Just Buried

by Addison Moore

  I give a quick glance around at the café brimming with bodies, and speaking of bodies, that might just be the reason.

  My lips twist at the sight. “There might be a chance that some of these people are here for the deadly ambiance.” I shrug. “Remember Lottie Lemon, my new friend from Honey Hollow? While I was there for a visit a few months back, we stayed at her mother’s haunted B&B. She runs tours through the place for eighty bucks a pop. It turns out, people love the macabre.”

  “Eighty bucks a pop?” Emmie’s denim blue eyes expand on cue. “Bizzy, we need to get a couple of ghosts, stat.” She shudders. “And with all the homicides in Cider Cove just this last year alone, you’d think we’d have enough to haunt all of Maine.”

  My lips invert in an effort to keep from telling Emmie that the ghosts that Lottie sees are primarily there to help her solve a murder.

  “Never mind the ghosts,” I say. “Any chance you can get your shift covered? I’m thinking about heading out to Rolling Oaks this afternoon.”

  “I’m sorry.” She shakes her head. “We’re catering a ladies’ luncheon on the patio this afternoon and I still need to bake up a storm. Are you tracking a suspect?” She gasps. “You are!”

  “I didn’t say anything.” I raise a hand as if to declare my innocence, even though we both know I’m far from it when it comes to tracking down suspects. I can’t help it. If something goes wrong at my inn, I want to fix it. It’s a natural inclination on my part. And if that not-so little detail that goes wrong has to do with death, then I’m all that much more determined to settle it.

  A wry look takes over her face. “You didn’t have to say a word.”

  The door to the café opens and Georgie Conner shuffles up in a pumpkin orange kaftan, a pair of sunglasses, and her house slippers.

  She leans in our way. “Anyone see an older gentleman with a beard big enough to fit an eagle’s nest?”

  Emmie and I give the place a once-over.

  “Nope,” I say. “Do I want to know why?” I’m guessing no.

  “Whew.” Georgie takes off her sunglasses and sighs with relief. “Let’s just say I worked a little magic last night myself and took one of the roadies back to my place.”

  “Georgie.” My shoulders rise to my ears as I cringe. “You had a one-night stand?”

  “Oh, honey.” She gives a cheeky wink. “There wasn’t a whole lot of standing involved in the things we were doing.”

  Emmie retches. “I gotta put these dishes down.”

  “So what gives, kiddo?” Georgie does an odd little shuffle and nearly trips over her sheepskin slippers. “Where are we off to now? I heard the wizard got stuck in the pickle jar.”

  I examine my sweet frazzled friend a moment.

  “It wasn’t a pickle jar. It was a dunk tank—and that’s a terrible analogy.”

  “Dunk tank, shmunk tank. Pickle jar sounds better. Who’s on first?”

  My lips twitch a moment. “Michaela Harvey, sister of the bride. She had some kind of an argument with the deceased yesterday, and I want to see what I can get out of her.”

  Georgie has been on more than one investigation with me. It’s safe to say she knows the drill. She’s not to be trusted with the drill, but she knows it.

  “Ooh.” She rubs her hands together. “Where are we off to? A seedy bar? A house of ill repute? A diner that serves hot apple pie with a slice of anchovy pizza?”

  “None of the above.” I wince at the pizza remark. “She works at a place called Minty’s out in—”

  Georgie gasps. “The Minty’s? I know all about that place. It’s super snazzy. They have a security guard stationed every six feet within their department store. Nothing but the best and the brightest. I’d better let Juni know we’re headed to the meat market.”

  She takes off before I can correct her, but with Georgie’s and Juni’s track record with security guards, she’s not wrong about the meat market.

  Speaking of beefcake…

  A smile glides across my face as Jasper Wilder steps into the café along with my father and his mother—an odd pairing if ever there was one. Jasper’s mother is more high society and my father is more playboy of the year.

  “Bizzy Bizzy.” My dad offers up his signature greeting my way as he lands a kiss to my cheek. “Word on the street is you drummed up the dead once again. Gwyneth and I got caught up in a few little details last night and missed the show.”

