Nosy Neighbor: All 7 complete Nosy Neighbor cozy mysteries PLUS: 2 short Christmas stories (A Nosy Neighbor mystery)

by Cynthia Hickey

  “Are you all right, sweetie?”

  “I’m fine, Mom.” I laid my still trembling hands flat on the table top.

  “Because I know how you are about leaving your house, and—”

  “I’m getting better.” Please drop the subject. I didn’t want Matt to know what a wimp I was. Only Mom knew how hard it was for me to take on the role of head of the Neighborhood Watch. But I’d gone out a few times now and still walked among the living.

  Matt sighed. “Mrs. Nelson, someone broke into your home tonight. Please try not to touch anything.”

  “What’d they take?” She glanced around the room. “Not much of value around here.”

  “The notes I took on the case.” I crossed my arms.

  “No, they didn’t. I stuck those in that drawer by the sink. We can’t have stuff cluttering the counters.”

  Matt pulled out the drawer. Sure enough, neon pink shined up at us.

  I crossed my arms. “Okay, then. Did you mess up my office?”

  She waved her hand. “It’s always messy.”

  “Not like it is now.” I have never left my work space is such disarray. How dare she tease like that?

  “Ladies, please.” Matt pinched the bridge of his nose.

  Red and blue lights flashed outside the window. Matt looked so relieved, I thought he’d knock the door down getting outside. Five minutes later, he returned with two other officers and led them upstairs.

  I slouched in my chair, knowing he wouldn’t welcome my company during official business. He’d labeled me as a troublemaker. Not even his kiss was good enough to make me forget a remark like that one.

  Oh, who was I kidding? His kisses could make me forget anything.

  With a sigh, I propped my chin in my hand and stared out the kitchen door. Footsteps thumped upstairs. I should be up there taking notes. I shifted my gaze to Mom. “Where’s Angela and the kids?”

  Mom waved a dismissive hand. “Parent night at the school or something. Good thing we weren’t here. We could’ve been killed. You really need to get people to sign up for the Watch, unless you plan on doing it yourself every night.”

  “I don’t. Will you join?”

  “Guess I already did since I took a stroll tonight. Kept my eyes peeled, too. Everything’s quiet.” She took another sip of her soda. “You might want to hire a gardener, though. Our house is the most ill-kept in the neighborhood, except for Mrs. Lincoln’s. Seems she didn’t take too good of care of hers either. It’s embarrassing.”

  “I noticed myself. I’ll call tomorrow.” I jumped to my feet as Matt and another officer marched into the room.

  “We need you to take a look and see if anything is missing.” Matt narrowed his eyes. “But don’t touch anything.”

  The moment I stepped into my office I noticed my laptop was on. “Somebody was on my computer. I always turn the monitor off when I’m done.”

  “What were you working on?” Matt had donned gloves at some point and he moved the mouse to bring the screen to life.

  “My mystery.”

  “Why would someone care about that?”

  “Excuse me?” My face heated. “People happen to like my novels.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Why would someone break into your house to read a story that isn’t complete?”

  I shrugged. “Oh. It’s the story I’m writing off the notes I’ve been taking.” I gasped. “The neighborhood killer was in my house.”

  “We don’t know that.” Matt straightened and gave me a stern look. “Don’t start assuming things.”

  Crime scene investigators arrived, and he motioned for them to dust the computer. Great. How long until I could use it again?

  “That’s my guess, too.” Mom stepped into the room. “Stormi knows something she shouldn’t and someone is out to silence her.” In her hands, she held a bowl of popcorn. As she shoved a handful in her mouth, kernels fell to the floor.

  “Mrs. Nelson, please. You’re contaminating the scene.” Matt took her by the elbow and moved her into the hall. His silent partner stared, pencil poised over a small spiral notebook.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to the craziness if you’re here long enough.” I turned and returned to the kitchen. Too late for soda or coffee. Maybe a glass of juice would quench my thirst. I opened the refrigerator.

  I grabbed the orange juice and squinted. Where was my raspberry tea? If Cherokee or Dakota got into my stuff, there would be a high price to pay. I poured juice into a glass and replaced the carton. Wait. What if the thief stole my drink? It’d been known to happen. I saw on television all the time where crooks sat down to eat and drink after their crime.

