Cat Scratch Cleaver

by Addison Moore

  “You bet,” I say as I turn us around to follow that gaggle of girls Bates Barlow is drowning in. Of course, Camila has already matriculated her way into that twisted sorority and wiggled her way to the nucleus. “Good Lord, that woman works quickly.” I give a slight moan when I see where they’re headed. “It looks as if we’re headed for the sauna. Who in their right mind wants to sit in a hot box in triple digit temperatures when they could be doing the same while at the beach? Darn it. I was really hoping for a nice massage.”

  Jasper dips a kiss to the nape of my neck. “If you play your cards right, I can arrange for a private masseuse to be at your place in about an hour. And if you can get us out of here even quicker, I’ll throw in some Chinese food from the Wok ’n Roll.” He lands a searing kiss on my lips.

  “Ooh, throw in a few of those, too, and we’ve got a party.”

  We’re about to head in the direction of the sign that reads sauna when a series of screams erupt and those beauties that were surrounding Bates run back this way, shrieking as they speed right out of that hot box.

  Jasper bolts ahead of me and we enter the sauna, only to find a curious sight that leaves me panicking for an entirely different reason.

  A man sits on the wooden bench while an all too familiar woman straddles one of his legs, pulling on his foot.

  “Georgie?” I riot out her name like a reprimand and her head turns my way.

  “Well, if it isn’t Bizzy and her hunky hero!” Her face looks piqued with color. The humidity in this cloistered room has turned her hair into a wiry silver ball that rises every which way, giving her that freshly electrocuted look that no woman is after. Gone is her favorite accouterment, the ever-present kaftan, and instead, she’s donned a pair of nude-colored parachute panties and some sort of a tube top that matches the pale color of her flesh in such a way you need to squint to assure yourself it’s there. For all practical purposes, she looks naked.

  “Come help, Bizzy.” She waves me over in a hurry. “Darby has a foot cramp in both feet. Massage his toes, would you?”

  Camila snickers while seated right next to Bates Barlow and they both happened to have ditched their robes. Camila has wrapped herself in a towel—hand towel to be exact—and Bates seems to have even less than that draped over his loins.

  “Yes, Bizzy,” Camila chimes in. “Why don’t you massage the man’s feet? I’m sure Jasper would appreciate seeing some of your titillating toe moves.”

  “I think Georgie’s got it,” I snip as both Jasper and I take a seat across from them in our robes. Obviously, we’re not as well-versed in the spa department as everyone else here is. An irony, seeing that the inn has a small yet renowned spa that caters to guests. Nothing fancy like this. But being here does make me want to utilize it a bit more.

  Jasper holds a hand out to Darby. “Jasper Wilder. I’m Bizzy’s fiancé.”

  Darby looks bloated, exhausted, and red as a cherry. “Darby Atwood,” he pants. “I like to come here and hang out with my man.” He nods over to Bates. “We movie types need to stick together.”

  “If you say so.” Bates leans his head back against the wall and gives a long blink.

  For some reason, it feels as if that’s my cue.

  I glance to Jasper a moment.

  I’m not sure why, but with him in the room I’m suddenly plagued with performance anxiety.

  “That’s very nice,” I say. “I mean, you just had a horrible tragedy happen. It’s nice that the two of you are here trying to get your bearings.” Nice? I’m thinking I should have gone the hand towel route like Camila.

  Georgie slams Darby’s foot against the tiled floor a few times as if she were calling court to order with a gavel and the poor man lets out a howl.

  “Georgie.” My voice escalates. “I think you’re hurting him.”

  “Oh no.” Darby shakes his head, quick to refute the idea. “I’ve asked her to do it on a schedule.”

  “Every five minutes,” Georgie shouts from the floor.

  “Georgie.” I head over and help her up. “I’m sorry, but I can’t watch while you’re sitting on his leg and tenderizing his feet.” I look to Darby. “I think it’s only fair she enjoys her time here as well.”

  “Fair enough.” He pats the spot next to him. “You can massage my arm.” He lands his meaty mitt in her lap, and I frown over at him.

