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

by Addison Moore

  Could this Kristen woman have known Bea was about to turn her in and have killed her as a means to silence her? But why do the deadly deed at the party?

  I look back over to Magnolia, who’s busy shoving as many butterscotch cookies into her mouth as she can fit in there. She’s still the number one suspect as far as I’m concerned.

  I pull out my phone. Not one article has a picture attached to it. Stranger still. So I decide to look up this woman on my own.

  Sure enough, my phone populates with one picture after another of women named Kristen Harper until one familiar face stops me cold.

  Magnolia Crabtree just got bumped down a notch on the suspect list.

  I look up at the crowd.

  I think I have a few more questions to ask, and I just might be questioning the killer.

  Chapter 17

  I tuck the wad of newspaper clippings into my purse, scoop up Snuggles, Bingo, and Fish, and glance around the room until I see the very person I want to speak with heading this way.

  “Arlene,” I say as a burst of adrenaline hits me.

  Don’t do it, Sherlock whimpers. Just this one time, Bizzy. Listen to me. Let’s eat some more of those cookies until Jasper gets here.

  I shake my head because I doubt Jasper is coming.

  Fish taps her paw on my chest. I’m with the big lug on this one, Bizzy. Let’s stuff our faces with cookies. Butterscotch for you, tuna vittles for the rest of us.

  Arlene gives a tight smile my way. “What can I help you with, Bizzy?” I don’t know why this woman is setting my nerves on edge. It’s probably just this night. It’s all so sad and awful, and I just wish it was over with already.

  “I think we need to talk.”

  “Sure,” she says as she walks briskly past me. “Would you mind if I got something from the storeroom first? I’ve got a set of cranberry glass goblets going crazy in the silent auction. They’ve already bid well over what they’re worth, three times,” she says as I follow her through the curtain that leads into the storeroom, and Sherlock Bones sneaks in right along with us. “Cranberry glass has always been my favorite.” She leads us past that fated spot where I found Bea with a scarf around her neck—Arlene’s scarf, and we land right into the heart of the storeroom where a red glass pitcher and matching glasses sit on a table. “What can I do for you, Bizzy?” she asks as she grabs a nearby box and carefully places the glasses inside one at a time.

  “Kristen?”

  Her neck jerks my way like a reflex, the way you might respond if someone called you by your name—your true name.

  Snuggles burrows her face in my chest. It can’t be true. Arlene was so very nice to Bea, and Bea loved her.

  Bingo hisses, They had a very loud argument right here in this room just a couple of weeks ago. Come to think of it, I did hear Kristen’s name at the shop.

  I nod. That’s what I assume had happened. But the wheels of justice don’t turn because of assumptions. I’ll need a confession.

  “Arlene.” I sigh as I give the moniker she’s more familiar with. “You did this.”

  “No, Bizzy.” Her brows furrow as she pleads with me silently.

  “Yes,” I tell her. “You threw Bea that party. You knew it was the only way to get all of the right suspects in that room at once. It was one of the hottest days of the year, and yet you wore a scarf. You also had on those ruby earrings. And after Bea introduced me to her nieces and nephew, you made a point to tell us all that you were taking off your scarf and earrings. You were setting up the very suspects you hoped to pin this on. In fact, when I told you that Bea had died, you suggested the killer had seen you put down your scarf and earrings—and that they were trying to pin this on you.” I choke on my next breath as that day comes flooding back to me. “So when Ryan asked you a question about the incident that day, you immediately said he was trying to accuse you. Your strategy was to set yourself up and then deflect. After all, Kadence, Magnolia, and Ryan were all more plausible suspects than you were. It was a brilliant plan. Thankfully, it didn’t work.”

  “Ryan was trying to accuse me, Bizzy. One of them did this. Don’t let them get away with it.”

  “I can promise you the killer won’t get away with this.” I shake my head. “You knew that Bea had put you in the will. I was going to give you Snuggles and Bingo. You would have had the money,” I say in near panic. “I came this close to making that mistake.”

  “I wasn’t interested in her money, Bizzy. You have to believe me.”