  “Mom!”

  “Yes, dear.” She placed the bowl of popcorn on the table.

  “Where’s my tea? Do you think the kids drank it?”

  She shook her head. “They tried it once and didn’t like it. Or so they said.”

  “You’re missing something?” Matt leaned against the doorframe.

  Should I really let him know how much I liked my drink? I closed the fridge. “Nope.”

  “Her tea is gone. She’s the only one who touches the stuff. I prefer wine myself,” Mom volunteered. “Angela is into harder stuff, unfortunately. Or beer.” She grimaced. “I don’t know where I went wrong with that girl.”

  “Does she make a habit of leaving her cans around?” That would explain Sadie the drunk.

  “No, she tries to hide that she drinks, but a mother always knows.”

  Matt sighed and glanced at me. “We’re finished. Walk me to the door?”

  Would I? “I really enjoyed our date, Matt. Sorry you had to come over here again.”

  He gave me that lopsided grin that caused my heart to stop. “I’m not sorry.” He caressed my cheek. “Call me any time. Please, be careful.” Again, he left me weak against the door post with a kiss to the temple.

  “I need to rethink getting involved in this mystery,” I told Mom as I closed the door.

  “No, you need to stay in it. Somebody seems to think you know more than you do. You’re a target now.”

  9

  The next night, I donned a pair of jogging shorts and slipped into my comfiest sneakers before motioning Sadie to follow me into the hall. Since I still hadn’t made time to set up another Neighborhood meeting, the Watch still consisted of one member—me. Oh, two.

  Mom came out of her room in a black jogging suit. One of Dakota’s dark knit beanies stretched as low over her face as she could pull it and still see. She took one look at me and her mouth fell open. “How can we set up a sting operation if you’re wearing colors that glow in the dark?”

  Smoothing my canary yellow tee-shirt, I frowned. “Sting operation?”

  “We’re going on the Watch walk, right? I thought we could stop by the dead lady’s house and look for clues.”

  I thought about explaining the difference between snooping and a sting, but gave it up as a waste of time. “The lady’s name is, was, Ethel Lincoln, and we can’t go snooping around her place. It’s a crime scene, and we can go to jail. There’s no reason for me to change my clothes. We’re going to walk the neighborhood and make sure everything is peaceful. That’s all.”

  “Suit yourself, but they took the tape down this morning.” Mom grinned. “I have it all planned. We take Sadie to the yard and let her go. She’ll waltz right into her old home. We’ll have to fetch her, of course. Can’t leave the poor thing all alone.” She snapped rubber gloves over her hands, then grabbed a flashlight from the foyer table. “Ready?”

  Not really, but I led the way out the front door anyway, and glanced toward Matt’s house. His truck was gone. Good. I didn’t relish being hauled to jail, not even if the detective looked like a magazine cover model. Of course, if I got to share a cell with him, it might be worth it. Knowing my luck, it’d be a three-hundred-pound woman named Bertha looking for a “friend”. I shuddered. “I already tried this plan, and it didn’t work.”

&nb
sp; Mom might look like she wanted to remain incognito, but she waved at every man, woman, and child we passed. We garnered quite a few odd looks, too. Maybe the skip in Mom’s step aroused interest. Either way, I felt as if I were walking a first grader to class. Before we reached the late Mrs. Lincoln’s house, sweat stained Mom’s shirt and trickled down her face. Giggles overtook me.

  “It’s not funny.” Mom yanked the beanie off her head, leaving her hair standing on end like someone who’d been electrocuted. “Who knew tonight would be like a sauna?”

  Dakota skateboarded toward us, performed an Ollie, and came to a banging stop that echoed up and down the street. If not for his incessant talk about his hobby, I wouldn’t have had a clue about his trick. As it was, I felt pretty proud of myself for remembering. “Nice Ollie.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, thanks. What’s up? Ain’t this where the dead lady lived?”

  “Yes, now get.” Mom waved him toward home. “We’re on official mystery business. Here take your beanie back.”

  I sighed. Nothing like piquing a kid’s interest.

