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

by Cynthia Hickey

  “It’s a bit late for that now.” The only thing I could do at this point was write the book being handed to me on a silver platter and try to stay alive as I wrote it.

  5

  The next morning, minus Matt and Mary Ann, we all stood in front of Mom’s shop, armed with cleaning supplies, and watched her cry. The hand holding the keys shook like an old Chihuahua. “Do you want me to open the door for you?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “I’m just so overwhelmed with gratitude. God is so good.” She finally got the key inserted in the lock and the door opened. “After today, I’ll go through the back door, like a real owner.” Shoulders back, chest puffed out, Mom led the way into her home away from home.

  “You weren’t kidding when you said the place needed a good cleaning.” Mom plopped her fists on her hips. “We’ll sweep and dust first, then those shelves on the wall will need to be painted. I can’t put baked goods on them, but I can sell baking paraphernalia. Oh, the wheels are turning now.” She grinned. “Those glass fronted cases are perfect for smaller baked goods and a few ready-made cakes. The others, I’ll make and take pictures of so I have a catalog. Dakota, I’d like you to set me up with a website. Can you do that?”

  “Sure, just as soon as you buy a computer.” He propped a broom against the wall. “Why don’t we head to the electronics store while the others clean?”

  The sneaky little devil. I knew exactly what he was trying to do, and it was actually a good plan. We’d never get the place clean with Mom barking orders. Before we’d finished one project, she’d be bound to add several more. “We’ll have this place in tip-top shape before you can say, ‘Stormi writes great books’.” I smiled.

  Angela rolled her eyes and stormed toward the back of the store. As much as I enjoyed teasing her, it was time to ease off. What could I do to uplift her spirits? It couldn’t relate to money, that would set her off for sure. Maybe a visit to the police station to have a little chat with Wayne and find out exactly why he dumped my beautiful sister. It had to be more than the fact they worked together. A receptionist and a detective didn’t have a lot of work time to associate, did they?

  “Can you grab us some coffees?” Cherokee asked. “The caffeine might help us work.”

  “That’s a great idea.” I set down the bucket full of supplies. “I’ll be back as soon as possible. Try to cheer your Mom up, okay? Maybe you two can come up with a name for the bakery, and not Nelson’s Bakery. That’s boring.”

  She nodded and headed toward the back where all the magic of Mom’s baking would happen in a few weeks. I pushed open the door, glancing above me. A bell would be nice to alert Mom when someone entered and she was busy in the back. Outside, I glanced both ways before crossing the street.

  Two doors down, a figure in a trench coat and hat stared into the window of a bookstore. Maybe I wouldn’t have taken a second glance had we been in the throes of winter, but since we were only in early October, the coat and hat seemed like overkill. Maybe it was a secret spy lurking in town to find a terrorist. I chuckled at my over-active imagination and dashed across the street and into the coffee shop.

  I thought weekday mornings were busy. The line was almost out the door and every table was filled with readers and those working on laptops. Tyler, the young man Sarah was modeling her hero after, was hopping to fill drink orders. I glanced around those in front of me and studied his inky black hair tied back in a ponytail and his multiple piercings. I couldn’t see how the boy fit anyone’s description of a hero, at least not for an adult novel. Maybe he could do something heroic in a Young Adult book, though.

  I glanced around while the line inched forward. Sarah sat hunkered over her laptop in the corner. I angled away from her, praying she wouldn’t see me. Jane Weston, the realtor, brushed past me, a carrier full of coffee balanced in one hand while she talked on her cell phone. She flashed me a grin, mouthed the words ‘call me’, and pushed backward through the door. Since I’d exhausted spotting anyone else I knew, I studied my fingernails and noted how badly I could use a manicure. My mind instantly drifted toward the emails.

  Since I hadn’t wanted to ruin my morning, I hadn’t checked yet that day, and the not knowing was eating at my stomach like an ulcer. The not knowing was almost as bad as reading the hateful words.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re out alone.” Koontz’s words next to my ear almost had me fall into a faint.

