Dog Days of Murder
Country Cottage Mysteries #2
Addison Moore
Bellamy Bloom
Contents
Book Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Recipe
Preview: Santa Claws Calamity (Country Cottage Mysteries 3)
Preview: Cutie Pies and Deadly Lies (Murder in the Mix)
21. Preview: Six Merry Little Murders Boxed Set
Books by the Authors
Acknowledgments
About the Authors
Copyright © 2019 by Addison Moore, Bellamy Bloom
This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination. The author holds all rights to this work. It is illegal to reproduce this novel without written expressed consent from the author herself.
All Rights Reserved.
This eBook is for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase any additional copies for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Copyright © 2019 by Addison Moore, Bellamy Bloom
Created with Vellum
Book Description
My name is Bizzy Baker, and I can read minds—not every mind, not every time, but most of the time, and believe me when I say it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
A seminar on how to catch the perfect man is being held at the Country Cottage Inn, but with a killer on the loose, the only thing in store for the guests is a lesson on murder. Not only do I have another homicide on my hands, but Jasper’s ex is in town and she’s looking to take back what once belonged to her. It’s October in Cider Cove. There’s a fright around every corner and a killer closer than I’m willing to believe.
Bizzy Baker runs the Country Cottage Inn, has the ability to pry into the darkest recesses of both the human and animal mind, and has just stumbled upon a body. With the help of her kitten, Fish, a mutt named Sherlock Bones, and an ornery yet dangerously good-looking homicide detective, Bizzy is determined to find the killer.
Cider Cove, Maine is the premier destination for fun and relaxation. But when a body turns up, it’s the premier destination for murder.
The Country Cottage Inn is known for its hospitality. Leaving can be murder.
Chapter 1
My name is Bizzy Baker, and I read minds. Not every mind, not every time, but it happens, and believe me when I say it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
It’s a crisp October evening and the inn is bustling with bodies. Every inch of the entry is dotted with pumpkins, and there are twin wreaths comprised of silk fall leaves hanging over the double door entry. The doors themselves remain open to accommodate the masses that are currently streaming their way in. To my right, there’s a large banner strewn over the entry to the ballroom that reads Welcome to the How to Snag a Man as Fast as You Can Seminar! Face it, honey, you’re not getting any younger.
And judging by the thick crowds swarming into the inn, there are a lot of women interested in how to snag a man despite the state of their crow’s feet.
Nessa Crosby, my co-worker at the inn, bustles over. “I’m late! I’m so sorry, Bizzy. I was so excited about the seminar today that I didn’t sleep last night. So, of course, I ended up taking a nap and well, I overslept.” She wrinkles her nose as she hands me her purse. “Please put this in the cabinet down below.”
“You bet,” I say, doing just that while she secures her name badge over her blouse.
Nessa Crosby is a beautiful brunette with bronzed skin and a lightning white smile. She’s been working for me at the inn ever since she graduated from college last summer. I’ve known both her and her sister, Vera, forever, mostly because they’re blood- related to my best friend. Vera and I went to high school together, where she thought it would be a good idea to start horrific rumors about me. And even though Nessa didn’t care for me by proxy, we’ve slowly grown closer.
Working elbow to elbow next to someone for a year solid can mend a lot of fences—or tear them down. Thankfully, for our sanity we’ve chosen the former.
A stunning redhead smiles wide at the two of us just as Nessa jumps behind the reception counter and lands by my side.
“Welcome to the Country Cottage Inn,” I say to the well-polished woman before us. She’s donned a bright red power suit and holds an adorable black and white puppy in her hands—cute enough to melt my soul into a puddle of puppy-loving mush. “How can I help you today?”
“I’m Ginger King.” It comes out curt and a touch snooty as if her name should say it all—and oddly enough, tonight, it does just that. Her lips pull into a tight line as she examines me. Good thing I’m here. A mousy girl like this needs all the help she can get in the male department.
A breath hitches in my throat as I try not to audibly gasp.
That’s the thing about reading minds. You never really want the general public to know what you’re capable of.
I can’t help but take umbrage at the thought. I certainly don’t need help in the male department as she called it. I just so happen to be dating a brilliant homicide detective—and Jasper Wilder is a gorgeous one at that. In fact, he’s right upstairs helping his mother get settled in. Her townhouse suffered an unfortunate plumbing issue and she’ll be staying at the inn for some time. I’ve yet to meet her, but I just know it will be the highlight of my night.
An instant frown takes over my features as I study the beautiful, yet demeaning redhead before me. That adorable puppy tucked in her arms shivers and whimpers, and I can’t help but feel sorry for the poor creature, considering who’s holding him.
I try to pry into the poor pooch’s mind, but there’s nothing but static going on in there. Most likely a sign of fear.
Knew it. Ginger here is nothing but a detriment to the poor thing.
