my heart with him in it, I’ve just about doubled my wardrobe.

  We head back out onto the blue cobbled walkway that snakes around the arteries of the inn to the edge of the property until we’re officially on Main Street. All of Cider Cove is inlaid with brick or cobblestone, giving the place a nostalgic homey appeal that I love so much.

  “I just can’t wait until next fall because as soon as the weather gets crisp, I’m raiding Jasper’s sweatshirts. His flannels are fair game, too,” I say. I don’t mind talking to either Fish or Sherlock while I’m out in public because just about everybody talks to their pets around here. But, come to think of it, I’m amassing quite the reputation as the town loon. I’d better knock it off just to be safe. Or in the least, keep it down to a whisper.

  Sherlock lets out a much more invigorated bark. What about the wedding? Will you wear one of his sweatshirts for that? A flannel perhaps? The green and red one with the hole in the pocket is my favorite on him. I’m sure it will look great on you, too.

  I can’t help but laugh. “No, actually, I’m thinking of surprising him with a brand new dress—for me, of course. Although, technically, for him,” I mutter that last part to myself as we come upon the rows and rows of businesses that line either side of the bustling street. There are sandwich shops, an ice cream parlor, a coffee house, my sister’s soap and candle shop, a craft store, a candy palace, several eateries, and boutiques peppering the entire length of it. Cider Cove really does have it all. You would never have to leave town unless you really wanted to. And judging by the wall-to-wall bodies bobbing up and down the sidewalks, no one really wants to.

  In the distance I spot a familiar mother-daughter twosome as they stand back to admire their handiwork—or at least that of Georgie’s—and I speed that way. Both Juni and Georgie have donned a matching set of floor-length peach kaftans with three-quarter sleeves and white wildflowers printed along the border.

  “Hello, ladies,” I say as I get a full glimpse of what they’re looking at and I let the leash slip from my hand. “Oh my God, Georgie, this is magnificent!”

  Last fall, Mayor Woods hired Georgie to partake in the Cider Cove beautification initiative. Her job was to create a stunning mosaic that reflected scenes from our cozy corner of Maine and depict them in a series of pictures made entirely of reclaimed glass and mirrors.

  “Georgie.” I press my hand to my chest as I take in the expansive mosaic work that goes on for thirty feet at least. There are pelicans and lighthouses, a white sandy cove, lots of miniature houses dotting a verdant green landscape, and—I suck in a quick breath. “Georgie? Is that the inn?” I point to a white boxy building covered with what looks like ivy, just the way the inn is covered with it as well.

  “You bet your bright red bottom it is. I wouldn’t create a landmark of this magnitude without it. And those two little bitty beasts in the corner”—she points to a couple of pointy-eared four-legged creatures that I can easily identify as my very own fur babies—“that’s none other than the handsome and ever so hungry Sherlock Bones and his little chew toy, Fish.” She’s got that right. Sherlock has been known to graze on Fish a time or two. Usually it’s no harm, no foul, right up until Fish decides she’s in the mood to claw the canine’s eyes out.

  Juni slaps me on the shoulder. “She’s a beaut, ain't she?”

  “Yes, she is,” I say and Sherlock lets out a quick bark of approval himself.

  Georgie picks up his leash. “So where are we off to, Bizzy? Is it already that time of day? Time to track down a killer?”

  Juni claps her hands together. “I sure hope so. Let me guess? A tattoo parlor?”

  “What? No. Just—” I turn my head to steal a quick glance across the street and spot movement around the entry to Killer Books. There’s a tall man speaking to a sheriff’s deputy, and as the crowd moves in waves, I catch a glimpse of an entire row of patrol cars sitting out front. But that man with his dark hair, slight slouch—he looks familiar. “I think that’s Thomas Dean standing outside the bookshop. He’s the manager I met last night.”

  Juni sucks in a quick breath. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get over there and clobber him over the head until he confesses to the crime.”

  I make a face and shake my head. “I’m thinking something a little more subtle.”

  Georgie heads to her car parked just a few feet away and comes back with a trio of menacing-looking hammers.

  “Choose your weapon, girls. We don’t talk to potential killers without arming ourselves first.”