  I turned. “My family is right across the street. Besides, this place is as crowded as a sardine can. Are you following me?”

  He jabbed me in the side with an ink pen. “See how easy that was? Even here? What if it had been a knife?”

  Seriously. “Then Matt would be angry at both of us. Go away.”

  “I’m buying a drink.”

  I decided to ignore him and planned the conversation I’d have with Matt when I got home. I did not need a babysitter.

  Five mocha flavored frozen coffees later, I stepped back outside and blinked against the early autumn sun. The long-sleeved tee-shirt I’d put on that morning kept the chill at bay. I smiled, ready to tackle the cleaning.

  From the alley next to Mom’s shop, stepped the overly dressed spy. Catching a glimpse of the person once was okay, but twice seemed a bit suspicious. I stood there like an idiot until Koontz stepped beside me.

  “What’s up?” he asked. “Do you need someone to help you cross the street?” His teeth flashed against his dark skin. “Want me to carry those for you?”

  The coated figure darted out of sight. “No, I thought I saw someone I knew, that’s all. Have a good day.” I stepped off the sidewalk and made my way carefully to the other side. Someone had propped the shop door open, making it easy for me to step inside. I decided to play Scarlett O’Hara and worry about the stranger tomorrow.

  Angela and Cherokee had the shelves wiped off and the floor swept by the time I came in. I headed to the back and set the coffees on a battered metal desk pushed against one wall. I could easily envision Mom seated there taking orders by web or by phone.

  Oh, no. I’d been so excited to give her a store of her own, I hadn’t thought of other expenses. She would need a commercial grade oven, more than one, actually, and a large refrigerator. I sighed. Maybe I could become a partner and at least have the appliances reimbursed, or I could cosign for a business loan.

  “Thanks for the coffee.” Angela propped one hip on the corner of the desk and grabbed a cup. “Why the long face?”

  “Trying to figure out the easiest way to stock the store.”

  “Mom can get a loan.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.” I leaned on the wall opposite my sister and sipped my drink. “Maybe Mom could borrow extra, and you could work for her? Then, maybe Wayne would reconsider since you wouldn’t be working at the precinct.”

  “I heard he already has a new girlfriend. She’s the new 9-1-1 operator.”

  “Do you know that for sure?”

  “That she’s new?”

  “No, that he’s dating her?”

  Angela shrugged. “She told me. We’ve gotten pretty close after the whole fiasco six months ago. Now, I don’t want anything more from her than to throttle her.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Cheryl Isaacson.” Angela made a face. “I gave her a piece of my mind, and while it didn’t have Wayne calling me, I did feel better.”

  Hmmm. I would definitely be talking to Wayne and this Cheryl person. I might be the younger sister, but I’d always been the defender. No one treats my sister this way except me.

  “We’ve got the computer,” Dakota called out, lugging a box into the store. “And a phone, and a copier/fax machine. I think Grandma bought out the place.”

  “I did not. I opened a line of credit for the store. It’s all tax deductible.” Mom carried in a smaller box and set it on the counter.

  “We’ll need to visit the bank,” I said. “You’ll need a loan for the appliances and whatever else you need to star
t up your business.”

  “I’ll make a list tonight and start pricing things so we know how much.” Mom rubbed her hands together. “I’m hoping to open by the end of the month. Is that too early? I don’t want to miss the holiday rush. I’m going to call my place, Heavenly Bakes.”

  “That’s cute.” I added business license to our list of things to acquire. “I’m not sure we can be up and running by the end of the month, but probably in time for the Christmas season.” Although, if Mom had her way, she’d open right when she wanted to, one way or the other.

  Mom handed Dakota a coffee and took the last one for herself. “We’ll have this place cleaned up today, I’ll make a list and price things tonight, and we’ll hit the bank and get the license Monday morning. Dakota, get started on my website. Angela, I have a box of pictures of the special cakes and cookies I’ve made for people. I’ll need your help going through those for the best quality ones. This will work. I know it will.”

