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

by Cynthia Hickey

  “Is the book out?”

  “It’s available as an ebook. It will be released in paperback in six months.”

  She frowned. “I don’t have an ereader.” She left.

  She wouldn’t be the only one. A lot of folks who frequented libraries preferred the feel of a book in their hands. Usually, that would prompt me to find a solution, but tonight, the focus wasn’t about getting the book into as many hands as possible. It was about finding a potential killer.

  “Could you at least stand a few feet away and smile?” I frowned at Matt. “You look like a disgruntled bodyguard.”

  “I am.” He took two steps to the side.

  Ryan approached the table. “Where do you want me? I’ve been moving back and forth between the two entry doors, but that doesn’t seem very efficient. Could we get away with locking one of them?”

  “Do it. We’ll put up a sign stating to use the other door. We want to funnel everyone through one door.” Matt pulled out his cell phone, glanced at the time, and slid it back into his pocket. “Show time. It’s seven o’clock. If the stalker isn’t already here, they’ll be arriving any minute.”

  Ryan left.

  Or any time between then and nine o’clock, I thought. I sipped more of my drink. It was going to be a long night.

  “The parking lot is full,” Mary Ann said, dropping a stack of glossy photos of the book cover on the table. “I thought you could sign and hand these out to generate interest. I placed the rest of the box in the storage room. Ms. Dillow didn’t want them cluttering up the space. She said she prides herself on a clean library.” She rolled her eyes and strolled away.

  “What a great idea!” I dug in my purse for my favorite signing pen, a pink and silver fountain pen with a smooth moving ball. I passed the next ten minutes signing my name across the lower corner of ten of the photos. Within five minutes, those ten were gone, and I’d started on another batch. Mary Ann was full of great ideas. I should have hired an assistant a long time ago.

  Loud voices alerted me to Cheryl and Janet in the back of the library. Cheryl waved her arms around, her face red, until Janet put a hand on her shoulder and steered her out of sight. An uncontrollable urge to know what they argued about filled me.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Matt said. “Stay right where you are.”

  “You’re so mean.” I kept signing. “I need to use the restroom. Are you going to follow me in there, too?”

  “Take Greta with you and use the one in the library, not the foyer.”

  I guess he figured once a cop always a cop. I pushed to my feet, shook the pain out of my signing hand, and approached the refreshment table. “Greta, Matt said I have to take you with me to the restroom.”

  “Of course, you do, dear.” She grabbed her purse. “Get your purse.”

  “Why?”

  “You should never leave it unattended.”

  “Okay.” I lengthened the word. People were strange creatures. My purse wasn’t unattended, considering Matt still stood beside the table, but if I wanted to try and do some snooping, I’d do what she said. Hopefully, once in the restroom, she’d need to do some business and I could sneak out while she was in a stall.

  I grabbed my purse and headed to the restroom. Darn. It contained one stall, unlike the one in the foyer which could accommodate five people. Now what? I slipped into the stall. I needed to think, which was difficult because Greta prattled on about how much she enjoyed working with my mother and how she thought she would never have the opportunity to make money doing what she loved.

  It was no use. I’d have to come up with another plan. I flushed, still carrying on my ruse, and stepped out of the stall. “Your turn.”

  “Stay here, Stormi. I’ll only be a minute.” She slipped into the stall.

  The minute I saw her pants pooled at her feet, I slipped out just in time to see Janet duck into the storage room.

  Perfect. I could follow her on the pretense of fetching more fliers. I hitched my purse more securely on my shoulder and slipped in behind her.

  Stacks of boxes filled the space. A few books lay on a table in preparation of being covered with clear book protectors and barcodes. But where was Janet? She had only had a few seconds head start on me.

  A thump sounded in the back of the room, then light flooded the small space. I headed in that direction as a back door slammed. The light in the room blinked off, plunging me into darkness. My little escapade had landed me in trouble. Why couldn’t I listen to Matt?

  Maybe there was a logical explanation. Maybe the light bulb burned out. Maybe Janet had left through the back door doing nothing more sinister than closing the door after her. The thump could have easily been a box falling over. I turned and put my hand out to try and find the door I’d entered through. It couldn’t be far. I’d only taken a few steps inside.

  Something skittered to my right. “Hello?” Why did people in trouble say that as if they really expected an answer? I clamped my mouth shut. I didn’t want to be one of those ‘too stupid to live heroines’ a person saw in a B horror movie. I took another step.

  A flashlight blinded me. “Finally.” Janet lowered the light. In her hand, she held a pistol aimed at my chest. “Out the back door, sweetie.” She guided me past Cheryl lying in a pool of blood, and outside.

  I never had the opportunity to reach for my gun.

  25

  Janet marched me across a small parking lot in the back designated for library employees and motioned for me to get behind the wheel of an older model Toyota. I glanced around, saw no one who could help me, and did as I was told. Too bad I didn’t listen to Matt when I had the chance.

  Unlike six months ago, this time the killer didn’t take me from my home where I’d been minding my own business. Sort of. I’d actually gone next door to investigate a strange noise. This time, I was taken from a public place, right under Matt’s nose.

