Raining Cats and Killers: Cozy Mystery (Country Cottage Mysteries Book 17)

by Addison Moore

  “Anything for you, lassie.” He offers an affable nod my way. Ree wasn’t kidding. Trouble follows this girl like white on rice. If I hang around Ree too long, I might just be the next one who falls victim to her curse.

  “I’m not cursed,” I mutter as I shake my head and Brennan speeds his way to the registers as if an apparition just scared the socks off of him. Sadly, I would be the apparition in question.

  “Sure you are, kid.” Georgie slaps me on the back. “And it’s a good look on you, too. It’s just unfortunate for those that drop dead in your presence, that’s all. I’m still on your good side, right?”

  “Georgie, it’s not my good side you need to worry about. This is all because of that ridiculous dress. I would have brought it right back here where it belongs, but I haven’t had a chance to talk to Emmie yet.”

  “Maybe you’ll be her one phone call,” Macy says before chortling herself into a conniption.

  “It’s not funny,” I tell her.

  “It’s a little funny,” she says just as Arlene Scully comes up with her blonde hair swinging in a little ponytail like the curly tail of a piglet.

  “The cookies!” Arlene says as she gives an anticipatory grin.

  “Oh right,” I say, handing her the platter. “I forgot I was even holding them.”

  “I knew you were here the second Snuggles and Bingo darted for the drawer under the register. That’s where Bea kept all her important things, like their tuna vittles.”

  A soft laugh bounces through me, first one in what feels like weeks.

  “Well, at least they have one more night to soak in this place. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help with setting everything up. It looks as if you’ve done a great job.”

  “Thank you.” She twitches her nose. “Kadence actually came by a little early and helped me put the finishing touches on everything. They’re all here.” She motions to the front of the store. “Ryan and Magnolia are huddled together while Kadence is milling around trying to see if there’s a treasure she might want for herself.” She leans in. “The other two think they’re too good for this kind of stuff.” She flicks her nose in an upward manner. “They can be a bit snooty. I hate to talk ill of Bea’s only living relatives, but Bea herself is the one who told me so.” I can’t believe one of those idiots is going to walk away with all that cash. Here’s hoping Bizzy donates it all to charity. “Let me know if you need anything.” She shuffles off, and I watch as she greets each person and asks if they need her help.

  Maybe Arlene should be the recipient of all that cash? She seems nice enough and she was on Bea’s list of prospects. Funny how she’s taken herself out of the running. That just goes to show she’s far too kind and humble to even consider it.

  “Ha!” Macy fishes a pair of rhinestone studded flip-flops out of the bin before her and holds them up victoriously. “These are going to be a hit with my followers.”

  I scoff at the thought. “Are you talking about those men hungry for your feet? You need to knock this off right now, or I’ll have Huxley put you away in a holding cell somewhere for your own protection.”

  “Hux isn’t putting me anywhere.” Macy rolls her eyes as she plops the shoes into her cart. “He can’t control me. He can’t even control that wife of his. I’m not giving up my followers for you or him or anyone else. I’ve already got close to a hundred men who are hungry to part with their money.”

  “A hundred men?” Georgie’s mouth falls open in disbelief. “I’ve already had fifteen people quit on me.”

  Macy squints. “I thought you had six men?”

  “I don’t get the math either, Toots,” Georgie says as she fishes a red kaftan out of a laundry basket situated in front of her. “Ha! How do you like that? Somebody must have donated one of my kaftans.” She shoots me a dirty look. “Okay, it was me. I’d better fish out the rest of them before they end up on a camel in Timbuktu. I like to come around once in a while and buy them all back.”

  Macy makes a face. “Georgie, why in the world would you do that?”

  “Was it to help Bea out financially?” I ask because this baffles me.

  “Nah, the woman was sitting on a fortune, and I knew it. Once in a while my kaftans get a little out of line and I send them here to teach them a lesson.”

  “Interesting.” Macy backs up with her eyes set wide. “She likes to put her clothes on a timeout.” She twirls a finger next to her temple while scooting toward the tables to her left.