My head tips up a notch because I have a feeling I’m about to take it on the chin.
“How can I help you, Ms. King? I’m Elizabeth Baker. Please feel free to call me Bizzy.” I force a smile.
Ginger King, self-help guru, blogger, and influencer extraordinaire, happens to be the grand dame of tonight’s flirtatious festivities. And seeing that I’m the manager of the Country Cottage Inn, it’s my job to ensure all of her deepest, darkest, perhaps even shallowest desires are met. I have a feeling her desires are far more familiar with that last category the most.
“Help me?” She blinks back with a laugh caught in her throat. Please. As if I would take a word of advice this frazzled thing could offer. “Why, I’m here to help you—help you both.” She chortles away as she looks from me to my co-worker, Nessa Crosby, as we stand at the reception counter.
Ginger flashes her jewel-tone emerald eyes at Nessa and me. “I’m here to ensure you that every staff member interested in joining my
seminar tonight will have free all-access entry. I’ll make sure to let the girls working the registration tables know.”
Fish jumps onto the marble counter, traverses a few tiny pumpkins we have on display as an homage to fall, and ambles up next to me. I’d steer clear if I were you, Bizzy.
I give a tiny nod to the cute little cat. Fish is my sweet black and white long-haired tabby that I found a few months back near my sister Macy’s soap and candle shop, Lather and Light. Of course, I can read the minds of animals, too, almost always better than I can with people. They always have fascinating things to say. And I have a feeling Fish is right. I should definitely stay away from anything Ginger has to offer. Have I mentioned Fish is full of sage advice?
“Free all-access pass?” I’m almost amused. “Wow, that’s wonderful, Ginger.” I shrug. “I appreciate all you’ve done for the inn already.” It comes out lackluster, but I couldn’t help it. All she’s done is cause outright chaos, but I subscribe to the golden rule in business. The customer is always right. “Would you like me to watch your dog while you give the presentation? We have a wonderful pet care facility, right here on the premises.”
She jerks the puppy away as if I were ready to snatch it. “Heavens no. Peanut never leaves my side. He’s my baby, if you know what I mean.” She makes a face at the pudgy little angel. This bag of fleas isn’t my anything. He’s Shelby’s problem. I’m just thankful all I need to do is hold the mutt for an hour. Shel was right. Having a creature glued to my side makes the masses gravitate to me all the more. She rolls her eyes at the thought, and my mouth rounds out in horror.
I clear my throat. “Well, my kitten is my baby as well, so I know what you mean.” That is, if you meant what you said. “What kind of a dog is he?” Whoever this Shelby person is, she’s insane for giving custody of her tiny treasure to this monster for five minutes, let alone an hour.
She glances to the ceiling. What did Shel say again? She snaps her fingers my way as if her scripted answer was coming back to her.
“French Bulldog mixed with terrier,” she’s quick to blurt it out. “I don’t do breeders. I get all of my dogs from the pound.” It comes out wooden like a bad actress reciting her lines. “I’m a rescuer at heart.” As if. “Which brings me to my next point. I’d like to rescue every last female employee of this dreary inn”—a maniacal grin threatens to break out over her face—“from their equally dreary love lives.” And that is indeed the truth.
A jumble of words catches in my throat.
First off, the inn is far from dreary—with the exception of the coastal fog, which most people, including myself, find just delightful.
The Country Cottage Inn just so happens to be set on beachfront property in cozy Cider Cove, Maine. The inn has been one of the state’s official premier destinations for fun and relaxation going on four years now—the exact amount of time that I’ve been running the place. Coincidence? I think not.
Second of all—what makes her think our love lives are so dreary? I don’t see a hot detective attached to her side. I’m getting the feeling Ginger here is a know-it-all. And if she really knew it all, I think she’d see there’s more to the world than meets her beady little, narrow-minded, far too judgmental eyes.
And there’s definitely more to that sweet little peanut in her arms than meets the eye. I think the dog’s owner was afraid to tell her the tiny pooch might be a Pit Bull mix. I have a feeling Ginger would drop him like a hot pooch-tato if she knew. What most people don’t realize is that Pitties make excellent pets.
“Rescue me!” Nessa gives an animated squeal, and I can’t help but frown over at her. “I just can’t believe the Ginger King is here!” she riots it out as if the words were begging to burst from her all along. “You’re really here! Standing here at the reception desk of my dreary little inn. And you’re so right about the dreary thing. We hardly ever see the sun in this part of Maine. And I just know you’ll be right about everything you’re about to say tonight, too. I wouldn’t miss it. In fact, I’ll be taking copious notes. Oh, who am I kidding? I’m so in love with your little Peanut. I doubt I’ll take my eyes off him.” Nessa does an odd little hop. “I can’t believe you’re letting us in for free.” She grabs ahold of my hand and gives it a death squeeze. “Can you believe it, Bizzy? It’s our lucky night!” She sucks in a quick breath as she reverts her attention to the charlatan at hand. “Can I get you to sign a copy of your book for me? I loved every page of How to Snag a Man as Fast as You Can. And I love the tagline, too—Face it, honey, you’re not getting any younger. I brought my copy with me tonight, and I’ve read it cover to cover twice now.” She winces. “Okay, so I might have read it more like twelve times, but I’m determined to follow all of your principles and land the very best man that I can. I’m especially interested in those that fall under the category of men of a certain caliber.”
