“Swanson Literary, how may I help you?”
“Elizabeth, it’s Stormi.” I blew in my chocolate-flavored java.
“What’s up? How’s the writing going? Do you have a new series for me to pitch?”
“About that.” I let her have it with both barrels, then sighed with relief once I’d released all the details except for my kisses with Matt. Some things are private.
Elizabeth’s laugh tinkled across the airwaves. “When I told you to up your writing, I didn’t mean for you to get involved in a murder investigation.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose. I thought I’d do some snooping and start writing romantic mysteries with whatever I found out.”
“Well, I like the idea, but you can’t write anything if you’re dead. And, with your family living there, how do you expect to get any writing done? You’re going to have to prioritize your time. Be selfish with it. What’s your word count so far?”
“I’m still in the note taking stage.”
“Do you have a synopsis?”
“Not yet.” My shoulders slumped. “I kind of wanted to wait and see how everything turned out first.”
“You’re a fiction writer, Stormi. Make it up.” She laughed again. “So far, the truth is pretty unbelievable. You’ve lived in that house for three months and haven’t written a word.”
“I’ve written some, besides it takes time to get settled. You have to admit I’ve got a killer new office.”
“Good, now use it. And find a good-looking man to research love scenes with. Yours are all looking the same.”
“Right.” Mercy. I took a gulp of caffeine. I couldn’t help not having a lot of experience in the romance department.
The hot liquid seared the roof of my mouth and tongue. “I gotta go.” I hung up and grabbed another glass which I shoved under the spout in the refrigerator door then guzzled the ice water. Aww.
“Rusty!” A woman’s voice seeped in the house with the sunshine. “Get out of those bushes.”
I rushed to the front window in time to see Matt’s sister, Mary Ann, making shooing motions at the neighborhood sneak. I opened the door and stepped on the porch.
Mary Ann turned with a grin and wiggled her eyebrows. “Nice pj’s.”
I glanced down at the boy shorts and tank top, then ducked back into the house. No sense adding to Rusty’s obsession with underdressed females. “Come on in. Let me change. There’s hot coffee on the counter.”
I heard the door close as I bounded up the stairs. Within minutes, I tugged on a pair of frayed denim shorts. They might be Daisy Duke’s but they were more acceptable than what I was wearing. When I moseyed back into the kitchen, Mary Ann cradled a mug of coffee.
She looked up, a definite twinkle in her eye. “We haven’t had a chance to get together yet, and Matt told me what happened last night. I thought I’d come by and make sure you’re all right.”
Wonderful. The whole neighborhood probably knew by now. I sat in a chair across from her. “Besides bruising my stomach and my ego, I’m fine.”
She leaned her elbows on the table and focused on me. “Matt also said you were sticking your nose in places it doesn’t belong. Sounds like fun, and I’m always up for a way of getting my brother’s dander up. Can I help?”
“Contrary to what Matt thinks, I don’t know anything. I’m a prime case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Maybe not. In the books, the sleuth always makes a list. Do you have one?”
I shook my head. “Not really. Just some things I’ve jotted down for my book.”
“Let’s make one right now. Where’s the paper?”
“By the fridge.”
Mary Ann grabbed a notepad and a pencil. “This’ll be fun. Okay. You found Mrs. Lincoln’s body. That’s important.”
“I kind of tripped over her, according to your brother. I remember circling around the body, but I guess that isn’t important. I didn’t even know there was a body.”
“Someone bashed you in the head, another good point.” The pencil scribbled across the paper like a scorpion. “Any suspects? Have you gone back to the house?”
“No, and yes.”
“You must have at least one suspect.” Mary Ann frowned, looking so much like her brother, I smiled.
“Well, there’s Rusty. The way he sneaks around lends suspicion. And there’s Victoria’s boyfriend, Bob. He seems capable of violence. Oh, and Mrs. Henley didn’t like her very much.”
“Good. See, you know more than you think you do. Now, what happened when you went back to the house?”