  “Says the girl who lets men buy pictures of her feet,” I call out after her and about a dozen people look my way. “Not me,” I tell them.

  Hux and Mackenzie stride into the shop, and Mackenzie narrows her eyes my way as she makes a beeline in my direction. I’ll admit, she looks adorable with a pale blue sundress that accentuates her growing baby bump.

  “Here we go.” I sigh.

  “Bizzy Baker, how dare you turn my town into a circus. If you want to open up a brothel, I suggest you head to Edison where they expect something of that nature to happen. I’m sure Hux would gladly take over your inn where he would turn it into a respectable establishment where people aren’t routinely arrested or murdered.” She stalks off, and those same dozen people are right back to gawking my way.

  My mouth opens to refute these new claims, but I can’t seem to do it.

  Hux leans in, still in his suit from work, with his hair slicked back. “Are you nuts?”

  “What are you talking about? I didn’t know that woman was using the inn for nefarious purposes. In fact, I’m not aware of what anyone does in those rooms once the doors close. The entire second floor of the inn could be housing a marijuana farm for all I know.”

  Once again the lookie-loos are scoffing in my direction.

  Perfect.

  If Cynthia Liberty or Ophelia doesn’t take down my inn, it seems I’m perfectly capable of doing it on my own. Or at least I’ll finish it off.

  Hux rakes his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. Of course, it’s not your fault. Mack was upset, and that made me upset, and well, I came after you without a warrant. I’d better go find her. She hasn’t eaten her second dinner yet, and she can get a little testy if there’s too big of a span between meals.” He takes off toward the rear of the store while I try to process what he just said.

  “Second dinner?” I marvel, only to find that both Macy and Georgie have shot off to opposite corners of the store. Macy’s cart is full of funky footwear, and Georgie has a jumble of fabric taking up hers.

  Kadence Crabtree pushes a cart my way with her crimson locks sitting on top of her head in a bun, and she happens to have an ear-to-ear grin on her face.

  “Bizzy!” She laughs. “You caught me red-handed.” She nods to the cart full of board games, toys, and stuffed animals.

  “It looks as if you’ll be busy for weeks,” I tease.

  “They’re not for me.” She plucks out a pink stuffed elephant no bigger than her hand. “Except maybe this guy. I’m taking the rest of my haul down to the children’s hospital. I figured it was my last chance to patronize Aunt’s Bea’s shop. She had a good heart, so I think she’d be happy with this.”

  “I know she would.”

  Her lips part for a second. Geez, I almost asked who she’s going to give Snuggles and Bingo to—and I was going to ask out of genuine concern. But I’m sure she’d think I was a money grubber. And just one second after I showed off this altruistic display. She glances to the cart. I don’t want to look like a jerk. I’m not saying a single word. I’m sure I’ll hear where those poor cats land soon enough.

  And little does she know she just scored some major points with me—unless her secret nickname is Kristen.

  “Any word on the killer?” I ask, seeing that she’s looking to change the subject.

  “Nope. I called the sheriff’s department this afternoon, and they were so busy with some sting operation, they said to call back tomorrow.”

  “I’m sorry.” And I’m just as sorry tha
t the Country Cottage Inn got caught up in that sting operation to begin with. “Kadence, had you ever heard your aunt mention a woman by the name of Kristen?”

  “Kristen?” She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. But then, my aunt rarely talked to me about anyone outside of my sister and Ryan. Why? She’s not in the running to get Snuggles and Bingo, is she?”

  “No,” I’m quick to tell her, and her face floods with relief.

  “Thank goodness,” she mutters to herself. “I mean, thank goodness the cats won’t go to someone who’s a stranger to me.” Great. As if she’s going to swallow that bologna. She shrugs. “For what it’s worth, I mean it.”

  “For what it’s worth, I believe you.”

  A tiny laugh escapes her as she pushes her cart on by. “There’s a reason Aunt Bea liked you. You’re a pretty great person, Bizzy.”