Ginger smirks over at poor Nessa who seems to have unraveled at the seams in a fit of unwarranted adulation.
She shakes her head. Oh, sweetie, I have a feeling you’ll have to read it fifty times, if not one hundred, to even hope to stand a chance with a man of a certain caliber.
My mouth falls open at her brazen—albeit private—insult.
Ginger twists her crimson-stained lips. “It will be my pleasure to sign the book for you, Nessa.” She turns my way. “Of course, I’ll gift you a signed copy as well.” And I have a feeling if Bizzy here put the whole book into a blender and drank it, there would still be far too much work to do. God knows I don’t specialize in miracles.
A choking sound emits from my throat. “That’s very kind of you to offer,” I say. “But I already have a man of a certain caliber.”
Fish nods as if agreeing. You tell her, Bizzy. And tell her I’ve got a dog of a certain caliber, too! We don’t need her or her silly book to rule our lives.
And that dog that Fish is so quick to claim is Jasper’s pooch, a sweet mixed breed named Sherlock Bones. Fish and Sherlock didn’t always see eye to eye, but they’re definitely coming around.
Nessa shakes her head my way. “No, I don’t think you do, Bizzy. Jasper is just a detective. I’m pretty sure detectives don’t earn a seven-figure income. Face it, he’s not a man of a certain caliber.”
Oh—that caliber. I get it.
I openly make a face at Ginger. A man of a certain caliber is code for a man of a certain financial standing.
Ginger laughs as if it were the funniest thing in the world, and her green dress sparkles in the light. Obviously, the color represents greed.
I cast a quick glance at the throngs of beautiful young women streaming in at an unimaginable pace. My God, they’re both man and money-hungry. And ironically, they’re about to be swindled out of a hundred and twenty dollars a pop.
Honestly, when I heard Ginger King wanted that much money for a person to sit and listen to her man-trapping tips, I thought she might garner an audience of twenty if she was lucky. I’d better call the café in the back and let them know to amp up production for the refreshment table. After Ginger attempts to hypnotize the masses, there will be a reception to follow.
Ginger leans in toward Nessa. “Not to worry. Income was simply a footnote as far as any of the categories went.” Heaven help her if she believes that. If I had my way, any tips about income should have been highlighted and printed in bold.
I crimp my lips at her for the thought. I figured as much. Ginger is nothing but a gold digger, and she’s happily selling picks and shovels to help others follow along in her gold-digging ways.
“A footnote?” Nessa looks crestfallen at the thought. “Oh well, I’m still shooting for the green gold.” She gives Ginger a cheeky wink. “Don’t tell anyone, but I highlighted those passages and they’re some of my favorite lines from your book.”
Ginger laughs once again—just the way she’s laughing all the way to the bank.
“Don’t you tell anyone”—she leans in and whispers—“those are my favorite lines, too. Don�
�t be late to the seminar. Afterwards, there will be drinks with Carter O’Riley and men from the O’Riley Organization. What’s better than a handful of strappy, beefy singles ready to mix and mingle?” She pauses to look my way. “I can’t teach these ladies to fish and not offer a few sexy men in a barrel.” She cackles once again. “Remember”—she points a blood red fingernail at Nessa—“a man isn’t off the market until he’s got a ring on both your finger and his. If you find a piece of prime meat you want to sink your fangs into and he has a loose attachment, you keep right on biting in his direction. That’s still fertile ground, I tell you.”
“A loose attachment?” I shake my head at all the loveless lingo. “Like a tool belt?”
Both Ginger and Nessa share a laugh at my expense.
Nessa doesn’t waste a second before shoving her elbow into my rib. “A loose attachment is a girlfriend, Bizzy. Get with it.”
“A girlfriend?” I gasp at the thought. This shyster is teaching women to steal other women’s men! That is so not okay.
Dear God. Is it too late to give Ginger Gold Digger King and all her money-grabbing minions the boot?
I glance to the stairwell and can’t help but feel as if Jasper is in more danger than I thought. Something tells me a drop-dead gorgeous homicide detective could be a rather hot commodity in a room full of wedding-hungry women—seven-figure income or not. And apparently, girlfriend or not, too.
Dog Days of Murder (Country Cottage Mysteries Book 2) Page 1