  “That’s true, you weren’t interested in her money. I wondered why, but I think I know now. It’s because you didn’t think you deserved it. Isn’t that right? Because you felt bad that you had to kill her. And you did kill her. You knew the money would only complicate things for you. It might have been a nice conciliatory prize, but it wasn’t what you were after. What you really wanted was to keep Bea quiet.”

  She lifts her chin as if I struck her.

  “Bea knew who you were, isn’t that right? She kept those newspaper clippings, and she was threatening to go to the sheriff’s department. She knew you were a cold-blooded killer.”

  She lets out an egregious groan and squeezes her eyes tightly. “It wasn’t like that, Bizzy. I didn’t set out to be a cold-blooded killer. Back in Colorado, I was going to get married to a man I deeply loved. But he asked me to sign a prenup, and I wouldn’t do it. That’s not right. A prenup says I don’t trust you. So we started to drift, right before the wedding no less. I was teaching twelfth grade English at the time and ended up having an affair with one of the school’s football coaches, a man named John. My fiancé found us—the coach and me—behind the football field in a deserted lot, late one night. The windows were steamed.” She closes her eyes as if reliving that night, and it pains her to do so.

  Fish mewls, Let’s let her be, Bizzy. This is our chance to make a run for it.

  She’s right. Let’s call Jasper. Sherlock gives a soft bark as if he didn’t want to jar the woman, and I don’t blame him. But I’m not above it.

  “Go on,” I tell her just above a whisper, and both Snuggles and Bingo posture themselves over my arm as if they were waiting with bated breath to hear what comes next.

  Arlene nods. “My fiancé, Tim, was sickened. He said he didn’t want anything to do with me ever again. His ego was hurt. He wanted revenge. As it turns out, John, the coach, was married—to a real pistol of a woman, who also happened to be the principal of that very high school where John and I worked. Someone took pictures of the coach and me, and they sent them to everyone who was employed by the school. They were out to ruin us, ruin me. The scandal rocked our little town. We couldn’t handle it. And that was just the beginning. I was suspended without pay, so was he. I was getting threats. I had to buy a gun to protect myself. Without my income, I didn’t know how I was going to take care of myself. But John loved me, and I loved him. I wasn’t going to give up on us. Then Nancy, his wife, insisted I leave him alone. She took out a restraining order against me.” Her voice shakes as she says it, and tears stream from her eyes seemingly out of nowhere. “John still wanted me. He was afraid of her, don’t you see? She held all the power. And then one day John stopped coming around. He went cold. I went to their home, and Nancy answered the door. I told her I wanted my man back, and she laughed at me. She said she would have me arrested. She said I couldn’t have him. That I would be alone forever. She called me trailer trash. So I pulled out my gun, and I shot her. John came out and screamed at me to leave. Then he said he hated me, and never wanted to see my face again.” Her chest bucks as if just speaking those words was too much for her. “So I left Colorado. I left with a smile on my face because I knew I had won. I couldn’t have him, but Nancy wouldn’t have him either.”

  “Because she was dead,” I say just above a whisper.

  “That’s right, Bizzy.” Her eyes grow stone cold as they hook to mine. “Nancy deserved to die. Bea didn’t have to, but she made that choice. I’d like to say tha
t she figured it out on her own, but she didn’t. I made the novice mistake of leaving a window open on the computer out front. It was an article starring myself—and Bea stumbled upon it. That’s when she began this odd collection of hers. She said she didn’t know how to use the internet to achieve her threats, so she went about it the old-fashioned way. She had a librarian help her track down old newspaper articles, and she made copies of the ones that featured me. She was going to turn me in, Bizzy. She confronted me a few days before and—”

  “That’s when you decided to throw her an impromptu birthday party.”

  Her eyes close as she gives a slight nod. “Bea said she liked me. She thought I was a nice girl—but that justice had to be done.”

  “I don’t know why she waited.”

  “She waited because I asked her to. We had grown close. She was like a grandmother to me.”

  “A grandmother you thought fit to kill. I’m sorry. You may not have paid for Nancy’s death, but you will most certainly pay for Bea’s.”