  Gwyn’s lips twist with satisfaction. A few delicious details are more like it. That man knows his way around a bottle of champagne, not to mention a woman’s body.

  A sickly groan evicts from me as Jasper lands a kiss to my lips.

  “What’s wrong?” He pulls back, fully in tune to my dismay.

  “It’s nothing.” I shake my head as I say hello to his mother. “What are the two of you up to today?”

  Gwyn squints out a smile, albeit short-lived and a touch sour.

  “Mayor Woods invited me to a luncheon this afternoon right here at the café,” she says. “I asked if there were any benefits or city programs she needed assistance with, and she said there was a position open on Cider Cove’s Beautification Committee. It seems the official kickoff is just a few weeks away, and there’s still so much to do.”

  “Then move the date,” I snip without meaning to. Oh heck, I’m so frazzled by my own wedding, I meant it. “Mayor Woods has the official unveiling of Georgie’s pet project on our wedding day. And Jasper and I both want to be there when Georgie is honored for her work.”

  “The same day?” Her expression sours on cue, but there’s an underpinning of glee in her eyes. “I’m afraid the city isn’t able to move the date. Besides, the two of you have already seen Georgie’s project. The unveiling is just a formality. I’m sure Georgie won’t mind that you’re not present.”

  Jasper takes a breath. “Mother—Georgie is officiating our wedding.”

  “Honestly, Jasper?” Gwyn’s chest bucks as if she were about to be sick. “Is there nowhere you won’t draw the line?”

  “Was that a potshot at me?” My finger lands to my chest as I ask the question, and for the record, it was rhetorical.

  Gwyn scowls. Of course, it was a potshot at her. Who else would I want to drag down to the bottom of the ocean? That is, before she drags down my poor son.

  “No, no.” Dad glides an arm around his questionable fiancée. “Gywnie just means that maybe you should have a man of God—or a woman of God do the deed.”

  “And in a church.” She nods with fervor. “For goodness’ sake, you didn’t even send out invitations. You sent out emails with cartoon pictures of happy faces and party hats.”

  My shoulders sag at the sight of her disappointment.

  “They were texts,” I say. “And I wanted to send out invites, but—”

  “I stopped her.” Jasper gives my ribs a gentle squeeze. “We figured since we were only inviting a few friends and family a text would be quicker.”

  “And we’re not doing anything formal,” I add.

  Gwyneth scoffs. “I gathered that when I read shoes were optional.” She takes up my father’s hand. “Come on, Nathaniel. I’ve booked a pedicure at the spa. I’d hate for us to ruin the wedding photos with unkempt feet.”

  They take off and I butt my forehead against Jasper’s chest.

  “We can always elope,” he whispers.

  “And miss the photo op with their well-groomed feet? I have a feeling we’d never hear the end of it from both our mothers. Hey? Can you believe it was a year ago to the day that you strolled into my life?”

  “More like you strolled into the Atlantic and I dove in after you.” He pulls back and examines me with tenderness in his eyes. “Was that just a year ago? I feel like I’ve known you a lifetime. You wouldn’t want to recreate that meet and greet later, would you? Sans that whole water thing, of course.” He gives a quick wink. Unless my bathtub is on the table. I promise to hold you extra tight. He waggles his brows.

 
“I might take you up on that. A hot bath sounds like it will be on order. I can’t believe we’re really getting married—after just one year.” I bite down on a smile. “You do realize I’ve yet to meet your father.”

  “He’ll be at the wedding. He told me to tell you how excited he is to meet you. He’s easygoing, unlike…” He nods in the direction his mother took off in.

  “I can’t wait.” I trace his tie with my finger. “Hey, any updates on Julian’s case? Do you know if it was a homicide?”

  He lands a kiss to the tip of my nose.

  “I’m sorry, Bizzy. Forensics seems to think we can’t rule it out. Do me a favor and let me handle this one. You have enough on your plate. The only thing I want you even thinking about is our big day.”

  My mouth opens and closes.

  “You’re right.” I shrug. “I have enough on my plate. In fact, my entire focus starting now is hunting down the perfect dress to wear when I walk down that aisle. Will you be home for dinner? I can pick up takeout and we can walk Sherlock and Fish along the beach. That’s about as close to recreating our meet-cute as I care to get.”

