Cat Scratch Cleaver

by Addison Moore

  “Wait a minute.” Camila jerks her head back as if I had struck her for seemingly no reason at all. “You’re not here to see Jasper. If you were, you and your menagerie would have crashed into his office by now. You’re here to snoop on me, aren’t you?” She sucks in a quick breath. “You knew I was friends with Heather Kent. I bet Jasper told you, didn’t he?” She makes wild eyes at me and a certain threat is buried in each one.

  “Okay, fine. He told me. So what? It’s for the greater good. You said yourself you were friends with the poor girl. Don’t you want her killer brought to justice? Did you see anything last night that seemed suspicious?”

  “Just you trying to poison the room with these god-awful desserts.” She lands the box before me with a thump. “And by the way? I finally answered my own question. I finally figured out what Jasper sees in you that he doesn’t see in me.”

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  Fish straightens. This I gotta hear.

  Camila gives a throaty laugh. “It’s that silly P.I. routine that you’re pulling over on him. Jasper is a crime fighter by nature. He craves justice. And for whatever reason, you figured out that’s what revs his engine. Well, guess what, pussycat?” She growls at both Fish and me when she says it. “Two can play at that crime-solving game. I’m not telling you a thing I know about Heather Kent because I’m going to be the one that solves her murder.” She leans in a bit more until her bosom looks as if it’s about to spring right out of her blouse and sock me in the face. “And then I’m going to murder your wedding.”

  Sherlock lets out a far more caustic bark this time.

  “Shut up,” she snaps. “That’s right, Bizzy. I’m gunning for your relationship. Jasper felt something for me once, and I’ll make sure he feels it for me again. And this time? I won’t have to resort to calling in government forces to put you in a holding tank for freaks like you. Once he sees my sleuthing prowess, he’ll be practically falling over himself to repair what we once had. I’ll be the whole package. Once you and I are on equal footing, the decision to come back to me will be a no-brainer.”

  He’s never going back to you. Sherlock Bones lets out a series of riotous barks. Never in a million years. Not for all the bacon in the world. You’re a crazy mixed-up witch. And not a thing will ever change Jasper’s mind. I’ll bite his ankles off if he even thinks of looking in your direction.

  “Whoa,” a deep voice strums from behind, and I turn to find Jasper headed this way. The look of worry on his face quickly morphs into an easy grin. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite fiancée.” He pulls me in and lands an easy kiss to my lips before giving Sherlock a pat to the head. “It’s okay, boy.”

  “Sherlock, Fish, and I brought you treats,” I say, picking up the pink box.

  “How about we head into my office and enjoy ourselves?” His lids hood low as he steals another kiss from my lips. “If there’s time, we might make our way to dessert, too.”

  A laugh bubbles out of me as we head into his office. No sooner does he shut the door than I fill him in on Camila’s latest scheme to reprise their relationship.

  “You’re kidding.” He closes his eyes a moment. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. I’m not going anywhere, Bizzy. It’s just you for me, forever.” He dots my lips with a kiss and Fish mewls with delight.

  “I think she approves,” I say, glancing down at my sweet cat.

  Sherlock barks before curling up beneath the desk.

  Jasper nods. “I think he approves, too.”

  We get back to the serious task of enjoying a few sweet treats by way of kisses.

  But in the back of my mind, I can’t help but think I don’t approve of Camila sticking her nose into my relationship or my investigation.

  She has to go, on both fronts.

  Camila might have a leg up on Heather Kent, but I’ll get to the bottom of this homicide investigation without whatever knowledge she might be holding back.

  I don’t need Camila Ryder.

  And thankfully, neither does Jasper.

  Chapter 7

  The Country Cottage Inn is bustling this morning with guests checking out as they leave their seaside vacations and head back to real life, while others speed their way to the reception desk with a spring in their step in anticipation of their upcoming stay.

  Grady Pennington and Nessa Crosby, my two most faithful employees who work the registration desk with me, are taking care of the guests, while I keep an eye on Peter Olsen and the handful of people from his crew as they scout the entry just outside of the inn for an upcoming scene.