  Janet slipped me a piece of paper. “Go here.”

  “Can’t you just give me directions?”

  “I’d rather not speak with you right now.” She poked me in the arm with the gun. “I’m annoyed.”

  “Did you kill Cheryl?”

  “Probably. She was interfering with your job, which in turn affects my life. Drive. We have work to do.”

  Work meant she wasn’t necessarily going to kill me, right? I followed the directions on the paper, taking us out of town and into the back country. Half an hour later, we pulled up in front of a mobile home beside the river. The dank odor of swamp and wet mud filled the air. “You live here?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I live in town. This is my family’s hunting cabin. Get out and no funny business. I don’t want to shoot you … yet.”

  “You almost killed me at the restaurant.”

  “No, I didn’t. I am a very good shot. If I had wanted to shoot you, I would have.” She motioned for me to exit the vehicle. My heels sank several inches into swampy ooze. I grimaced and sloshed my way toward the trailer. “Wait, my purse.” I turned to head back.

  “You don’t need it. Keep going.”

  Ugh. My gun was useless.

  We entered a trailer containing nothing more than a dinette with mismatched chairs and a sagging sofa. On the table rested a laptop. My laptop.

  “How did you get that?”

  “I went to your house, told your niece you needed it for the party, and she gave it to me.” She grinned like a shark. “You should really teach her not to be so trusting. Now write. You aren’t leaving until you’ve written something I approve of.”

  “Write what?”

  “Anything except the drivel you’re trying to pass off as a book.” She gave me a shove, then sat in a chair opposite the laptop. “I want you to write one where I am a poor misunderstood librarian trying to make a living.”

  I was right. It was about her moment of fame. “Wanting to be a character in a book doesn’t warrant you killing Cheryl.”

  “That’s your fault.” Janet tw
irled the gun on the table. “If you hadn’t upset her so badly, she wouldn’t have felt the need to cause problems and get in my way.”

  “You cannot blame your twisted logic on me.” I opened my laptop and immediately clicked on the internet browser. Darn it. No wifi. “I can’t write while you’re pointing a gun at me.”

  “You don’t have a choice. Start with the first email I sent you and go from there. It should be an easy book to write.”

  Not likely. My fingers shook so badly I couldn’t type a coherent word. Oh, Matt, I’m so sorry.

  By now, the party was over and my family would be frantic. I’d hoped to send them a message via email, but Janet seemed to have thought of everything. I pulled up her first email and copied and pasted it into a document. She was right. It would make a great opening for a novel.

  She got up from the table and opened a small refrigerator. Pulling out a beer, she popped the tab. I would have pictured her as a wine drinker, myself. “Do you have any water?”

  “You can have a bottle of water after you’ve written three thousand words. Each chapter will get you a reward. Water, food, sleep, and so on.”

  She definitely ranked as one of the craziest people I’d ever had the misfortune of meeting. I glanced to my side and out a cracked window. There seemed to be only one way in and out of the property. She would see Matt coming a mile away.

  “Why is this so important to you?” I lifted my fingers from the keyboard. “It can’t be because I wrote my last book about Ms. Henley.”

  “It can be about anything I want it to be about.” She guzzled her beer, then tossed the can on the floor. “I’m running the show.”

  “Is this because you’re losing your job?”

  “Partly. I’ve given most of my adult life to that library and now they want to cast me aside like an unwanted book. When you wrote that last mystery, people flocked to the library wanting a copy. I had a waiting list twenty people long. If you wouldn’t take so long in between books, maybe the committee would reconsider.”

  “It’s a bit late for that now, don’t you think? I’ve seen you at church so you must be a believer. Why not let God handle the details of your future?” Not that her future was very undecided. She wouldn’t have to worry about a roof over her head. She’d spend the next ten years or so in jail.

  “Don’t talk to me about God. I’ve spent my whole life serving Him and for what?”

  She got another beer. Maybe if I kept her talking and drinking, I could overpower her and escape.

  “Keep typing.”

  “I’m researching.” I leaned back and crossed my arms. “I need to know how this story is going to end.”

  “It’s going to end with you dead if you don’t get to writing.”

  “If you’re going to shoot me anyway, why should I bother writing?” Oh, Lord, don’t let her shoot me. “I’ve also made the decision to give a large donation to the library to prevent it from closing. If you kill me, that won’t happen.”

  “Write it down.” She jumped up and pulled a notepad from a kitchen drawer. “Your last will and testament. Leave your money to the library. I’ll be the one who finds your lifeless body lying across your suicide note. I’ll be the hero.”

  Delusional was the word I’d use. “I’m not going to leave a suicide note. If you shoot me, the book won’t get written and the money won’t be donated. We’re at a standoff, Janet. You can’t win this.” My heart threatened to beat free.

  Her face darkened. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head. “Then there really isn’t a reason to keep you here.”

  Not the reaction I expected. I bit the inside of my lip. “How about … since money seems to be your biggest motivator … we could be co-authors on this next book? We could split the royalties fifty-fifty, including the novella.” Not that I expected it to really take place. After all, eventually she’d be arrested, right?