  He chuckles at the thought. “Done deal. Unless there’s some miraculous break in either of my cases.” He bears into my eyes with his own. “One thing is for sure. There is no case that will keep me from our wedding day. Or our honeymoon.” Jasper and I already decided to postpone our official honeymoon until we could figure out a decent time and place to take it. We’re more than content to spend it in bed alone for seventy-two hours straight.

  “Ooh.” My shoulders bounce at the thought. “We get a honeymoon? You do realize we only have a three-day weekend to play with. My cottage or yours?”

  “Either or. What the heck? We’ll do both.” He lands a kiss to my lips. “Try to miss me.”

  “You miss me,” I say, giving him a squeeze.

  “I miss you already.” He dots another kiss to my lips. “Stay out of trouble.”

  “I’ll stay out of trouble. All I have planned this afternoon is a little light shopping for our wedding.”

  “Sounds like I’m missing out.” Jasper kisses me with far more intensity and a dark laugh trembles through me.

  “No fair,” I say, giving his tie a tug. “I’m genuinely missing you already.”

  “My job here is done. Have fun shopping.”

  Jasper takes off and I indulge in a few of Emmie’s delicious blondie bars.

  An arm falls across my shoulders and I turn to find my handsome brother with that goofy grin of his I’ve grown to love.

  “Huxley!”

  Huxley stands tall with dark hair and light blue eyes that match my own. He’s a divorce attorney who just so happens to be on his third marital dissolution. Suffice it to say, he’s always had questionable taste in women.

  No sooner do I throw my arms around him than I spot his less than savory other half—his next questionable choice in women.

  “Mayor Woods,” I grouse, mostly because I can’t seem to hide my displeasure with her today—or any other day for that matter.

  Mackenzie Woods and I were best friends growing up, along with Emmie, of course. And when we were about thirteen, Mack tossed me into a whiskey barrel filled with water and apples at a Halloween party gone awry. Long story short, I nearly drowned, and after that day my life changed forever.

  It was that very incident that brought on four pivotal things in my life. First of all, I’ve been terrified of being immersed in water ever since, thus the added trauma of watching Julian before he drowned—nonetheless after.

  Second, I loathe confined spaces. Just thinking about being in a cloistered environment makes me break out into a sweat.

  Third, I no longer trust Mackenzie Woods. Although our friendship dragged on for a bit after that misadventure with near-death—in which she proceeded to steal every boyfriend I had in high school—I finally figured out she was no friend at all.

  And fourth, perhaps best and worst of all, I came away with the ability to read people’s minds. I’m not sure how that near-drowning spurred me on into my telesensual powers, but that’s exactly how I came to be this way.

  “Bizzy Baker.” Mackenzie’s lips stretch tight, no smile. It’s a neat trick only someone of her wicked stature can pull off. Mack is also wickedly beautiful with long chestnut-brown hair, high cheekbones, and demanding eyes. I can see the appeal the male gender has with her, but I’ve never understood what they see beyond the physical. “Will you be joining us for brunch?” Please say no.

  “Nope.” I don’t bother sugarcoating it—not that my answer wasn’t the sweet treat she was looking for. “I’ve got a wedding to plan.” I look to my brother. “And it just so happens to be the last Saturday of this month.”

  His eyes bulge a moment. “I’m well aware.”

  I look to Mackenzie. “Are you well aware?”

  “Why should I care about your wedding day?” Mack snips and Hux pulls back a notch, examining his paramour’s true nature. “I mean, of course, I care. I’m Huxley’s date for the spectacle.” Her arms wrap around him like twin serpents. “What would you like as a gift? A toaster for the bathtub perhaps?” She riots out a laugh, and shockingly Hux joins in on the homicidal fun.

  “Hux.” I poke a finger to his chest. “And, Mack, I really need you to consider moving the beautification ceremony. Georgie is officiating my wedding. She can’t be at the unveiling of her project at the very same time. She worked on that mosaic all of last year. And, of course, the Cottage Café would be happy to cater the event, as you asked earlier, but it’s also catering my wedding. And don’t you dare play innocent with me. You knew darn well what you were doing. You’re trying to ruin my wedding, and there’s no way in heck I’m going to let you.”