  I hoped so. I felt sorry for anyone who got in Mom’s way when she was determined to have something done in a certain amount of time. I set my coffee aside and grabbed a rag. The store wouldn’t clean itself and I could get started on the display cases. Dakota got busy hooking up the electronics.

  The day passed in a flurry of activity. By supper time, we were tired and cranky but looking with satisfaction on a clean store. “Mom, until your appliances are ordered you could start your business on a smaller scale and continue baking at home and selling from here.”

  “What a great idea! Cherokee, I need a sign for the window. Something big, bright, and beautiful. We open for business on Wednesday.” Mom grabbed her purse and sailed out the door.

  I glanced at Angela, who shrugged and ushered her children out the door. With a final look around the place, I closed the door so Mom could lock up. I had a spare, but would leave all the details to her. I had enough to occupy my mind.

  Back at home, I booted up my computer and headed for the shower. Ten minutes later, clean and in my pajamas, I planted myself in my office chair and pulled up my emails. One from my agent who let me know I was still on the New York Times Bestselling list, and one from my stalker. I opened the email.

  “Famous romance authors shouldn’t be running around town in unattractive clothes or dirtying their hands cleaning. How will you get your next book written? What if someone saw you looking like a scullery maid? Tsk tsk, Stormi. I’m disappointed in you. You need to take me seriously. The punishment for disobedience can be rather severe.”

  6

  I stood outside the police station and glanced at my watch. In one hour, I had to meet Mom at the bank to see about a business loan. For now, I mentally prepared myself to speak with Wayne Jones before my sister showed up for work in half an hour. I was cutting things too close for comfort. If discovered, Angela would skin me and hang my hide from the police station’s flag pole.

  Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door and stepped up to the reception desk. Since it was only eight thirty in the morning, all that greeted me was a small metal bell. I slapped it and waited for someone to notice me.

  Luck was with me. Wayne Jones came from a back room. He scowled when he saw me. “Stormi.”

  “Wayne.” I forced a grin. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

  “An interrogation room?”

  “Be nice. I was thinking of inviting you for coffee.” I rolled my eyes.

  “I can always do coffee.” He called back to someone that he’d be back in a bit and followed me to my car. “I thought you had a Mercedes?”

  I shrugged. “Traded it in for a Prius yesterday. Better gas mileage.”

  “The Mercedes is classier.”

  I never could figure out what my sister liked about the big, dumb, football player types. I preferred my men muscular, sleek like a panther, and smart.

  I pulled up to the drive-thru window of the coffee shop and ignored Wayne’s curious glance. It wasn’t like we could go inside and spend time together without everyone in Oak Meadows making up rumors. No, I planned on taking him back to the police station and parking behind the building. The coffee was to sweeten the mood.

  By the time we arrived back at the station, Wayne’s square face was set in hard lines. “What’s this all about?”

  “Well,” I sipped my blended mocha drink. “I’m curious as to why you broke up with my sister.”

  “Seriously?” He angled his body toward me. “Isn’t Angela old enough to fight her own battles?”

  “I’m just curious, especially since rumor has it that you’re dating Cheryl Isaacson.”

  “Hardly. I’ve decided not to date women I work with.”

  “You don’t work with Cheryl, not really, and how often do you really have to speak with the receptionist?” I cocked my head. “I know it isn’t any of my business, but Angela is broken up about it. I’m only making sure you are treating her right and letting a bit of time go by before jumping into the pool again.”

  “You writers and your metaphors.” He shook his head. “I’m not dating anyone at this time. I have no idea where the rumors got started about me and Cheryl. I can’t stand the woman.” He shoved open the car door. “Now, I’ve got a job to do. Go meddle in someone else’s love life. Don’t you have another book to write?”

  Fine. The big jerk. Maybe I was being a bit nosey and sticking my nose where it didn’t belong, but Angela is much easier to live with when she’s happy. I got out of the car and strolled to the smaller building next door to the police station which housed the 9-1-1 operators. I spotted Angela getting out of her car as I passed between the buildings. I’d left Wayne just in time.