  It’s blazing saddles hot out today. If the inn weren’t a part of yet another homicide investigation, if the guests weren’t coming and going at an accelerated clip, I would put on my bikini and hit the sand myself. There’s nothing like summer out on the cove. The sky is powder blue, and the air is perfumed with the flowers in bloom.

  Fish and Sherlock trot over with their furry faces pointed up in my direction. They’ve been happily threading their way through the film crew, getting all of the attention they hoped for, and hopefully picking up on a bit of gossip that might help move Heather Kent’s investigation along.

  Bizzy—Fish makes a sound that mimics a sneeze—the two women by the refreshment table mentioned the poor girl that died.

  Sherlock barks. They said something about a wedding.

  I make a beeline in that direction. It’s so hot out, I had the groundskeeper, Jordy Crosby, set it up for the guests and crew alike. Jordy is my bestie’s brother and my ex-husband of less than twenty-four hours, no thanks to some dicey whiskey and an even dicier trip to Vegas.

  I spot Jordy near the tall three-tiered fountain set out to the right of the inn. Jordy has dark hair and stunning icy blue eyes. He’s the town’s go-to womanizer, which perfectly explains why Camila Ryder is standing a bit too close, running her claws through his hair and laughing at whatever he’s telling her. But I can see right through Camila’s wily scheme. She’s just using Jordy as an excuse to be at the inn. I bet she’s looking to snag that fictitious part in the movie I told her about at the sheriff’s department. Not only that, but I can practically see her imaginary P.I. cap trying to fit over that inflated ego.

  An incredulous huff thumps through my chest.

  As if Jasper would ever be foolish enough to fall for her ridiculous sleuthing scheme.

  My feet quicken me in the direction of the refreshment table as I spot both Faith Grayson and Kiki Woodley locked in what looks like an earnest conversation.

  I pour myself a glass of ice-cold lemonade and resist the urge to dive into one of those s’mores bars that the café set out as a complimentary treat. They look softened by the heat and the chocolate is glistening. I’ll be honest, that only makes me want them more. There’s nothing like a warm chocolate treat no matter what the weather. But instead, I sip my lemonade, casually inching my way closer to the women beside me.

  The word reception catches in the air and I decide to run with it.

  “Hello, ladies.” I try not to sound too chipper as I step into their midst. Faith has sweat beading down the sides of her face. She’s wearing a denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up and jeans. Kiki looks cooler by contrast in a pale blue shift dress, a pair of sandals, and her curly hair up in a ponytail.

  I lean in. “I’m sorry, but were you just talking about a wedding? I’m afraid I’ve got my radar up for anything to do with holy matrimony these days. I’m getting married in just a couple months.”

  Fish ducks under the table. Good segue, Bizzy. She mewls. Who knew your upcoming wedding would come in handy like this? You’re always thinking.

  Sherlock sniffs and grunts her way. Jasper’s always thinking, too. If it weren’t for him, there wouldn’t be a wedding.

  Fish hisses at him. You mean if it weren’t for Bizzy saying yes, there wouldn’t be a wedding.

  Faith coos my way. “Congratulations. That’s so great. Actually”—she takes a moment to grimace at Kiki—�
��the wedding reception we were talking about wasn’t all that great. We were just talking about that infamous reception that was held right here at the inn all those years ago.”

  My heart thumps hard as I scan my memory for any hint of an infamous wedding reception.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Kiki shudders. “It’s probably rude of us to even bring it up.” She makes wild eyes at Faith. “Bizzy just said she’s getting married soon.”

  “No, please.” I put on a pleasant smile, but all I really want to do is shake the dreaded wedding info right out of them. “If it happened here, then I probably already know about it, I’ve just forgotten.” Not on your life would I forget, but I won’t add that.

  Faith nods. “About six years ago, there was a bridesmaid who drowned. She had a little too much to drink and they found her body on the shoreline near the rocks the next day.” She shrugs. “Anyway, Heather was a bridesmaid in that same wedding. She had just mentioned it to me a few days ago. I thought it was weird, you know? Her friend died here a little over a half decade ago and so did she.” Faith leans in, her eyes frozen and wide-set. “In just about the same exact spot.”