  She zips on over to yet another bin filled with colorful stuffed animals, and I spot Ryan in the men’s section looking at ties. Those blonde streaks in his hair age him a bit, and he looks almost distinguished in that form-fitted suit of his.

  I head that way and give a sheepish smile up at him. “No hard feelings?”

  He tweaks his brows at me. “At you? Never. At that brute who stole you away from me, every day of the week.”

  “The brute happens to be my husband.”

  He winces. “Sorry. I seem to be immune to that detail despite the fact being told repeatedly of such matrimonial details.” He cocks his head to the side. “Come to think of it, that wasn’t the first husband who tried to teach me a lesson either.”

  A warm laugh bounces from me. “It would behoove your teeth to take note of those details next time. So what do you think of the selection?” I nod to the ties.

  “I’m going home with at least three of them.” He clips them between his fingers. “I saw the cats by the register. Thanks for bringing them by. They really do make this place feel like an extension of Aunt Bea’s house.” I hope she didn’t think I was fishing to get custody of the cats. He winces once again.

  “Ryan, have you thought more about who could have done this to your aunt?”

  He frowns over near the register, and I spot Magnolia with her arms folded across her chest, looking as if she’s pouting.

  I’m not going to out Mags. I don’t know if she strangled the life out of our aunt, but all arrows seem to point in that direction. As horrible as it sounds, there are some people I simply will look the other way for, and Mags is one of them.

  “No.” He sighs deeply as he gets back to looking at the ties at hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t.”

  And there’s that.

  “It was nice seeing you here. There are cookies up front,” I tell him with a wave as I head in that direction.

  All of the evidence points to Magnolia.

  My blood boils just thinking about it.

  Who was she to take someone else’s life?

  Bea was my friend. She deserved so much better than this.

  I should avoid Magnolia lest I go off on her. And if I do that, she’s liable to take off into the night and avoid justice altogether.

  And to think Emmie is sitting in a jail cell right now while a killer, of all people, is roaming free.

  The thought heats me to no end, and before I know it, my feet have landed me right in front of her.

  “Magnolia?” I pant, hardly able to contain my breathing. “You wouldn’t happen to know a woman by the name of Kristen, would you?”

  “Who?” She looks genuinely affronted as she tosses back that long dark mane of hers.

  It’s so glossy I could see my reflection in it if I wanted. But I’m so angry I don’t want to see my face or hers for that matter.

  “I guess it’s not important,” I say. “Magnolia, why did you do it?” The words tumble from me before I can stop them.

  “Why did I do what?” she asks, snatching a butterscotch cookie off the counter and backing away with a look on her face that suggests she wants to escape.

  “Bea was giving you eight hundred dollars a month, for a total of five months, and then she cut you off cold turkey last winter—right about the same you started up at Hungry Fans.”

  She sucks in a quick breath before taking another bite of her cookie.

  How does she know this?

  Fish darts my way and mewls at my feet, Now, now, Bizzy. Haven’t we learned not to come at suspects with a hostile inquisition? Where is Jasper, anyway?

  I shake my head at the woman before me, hardly able to contain myself.

  “The day Bea was killed you went back to the stockroom,” I say. “Both Kadence and Ryan saw you. And Ryan also saw you near the register just before that. You were getting Arlene’s scarf, weren’t you?”

  “What?” The cookie slips right from her hand. “Why would Ryan out me like that? He’s like my brother. He’s blood.” She looks around, wild-eyed, her voice spiking with panic.

  “He didn’t.” I let out a heavy breath because I’m not about to confess my mental abilities to her. “Let’s just say I pulled it out of him in a roundabout way. Why did you do it?” I persist. “Why did you have to kill her at her own birthday party?” Not that there was a better time and place.