  Juni doesn’t hesitate in snatching one up. “Just a word of warning, ladies. If he’s cute, I’m calling dibs.”

  “What about Spike?” I ask as I take the tool I’m pretty sure is a mallet from Georgie.

  “Pfft.” Juni is quick to blow off her new beau. “What Spike don’t know won’t hurt him.” A greasy grin glides across her face before falling away abruptly. “Besides, I don’t see any bling on these fingers. If that man wants to make an honest woman out of me, he can figure out exactly how to secure it. Now come on, girls. I smell a delicious felon in the midst.”

  “Me, too.” Georgie wraps her hand around Sherlock’s leash and the three of us cross the street along with a mob of tourists. We come upon Killer Books, where the rest of the crowd walks right on past it without so much as trying to glance inside the darkened windows. But even if the windows weren’t heavily tinted, you couldn’t see inside, considering the fact they were covered in butcher paper overnight. An attending sheriff’s deputy stands outside wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, his hands folded by his waist, his weapon menacingly poking from his side.

  Thomas says a few more words to him before heading in the direction of Lather and Light. His dark hair is slicked back, and the entire frame of his body looks wider in the white T-shirt he’s wearing.

  I give Georgie’s sleeve a tug. “We’re losing him,” I hiss as I traipse up ahead and force myself to practically fall onto him from behind.

  “Whoa,” he says as he turns and catches me before I face-plant onto the brick walkway. “Hey, I recognize you,” he says it more of a question, and I look up at his dark eyes. Where exactly do I recognize her from?

  “Oh right,” I say, dusting my legs off for no good reason. “You were at the bookshop last night.” I bite down on my lip a moment. “I was the killer.”

  “Geez.” He winces. “That’s right. I guess the daylight and”—he motions to my hands—“cleanliness threw me. Did you forget something in the store?” He ticks his head that way.

  Georgie and Juni catch up and both brandish their weaponry at the two of us before looking at the table of markdowns outside of the Lather and Light. My sister’s shop is adorable with its silk wisteria tree in the oversized bay window, and each branch is entwined with twinkle lights, giving the place an enchanted appeal.

  “No, I don’t think so.” I wrinkle my nose as I glance back at the booksh
op. “I’m here with my friends.” I point my mallet toward Georgie and Juni.

  “Armed and ready to fight off any potential killers.” His brows bounce, and he looks a touch amused.

  “No, actually, my friend Georgie is working on the beautification project down the street. She’s an artist who specializes in mosaics. And this is my sister’s shop.” I point the mallet in that direction and it slips from my grasp, flying into the window as a hairline crack erupts from top to bottom of the glass.

  “Oh no!” I gasp before holding my breath just the way I did when I was a kid and about to face the wrath of my mother. Although, for all practical purposes, my sister’s wrath is much, much worse. Come to think of it, I might need my mother to mitigate.

  Thomas grunts, “That’s not good.”

  “It’s fine.” I give a nervous laugh because I think we both know it’s not. “She won’t even notice,” I say, navigating us a few feet away, because if my twisted sister is in that shop, she will very much notice. “So what’s going on next door?”

  Macy steps out of her shop, letting every salty expletive known to man fly as she looks to Georgie, who’s currently holding her hammer and my mallet. But I try not to feel too bad about it. I’m sure somewhere, at some time, Georgie did something to Macy to warrant such vulgarity. And if I’m not mistaken, both Georgie and Juni are tittering themselves into a conniption.

  Thomas cranes his neck past me as he squints over at the bookshop.

  “I guess they’re searching for evidence. The sheriff’s department didn’t give you a hard time, did they?” He comes shy of winking as if the thought pained him.

  “Oh no, actually, they just took my statement and some pictures of my arms. I was sort of covered. Poor guy.” I hold myself and shiver as the memory of Wyatt Sanders’ pale face comes back to me. “Who could have done something like that? So blatant. So very in the poor guy’s face. I mean, it was his shop. His baby. Whoever did this, it was personal. Don’t you think?”

  Thomas gives a long blink. “I agree one hundred percent.” She has no idea how close to home she just hit. “Although it’s not a secret that Wyatt had problems.”