  “No!” She grabs the cranberry glass pitcher and swings it at my head before I can stop her and my temple rings out with a horrific crackle of pain. The cats leap from my arms as the pitcher drops to the floor and shatters, leaving shards glistening against the floor like blood drops.

  Blinding pain sears through my temple as I stagger on my feet.

  Barking and hissing ensue as all four animals pounce on her at once.

  My vision blurs as I try to regain my balance, and Sherlock effectively knocks Arlene to the ground while Fish and Snuggles hop onto her chest, clawing and hissing.

  The curtain to the storeroom flies open.

  “Bizzy?” Jasper thunders my name with a worried look on his face.

  “I’m here,” I call out as I point to the floor. “She did it, Arlene—she’s Kristen. She confessed to killing Bea—and she’s killed before.”

  Jasper falls over the woman, cuffing her and calling it in. And before long, the room is teeming with deputies as they haul her away.

  “It’s over.” I sigh as I wrap my arms around Jasper.

  “It’s over,” he pants as he lands a kiss to my temple and I wince. “She hurt you, didn’t she?”

  “I’ll be fine. How about Leo and Emmie? Will they be fine? Or do we need to lawyer up? And by lawyer up, I mean call my brother.”

  His lips flicker just shy of a smile. “They’re back at the inn. I had to tell them about the flooding. They were determined to head back to their cottage.”

  “Good grief. At least they’ll be present for their wedding. And I don’t see a single thing that can go wrong tomorrow,” I say wryly.

  If only it was a single thing that would go wrong.

  I can’t predict the trouble that waits for us once the sun comes up, but if that dress is working its way up to a grand finale, I’m afraid to even consider the possibilities.

  Jasper lifts a brow. “Do you think we’ll survive?”

  “We always do.”

  But something tells me we’ve got trouble first.

  “Come on.” I nudge my head toward the shop. “I think there’s something in the boutique I need to purchase.”

  Chapter 18

  The storm has passed, the sun is out, the skies are blue, and the ocean is a noble shade of cobalt. It’s the perfect June day to get married if ever there was one.

  At first glance, one might think Emmie’s wedding day might go off without a hitch after all—with the exception that the power went out at the bakery where I had ordered Emmie’s cake from, the flowers that arrived from the florist were wilted, and Emmie is still stubbornly insisting on wearing Ophelia’s cursed gown when she trots down the aisle.

  Here’s hoping she doesn’t end up in traction because of it. Thankfully, the café is catering the feast we’ll be indulging in right after the ceremony. I checked with the kitchen, and things are moving along as delicious as they should be. Emmie wanted a late afternoon wedding, so dinner will be a buffet.

  I painstakingly fasten the last tiny pearl button that trails up her back.

  “And there you have it,” I say, flattening Emmie’s gown over her hourglass frame as we stand in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom. Jasper is with Leo at the inn, along with Gatsby and Jordy as they get ready themselves before we meet out at the gazebo in just an hour’s time. “You are encapsulated in this thing until Leo frees you from it.”

  Fish yowls, That is, if his fingers don’t fall off before then.

  Emmie shoots Fish a snide look. “I don’t even want to know what she said. I’m going to be fine, Fish.”

  Cinnamon trots forward and gives a soft bark. I don’t think we’re going to be fine, Bizzy. I’m half-afraid to see the wedding with my own two eyes. I’d stay home and hide under the bed, but we lost both the home and the bed in the flood.

  “We’re all going to be fine.” Emmie’s lips wobble as she looks into the mirror in front of her as if she were trying to convince herself.

  Emmie may not be able to hear Cinnamon’s thoughts, but it doesn’t mean they’re not in tune.

  “Oh, Emmie”—I pick up her hands and pull back, taking her in from head to toe as tears come to my eyes—“you look so beautiful.”

  It’s true, her dark hair is loose around her shoulders, and her blue eyes shine as if they were backlit.

  “I almost forgot!” I give a little hop as I jump over to my purse and pull out my one and only purchase from last night’s fundraiser. After Arlene was taken away, Kadence, Magnolia, Ryan, and I helped the scant staff that was already there, and we closed out the sales and the silent auction ourselves. In total, over five thousand dollars was raised to benefit the animal shelter. And the rest of the inventory that was left behind will go to yet another thrift store.