  “Oh. My. Gosh!” A woman so thin that if she stood sideways and stuck out her tongue she’d look like a zipper, bolted to her feet and dashed around the counter. “It’s Stormi Nelson.”

  “Uh, hello.” I bit the inside of my bottom lip. The woman’s exuberance frightened me and I couldn’t breathe when she wrapped her arms around my neck. Her perfume smelled as overpowering as diesel fuel at a truck stop.

  “I’m your biggest fan, I swear I am.” She pulled back, placing a hand on each of my shoulders and peering into my face. “I’m Cheryl Isaacson. I am so glad to meet you.”

  Oh, boy. The phone ringing behind her rescued me as Cheryl dashed to take the call since the other two operators were busy. From her side of the conversation, it appeared as if someone had fallen out of a tree. I said a quick prayer for their safety and settled on a hard plastic chair to wait, rethinking my original reason for arriving.

  I couldn’t very well say, “Are you dating my sister’s ex-boyfriend, and if not, why start a rumor you are?” I would need to make up a reason for being there, and fast.

  Cheryl hung up the phone and turned to me. “So, what brings you here?”

  “I’m, uh, planning a book release party in a few months when I finish my current novel and I’m looking for volunteers to help organize it.” I settled back, releasing a deep breath. That should be believable.

  “And you heard how wonderful I am at parties?” Cheryl clapped her hands together. “I’d love to spearhead the release party. You should be finished with your book soon, right? After all, you shouldn’t keep your fans waiting too long.”

  I’d heard that before. I got Cheryl’s phone number and told her I’d be with here as soon as I knew a release date. It never failed to amaze me how ignorant people actually were about the publishing process. It would take at least a year for me to write the book, have it go through the editing process, and then actually be released to stores. Still, I felt as if I’d covered my tracks nicely in coming up with an excuse to visit the station.

  After peering around the corner to make sure Angela was nowhere in sight, I rushed to my car and drove to the bank to cosign a loan for Mom. I arrived five minutes early, surprised to see Mom already seated in the manager’s office.

  “Yoohoo!” She waved through the glass window, attracting the attention of every
one in the bank.

  I sighed and made my way to her side. “Hey, Mom.”

  “Sweetie, this is Robert Smithfield. He’s the new banker.”

  “Pleased to meet a famous author.” He held out his hand, surprising me by his grip. Somehow, I tended to view bankers, especially ones who were only a couple of inches taller than me and soft around the middle, to have weak handshakes. “I’m a fan.”

  “Thank you.” Wow. I’d met two new fans in one day. Being a local celebrity wasn’t something I thought I would enjoy. It was much safer in my own little community where the neighbors thought I wrote smut and avoided me at all costs.

  “If you’re cosigning this loan, Miss Nelson,” Mr. Smithfield said, “I see no reason why we can’t proceed. Fifty thousand dollars is quite a lot of money, but with your house as collateral, it is very doable.”

  My heart stopped. Fifty thousand dollars? Was Mom crazy? “Uh, do we really need that much?”

  “Well, if we don’t use it, we can just give it back.” Mom looked at me as if I was dense. “I need a lot of things and will have to hire help. I thought you were going to do this with me.”

  “I am.” I just hadn’t thought of putting my house up as collateral. What if my stalker killed me? What would happen to my beautiful Victorian then? “Fine. Let’s do this.” My stomach churned. I wiped sweaty palms on the thighs of my denim capris. What had happened to my peaceful, orderly life?

  Once I’d signed my life away, praying Mom would do a good enough business to pay off the loan herself, I walked with her to her car. “I need you to come with me to order the store sign,” she said.

  “I have to get home and write. I have a stalker waiting on the next book, remember?”

  “Oh, pooh.” Mom waved a hand. “Tell that moron it takes a while to write a book and that you have a life.”

  “I might not have one if I get killed.” Good grief, I was now spouting her type of logic. I spotted Mr. Smithfield watching through the bank window.