“It’s piled to the rafters with junk, except for Mrs. Lincoln’s desk. It looked like she was researching someone’s genealogy. But not her own, I don’t think. She had Mr. and Mrs. Edgars’ name and some others. Maybe some of the neighbors are related?”
She shrugged. “Two more suspects. This is so much fun. Now, we need to find a way to get the neighbors to talk.”
I straightened. “I’ve thought of that. I love to cook, and I have all these casseroles in the freezer. I just need a reason to knock on people’s doors. The Neighborhood Watch thing isn’t working. Nobody wants to join.”
“Well, there you go. Offer them a dish and guilt them into joining. Then, you hold a meeting and talk about what’s going on in the neighborhood.”
“It could work. Of course, Matt will be there and won’t be happy if he suspects us of being nosey. He emphatically told me to stay out of it.”
Mary Ann wiggled her eyebrows again. “You let me handle my brother. What’s he going to do, arrest his sister?”
12
Mom waltzed into the kitchen, her arms laden with grocery bags. I jumped up to help. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going shopping? I would’ve gone to help.”
“No need, dear. I’m not that old.” She set her purchases on the counter and smiled at Mary Ann. “Hello, I’m Ann.”
“Mary Ann Steele. Looks like we share a name.”
“Oh, you’re the detective’s sister.” Mom’s gaze flicked to the pad on the table then back to me. “What are y’all doing? Are you working on the case? I thought I was your sidekick.”
“I’m sorry.” Mary Ann’s face flushed. “Obviously, I’ve stepped on some toes here.”
I shook my head. “Relax, Mom. Mary Ann’s just giving me a fresh perspective. We’re going to deliver meals to the neighbors in order to get them to open up to me.”
Mom’s eyes widened. “My idea. We talked about it the other night.”
Mary Ann’s lips thinned. “Maybe I should go.”
“This isn’t Junior High school.” I motioned for her to remain seated. “I need all the help I can get and not have to worry about soothing battered egos at the same time. Mom, sit down and take a look at the list.”
“We already have a list.” She plopped into a chair.
“I can’t find it.”
“That’s because I hid it. Wouldn’t want the cops to find it, now would we? They’d confiscate it as evidence, and we’d be back to square one.”
I rolled my eyes and shrugged at Mary Ann. “Hiding my notes doesn’t help.” Good grief. Dealing with Mom was like babysitting a five-year-old.
A light breeze rattled the plastic on the door, carrying with it the light scent of honeysuckle. Sadie barked once, and tore past the window in pursuit of a red-tailed squirrel. Good, she was getting her exercise without me having to walk her.
“So, are we willing to work together?” I gave Mom a stern look.
“Fine.”
Mary Ann clapped her hands. “We’ll be like the three Musketeers.”
“More like the three Stooges,” I said.
I opened the freezer and took stock. There hadn’t been a lot of opportunity for my favorite pastime lately. “Okay, to name a few, I have a French onion chicken casserole, an oven-baked spaghetti dish, and some stuffed peppers. I’d planned on using them for meals this week, but I can cook more. Where do we want to go f
irst?”
Mom’s eyes lit up. “We can call ourselves the Welcome Wagon.”
“Name’s taken.” I closed the freezer.
“Well, we have to have a name.” She crossed her arms and sulked.
“How about the Hickory Hellos?” Mary Ann giggled. “Considering you live on Hickory.”
“Works for me.” I resumed my seat. Great, another self-appointed committee to devote time to and keep me from working. “But, remember, our main objective is to get people to join the Neighborhood Watch. Then, gain their trust and pick their brains.” At this rate, I’d never get my book written. I definitely needed to set up a schedule.
Mom raised her hand. Maybe I was dealing with school children.
“Yes?”
“I did find out Mrs. Lincoln wasn’t very well liked.” She looked like the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary.
“Well?”
“Let me fix us some tea first.”
Mary Ann and I sighed in unison. Obviously, Mom would milk the details for as long as possible.
