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

by Cynthia Hickey

  “Not us, but the shops around us.” Robert pulled out a chair for Mom, then moved to his seat behind his polished mahogany desk. “If the shops go, so will the bank. Our largest investors are the shops.” He folded his arms on the desktop. “I’m hearing things, Stormi. Things that bother me, and I’m not talking about your knock on the head or Jim Worthington’s death. No, these, if they’d happened at any other time, might be tossed aside as childish pranks.”

  “Go on.” I took the clipboard from Mom.

  “You’re getting it second hand from me,” he said. “But, make it a priority to talk to Seth Bridger at the drugstore and Nancy Caldwell at the boutique, for starters.” He reached across the desk and took Mom’s hand. “You be careful, Anne. You, too, Stormi. Things are heating up around town. There’s a storm coming and I don’t want you caught in it.”

  He might have been speaking to Mom, but his gaze caught mine. Whatever Robert knew, he didn’t want to say in front of my mother. I nodded. “Mom, I really need a glass of water. Would you mind?”

  “Oh.” She pulled her hand free of Robert’s. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

  The moment she was gone, Robert slumped back in his chair. “Larkin Enterprises has recently deposited a large sum of money in Ida Worthington’s bank account. Not only that, but they’ve made a rather large deposit of their own.” He speared me with his gaze. “There’s enough money in that account to buy out this town twice over. You’re playing with the big boys, Stormi.”

  Ants seemed to climb up and down my arms and it had nothing to do with the pain medication. “What do you suggest?”

  “I don’t know. But, you can’t let them takeover. You need to convince the town to stand firm. They’re offering business owners half of what their property is worth. The amount is still significant enough to have people thinking twice about it.”

  “I’ve been offered five hundred thousand.”

  He shook his head. “Your shop location is worth over a million dollars. Someone has already died over this. Please, don’t let the next be you or Anne.”

  I swallowed past the mountain in my throat. This time, I might be tackling a monster I couldn’t win against.

  12

  I met Mom in the lobby of the bank, told her I wasn’t thirsty anymore, and waited for her to kiss Robert goodbye. In the meantime, I gazed out the large front window and watched people stroll by, laughing and shopping, with no idea that the picturesque view they saw might go away soon.

  “Where to next?” Mom opened the door.

  “The drugstore.” I stepped into mid-morning sunlight and glanced at the old-fashioned red-and-white awning over Oak Meadows Drugs. The vintage feel of the place had me wishing I’d grown up in the town, back when poodle skirts were all the rage and innocence wasn’t a thing of the past. Matt and I could have shared an ice cream float at the counter.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Mom frowned. “Are you going to stand there staring or are we going in?”

  “In. Sorry. The pain meds must have me in a fog.” She didn’t need to know it was the shock of how formidable a foe Larkin Enterprises really was that had me in a stupor. Why had I thought they were small time business?

  “Good morning, ladies.” Seth Bridger, a sixty-something man with a head of wavy gray hair, wiped down the soda counter. “What can I get you?”

  I perched on a red and chrome stool. “We’re collecting signatures to keep investors from buying up Main Street.”

  “I’ll sign twice.” He grinned. “Do you think it will work?”

  “The only thing that will work is if everyone stands firm against rising dollar signs and refuses to sell. I’m hoping that if the majority sign this petition, those on the fence will realize the futility in selling. At least I’m praying that’s what happens.”

  “Five hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money to most people.” He tossed the rag under the counter. “Especially to someone thinking about retirement. Still, I’d rather have someone take over this place than sell out to an investor.”

  “Thank you.” I slid the clipboard across the counter. “Have you had weird things happening around here that might make you lean toward selling if they continued?”

  “I’ve had graffiti, my tires flattened, and a window busted.”

  All things that sounded as if a gang of rowdy youths were having a bit of mischief. “Have you alerted the police?”

  “Yes. Detectives Jones and Steele were here yesterday. They said a car would patrol the street at night.”

  It would take me a while to get used to calling Wayne Detective Jones instead of Officer Jones.