  “Don’t mind Bizzy,” Georgie is quick to wave me off. “She’s just jealous. She and the homicide hottie haven’t done the deed yet. It’s been one long, hot, dry season for both of them. And their wedding isn’t for a coon’s age. They’ll both be frothing at the mouth by then. Just you wait and see.” She gets right to digging her fingers into his pale floppy arm, and suddenly I’m moved to wrap it around her neck like a scarf and strangle both of them with it.

  Camila gasps with delight. “Is this true?” Her eyes light up like dark jewels, and, I’ll admit, it only adds to her wicked beauty.

  “No,” both Jasper and I say at once. Not that it’s any of their business whether or not it’s true.

  Okay, so it’s a little true. But we’re still having a pretty decent time. More than decent if you ask me. Indecent by some far more puritanical standards.

  “Never mind,” Jasper growls over at Camila. The muscles around his jaw tighten as he looks to Bates. Great. I’ve got a suspect less than four feet away and a room full of people working against me. He winces my way. “No offense.”

  “No offense taken,” I whisper.

  Even though Jasper knows I can read his mind, he still has the errant runaway thought. I can’t blame him. He’s only human. And so am I—I think.

  Camila titters at the two of us and her chest ripples in places I wish my fiancé wouldn’t have to see it ripple. I don’t care what happened between the two of them in the past. I don’t like the fact we’re seated a few mere feet from his mostly naked ex. I don’t care how many suspects she’s about to wrangle next, there’s no way I’m ever falling into this bosom-laden bear trap again.

  “Bates Barlow?” His name comes from me a little too chipper. “Is that you?”

  “Huh?” He startles to as he opens his eyes in a lazy manner. “That’s me.” He flashes a drugged smile.

  “I run the inn where your movie is being filmed.”

  He squints over at me. “Oh yeah. Down in Cider Harbor.”

  “Cove,” Georgie corrects. “Don’t you get snooty with my hometown, buster. I’m Cider Cove born and raised and I’m not afraid to put up my dukes and defend my people.”

  Bates lifts his brows as if he were amused. “No offense, lady, but I saw where your dukes were just a few minutes ago. You’re the last person in this building I’d want to offend. Besides, I think Cider Meadows is pretty decent.”

  Darby barks out a laugh. “Isn’t he a hoot? That’s my buddy, always cutting up. He’s a riot on set, too.”

  So I’ve heard. A riot with a temper.

  Darby leans my way. “Bates is thinking about investing in my new nightclub.”

  “Yup.” Georgie nods and that wild, gray cloud sitting over her head wobbles. “It’s set to open in Edison in just a few days.”

  “Edison?” I give Jasper a knowing glance.

  “What’s the matter, Bizzy?” Camila chides. “Are you too good for a down and out town like Edison?” She sheds a greasy grin to Jasper. “Sounds like your fiancée is a bit snooty herself.”

  “Not true,” Jasper is quick to defend me. “She’s just…very familiar with Edison.”

  He glances my way a moment because he wishes I wasn’t so familiar. But I can’t help it if most of my suspects seem to congregate in that seedy town. And seedy isn’t a snooty term; it’s a literal term when it comes to Edison.

  “Ooh”—Georgie reaches over and swats me across the arm—“you and the hunky homicide detective need to come down to the nightclub for the opening. You know, in the event the killer decides to strike again.”

  “Georgie,” I mouth her name an
d hitch my head in Bates’ direction.

  “Oh!” She gives an exaggerated nod and wink. “Not that we have any killers in our midst,” she says loud enough so the people in the back of this hot house can hear it, too.

  Jasper sighs. Maybe we should leave.

  I shake my head over at him.

  Bates leans in and squints in Jasper’s direction.

  “Oh, hey. Is that you? Detective Milder?”

  “Wilder,” Jasper is quick to correct, and with a bit of a thunderous edge to his voice.

  Bates leans forward and nods. “So how’s the case coming? I was pretty close with Heather.” He gives a wistful shake of the head. “I hate to say it, but she was practically asking for it.”

  I nearly gasp at the thought. “I’m sorry, but nobody asks to have a cleaver embedded in their back.”

