Dog Days of Murder

by Addison Moore

  Figures. Carter probably has his men stalking all sorts of intellectual events where hot, young women are prone to congregate. He’s a predator. But at the moment he’s all by his lonesome, so I step on over before the window closes on my Jasper-free moment.

  “Carter,” I say breathless as I step in his path before he launches in another direction. “I think we met at that”—I wince—“Ginger’s talk on how to catch a man.”

  “Oh.” Any trace of a smile quickly evaporates from his face. “At the mixer.”

  “Yes. I’m actually the manager of the Country Cottage Inn, so I make it a point to recognize guests. You were there with your men that night.” I give a little shrug.

  Carter closes his eyes a moment as if reliving it. “That was a nightmare. I’m sorry. Not the mixer—but, well—you know.”

  “Yes, I do know.” I step in. “Were you close to Shelby?” I’m not letting him see all of my cards. I’ll leave it to him to tell me.

  “Close? We were engaged at one point. She was my everything.” His jaw clenches. “She still is.”

  Still is?

  He obviously has very strong feelings for her.

  “I’m sorry. Can I ask what went wrong?” I shrug a little. “I mean, sometimes it helps to talk about it. And you look pretty upset.”

  “I am upset, and I don’t mind. In fact, Shelby has always been my world. The reason we spilt had to do with commitment. I kept pushing back the wedding date and she called my bluff. And by the time she walked out of my life, I couldn’t have wanted her more. I would have done anything to keep her in it, and now it’s too late.”

  “I’m sorry. That must be terribly painful.” I study him a moment. “What did you think of this new guy she was seeing?”

  “Luke?” he says his name like it was a four-letter word of another color. “The guy is a joke. He’s some auto mechanic she met when her car was in the shop, and the next thing you know he’s wearing a suit, running the new loan department of Harris Financial.”

  “Really?” I blink back. “He must have been qualified. I mean, they wouldn’t just put someone in charge like that without any background in finance, would they?”

  “You have no idea the pull Shelby had with her father. She could have plugged anyone she wanted into any part of that firm. And she did. And do you know why she did it? Revenge. She went out and found the first guy she could once she broke things off with me because she knew it would infuriate me. She was right.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. His demeanor shifts from pained to full of a percolating rage. “I’m sorry she’s gone.” But at least now he can’t have her. He never deserved her in the first place.

  I press my hand to my chest as I take a step back. Chelsea mentioned he was obsessed. Maybe Carter killed her because she was with Luke?

  “Carter, do you know Nessa Crosby? She works at the inn.”

  “Nessa?” He looks momentarily startled. “Yes, of course, I know Nessa. I was with Shelby before things went south between the two of them.” His chest expands and he inspects me. “We used to be good friends.”

  I wonder if she’s got news on Nessa’s arrest? It should have happened by now. Of course, with the bumbling Seaview Sheriff’s Department botching the investigation it could take a decade.

  He postures toward me. “Why do you ask about Nessa?”

  “Just wondering.” My shoulders hike a notch. “She knew Shelby as well. She’s pretty upset.”

  My God, does Carter think Nessa did it?

  My eyes widen with my next thought. Or did Carter steal the gun and kill Shelby, hoping to frame Nessa with the crime?

  Carter nods as if he were putting the pieces together. “I’ll stop by some time and see how she’s doing. I really do care about Nessa.” And that’s exactly why I’ll be working hard on her defense. As soon as they slap those cuffs on her, I’m sending in the cavalry.

  What in the heck? I shake my head at him without meaning to.

  I bear hard into his eyes, trying to pull something else out of him.

  He’s so close to confessing. That is, if he did this.

  “I’ll tell her to expect you,” I say. “So, who do you think did this?”

  He glances away a moment as if he were considering his options. I’m not implicating Nessa. There’s no point. She’s too close. They work together. She’ll want to see the best in her.

  Carter takes a deep breath. “Scout had a pretty clear vendetta against her.”

  “I heard. Nessa told me about their rivalry. But would she kill over something like that?”