  “At least I haven’t found a dead body in my shop, right, Anne?” He winked. “That might set my wife over the edge and force me to sell out. I hired that boy, Rusty, to help keep an eye out and do some minor cleaning, but he hasn’t seen anything yet.”

  So, that’s where my gardener had gotten off to. I’d wondered why my lawn was getting long. Still, I wouldn’t begrudge Rusty the work.

  A customer entered and we said our goodbyes, heading next door to Classy Classics, the women’s boutique. Nancy Caldwell stood behind the counter adding figures on an old-fashioned adding machine. She’d mentioned once that Ecel spreadsheet was like speaking French to her and she’d continue to do what was tried and true.

  She glanced up. “Anne Nelson, you look fabulous!”

  I grinned. Nancy, with her bouffant hair and pencil skirt looked like she came out of the same era as my mother. Regardless of her personal style, though, the clothing she carried was stylish and reasonably priced, encompassing vintage and modern styles.

  “Thank you.” Mom patted her dress. “My daughter thinks I look old-fashioned.”

  “Good style is never old-fashioned. Now, what can I do for you ladies? I got a new shipment of sundresses in yesterday.”

  “We’re here to ask you to sign this petition.” I handed her the clipboard.

  “Gladly. That Larkin fella is becoming a real pain in my … behind.” She gave a firm nod of her head to emphasize the point. “I do a good business here, and derive a lot of satisfaction from being successful. I told him that, too, but you know what he said? He said, I’d do better in a mall. Really? I said. When I own this little slice of heaven and would have to rent space in a mall for an astronomical amount? No thank you, I said.” She signed her signature with a flourish.

  She made a good point I hadn’t thought of. Space in a mall would be expensive.

  She pointed the pen at me. “You tell that hunk of a boyfriend of yours to tell the Larkin people to stop dumping garbage across my stoop. Childish pranks will not get me to sell out.”

  “You aren’t the only one being harassed. Seth next door said the police will do regular patrols of the street from now on. Do you mind?” I motioned toward the chair behind her desk.

  “Go ahead, sit, you poor dear. I heard what happened to you.” She clicked her tongue. “This has gone on long enough. We need to make a unified front and get these people to stop! A meeting. That’s what we need.”

  That wasn’t a bad idea. A town meeting where both sides could express their concerns.

  “You know what else I heard?” She lowered her voice and glanced around as if we weren’t the only ones in her store. “I heard that Ida Worthington has to return the money if the investors aren’t able to purchase up all the shops they need. It was in the contract she signed. It doesn’t do Steve Larkin much good to own a bookstore, now does it? If they have to cancel their agreement, Ida will be left with a business she doesn’t want and have the hassle of selling her husband’s business.”

  “But, she’d make more money holding out,” Mom said.

  “Tell her that. She doesn’t see the big picture. All she sees is that homely mailman and a tropical island.”

  A bell jingled over the door causing us to turn. Mrs. Rogers entered, took one look at me, and turned and left. Good grief.

  “That’s a strange woman,” Nanc
y said. “She buys stuff from me all the time, and I’ve yet to see her wear anything other than housedresses and stretchy pants.”

  While Mom and Nancy gossiped, I watched out the window as Mrs. Rogers ducked into the drugstore, returning moments later with a brown paper bag. Alcohol or drugs? Either one might loosen her up. I shook off the horrible thought and said a prayer of repentance. As unfriendly as the woman might be, it wasn’t a reason for me to be unkind.

  Rusty, broom in hand, marched down the sidewalk and started sweeping in front of the drugstore with enthusiasm. Dust flew, coating everything within reach. My guess was that Seth went along after Rusty left and recleaned.

  Mid-stroke, Rusty stopped and craned his neck. He dropped the broom and took off running. I started after him, until my head reminded me that running wasn’t in my near future. Instead, I stood half in the shop and half out as Rusty turned the corner down the street.

  “What do you see?” Mom asked.