  Bizzy, Jasper gives my back a quick rub, once a suspect gets worked up, it’s good to let him vent.

  “Right,” I whisper.

  Bates shakes his head at me with a confused look on that baby face of his.

  “Of course, she didn’t deserve it,” he says. “But she was flaunting her affair with the director right in his wife’s face. In fact, I heard them having it out earlier that day. Jane said something about getting her out of the way for good.”

  “Ah-ha!” Georgie spikes a finger in the air. “Jane is the killer. I bet she did it in the conservatory with a candlestick, too.”

  Camila glowers at the wild-haired hippie. “If you can’t follow along, you should get back to tenderizing feet.”

  “Nobody tells my friend to tenderize anything,” I snap her way.

  I’ve got this. Jasper rubs my knee gently, and I do my best to shake Camila off my very last nerve.

  He sheds a manufactured smile in Bates’ direction. “I heard about that affair. It certainly sounds as if things may have escalated.” I think we’ve put the suspect at ease.

  Jasper flinches his cheek my way, and it’s as if all of time stops. Suddenly, I wish the two of us were very much alone. Jasper Wilder is hotter than a brushfire sitting here in that thick robe, his chest glistening underneath, and the dark scruff on his cheeks only seems to bring out the quicksilver in his eyes.

  Bates nods as if he agrees with me. “That’s what I think happened. She used to tell me how much Jane was bothering her.”

  I can’t imagine how much Heather was bothering Jane.

  “So you and Heather were pretty close?” I’m ready to go for the sleuthing jugular so I can get Jasper into the nearest dark corner and have my way with him.

  Bates takes a full breath. “We were hanging around.” In my bedroom. That girl had a body, and she wasn’t afraid to use it.

  His mind immediately turns into white static, and I’m glad that my powers have a kill switch when it comes to the raunchier aspects of the mind.

  Camila takes a moment to glower my way. No fair. You’re prying into his thoughts.

  I give a little shrug her way.

  All is fair in love and mind reading. It’s safe to say I will always have a leg up in the telesensual department.

  A sleazy smile glides across Bates’ face. “You could say Heather and I were close.” He glances down at his abs. “Let’s just say, she liked what she saw.”

  “Speaking of seeing,” I clear my throat, “I think someone mentioned that they saw you and Heather having a heated conversation the night she was killed.”

  His eyes flit to the door. That’s it. Two more minutes and I’m out of here. I’m a good actor, but I’m not that good.

  Great, Bizzy. Camila rolls her eyes. I don’t need to have the ability to nosey around in other people’s heads to know he’s about to take off. Way to go showing off your rookie moves. I’m sure Jasper is impressed.

  She shimmies her shoulder toward Bates, and suddenly it looks as if he’s reconsidering his options.

  “Who cares about all that?” Camila leans in and rakes her fingers gently through his hair. “I mean, Heather was a pill. Believe me, I know. We were good friends.”

  “A pill?” Bates looks momentarily confused. “Yeah, she was, wasn’t she?”

  Camila nods as she playfully scratches his chin. “All couples fight.”

  “That they do.” A tiny roar gurgles from him as he scoots her way. “And you know what the best part is? We get to make up right after.” He pecks her cheek with an impromptu kiss, and I glance to Jasper to gauge his reaction, but he just shrugs my way.

  Camila giggles like a schoolgirl—a very naughty schoolgirl. “So you and Heather fought a lot?”

  Bates spikes his fingers into Camila’s quickly frizzing hair. “Just enough to enjoy it afterwards.”

  Georgie grunts as she knocks her knee to mine. “Take notes, Bizzy. She’s pretty good at getting the perps to speak up.”

  Perps?

  Georgie leans toward Jasper. “Hey, hot stuff, the sheriff’s department should really think of hiring her.”

  And now it’s me rolling my eyes.

  “Come on.” I take up Jasper’s hand and lead us to the door.

  “Hey, wait!” Georgie calls after me. “What’s your hurry? We’re just getting to the good part.” She leans in and cups her mouth. “They’re just starting to make out.”

  I glance over to confirm her tongue wagging theory and Camila blows a kiss our way, batting her mile-long lashes at Jasper.