  A hard sigh escapes my brother. “Bizzy.” Why can’t the two of them get along for five minutes?

  “Don’t you Bizzy me,” I’m quick to scold him. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got a wedding dress to shop for.”

  Mack’s mouth falls open. “You don’t have a dress?” Her chest bucks with a silent laugh. “Oh dear, Bizzy. You won’t need me to ruin your wedding day. You’re well on your way to do it yourself.” And, boy, am I ever glad to have scored front-row seats.

  A groan comes from me as I give Hux another quick embrace.

  “Talk her out of it, would you?” I whisper as I take off like a woman on a wedding mission.

  I’m off to do a little shopping with my very first suspect, Michaela Harvey.

  Let’s hope I won’t ruin that, too.

  Chapter 5

  Rolling Oaks is one of those ritzy towns that makes regular working-class people like me feel inferior for the simple act of rolling my tires through their zip code. And yet, the glossy buildings in its downtown district and the upper crust stores only found in the world’s wealthiest locales—I’ll admit, it all sponsors a touch of giddy excitement in me.

  Minty’s Department Store is a gold building, three stories tall, and the size of a shopping mall.

  No sooner do Macy, Georgie, Juni, and I get off the escalator on the top floor than we’re met with a couple of rail thin women dressed in navy pencil skirts and sequin tank tops as they gift us each a glass of champagne.

  The store is light and bright, modestly decorated for fall with gold pumpkins and gilded fall leaves. Polished women stride around with personal shoppers at hand and the requisite tiny pooch peeking out of their purse. But the odd man out, and I do mean that literally, is the bevy of handsome men dressed in suits that stalk the vicinity.

  Macy slinks forward in a metallic red dress. “Hubba hubba.” Come to Mama, big boy. I have a feeling this one has been very, very naughty, and I know just the punishment I’ll have to dole out for him.

  I’ve never been a fan of reading my sister’s perverted mind, but on an occasion like this, I consider it a necessary evil. Who knows? Macy might just pick up on something I don’t and it could crack the case wide open. It’s doubtful, though.

&n
bsp; As soon as Macy got wind of the sexy security situation at this place, she zipped over to my place on her broom. Okay, so it was with her broom, which was just as odd if you ask me. But Macy said she was sweeping her shop when Juni called with the tempting invite. So there’s that. Macy owns Lather and Light, a soap and candle store just about a block from the Country Cottage Inn.

  She clears her throat. “When you said there would be some serious honey buns on patrol, I had no idea they’d be this delicious.”

  “I said they’d be tasty.” Juni hobbles forward. “And, boy oh boy, is my mouth watering for something delicious to eat.” This little pop tart better step back. A man like this is going to need a real woman to contend with.

  My lips invert to keep from smiling. Juni has on a short leather skirt, which she paired with fishnet stockings, and her top looks to be a cross between a bustier and a back brace. It’s clear she came to win some serious security prizes today.

  A husky laugh strums from the senior among us as Georgie gives her wild, shaggy hair a quick flick with her fingers.

  “Stand back, girls. This level of handsome is going to take a woman to conquer.”

  Juni yanks her back as she jockeys for the lead position in this perverted parade.

  “You stand back, Mama. It’s best you let me vet them first. I’d hate to have another man out there walking around in your Brockenstocks.”

  I suck in a quick breath. “Georgie, did that man from last night steal your shoes? Is that why you were running around in house slippers this morning?”

  Macy rolls her eyes. “Please, Brockenstocks should solely be relegated as house slippers. That man did you a favor.”

  “Believe me, I was the one doling out the favors last night.” Georgie takes a moment to adjust her turquoise kaftan. “Watch and learn, girls.” She takes off to the room to the right with black walls and onyx floors, with nothing more than a reception counter in it. The entire place is crawling with sexy security detail, so it’s safe to say I shouldn’t have to worry about any of these women for hours.