A Killer Tail

by Addison Moore

  Dax pauses from the task at hand, or bottom as it were, to inspect my features.

  “You look vaguely familiar.” His forehead furrows. “Help me out.”

  “Killer Books. I was at the mystery night. In fact, I played the part of Corella Tinder. Occupation, pole dancer. Role, the killer.” I give a little wave.

  “Ooh.” He winces as if I struck him. “I’m sorry to hear it. Yes, I guess I do remember you. Or at least what happened to you. That was terrible—brutal, actually.” Not that the idiot didn’t deserve some form of retribution.

  “So you knew him? Wyatt Sanders?”

  He scowls as he begins focusing on my sister’s shiny pale rear.

  “I guess you could say that. I’ll be honest, I didn’t care for the guy. He put the moves on my girl and I don’t look too kindly on that.” And that’s exactly why we did what we did.

  I suck in a quick breath. Was that a confession?

  “He put the moves on your girl, huh?” I lean my ear his way. “Did you talk to him?”

  He touches the needle to Macy’s skin and she lets out a hair-raising howl.

  “Handlebars, babe,” he says and Macy’s knuckles press white. “Yeah”—he glances my way—“I talked to him. I wanted to do more.” Like with my fist. “But my girlfriend let me know it wouldn’t happen again. It wasn’t her fault. The guy came onto her. It turned out, his girlfriend was a nutjob. I think he set it up to get caught. Apparently, she walked in on the whole thing. Stormy said they were having a conversation, and as soon as he sensed the psychopath he was dating was in the room, he planted one on her—my girlfriend, not his. Anyway, that’s how a coward breaks up with his girlfriend. I don’t care if she was a nutcase. You don’t use my girlfriend as a ploy to get dumped.” His voice hikes a notch and his etching of the bloody butterfly gets a little more animated, too—and, well, Macy just howled as if she morphed into a werewolf staring at a full moon.

  “I agree,” I say. “That was more than cowardly. It sounds like he accosted your poor girlfriend. Did she file a police report?”

  He glances my way as a smile flickers on his lips.

  “Nope.” We took matters into our own hands. And I will be the first to attest, I don’t mind the outcome one bit.

  Oh my God. They killed him. But what about Thomas?

  “Dax, did you know the manager at Killer Books? Thomas? Did Stormy ever tell him what Wyatt did to her?”

  His cheek flinches. “I know Thomas. The guy is a freak. I don’t know that Stormy told him anything about what happened. Personally, I think either he or that psycho chick Wyatt was dating offed him.”

  “Really?” As in he didn’t?

  Dax nods, still keeping his eyes on Macy’s backside. “Thomas and Wyatt had some strange thing between them. It’s almost as if Wyatt had dirt on Thomas. And Thomas—he was always percolating under the surface. The guy was a volcano. That’s another reason I wanted Stormy to leave. You can’t trust people these days.” And Wyatt was about to learn the hard way he couldn’t trust Stormy or me. But, things still went as planned despite the bloody means to an end. And both Stormy and I are better off for it. Richer, too.

  My jaw unhinges. They stole the book!

  “Did you know about the book?” I ask as Dax begins coloring in the butterfly and it’s a mesmerizing sight. It sort of looks as if he’s etching a bright blue bruise right on my sister’s keister.

  “What book?”

  “The first print run Agatha Christie. It was worth a fortune. Rumor has it, the book was stolen the night of the murder.”

  “Dude.” He pulls the needle away from my sister and sits back. “Where was this book?”

  I try to pry into his mind, but it seems as if he’s holding his mental breath.

  “Upstairs in a locked glass case. The sheriff’s department didn’t notice at first. But then, they got a tip and now they’ve dusted the case for prints in hopes to catch the thief. It might just lead them to the killer, too.”

  His brows tick up a notch. “Makes sense. Maybe that’s why they offed him? You never know. But if the book was worth some cold hard cash, well, some people would do anything for money.” I happen to be one of them. Stormy should have known the book was there. We could have cleaned him out upstairs and downstairs. I bet it was worth a mint.