  “Oh, wow.” It feels as if the breath just got knocked out of me. “Actually, I’ve only worked at the inn for the last four years, but I’ve lived in Cider Cove all my life. I think I do remember the story of the girl they found along the shore. You’re right. I remember reading she had been drinking and they think she passed out and fell into the water. It was tragic.” And not once had I ever linked that death directly to the inn. I simply knew it happened in Cider Cove. From my understanding, she was pinned against the rocks on the right end of the beach, very close indeed to where Jasper and I found Heather.

  Kiki shakes her head. “It’s just a weird coincidence, that’s all.”

  “It is a coincidence,” I say. “Faith, you said they were both in the same wedding? Heather and that poor girl were probably friends.”

  She shrugs. “In the least they knew each other. It was on Heather’s mind, for sure. I bet that’s why she went out to the cove at night.”

  Kiki nods. “Usually she spends her breaks with Bates.” She rolls her eyes. “They were a very new thing. Inseparable as of late.” She taps her finger to her chin. “Hey? I bet Bates was with her. Well, obviously not when the killer found her.”

  Faith sucks in a quick breath. “You don’t really think Bates had anything to do with this, do you?”

  Kiki takes in a quick breath herself. “You know they were getting hot and heavy fast. And Heather always had to have her way.”

  Faith shakes her head. “Bates always has to have his way. He’s just as big a diva as she was. It’s no wonder they bickered. If they weren’t canoodling, they were having a power struggle over something menial.”

  I give a quick glance around for the handsome leading man that has inspired more than a few female fans to stalk the shoot.

  Faith waves me off. “Don’t worry, Bizzy. He’s not around to hear any of this. Believe me, he hardly shows when he’s needed on set.”

  “Is he staying in one of the trailers here?” I try to act nonchalantly as I ask.

  Kiki scratches her cheek. “No, he’s local, too. He’s in Seaview, I think. Or was it Rose Glen?”

  “Rose Glen,” Faith affirms. “Sandalwood Heights. Real ritzy area. But he spends most of his time on the beach there. Runs with his dogs each morning. Does the extreme Frisbee thing in the afternoon.”

  Kiki leans in. “I hear he’s a real thrill-seeker. An adrenaline junkie of sorts. Heather mentioned he was trying to get her to do all kinds of things she wasn’t comfortable with, like skydiving, mountain climbing, and helicopter skiing.”

  “Pfft.” Faith averts her eyes at the thought. “Heather hated anything to do with the great outdoors. Their relationship was doomed from the beginning.”

  Kiki ticks her head to the side as if agreeing. “And he has a nasty temper. Heather didn’t like to be told what to do or yelled at because she wasn’t doing it.”

  “That’s strange,” I say. “He looks so calm. I guess you can’t really go by what you see.”

  Kiki gives a tiny smile my way. “Exactly that.”

  “Yes,” Faith agrees, albeit much quieter. And there are things I’m very glad that people don’t know about me. “Excuse me.” She stalks off with a somber expression, and I’m far too curious about that last thought she just had.

  I’m about to say something to Kiki, but note Camila intercepting Faith and having a quick word with her. Faith glances back our way before continuing their conversation.

  Great. She’s about to give Camila the leg up she neither deserves nor needs and it’s all my fault.

  Kiki follows my gaze. “Oh, it’s the new girl,” she says, lackluster. “They’re not even going to show her face in any of the shots, and she’s already requested only top-of-the-line cosmetics be used on her.”

  “Camila got a part in the movie?” I marvel, mostly to myself.

  “Yup. Apparently, she went right up to Peter and asked to take over Heather’s role. Can you imagine the cookies it takes to do that? Anyway, it worked out for her. He said if she agrees to wear a blonde wig she could finish up the final scenes. Weird, huh? He’s still going through with the cleaver bludgeoning even though his lead actress was killed in exactly that way.”

  “That’s more than weird. It’s grisly.”

  “That’s Hollywood for you. It’s all about the greenbacks. He’s too locked up financially in this picture to quit now. It’s going to be strange watching them film that scene. It’ll be like reliving that nightmare all over again.”