  “Can I come?” He kicked his board up into his waiting hands and accepted his beanie.

  “No, you can’t.” Mom gave him a little shove. “This is adult’s only.”

  “Whatever.” Dakota inserted the ear buds hanging around his neck, dropped the board with another clatter, then skated off.

  “Mom, please don’t tell everyone what we’re doing. We don’t need an audience.” Especially since we were most likely breaking the law on many levels. I dragged her into the thick hedge surrounding Mrs. Lincoln’s property. “If we’re doing this, we have to be quiet.”

  “Okey doke.” She bent and unhooked the leash from Sadie’s collar. With a smack on the dog’s rump, she announced, “Go get ‘em, girl.”

  Sadie barked once and dashed into the night. Well, there was no turning back now. I’d have to fetch the dog. Matt was going to kill me. Wrap those big hands around my neck, shove my head back, and … I decided to stop before my thoughts turned in a direction that would keep me up at night.

  I followed Mom to the back of the house. Weeds and knee-high grass filled the yard except for the packed dirt around the doghouse. I tried the door. Locked. An open window mocked us from two feet above our heads. “Well, that’s that. No way in.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Mom put her hand on my shoulder. “Give me a boost. Once I’m in, I’ll open the kitchen door.”

  “Not a good idea. The window’s only open about six inches, give or take. Maybe I should go first.” Against my better judgment, of course.

  “Stop being such a sissy. I might weigh twenty pounds more than you, but I’m not an obese cow by any means. My curves are in all the right places. You can ask any man that likes his woman soft. Now, do what I say.”

  I rolled my eyes, braced my shoulder against the siding of the house, and cupped my hands. How much jail time could a person get for breaking and entering? Was it considered breaking if a window was left open? My stomach churned and sweat broke out on my brow that had nothing to do with the warmer than normal spring evening.

  Mom planted her foot in my hand and jumped. Ugh! I fell to the ground under her weight. She kicked and flailed, her bottom raised to the moon. She looked as stuck as a tightened pickle jar lid. I had the insane urge to whack her with the handle of a butter knife to loosen her.

  “Help me,” she hissed. “Push.”

  “How am I supposed to push you through a tiny opening from down here?” Seriously. Her legs kicked above my head and her butt jiggled as she tried to worm her way through.

  “Just do it!”

  I stared at the sky, wondering what I’d done to deserve this. Realizing someone could spot Mom’s spandex-covered lower body, of which her leggings drooped dangerously low, I dragged over an empty bucket that most likely came from a home improvement store. After upending it and stepping up, I planted my shoulder under Mom. One, two, three, I shoved. Nothing. The bucket tottered. “I’m not tall enough.”

  “I swear I moved a smidgen. Do it again.”

  With a deep breath and a grunt, I heaved. Mom tumbled through the window.

  The bucket beneath me overturned, and I fell to the grass. My hip slammed against a decorative boulder. Once Mom unlocked the door, I was going to strangle her. This little night time escapade had better not be a waste of time. It’d been days since I’d written a word on one of my novels, and adventures like this one left me unsure whether I actually wanted to write a mystery. It seemed too dangerous.

  Hip throbbing, I struggled to my feet and leaned against the side-paneling of the house to wait for Mom. Through the skinny window beside the door, I caught glimpses of her flashlight. What was taking her so long? Five seconds. That’s all it should’ve taken for her to unlock it. I pounded on the glass.

  She whirled, catching me in the eye with the bright beam. “Be right there!” Her yell blasted through the open window.

  I banged again and glanced over my shoulder. “Let me in before somebody sees me.”

  A squad car cruised down the street, and I shrank into the shadows of a tall oak tree. Come on, Mom. Visions of handcuffs and steel bars rippled through my mind. With Mom as my supposed sidekick, arrest was a breath away. I just knew it.

  After an eternity, the lock clicked and the kitchen door swung open. I slid through like a greased monkey, slammed the door shut, and leaned against raised-paneled wood, willing my heart rate to slow its stampede. As my eyes adjusted to the dark room, I glanced around. The overgrown yard had nothing on the inside of Mrs. Lincoln’s home.