  So they didn’t take the book. But what did he mean by upstairs and downstairs? Clearly, they did something downstairs. Did they kill him, though? What else was there to do?

  Dax finishes up and dresses my sister’s pretty new wound before thanking us both for swinging by tonight.

  “It was my pleasure,” I say. “It’s not every day you get to witness your sister getting hers in the end.” I give a quick wink, and he gives a warm laugh.

  “It was nice meeting you both.”

  “Will I see you at the Summer Nights Festival down on Main Street in Cider Cove? It’ll run every Friday night this summer. This Friday is the official kickoff. They’ll have music, food, and fun. And I’m sure you can bring some business cards and pass them around. Every business is encouraged to bring something. I run the inn, and we’ll be handing out lemon tarts in front of my sister’s shop, Lather and Light.”

  “The same lemon tarts that were at Killer Books that night?”

  “Yup.” I flash a smile, albeit short-lived once I realize how morbid it is.

  “I’ll be there.” Dax reaches over and shakes my hand and does the same with Macy. “Instructions on aftercare are up front. Don’t forget to tell a friend how great we are.” He gives a playful wink before zipping out the door.

  Macy groans as she gets up and carefully pulls up her pants.

  “How great they are?” She squeezes her eyes shut tight as she buttons her jeans. “More like how medieval they are. How could you just sit there while he attacked me with that machete like that? It was barbaric. I don’t care how cute this butterfly looks, I’m never getting another one. That was worse than the first. It was worse than childbirth.”

  “Macy, you’ve never given birth.”

  “And this is exactly why.”

  We take off for Cider Cove, and I can’t get my mind off of Dax’s cryptic words.

  We took matters into our own hands. And I will be the first to attest, I don’t mind the outcome one bit.

  It begs the question, what did you do, Dax?

  Was it murder?

  Chapter 15

  Later that night, it’s well past eleven as I’m snuggled up on the couch with Sherlock Bones, Gatsby, and Fish, and a knock erupts at the door. It’s Jasper with a takeout box from the Country Cottage Café filled with lemon tarts.

  “I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.” He sheds a lazy, far too comely for his own good and possibly mine, smile and I let him in as I steal a kiss from his cheek. “I saw your light on, so I thought I’d get us something to eat. Emmie was packing it up for the night and threw all the lemon tarts that were left in a box for us.”

  Sherlock lets out a riotous bark. How about bacon? Was Georgie there? She loves to give me bacon.

  Gatsby expels a low growl. I like bacon.

  Fish mewls. Tuna, please.

  “Ooh.” I take one for myself. “Because clearly we’re her favorite people ever. Let’s get to snuggling, Detective. I have a tale or two to spin for you.”

  A dangerous smile rides on his lips. “Why does that both frighten and entice me?”

  “Because you know me far too well by now.”

  “You say it like it’s a bad thing,” he says as he gives both Sherlock and Gatsby a quick scratch before picking up Fish and pulling me close to him on the sofa.

  “I don’t want it to be a bad thing.” I steal another kiss from his lips before popping one more lemon tart into my mouth. “But I’m afraid it’s a very bad thing,” I say through a mouth full of yumminess only the Country Cottage Café can provide. “And how are you possibly running off just a two-hour nap?”

  “I don’t know.” He plu
cks a lemon tart out of the box and shoves it into his mouth. “But if I pass out cold, just know I’m dreaming of you.” He waggles his brows. “Where’d you go earlier? Emmie said you had to run an important errand and wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

  I make a face. “Fine, I went to Whaler’s Cove. Macy wanted to get a tattoo, and I just so happened to run into Dax. What’s his last name, anyway?”

  “Tucker.” Any trace of amusement has since vacated his face. “Bizzy”—his tone lets me know exactly what he thinks of my little jaunt down the way—“I’m glad you had Macy with you.” His chin tips down as he narrows those silver eyes over mine. “What happened?”

  “Jasper, I don’t know what went on the night Wyatt was killed, but Dax and Stormy Westin were definitely up to no good. I’m not sure if they killed Wyatt, but Dax said something about cleaning Wyatt out. And then when I asked if he knew that the book was missing, he seemed stumped, and somewhat angry that Stormy didn’t know about it. He said they could have cleaned Wyatt out upstairs and downstairs.”