  I’d give anything to have a shoe to throw at her. Preferably a heel.

  “It was nice seeing you again, Bates,” I say. “I’m sure we’ll run into one another back at the inn.”

  “Sure thing,” he says, caressing Camila’s cheek, his eyes never leaving her face.

  I don’t hesitate pulling Jasper right out of Camila’s hot den of carnage.

  “I’m sorry,” I say as I pull Jasper into the darkened hall and wrap my wrists around his neck.

  “Don’t apologize,” he says with a playful smile twitching on his lips. “I think you did pretty good in there.”

  My mouth falls open with both delight and surprise. “You do?”

  “Yes.” He dots a kiss to my forehead. “And now we’ve established that Heather was tangled up in a physical relationship with both her co-star and her boss.”

  I bite down over my lip. “And the fact that she had an argument with both Jane and Bates the day that she died.” That strange conversation I had with Faith and Kiki earlier this afternoon comes to mind. “Did I play my cards right?”

  “Yes.” Jasper twitches his brows. “We can pick up takeout on the way home.”

  “Good. Because there’s something I think we need to explore.”

  A crooked smile rises on his lips as he pulls me in close. “Something tells me, I’m going to enjoy the hell out of this exploration.”

  “If you play your cards right, I’ll make sure you do.”

  Chapter 9

  Jasper and I pick up takeout from the Wok ’n Roll on the way home from Rolling Oaks and head straight for my cottage. We plow our way through box after box while Fish and Sherlock Bones nosh on their own meals. Lucky for Jasper and me, I happen to have a stash of the Country Cottage Café’s s’mores bars handy, and we waste no time diving into those as well.

  My cozy cottage is decorated in shabby chic with frilly curtains and a yellow and white plaid sofa that practically devours your body once you sit on it, it’s just that soft. I’m currently seated with my legs draped over Jasper’s lap while he fills me in on the minutia of the procedure that took place once they carted Heather Kent’s body to the coroner’s office.

  I wrinkle my nose at the grisly nature of it all.

  “So the cause of death?” I ask. “I mean, I’m fairly certain it was the cleaver, but just in case. Have they probed for anything else?”

  He lifts a dark brow my way. “This is why you’re a darn good detective. You know when to ask the hard questions. You never take anything at face value.” He shakes his head. “But it was just the cleaver this time. Her s
pine was severed, aortal artery was hit, broken ribs which led to the puncturing of both lungs.”

  “Sounds messy.” I shudder just thinking about it. “What a terrible way to go.” A visual of her lying on the sand along the dark cove bounces through my mind. “Which brings me to my next point.” I reach over and pluck my laptop off the coffee table and scoot in close to Jasper so we can both see it. “There was a death at the cove about six years ago—just before I began working here. I remember it now because it was so tragic. A bridesmaid drowned in almost the exact same spot where Heather died.” I type in what information I know, and Jasper leans in as the screen populates with the story.

  “And you think this is somehow related to Heather Kent’s death?”

  “I’m not sure if it has anything to do with her death”—I lift my head as I pause a moment—“but I guess we can’t rule anything out. I heard Faith Grayson, the production assistant, and Kiki Woodley, the makeup artist, talking about it. I guess Heather mentioned the drowning to Faith. It turns out, she was in the wedding party along with the girl who died.”

  Jasper grunts, “Are you serious? And both women died within feet of one another?”

  I nod. “Separated by over half a decade. It’s a strange coincidence, that’s for sure.”

  He shakes his head, his silver eyes pinned to the laptop. “I don’t believe in coincidences. Let’s try this story.” He points to the top article and I click on it.

  “Rachel Hatterman,” I say, reading her name off the title. “It looks as if she was drinking, slipped off toward the barren end of the cove, landed in the water, and drowned.”

  “Washed up against the boulders,” he finishes. Jasper takes a breath before clicking on one of the images. “And there’s Heather,” he says, pointing to a group shot of the bridesmaids in their pastel yellow gowns as they flank the glowing bride. “There were eight of them. I wish we could track them all down and ask questions about Heather and this poor Rachel girl.”