  He swills the glass in his hand and the brown liquid nearly sloshes right out.

  “Scout would kill. There was a little more to the story than just a few extra fans showing for an event. Yes, Shelby and Chelsea effectively chased her out of the influencer game, but it went a little darker than that.” He leans in, his evergreen eyes bearing hard into mine. “Don’t believe everything you hear.” He pulls a tight smile. “It was nice seeing you.”

  I watch as he melts into the crowd.

  Jasper reappears. His dark brows form a near uniform line across his forehead and it looks strangely sexy.

  “Bizzy Baker.” He steps in front of me and rocks back on his heels. “You cashed in on that moment of solitude, didn’t you?”

  My teeth graze my lower lip. “Are you accusing me of nefarious behavior, Detective?”

  His cheek rises on one side. “Only because I know you’re capable of it.”

  Jasper pulls me in by the waist and I give his tie a gentle tug.

  A dark laugh brews in my chest. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” Camila runs through my mind. “On second thought, maybe have that conversation with your ex first. She’s gunning for you hard, Jasper. And something tells me she won’t stop anytime soon.”

  He glowers out at the crowd.

  She’s right. If she knew what just happened in the parking lot, she wouldn’t feel so generous toward Camila. But then, Bizzy is a good person. She just might despite the fact.

  “I’ll do it. I’ll schedule a sit-down—at the inn. Nothing intimate. I’ll let her know that I’ve moved on and that I don’t want any more waves. And, I’ll hear her out.”

  I blow out a breath. “Any chance of reconciling with Leo?” I don’t know why I felt the need to ask, but a part of me wanted to. Whether I like it or not, Leo Granger is, well, for lack of a better word, special. And I foresee that he will be in my life in some facet for the unforeseeable future.

  Why would she ask about Leo? Of course. That’s what he’s been doing around her, moping. Making me look like the bad guy. Priming her for the kill before he pounces.

  Jasper nods. “I’ll have a talk with him, all right.” His lips pull back. “But I don’t want to talk about Leo. Or the case.” There’s a pleading look in his eyes. “Let me handle this one, Bizzy.” I press my lips tight and offer a meager nod. “Good.” Jasper runs his finger over my cheek. “How about we stroll around the exhibit and check out the nudes?” His brows bounce. “In the name of art.”

  “I’ve always been a big fan of art.”

  Jasper and I do just that.

  And it feels every bit like a real date.

  Of course, I’ll let him handle the case—as soon as I have a little talk with Scout Pratt.

  Chapter 9

  “You’ve almost got it.” Emmie gives an apprehensive smile as we stare down at the batch of botched pumpkin mini muffins I tried so desperately to bake.

  “No, I haven’t,” I say, chucking the charred treats straight into the trash. “They were burnt and undercooked.”

  Emmie laughs as she pulls me into a tight embrace. “Now that takes a talent. See? You do have talent in the kitchen.”

  “You’re very funny,” I say just as I notice a couple of familiar faces stepping up to the counter at the Cottage Café. “My mother and Georgie are here. And I’m pretty sure they won’t want anything I dared to put in an oven.”

  W
e head up front to where the café is bustling. Just past the patio I can see a bevy of storm clouds on the horizon. The ocean looks dark and angry with navy swells and white caps peppered throughout.

  “What can I help you with, ladies?” I ask as they belly up to the register.

  Mom looks chic in her bright orange sweater, a black and white checkered collar peeking out from underneath that spikes up to her ears. But her eyes are red with dark rings beneath them and she’s pale in general.

  “Mom, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She waves it off. “I just need caffeine. Lots and lots of caffeine. Coffee. Black for me. And throw on a few of those mini muffins. Lord knows I could use some sugar to wake me up, too.”

  Georgie growls out a laugh. “Your mama had an all-nighter.”

  Mom is quick to swat her. “Is nothing sacred with you?” Mom shakes her head, her eyes struggling to stay open. “I did not have an all-nighter. Max drove me home and stayed for a drink.” She scowls at Georgie. “And that, my friend, is how you say it.”