  “Cleaned him out.” Jasper’s leg begins to bounce as he glances out the window. “Bizzy, I think I gotta go.”

  “What? Gotta go where?”

  “I think I know what Dax meant.” He gives Fish a quick kiss on the forehead and does the same to me. “And if I’m right, we’ve got yet another crime that occurred at Killer Books the night of the murder.” He heads to the door and I chase after him.

  “Like what?”

  Jasper nods. “If I’m right, they stole money.”

  I snatch him by the sleeve. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m just going to run over to Killer Books. I’m going to check the registers and ground safe.”

  “Well, I’ll come with you.” I snatch up my phone and my keys while jumping into a pair of flats I keep next to the door.

  Sherlock and Gatsby trot over along with Fish.

  You’re not leaving without us. Fish yowls as I pick her up.

  “Bizzy?” Jasper gives a wild look to the menagerie determined to join us.

  “They can use a walk. Besides, they’ll wait outside.”

  We take off like a crime-busting, mostly furry, gang on a mission as we hightail it up Main Street.

  I miss the shop, Bizzy. Gatsby howls.

  “You poor thing.” I bend over and give him a quick peck on the nose. “You were one of the best things about that place. And lucky for you, you’re with you wherever you go.”

  But what will become of me? Wyatt didn’t have anyone that could take me in.

  “I have you. And if another home isn’t in your future, then you’ll stay with me forever.”

  Fish lets out a wild purr. You hear that, big boy? You’ll be mine, all mine. She meows again and again and it sounds as if she’s cackling.

  “I’ve never seen Fish so taken with anyone.” I dot a kiss to her ear. I’ve strapped her to that cloth baby carrier I sometimes use when we step out. Not only is she easy to keep track of this way, but she warms me with her body and tickles me with her purring.

  Jasper wraps an arm around my waist and I take in the warm scent of his spiced cologne. The street is empty, it’s a virtual ghost town, and the air is warm and balmy.

  “I know how Fish feels.” He lands a warm kiss just above my earlobe. “Are we done here yet? I’m already anxious to get back.”

  “I like how you think, Detective. You have a way of making me forget everything else going on around me. Why are we here again?”

  “Because your curious mind has yet again unlocked another mystery.”

  “You mean sank us in the middle of one. And it was you who figured out the potential theft.”

  Jasper does a double take at something up ahead. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

  Sure enough, I spot Leo Granger sans his deputy uniform.

  “Well, well,” I say. “Does Emmie know you’re out and about, roaming the mean streets of Cider Cove all by your lonesome?”

  Leo laughs as he wrangles Sherlock and Gatsby to himself and gives them the affection they deserve.

  “Actually, I just left her place.”

  “Oh? At this hour?” It’s far past eleven. “Is this the walk of shame we’re witnessing? Don’t answer that. Have you got a minute? We need to head up the street, and we might just need a smart guy like you with a high-powered assault weapon strapped to his thigh to keep an eye out while we do the dirty work.”

  He gives a long blink. “It’s not a high-powered assault weapon. It’s a semi-automatic pistol, and it’s not strapped to my thigh. It sits at my waist.”

  “Tomato tomato. Has anyone ever told you you’re far too black and white for your own good? Come on, Leo. We’re going to have a little fun. And once we’re through, I might actually approve of you dating my best friend.”

  Jasper chuckles.

  “All right.” Leo gives a reluctant nod toward Killer Books. “I’ll do it for Emmie.”

  I tip my head to the side. And?

  His cheek rises on one side. “And you.” He nods to Jasper. “What are you up to?”

  Jasper takes a breath. “Bizzy spoke with another suspect this evening. He admitted to cleaning this place out.”

  Leo catches my eye. “I bet he didn’t say a word of it out loud.”