  “Oh, Bizzy.” She shakes her head hard. “You have got the wrong person. I didn’t go back there to kill my aunt. I went back there to see if I could convince her to start up those payments again.” She sighs as she looks to the floor. “It turns out, my Hungry Fans aren’t so hungry. I spoke with your sister and I’m really glad she’s doing well, but I didn’t want to burst her bubble and tell her that it always starts off that way. And once they get their fill, they simply drop off and move on. I’m having a tough time making ends meet, and my aunt always came through for me. She didn’t like it, but she did it because we’re family.” She gives a hard blink. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to keep your asinine conclusion to yourself. I have enough working against me in life without being accused of killing my aunt.” So much for the cats. I’d rather have Aunt Bea back anyway. I suppose if I told her that I was about to suggest to Ryan and Kadence that we hire a private detective to move the case along she wouldn’t believe me. Not that I care. She’s obviously off her rocker. Leave it to Aunt Bea to attract a nutjob—and then leave her in charge of her estate. She takes a step forward. “Please let the sheriff’s department do their job,” she hisses before she takes off.

  “What in the heck?” I give my head a quick scratch.

  If Magnolia isn’t the killer, then who is?

  Arlene is about to whisk by, and I quickly wave for her to stop.

  “Arlene, did you ever hear Bea mention a woman named Kristen?”

  She blinks back. “Kristen? I don’t think so.” Her mouth rounds out. “Did you say Kristen?” Her fingers start to fly to her lips and she pauses midway. “Actually, I think she was an old friend of Bea’s. I don’t know what happened to that woman.” I’m sure it’s just a coincidence. Her eyes flit to the registers. I’d better clear that drawer out just to be sure. The last thing I need is Kristen coming back to haunt me. Someone calls her name and she holds up a finger. “I’m sorry, Bizzy. I’ve got to help out with the auction for a second.”

  She takes off, and I shake my head in her wake.

  She’s sure what is a coincidence? And why would this Kristen person come back to haunt her?

  Snuggles and Bingo run this way.

  Bizzy, you look like you could use a few vittles, Snuggles says, rubbing her face against my leg.

  My head spikes in the direction of the registers.

  “When I arrived tonight, Arlene mentioned that the drawer behind the counter is where Bea kept her important things,” I whisper.

  Here’s hoping those newspaper clippings were important. I speed that way just as a young girl helping out behind the register steps over to help a customer in the boutique.

  It’s right here. Bingo leads me right to the drawer in question. You can slip us
a few extra vittles, Arlene won’t mind at all.

  Sherlock comes bounding over. I won’t mind if you slip me a few either. They taste like bacon.

  “Sure thing,” I say, never happier to have an excuse to break into someone’s private things. I pull the vittles out and land a handful on the floor before rummaging quickly through the files and errant coupons clogging up the drawer.

  I run my hand along the bare bottom and there’s nothing else there. My fingers dance along the top of the drawer and—bingo indeed. I pull out a cache of bundled pieces of paper and quickly unfurl them.

  They’re copies from old newspapers. I’ve never scanned anything with my eyes so fast in my life. My heart beats erratically as I try to digest each and every word.

  “Excuse me?” a frail voice calls from across the counter, and I look over to see an older woman with short gray hair, curled and styled, her cheeks pink with rouge. She looks chic in a dark coat with a red blouse peeking underneath it, and she sort of reminds me of an older version of my mother. “There was a dress back there in the boutique. It was a wedding dress in a glass case. Do you know what happened to it?”

  “Oh that.” I avert my eyes a moment. “My best friend bought it, and her entire life turned into a dumpster fire. Be glad she beat you to the cursed punch. She’s supposed to get married tomorrow out on the cove. We can only pray that happens without anyone getting arrested.” Or buried.

  A laugh trills from her. “Oh, that’s silly. I’m sure things will work out the way they’re supposed to. I don’t believe in curses. Not anymore at least.” She takes off, and I continue to scan the articles.

  I don’t get it. A woman named Kristen Harper from Colorado is suspected in the shooting death of a woman whose husband she was having an affair with. Sounds like a love triangle turned deadly.

  So this is what Bea knew? Is this what she was about to go to the authorities with?

  Bea must have met Kristen. But why not report her right away? Why store up all of these bizarre newspaper clippings? This didn’t even happen in Maine. Bea must have gone through great pains to collect these articles.