  “Eww?” I shrug at the thought. “What can I get for you, Georgie?”

  “The usual. Bacon and eggs over greasy.” She gives a greasy wink to match. “Two slices of garlic buttered sourdough—oh, and throw on some biscuits and gravy. And what the heck—load me up with some of those mini muffins as well. I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me today. I’m all done tracing out my mural. It’s time to get glass to concrete.” She slaps her hands together and rubs them raw, looking every bit eager—and slightly deranged in the process.

  Mom scoffs. “With that meal you’ll get things going, all right. I hope the city provided a nice, cushy toilet for you with some decent pluming.”

  Georgie waves her off. “The park is just down the street, and while I’m there I get to feed the pigeons, play with the stray cats, and rummage through all those overgrown dumpsters looking for more glass bottles.”

  Mom closes her eyes like she might be sick. “Sounds like you’re living the dream.”

  “Well, I’m so happy for you, Georgie,” I say with a sigh. “I just love seeing you shine.”

  Georgie is quick to slap Mom on the shoulder. “Your mother was shining, too. Right up until three in the morning.”

  “Three?” Emmie squeals it out for me. “No wonder you look like death.” She winces. “No offense.”

  Mom lifts a finger. “No offense taken. I’ve never been put off by the truth. I might be put off by another three in the morning tryst. I really need to build my stamina.”

  They take off for a booth near the window just as a handsome homicide detective strides on in with his happy-go-lucky pooch by his side.

  Emmie leans my way. “I’ll get the orders together and take over the register.” She gives a sly wink before walking to the kitchen.

  “Detective”—I bat my lashes at him playfully—“Sherlock. A big breakfast for you both this morning?”

  Jasper looks alarmingly handsome with his hair still glossy from the shower, a black wool coat and jeans. Several of the female customers crane their necks to get a better look at him and I can’t blame them. At the moment I’m doing the same.

  “Morning, Bizzy.” Jasper’s eyes are bright as the sun. “Just coffee for me.”

  And bacon! Sherlock jumps in an effort to see me better. Bacon, please! Bacon, bacon!

  It takes me less than a minute to get both their orders together.

  Jasper nods to the patio. “Would you have a minute to head out for a short walk?”

  “For you, I’d carve out all day.” I grab my coat and we head out to the briny chilled air. The cove itself curves up against the sandy shores of the inn as if it were giving it a hug. To the left, there’s an embankment of boulders, and just beyond that the woods butt right up against the sea. Water might be one of my biggest phobias, but I’m fine with it as long as I’m not in it.

  Jasper and I walk out past the cobbled path and head straight into the sand. Fish bounds over and leaps in Sherlock’s path, inspiring Jasper to unleash him so the happy pooch can give proper chase.

  “And there they go,” he says, taking up my hand and landing a soft kiss to my lips. His lids are heavy and there’s a slight lazy grin he’s slow to part with. “I think we should look into carving out some alone time ourselves.”

  “We should. Rumor has it, you get a little wild yourself when let off your leash.”

  A naughty laugh gurgles from his chest. “That’s one rumor you should put to the test yourself.”

  “How does tonight look?”

  “I’ll be working late. I’ve got a meeting with the forensics team in a couple of hours and I still have a mound of paperwork on each of the suspects.”

  “Suspects? Who are you looking at?”

  His chest expands. “Bizzy.” He winces. “Who are you looking at?” He takes a careful sip of his coffee, those silver eyes never leaving mine.

  A laugh bubbles from me. “Okay, fine. I’ll give. I don’t have any single hard suspect because they’re all hard suspects. Jasper, I’ve never seen so many people who could have easily done this. Is that how most of your investigations work?”

  “No, and I’m glad about it. I’ve had a few cases where it could have been plausible that more than one person pulled the trigger. But, in the end, the evidence always winnows it down to the killer.”

  “Well, I have to say I’m envious of your exciting job. You must love getting up to go to work in the morning. I mean, it has to be rewarding to put away a killer.”