  “No, but a confession is a confession,” I say. “Too bad he didn’t confess to the murder. But what he did say was incriminating enough for other reasons. After the killing, Dax looked right at Stormy. She wanted to bolt and he shook his head and thought to himself, Don’t do it. Stick around. We didn’t come this far to ruin things now. That tells me they were definitely up to something. And then when I mentioned the book was missing, he seemed surprised that he didn’t know of its existence. He thought to himself, Stormy should have told me about it—that they could have cleaned out Wyatt upstairs and downstairs. He also said Wyatt learned the hard way that he couldn’t trust either Stormy or him. But that things still went as planned despite the bloody means to an end. And that both Stormy and he were better off for it—and richer, too.”

  Leo nods to Jasper. “Sounds like they cleaned the guy out, all right. Let’s check the register.”

  We come upon Killer Books and Jasper unlocks the door. “We need to find the ground safe. I might need to get a locksmith out here and forensics will want in on this.”

  “You don’t need a locksmith.” Leo smacks his lips. “You got me. I can pick the lock without destroying an ounce of evidence.”

  Jasper frowns. “Do I want to know where you picked this up?”

  “From you.” Leo lifts his brows.

  “Good,” Jasper says. “That means you learned from the best.”

  I bend over and give Sherlock and Gatsby a quick pat. “Stay here, boys. Signal to us if you think trouble is coming, would you?”

  Gatsby barks. You bet, Bizzy. I hope this leads to the killer. Wyatt deserves justice even if he’s not here to see it.

  “Believe me, we’ll make sure he gets it.”

  Sherlock sits at attention. Don’t worry, Bizzy. If I see so much as a mouse run across the street, I’ll let you know.

  “Good.” I give a scratch under his chin. “There will be bacon in it for the both of you.”

  Fish yowls as I head into the bookshop just as Jasper flicks on the lights.

  She pokes her head out from the papoose strapped to my chest. So this is the bookstore. I like it in here. It looks dark and spooky. And the ceiling looks as if it’s covered with stars.

  I swallow hard as I look to the dark brown stain still on the carpet.

  “It is spooky in here. You nailed it.” Leo and Jasper are already behind the counter and I head on over. “You know, Dax said that Wyatt’s nutty girlfriend, Molly Shay, saw Wyatt making a pass at Stormy. He said he was furious. I asked if Stormy filed a police report and he said no—that they took matters into their own hands.”

  Fish twitches her head my way. They killed him!

&nbs
p; I shrug. “Maybe they did kill him.”

  Leo dances his gloved fingers across the register and it glides open to reveal an empty cash drawer.

  “They robbed him.” He looks to Jasper.

  “The store was supposed to be open for another three hours when Wyatt was killed.” He gives a quick look around. “We have surveillance in and out of this building. I’ll run the tapes and see if anyone came after the sheriff’s department left. Where do you think the ground safe is?”

  Leo lifts his chin as he scours the room. “The office.”

  They take off and I step as far into the center of the room as I feel comfortable. The book tables look untouched. The folding chairs that were set up for the audience are still in place, half of them wonky or tipped over due to the melee that followed the murder. I can still hear the screams of the women sitting out there, and a chill rides up my spine as the memory enlivens within me.

  I land my hand over Fish’s head. “His girlfriend, Stormy, she’s sort of Georgie’s protégée, a hippie if ever there was one. She’s nice enough. But she said some odd things.”

  Said? Fish gives me that knowing look.

  “Thought,” I clarify. “After she asked if I had really killed Wyatt, she said to herself that she knew better but thought it was prudent to ask.

  If that doesn’t sound suspicious, I don’t know what does.

  I nod. “She also thought to herself that she should amp up the bubble-headed teenager act because she didn’t want me to know what she was capable of.”

  Sounds like she was capable of murder.

  “It does, doesn’t it? And Stormy did know about that valuable book that was kept in the glass case. She mentioned that Wyatt and Thomas were fighting over it. Oh! And when she saw Camila the night of the murder, she thought to herself, Who knew Ms. Ryder would be the one to throw a monkey wrench into my plan? Then she said something about hoping the judge would go easy on me—that Wyatt wasn’t worth going to prison over.”

  She did it! Fish’s left ear twitches. The girl is a killer.