  “Rusty took off down the street. Odd behavior, even for him.”

  “Let’s stroll that way. Maybe we’ll catch him on the way back. Thank you for your support, Nancy. I’ll take a look at those new dresses when I have more time.” Mom tossed a wave over her shoulder as we stepped back outside. “Looks as if someone is clearing out Rocking Reads.”

  Sure enough, a moving truck pulled up in front of the store. I was torn between locating Rusty or seeing what was happening next door to the bakery. Especially since Nancy had commented that the money wasn’t Ida’s yet. If it wasn’t, then why did she feel free enough to sell off her husband’s possessions?

  I chose to question Ida. We walked as fast as my pounding head would allow and stopped her from getting into her car.

  She scowled. “You again? Can’t you leave me alone?”

  “Just a few more questions.” I leaned against the car. “Selling out?”

  “What does it look like? I don’t need all those books. A store in Little Rock purchased them.”

  “I heard the money from Larkin wasn’t yours yet.”

  “It isn’t, but these books fetched a pretty penny. If the rest of you fools don’t sell, I’ll still come away with something. Please step away from the car. I have business to attend to.” She slammed the door closed and started the engine.

  I stepped away. Circumstances surrounding the woman got more interesting with each passing day. She was right. The books would bring in a lot of money. Enough for her to leave Oak Meadows and begin a new life somewhere else. Once the police solved the mystery surrounding her husband’s death, she would be gone.

  By lunchtime, Mom and I had one more store to visit. I stood outside Other People’s Treasures and shuddered. The cluttered, dusty, dark thrift store always gave me the creeps. The owner, a little old lady named Betty Caletti reminded me of every witch picture that terrified little kids.

  “Stop being a baby.” Mom opened the door. “She won’t hurt you.”

  She very well might. I followed Mom inside and stayed near the door where the sun through the window chased away the shadows.

  “Are you going to look around or stand there all day,” Mrs. Caletti cackled.

  “Good morning, Betty.” Mom set the clipboard on the cluttered counter, having to move aside a dusty plastic skull in order to do so. At least I hoped it was plastic. “We’re collecting—” she began.

  “I know why you’re here and the answer is no.” Betty straightened as much as her curved spine would let her. “I’m an old woman. This store barely pays my living expenses. That money will let me spend what’s left of my life in comfort.”

  “But you could sell for much more than that,” Mom said. “To someone who wants to keep Main Street the way it is.”

  “I could, but that would take time. Time I might not have.”

  In my opinion, the woman would probably outlive me. I wasn’t too concerned about her wanting to sell. She’d most likely get the same terms as Ida. As long as we had the support of the majority, the town would be fine. “Thank you for your time.” I backed from the store and back into the safety of the sunshine.

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Mom said. “She’s got to be pushing ninety.”

  “Not a lot of time left to spend even five hundred thousand.” A commotion at the end of the street drew my attention, reminding me horribly of something similar that happened last year.

  Rusty, covered in blood, at least I thought it was blood, raced toward us. He stopped a foot away and bent over, gasping. “Dead. Alley.”

  “Call 911.” Ignoring the hundreds of dwarves mining for gold in my brain, I dashed in the direction Rusty pointed.

  13

  “Where’s the body?” I asked Rusty.

  He pointed to a burlap sack.

  Okay, I might be drugged, but even I could tell the bag was too small to contain a human body. I gasped. What if it only contained a piece of said body? My stomach rebelled.

  “Rats,” Rusty said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Dead rats. Here’s a note.” He thrust a piece of paper, covered in the same red substance he was, at me.

  “Is that blood or paint?”

  “Paint.” He grinned. “I’m painting fire hydrants.”

  Wonderful. I read the note. “Sell and move out or they won’t be dead next time. I will release a plague of Biblical proportions.” I sighed and opened the bag.

  Ten dead rats stared up with vacant eyes. In the distance, the wail of police sirens alerted me to the fact I’d jumped to conclusions. Something I should never do when Rusty was involved.