  A pine table lay buried under mounds of clothes and papers. Dishes, clean and dirty, covered every inch of the kitchen counter and filled the sink. A wooden knife block, full of dusty knives, was wedged between the wall and the microwave. The floor crunched under my feet. How in the world could a person find anything in this place? I shoved away from the door and pulled a tiny pin light out of my pocket. Scooting sideways, I moved down the hall after Mom’s bobbing light.

  I didn’t expect to find anything. Not since the police had already canvassed the place, but there was always the chance they might’ve missed something. I ran the beam of light over the piles of magazines and shopping bags lining the hall. Taking care not to crush anything, I stepped into the room on my right. A bathroom so cluttered you couldn’t pay me to use it. Not with an inch-thick layer of soap scum and hair across every surface.

  Next, I came to what was clearly a home office.

  I moved the mouse next to the computer. A genealogy chart popped onto the screen. Interesting. I’d research my own roots someday. The important question now was, “Why hadn’t the cops taken the computer?” I glanced at a padded bag on the floor. From what I could tell, they’d taken a laptop. Why not the desktop? Obviously they weren’t interested in the facts of a woman tracing her roots.

  The miniscule glass topped desk seemed out of place in the house. Out of place in the fact that except for the computer, phone, and a pad of legal sized paper, it was clear of mounds of stuff. I shined my light on the pad, noting the names of residents up and down my street. Two names were circled, Rusty and the Edgars. All the others had only a check. What did it mean? Was Mrs. Lincoln planning something? A party maybe? Where would she put her guests? On top of the mounds of garbage?

  “Mom, did you find anything?” I turned back to the hall.

  “There’s a lot of new gardening tools in the master bedroom. That’s weird.” She poked her head into the hall then withdrew. I followed.

  Tools covered the dresser and the bed. Scanning the room with my light, I counted two of everything, except for shears. Only one pair of red-handled shears lay on top of the dresser. Had Mrs. Lincoln been killed by one of her own tools?

  Death and evil hovered in the air. Despair. A life cut short. Bile rose in my throat. “I’m ready to go now, please.”

  “But this woman had a lot of neat things.” Mom’s light moved close
r. “Don’t you want to look around more?”

  “We can’t snoop through a dead woman’s house for no reason.”

  “Fine. But I don’t think she’d care. Not at this point, anyway.” She sighed and pushed past me. “Let’s lock up and go back through the window.”

  Once Mom exited safely outside, I locked the door and followed, wiggling my way through. My legs dangled. “A little help here.”

  Strong hands grasped my waist, pulled me down, and I turned to stare at the solid wall of Matt’s chest.

  10

  “What are you doing?” Matt set me on my feet and crossed his arms. I focused on the infamous tic in his jaw. Had he had it before meeting me?

  “Uh. Looking for Sadie?” I glared at Mom who stood silently off to the side, a sheepish look on her face.

  “This Sadie?” Matt unwound a leash from a lawn chair and handed the dog to me. “It would be a remarkable feat for her to climb through a six foot high window, don’t you think?”

  I took the leash. “She’s a very smart dog and very big.”

  Frustration and disappointment stained his handsome features. He drew air roughly through his nose and shook his head. “Why won’t you listen when I give you advice? You’re going to force me to do something I don’t want to do. Go. Home.” He gave a chest-heaving sigh, about-faced and marched in the opposite direction.

  I glared at Mom before turning toward home. My steps dragged. Matt probably wouldn’t ask me to dinner again, nor allow me to be friends with his sister. He glanced over his shoulder. I’d blown any chance at being in his life. Maybe not.

  I’d cook him something nice and drop it off tomorrow. That would soften him up. It worked in books and movies.

  “If you would’ve worn all black, like me, this wouldn’t have happened.” Mom kicked a loose stone off the sidewalk. “But it sure was fun.”

  My mouth gaped. Most of the time, Mom didn’t seem to have the sense God gave a goose, but I loved her to pieces, and even more, loved the fact we were actually hanging out together.

  So, what did that say about me when I followed her hare-brained schemes like a little gosling? I laughed. But, I did have to admire her adventuring spirit. I threw my arm around her shoulders. “I love you, Mom, but you sure do beat all.”