  “What is it?” Emmie says, tilting her head in an effort to see what I’m hiding behind my back.

  Fish yowls, Let’s get on the bed. I bet this is where the real waterworks begin. I don’t want to miss a thing.

  The three cats jump up with a thud onto the wonky quilt covering my mattress.

  Why are they going to cry? Snuggles sounds frightened at the thought.

  Cinnamon gives a soft woof. Weddings always make people cry. It’s a requirement, I think.

  Snuggles’ little pink mouth opens wide with surprise. Just like when Bea brought us to her cousin’s funeral? Oh, everyone was crying, it was awful. But there was cake afterwards.

  Bingo nods. Bea said that alone was worth the price of admission.

  Yup, there will be tears. Sherlock barks. Georgie says there won’t be a dry eye in the house today. But it won’t be awful. Funerals are sad, weddings are happy. Everyone was happy at Jasper and Bizzy’s wedding even if they did have leaky eyes.

  I wasn’t happy, Fish is quick to contest. Bizzy and I were just fine before Jasper and you moved in. Bizzy read books and I napped by the fire. It was peaceful. Now we have to keep throwing bacon at you to keep you happy. And all Jasper does is chase Bizzy around the cottage, nibbling on her ears as if she was a snack.

  She’s like catnip to him, Sherlock adds.

  He’s right, by the way. But Jasper is like catnip to me, too.

  Bingo mewls, Wait a minute—people cry when they’re sad and happy? Bea always said people made no sense.

  You make no sense. Snuggles lashes him on his head with her tail.

  “Okay, close your eyes,” I tell Emmie, and she’s quick to obey. I hold my hand out in front of her. “Open.”

  She gives a few quick blinks as she looks down at what’s nestled in the palm of my hand.

  “Oh, Bizzy! They’re perfect,” she says, pulling the dangling emerald cut blue topaz earrings from me and putting them right where they belong.

  “They are the exact color of your eyes,” I say, brushing her hair away from her forehead. “They’re stunning on you. They look as if they were made for you—just like Ophelia here, despite her questionable superpowers.”

 
She waves me off. “It’s just a dress.” She presses her lips tightly as she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. “A dress that might have caused a thunderstorm or two, some minor flooding, and landed me in the pokey. Oh my goodness, Bizzy!” she howls. “Get me the heck out of this thing before all of Cider Cove burns to the ground. What were you thinking letting me walk out of that store with this beaded monster? This is worse than that haunted doll Georgie stuck you with last Halloween—and it’s stuck on me!” she howls as she tugs at her neckline.

  “Don’t do that. You’re going to stretch it. The wedding starts in forty-five minutes. We need to head out to the gazebo soon. It’s going to take us close to ten minutes even if Jordy is picking us up with a golf cart.”

  “That’s because the golf cart has to go the long way. It’s a five-minute walk straight across.”

  “Through the sand,” I tell her. “We’re not traversing oiled-up sun worshipers in your wedding dress.”

  “Or your bridesmaid’s dress.” She gives my shell pink A-line dress a pat. “You look beautiful, too, Bizzy. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you’ll be right there standing by my side.”

  Fish mewls, Bring a fire extinguisher, Bizzy, in the event her hair goes up in flames.

  That’s a good one, Bingo says. There are so many possibilities of what can go wrong. I think you’re onto something with the follicular bonfire.

  Great. Now I have something to fear while I’m out there. Good thing the Atlantic will be just a stone’s throw away. Although we will be on the bluff.

  Emmie will literally have to throw herself off a cliff to put herself out. And for some reason, I can picture this happening.

  “I know that look on your face,” she says as she frowns my way. “And don’t worry. I don’t have any expectations regarding how this day can go. I’ve lowered the bar so far down it’s not even visible anymore. I’m just going to go with the flow.” She pinches her dress at the thigh. “Let’s see what you’ve got in store for me, Ophelia. I’m ready. Nothing is going to stop me from marrying the man of my dreams.”