  I sat on an overturned crate and waited to explain myself to the authorities. “I thought someone was dead, Rusty.”

  “The rats are dead.” He chewed on the cuticle to his right thumb.

  “Yes, they are.” I glanced to the end of the alley where Matt and Wayne rushed toward us.

  “Where’s the body?” Matt scanned the area.

  “More than one actually.” I pointed to the sack. “I misunderstood. I’m sorry.”

  “Vermin?” Wayne frowned. “You called 911 because of a bag of dead rats?”

  “There is a threatening note.” I held out the paper. “Rusty cried body and I had Mom call you.” I pushed to my feet. “In my defense, there was an actual body the last time he did this.”

  “True.” Matt took my face in his hands. “How are you feeling? You aren’t overdoing things, are you?”

  “Trying not to.” I forced a smile, doing my best to ignore the ache in my head.

  He turned to Mom, who rushed into the alley through the back door of her shop. “I think Stormi needs to go home.” He kissed the end of my nose with promises to stop by later, then turned to his partner. “Let’s bag the rats and note and head back to the precinct.”

  I followed Mom into the shop and motioned for Rusty to come with us. I gave him a cupcake and sent him on his way after a lecture about what was important enough to scare someone and what wasn’t. And, he had scared me.

  After the last few mysteries I’d gotten involved in, I expected to find a dead body around every corner. The fact that Jim Worthington was the only one killed so far, set my nerves on edge. I was happy no one else had died, but couldn’t help waiting for the other shoe to drop. It really wasn’t a healthy way to live.

  Mom drove me home where Mary Ann waited on the front porch. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” Mom said. “Get some rest.”

  I headed straight to the kitchen and to the notepad of notes. “We got everyone on Main Street to sign except for Mrs. Caletti. She wants to retire in style.”

  “It’s better than selling used junk.” Mary Ann plunked a pain pill and a glass of water in front of me.

  I declined the pill, wanting to be able to think straight, but guzzled the water. “The thing that’s strange to me is … the people who are selling don’t seem to care that the property is worth twice what Larkin is paying. The majority realizes the true value and either wants to wait until some
time in the future to sell or plans on working indefinitely.” I stared at the pad of paper, jotting notes from the day’s conversations next to each name.

  “Those who aren’t selling are being harassed. Silly things, like a group of kids are behind the pranks.”

  “Nothing vicious enough to warrant Jim’s death?”

  “No.” I sat back in my chair. “I almost feel as if we’re dealing with two different, but related, mysteries.”

  “As in someone wanted Jim dead and someone else wants the businesses to sell?”

  “Exactly.”

  She sat across from me. “Which leads us right back to the jolly widow.”

  “And Steve Larkins is the one threatening the businesses. All we have to do now is prove it.”

  She grabbed a banana from a bowl in the middle of the table and peeled it. “The thing that strikes me as strange is Larkin’s delivery. If the pranks against the businesses seem childish, that goes against what I’ve seen of the man.”

  I shrugged. “Make things annoying enough and everyone has a price.” I glanced out the window to see Mrs. Rogers tape a sheet of paper to one neighbor’s house and move to the next one.

  “Take her for example. She thinks if she can get enough signatures from the neighbors, or irritates me enough, I’ll up and move.”

  “What do you think she’s saying now?”

  “That I’m an evil murderer who belongs behind bars. She doesn’t believe that we were only plotting to kill her on paper.”

  “What’s our next step?”

  “A sting operation? A stakeout?” It was impossible for me to watch Ida and Steve at the same time, and almost as impossible for me to delegate and let someone else watch one of them. Yet, I couldn’t be in two places at once. Mom and Greta would have to watch one or the other.

  Dakota! He had equipment that would come in handy. I bolted from my chair and upstairs with Mary Ann close on my heels.

  “My nephew has spy equipment somewhere. See if you can find anything.”

  “I’ll check the closet.” She rummaged through boxes on the top shelf. “Uh-oh. You need to see this.” She turned with a shoe box in one hand.