By the time she set three iced teas on the table, my impatience level reached the ceiling. “Is there anything else before you tell us your news?”
“Oh. Little Debbies.” She grabbed a box of lemon cakes from one of the bags and dumped it on a plate. “There. I wish I would have had time to bake something, but I didn’t know we were having company.”
“Mother, please. I’m growing old waiting on you.”
She folded her hands on the table. High spots of color resided on both cheeks. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Seems Mrs. Lincoln was a bit of a Nosey Nelly.”
“Like someone else I know?”
She frowned. “I know you aren’t talking about me. I always mind my own business. Anyway, she butted into people’s personal lives, even going so far as to look into their bloodlines. Being a direct descendent of Oak Meadows’ founding fathers, she felt she had the right. Even tried to get poor Rusty arrested or run out of town because he was undesirable. Her words, not mine.”
“Where did you get this information?” I shifted my glance from Mary Ann, who listened with eyes as big as saucers, back to my mother.
“A couple of people, actually. Amazing how people come up and talk when you’re puttering in the yard.”
I glanced out the window. No yard work done that I could see. “What were you doing?”
“Pretending to pull weeds in the flower beds out front. It was very relaxing. I might do it for real next time. Anyway …” She shoved a slice of cake in her mouth, chewed for eternity, and then swallowed. “Marion Henley was the most talkative, but the Olsons stopped by, too. You know I have one of those faces that invites confidence.”
Huh. I gnawed my inner lip. Mom had a high opinion of herself, but she was right. People did talk to her. They’d probably talk to Mary Ann, too, with her being Matt’s sister, or maybe not for the same reason. They might think she would tell her brother everything they said. Me, being the trashy romance novel author people believed I was, took some getting used to. They probably worried I’d write about them.
“In my way of thinking,” Mom continued like one of those dolls whose pull string was stuck, “I ought to be the spy of this little operation. Y’all can do the heavy thinking, and I’ll do the talking.”
“I vote Stormi as the bodyguard.” Mary Ann lifted her glass in a toast. “Matt told me how you hit Bob with a flashlight. Brilliant. You’re lucky he didn’t press charges, though.”
Mom raised her tea. “Out of character, too. My daughter’s afraid of her own shadow.”
True, but I thought the man was going to hit me. Something I dislike more than things that go bump in the night. I ducked my head, not wanting to share glory where it wasn’t due. I’d acted without thinking about the consequences. If Matt hadn’t shown up, things could’ve gone from bad to horrible.
Yep, I definitely missed my tame romance novels. Shut away in my office, I’d let the world continue along on its own, occasionally venturing out for book signings or conferences. But then, I mingled with people of my own kind. Not murderers and women who didn’t trust their men past the front door. A horn honked, drawing my attention to the window.
Rusty meandered down the sidewalk, his head whipping back and forth so fast it’s a wonder it didn’t fall off. The guy appeared to glance in every window he passed. The man needed to be watched for sure.
“Where does Rusty live?” I asked.
“Over the garage at Mrs. Henley’s,” Mary Ann said. “I think he’s the son of a deceased friend of hers.”
“What does he do for a living?”
“Odd jobs here and there.”
I bolted from my seat and out the front door. “Rusty.”
He jerked and whirled to face me, with his hands rubbing at his military crew. “Yeah?”
“Sorry to startle you.” I stopped to catch my breath. “How are you at yard work?”
“Rusty is good.”
“Wonderful. What will you charge to get my lawn up to standard and keep it that way?”
“Ten dollars a month.”
I grinned. How many people took advantage of Rusty’s lack of skill with numbers or his comprehension of the value of money? Well, it wouldn’t be me. “How about eighty dollars a month?”
He sighed. “That’s not very much, but Rusty will do it.”
“Great. Tools are in the shed in the back.” I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes. “But you stay out of my house. Understand? Don’t go near my sister or my niece.” I still thought the man relatively harmless, but there was nothing wrong with being cautious.