  “I agree.” But with Camila as the victim, I won’t feel all that bad.

  Sherlock lets out a soft bark. I won’t miss her, Bizzy. Camila has it coming.

  Kiki chuckles as she gives Sherlock a quick pat on the head.

  “Aren’t you the cutest,” she says. “And that little cat friend of yours is just as adorable. I just love animals. I wish I could give him a treat.”

  Bacon. Sherlock barks and Kiki inches back a notch.

  “Bizzy, I’d swear on my life that this dog just said bacon.”

  A laugh belts from me. “I think you’re right. In fact, I know he did.”

  “You don’t mind if I go get him a piece from the café, do you?”

  “Be my guest. But be warned. You’ll never be rid of him.”

  “Lucky me.” She laughs as the two of them head off for the bacon bonanza.

  Fish hops out from under the table and takes off in that direction herself.

  I’d better make sure he doesn’t disappear. We’ve got a killer in our midst, you know.

  I do know. But I head off in another direction entirely, toward my nemesis, Camila Ryder.

  “Camila,” I hiss her name as she comes upon me with a greedy grin. “What are you doing here? Never mind that. I know exactly what you’re doing here.”

  “That’s right. Thanks to you, I’ve snagged the lead role and I’ve garnered a valuable piece of information from Faith.” Not that I’m going to share the fact I’m headed off to the Hiltmore Resort to join Bates Barlow at the spa.

  Her eyes enlarge for a moment, and she slaps her fingers over her mouth as if she had just said the words out loud.

  “Ladies,” a deep voice strums from behind, and I jump because I happen to know exactly who it belongs to.

  “Jasper,” I say, catching my breath. “What are you doing here?”

  His brows knit. “I live here.” He’s wearing his sport jacket and dress shirt, a pair of dark pants—his typical arrestingly handsome work attire along with his typical arresting face.

  “Hey, big boy.” Camila sheds an easy smile his way. “I’m afraid I won’t be headed into the office this afternoon. It seems a spa emergency just cropped up.”

  “That’s funny,” I say. “I was just about to head to the Hiltmore Resort to g
et a massage myself.”

  Jasper leans back as he examines me with new eyes.

  “Why don’t I think this is a coincidence?” He cocks his head my way.

  But I don’t say a single word.

  I’m going to the Hiltmore Resort to get a massage and hopefully a clue—despite the fact Camila will be there doing her best to botch up my case.

  Chapter 8

  The Hiltmore Resort is located in Rolling Oaks, a ritzy town where only the truly wealthy can afford to live. It’s situated north of Cider Cove, and to be truthful, the residents of this pretentious town usually look down upon our little community.

  In a strange turn of events, not only am I dressed in a bathrobe while standing in the heart of the opulent Hiltmore spa, but so are Camila—and Jasper. The entire place holds the scent of lavender and honeysuckle—and more to the point, rage, the rage being mine.

  Yes, Jasper Wilder wasn’t about to let me traipse off to some resort on my own after hearing his wily ex was on her way as well, especially not since we’re both on the hunt for the handsome Bates Barlow. And just to be clear, my rage is in no way directed at Jasper. It’s pointed like a laser at the woman hell-bent on stealing my fiancé.

  “So”—I sigh as I extend my arms in my pristine white robe—“here we are. Now what?”

  Camila grunts, “How about you go off and get your nails done?” She bats her lashes up at Jasper. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to your big, strong, handsome fiancé.”

  “At least you know he’s taken.” I link my arm with Jasper’s and speed him off to our right, nearly bumping into a small crowd as they pass us.

  A breath hitches in my throat at the sight of the mob. “That’s him,” I hiss.

  Jasper cranes his neck at the group, which consists of five women all ensconcing a man with dark wavy hair and a familiar cheesy grin.

  He nods. “That’s him, all right.” Jasper bears those mesmerizing gray eyes of his into mine. “We don’t want to rock the boat, Bizzy. We’ll simply stay in his air space a while. Long enough for me to convince Camila to scat before she ruins the house of cards this investigation is turning out to be, and then we’re leaving, too.”