  He grins wide for a moment. “It is. But it’s tough. You’re dealing with a victim—a family who cared about them very much. Believe me when I say this. I envy you, Bizzy. Look at this place.” He nods toward the waterline. “You have this majesty right outside your back door. The Country Cottage Inn is a virtual paradise. I may never leave.”

  My stomach squeezes tight because, in all honesty, I never thought of Jasper leaving, and the idea sends a thin rail of panic in me.

  “Well, I’m thrilled to hear you like it here so much.”

  Fish and Sherlock zoom past us in the opposite direction. Fish is scampering and hopping like a bunny, and Sherlock is bounding like a greyhound at the track.

  “So lay out your suspects, Bizzy. Let’s see where you are.” He gives my hand a quick squeeze.

  “There’s Chelsea,” I volunteer. “She said Shelby did something to her, but she wouldn’t say what. She mentioned that Shelby swore her to secrecy while she was alive, and now that she’s dead, she’s afraid if she tells anyone people will think that not only is she trying to save face, but that it would somehow tarnish Shelby’s reputation.”

  “That’s cryptic.” Jasper’s gaze darts out to the horizon. “I think I need to dig and find out exactly what that could be. Sounds like it has the potential to be a strong motive for murder.”

  “Well, for what it’s worth, she assured me she didn’t do it. She did point me toward Carter O’Riley. She basically accused him of being obsessed with Shelby. And from what I gathered last night, that might be the case.”

  “Did he say anything to implicate himself?”

  “Nope. But he did cast suspicion on Scout Pratt. He mentioned that whole fiasco with the Mason jars wasn’t all there was to that hazing incident Shelby and Chelsea put her through. He said there was a darker layer to the story. I’m anxious to find out what that could be.”

  Jasper catches my gaze as we head down to where the sand is damp and easier to walk on.

  “Believe me, Bizzy. I will find out and I will tell you in an effort to curb your curiosity. No need to investigate further.”

  “Well, I wasn’t investigating.” Was I? “I mean—it wasn’t my fault they were simply spilling all they knew. It was just a little friendly chitchat.”

  Jasper lifts his chin, and that look on his face lets me know he’s not buying it.

  “Fine.” I say, kicking up a little sand. “I may have been investigating, but only because it happene
d right here at the inn. Anything that concerns the inn concerns me. So where were we?”

  “Carter.”

  “Ah, yes. Anything on him?”

  “Did you know he dated Nessa briefly and that’s how he met Shelby?”

  My mouth falls open. “No, I didn’t know that. Although, that would explain why he said he was calling out the cavalry to help get Nessa free. Maybe he still has feelings for her?” Okay, so Carter didn’t come right out and say it, but for the sake of Jasper’s sanity, we’ll say he did.

  Jasper’s brows hike. “She does have a good defense team lined up. That’s very nice of him.”

  “That is nice. He obviously believes in her innocence. And aside from pointing the finger at Scout, Carter did talk a little about Luke. He said something about Luke being an auto mechanic when he met Shelby, and now he’s running a finance department at her father’s firm. I thought that was a bit drastic. No real motive for murder.”

  The night of the slaying flits through my mind. “Wait a minute. I distinctly remember Luke wanting to speak with Shelby, and she was openly giving him the cold shoulder. I think Chelsea mentioned they had just broken up that night. Maybe he killed her because of it?”

  “I don’t know. But I do need to speak with him further about his relationship with her. He might have had the motive to do it, but motives don’t always lead to murder, so you can see where things like forensics come into play.”

  “Any word on Nessa’s gun?” I’m almost sorry I asked. I can’t prove that Nessa didn’t kill Shelby, but I’d stake my life on it.

  “That’s exactly what the meeting is about this afternoon.” Jasper’s mood suddenly sours. “I hope you’ll be at peace with whatever we come up with.”

  “Just because Nessa’s gun was used doesn’t mean she’s the killer.”

  “It doesn’t mean she isn’t.”

  I pause for a moment.

  “Have it your way, Detective. But I’ll bet you Nessa Crosby had nothing to do with it.”

  “A bet?”