I hoped the state of my yard would keep him busy for a while before someone took offense to him staring through their windows and did actually get him tossed in jail. “And no more peeking in people’s windows.”
“But Rusty sees things.”
“Yeah, but it’s wrong.” I gave him another stern look and waved him toward the backyard. He shuffled off with his head down. Hopefully, I was doing a good deed and not setting myself up for frustration. The last thing I needed was another person to look after.
A grinding noise filled the air. I stuck my head over the fence to peer into the Edgar’s yard. Herman shoved sticks into a wood chipper as fast as the machine could work. I glanced around my yard, relieved to discover nothing that needed to be shoved into something with large whirling teeth. For sure, I’d be an accident waiting to happen.
He caught me spying and nodded. With a sheepish grin, I waved and withdrew. The Edgars got my vote for the unfriendliest neighbors. Maybe I should take them a casserole, too? They looked Italian. Maybe spaghetti? Or would that be too cliché?
I turned toward the house and stopped. Shivers skipped up my spine.
Matt marched toward me, a sullen Dakota at his side.
13
All I needed was to have my nephew marched home by Matt. What else could go wrong? “What happened?”
“I’ve had complaints from the neighbors about your nephew skateboarding on the sidewalks and badgering people about Mrs. Lincoln,” Matt said. “This has got to stop, Stormi. Your family cannot keep sticking their noses into my investigation.”
“I didn’t tell him, too.” I gave Dakota my sternest look. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I just want to help. This place is so boring.” Dakota huffed. “What’s it hurting anyway? The old bat is dead. I can’t hurt her none by asking questions.”
“Have some respect.” Matt shook his head. “Do I have your word, Stormi, that you will deal with this matter?”
“We’ll take care of it.” Mom grabbed her grandson by the arm and marched him toward the house. “So, did you learn anything?”
My eyes widened. I knew what her question really meant and hoped Matt hadn’t caught on. From the scowl on his face, he had. He sighed. “Tell my sister I’ll wait for her at home.”
“How did you know she was here?”
�
�She told me. I suppose you’re roping her into your mystery business, too.”
“Nobody is roping me into anything.” Mary Ann stepped off the porch. “I want to help. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.” She grinned, dimples winking from her cheeks. “Don’t be mad, and if you insist on pouting, do it at home by yourself.”
He started to turn and walk away, then stopped and marched up the steps to the front door. “I might as well hear what the boy has to say.”
I grinned. Mister Stern Detective was every bit as curious as the rest of us. If he would only realize that we could help him solve the murder of Mrs. Lincoln, his job would be a lot easier. The police department should really loosen up a bit and let the public help them. I followed my crowd into the house and took a seat around the kitchen table.
Matt grabbed the notes off the table before anyone could stop him. “A pretty elaborate list. I’m impressed. Dakota, did you learn anything?”
My nephew grabbed a chocolate-chip cookie from a plate on the counter and stuffed it into his mouth, raining crumbs down the front of his tank top. “Nobody liked her, and I mean nobody.”
“That’s nothing new.” Matt crossed his arms.
“She was always calling the HOA on people, yet her yard is the worst in the neighborhood.” Dakota grabbed another cookie and waved it to emphasize his point. “I’m thinking someone got tired of her complaining and silenced her. Not to mention the fact that she was nosing into other people’s history.”
Matt stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“I think he means exactly what Mom and I discovered during one of our trips to the house. Mrs. Lincoln had a website on genealogy on her desktop computer. Not unnatural except for the fact that it wasn’t her name she was researching.” I cocked my head and grinned. “It was Mrs. Henley’s. Not only that, there was a list of other neighbors on a piece of paper near the computer.”
He twisted his mouth while thinking. After several long seconds of staring at me, he finally broke the silence. “How did the department miss that?”
Nosy Neighbor: All 7 complete Nosy Neighbor cozy mysteries PLUS: 2 short Christmas stories (A Nosy Neighbor mystery) Page 8