  “That’s an idea.” She tapped her forefinger on the table top. “I am a library, and thus very well read, I would have a lot to contribute to the writing of a novel.”

  “Not to mention you’ve already given me the plot, and it’s a killer.”

  “True. You’ll have to change the title on that stupid novella. This book is A Killer Plot.”

  Her grin sent ants scurrying up my spine. Now that I looked at her more closely, it was clear that the hamster turning the wheel in her brain was dead.

  I typed a few more words, jotting down her expression for future reference. This would be as big of a seller as Anything For a Mystery. Now that I knew how the last chapter played out, and how I hoped the story would end, the writing would flow quickly. I’d be done in a little under two months. I did not intend to spend that time locked in a rusty trailer beside a swamp.

  Where was Matt? I stood, popping the kinks from my back, keeping my eyes glued on Janet. She narrowed her eyes and gripped the handle of her gun. I wish I had the fortitude to tackle her, even though she held a weapon. If I had my purse, we could have had an old-fashioned showdown.

  I resumed my seat and started typing. As long as the sound of fingers hitting the keyboard filled the room, I would still breathe. I prayed as I typed, praying for protection, for wisdom, for Matt to show up with the cavalry, anything to get me out of there alive.

  Two hours later, bladder screaming for release and mouth as dry as Arizona in the early summer, I showed Janet my word count. Three thousand and twenty-seven words. “Break time.”

  “You have fifteen minutes. Water is in the fridge. Next three thousand words and you can have five hours of sleep.”

  “Gee thanks. Where’s the restroom?”

  “Down the hall and to the left. The window is painted shut, so you can’t get out that way.”

  I sighed and headed down the hall. Inside, I couldn’t resist tugging on the window anyway. Sure enough, it wouldn’t budge. But all was not lost. Sneaking up to the trailer was Matt and Ryan, accompanied by ten men in uniform. I knocked on the window to get their attention and waved. Matt gave me the okay signal.

  I rushed to do my business, knowing that prolonging any longer would result in an embarrassing accident, then hurried back to the table where Janet stared out the window. “Well, now we know how this story is going to end.” She turned the gun on me.

  A shot rang out, taking her to the floor. I ran my hands over my body to make sure I hadn’t been shot. Not finding any holes or feeling any pain, I leaped over her and dashed outside where Matt waited with open arms. Somewhere in the muck of the ground, I’d lost my stilettos. No worries. I’d buy another pair. Ryan and two police officers ran past us.

  “Are you all right?” He ran his hands down my arms.

  “I’m perfect.” I slipped my arms around his waist and rested my cheek against his chest. “She just wanted me to write another book and save her job.”

  “She’s still alive,” Ryan called from the trailer. “Get a medic in here.”

  I closed my eyes, relieved the poor delusional woman wouldn’t die. I would still donate to the library to keep it open. The town deserved to have a library. “Did you find Cheryl? Is she dead?”

  “No, she’s alive. Janet Dillow isn’t a murderer.”

  “Not for lack of trying. How did you find me?”

  “We put a tracker in your purse.” He set me at arm’s length and peered into my face. “I knew you’d figure out a way of ditching us.”

  He knew me so well, this handsome man of mine. I retrieved my purse from Janet’s car, almost asking that he remove the tracker, then thought better of it. Who knew what the next few months would bring? I might find myself in the middle of another investigation where Matt needed to know where I was. There were worse things than being tracked by your detective boyfriend.

  “I’m ready to go home,” I said, slinging my purse over my arm. There were other questions I needed answers to, like how my neighbors knew each other, but those could wait until a later time. Maybe, they would form the plot of my third my
stery.

  “That’s the best idea you’ve had in a long time. But first—” He lowered his head and claimed my lips. When we came up for air, he touched his forehead to mine. “I guess this is how our relationship is going to work, huh? You scaring years off my life, and me driving like a maniac to save you?”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s accurate.” I pulled him down for another kiss.

  The End

  SKINCARE CAN BE MURDER

  A Nosy Neighbor Christian Cozy Mystery

  Book 3

  By Cynthia Hickey

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  Copyright 2015

  Written by: Cynthia Hickey

  Published by: Winged Publications

  Cover Design: Cynthia Hickey

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  No part of this book may be copied or distributed without the author’s consent.

  1

  “I’m going to make the world a more beautiful place.” Angela plopped a giant pink chest, painted with white polka dots, onto the kitchen table.

  I grabbed my glass of diet soda before she could knock it over. “You finally got your kit.”

  “I’m going to be rich in no time.” She opened the chest to reveal trays and trays of beauty products ranging from makeup in every shade imaginable to face creams and body lotions. “You’ll be my first customer. I really wish you would have booked a party for me. It’s the least you could have done for your big sister.”

  A big pain in the rear was more like it. “I thought Norma Winston booked a party.”

  Angela frowned. “She signed up for this Friday, but you know most of the women who show up will be … well, you know,” she lowered her voice. “Streetwalkers. I’ll feel out of place.”