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

by Cynthia Hickey

  “Don’t you care about the safety of your grandson?” Tears welled in Angela’s eyes. She tended to resort to tears when Mom didn’t take her side. “Don’t you want him to live past the age of eighteen?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I do, but I also know that kids are going to do what they want to do regardless of my wishes.” Mom grinned and rubbed her hands together. “So, where do we start in the morning?”

  “I’m pretty sure the police found anything of significance.” Angela’s eyes dried miraculously. “Remember, I work at the station. I have full confidence in the ability of our police force.”

  Mom and I glanced at each other, then ducked our heads to hide our grins. I had confidence in Matt, and possibly Wayne, but the other two regular officers spent more time behind their desks then they did pounding the pavements. No, I’ve come to realize that things moved a lot faster with my help. Not always in a good way, but I tended to stir things up until something happened to solve the case.

  “Dakota can still help.” I ripped off the sheet of paper with the names of our suspects. “Go online tomorrow and find anything out of the ordinary about these people. Don’t skip over anything.”

  “I can do this.” He took the paper and raced upstairs.

  “Go to bed!” Angela called after him. “You can do that in the morning.”

  “He doesn’t have to go to school?” Cherokee frowned. “Maybe I’m in danger. Maybe I should stay home.”

  “This is your senior year.” Angela took a deep breath. “You have to go to school.”

  “This isn’t fair. He has all the fun.” She flounced from the room.

  “I need to get my own place,” my sister moaned. “This house is a bad influence on my children.”

  Right. Blame it on my house. I shrugged. “I’m going to bed. See y’all in the morning.”

  I’d no sooner put my foot on the bottom stair than the doorbell rang. Figuring it to be Matt, I opened the door without looking out the window and found myself propelled backward by a punch from the meaty fist of Mrs. Davidson. Before I could scramble to my feet, she grabbed the front of my shirt, yanked me up, and slammed me into the wall.

  My family raced to the rescue, piling on top of us like football players after a fumble and collapsing Mrs. Davidson on top of me. I couldn’t breathe. “Get. Off.”

  I rolled from under the pile and grabbed my Tazer from my purse. “Watch out.” I zapped our late night visitor and watched as Mom and Angela tied her hands behind her with strands of crochet yarn and left her trussed up on the floor.

  Mrs. Davidson glared at me, but, since she was unable to speak, I relaxed and pulled up a chair. “I understand that you are distraught,” I said. “I forgive you. But, I will not hesitate to zap you again if you try to hurt me. Blink if you understand.”

  She blinked.

  “Great. The effects of the Tazer will wear off in a few seconds and you will have an opportunity to tell me why you hit me.” I rubbed my throbbing jaw, knowing that with my fair skin, I’d sport a colorful bruise by morning.

  “I called Matthew,” Mom said. “He’s on his way.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t have. Mrs. Davidson?”

  She nodded and scooted to a sitting position. “It’s your fault my son is dead. If you hadn’t of come snooping around my place, he would still be alive.”

  “That isn’t the slightest bit true. Your son was involved in dangerous activities. A life of crime doesn’t pay.” I glanced at the door as Matt barged in.

  “Are you all right?” He knelt in front of me. Taking my face in his strong hands, he turned my head from one side to the next. “You’re going to have a nice bruise in the morning.”

  “I’m fine. I’m not pressing charges, but I could use a couple of aspirin.”

  Matt transferred his attention to my assailant. “Why are you here to assault Miss Nelson?”

  Tears poured down the woman’s round cheeks. “She’s the last known person Phil talked to.”

  Not true. But I wasn’t going to implicate my nephew, and I didn’t know the identity of his killer.

  “That doesn’t give you the right to attack her.” He sniffed. “How much have you had to drink?”

  “One glass of wine.”

  “I doubt that. You reek.” He helped her to her feet. “I’m going to untie you and call you a cab. You’re in no shape to drive. If you make a move to attack Miss Nelson again, she has every right to defend herself. Understand?”

  She eyed the Tazer in my hand and nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted. Do you have any idea who might have killed your son?” I moved my jaw back and forth, grateful it still worked.

  “No.” She slumped onto the sofa. “My son was nothing more than a loveable fool. I’d been on him for months to stop peddling drugs. Nothing big, but even a baggie was too much, right? I thought for a while, he had found other work to do.”

  Matt nodded.

  “Before he left the house tonight, he said he had information for Miss Nelson but had to make sure he had his facts straight before talking to her.” She raised red-rimmed eyes to me. “I assumed he had made it here before being killed. I couldn’t think past that.”

  “You have no idea what he was going to tell me?”

  She shook her head. “Only that he mentioned you were in danger.”

  17

  After a sleepless night of Mrs. Davidson’s warning ringing in my head, and dreams of Dad’s murder over five years ago, I stood in front of Rocking Reads. If I were honest with myself, I might not have chosen to solve, and thus write, romantic true crime mysteries to cater to new readers, but it was really because of Dad’s unsolved murder that kept me stepping into dangerous territory.

  It wasn’t that I had no faith in law enforcement, not really, but they were often overworked or a case was shadowed by something new and more violent. Dad’s murder had been chalked up to a burglary gone wrong, and while I had no reason to believe otherwise, the thought of helping other people get the closure my family never got, helped keep me investigating.

  I couldn’t enter through the front door of the bookstore, not with crime scene tape flapping in the morning breeze. Nor could I go around to the alley until Mary Ann brought me my coffee. Well, I could, but I chose not to. My brain needed caffeine in order to function.

  “You’re pretty deep in thought.” Mary Ann handed me my drink. “See anything the cops missed?”

  I shrugged. “Not unless they didn’t notice the gaping hole in the window streaked with dried blood.” Why didn’t someone cover up the evidence of a murder with a tarp or something? “I want to go inside. There has to be a reason why Jim Worthington, the owner, and Phil Davidson, a small-time drug peddler, were both killed in the vicinity of this shop.”

  “Let’s go through the bakery and snag a cupcake.” Mary Ann led the way into Heavenly Bakes.

  What a tremendously good idea. We pushed through the door of the bakery and made a beeline for the counter.

  Mom handed me a red velvet cupcake with cream cheese frosting. “Your favorite.”

  “Yes, it is.” I took a bite and closed my hands in pleasure.

  “Greta and I aren’t able to help you today,” she said. “We have a big order that must be done by tomorrow.”

  “Mary Ann and I will manage. I’ll fill you in later.” I stuffed the last bite in my mouth, wiped my hands on a nearby rag, and pushed open the back door. “You need to get this lock fixed.”

  “I know.”

  If she would have fixed it a few weeks ago, Jim would never have been shoved into a vat of chocolate in her store in the first place. I told Mary Ann to make a note. If Mom wasn’t going to fix it, then I would.

  I stepped into the alley and blinked against the sun’s brightness. Jim had been killed next to the dumpster and dragged into Mom’s shop. Phil had been thrown through Jim’s store window. My gaze fell on where the fence had been freshly painted, covering the words in red. P
aint, drugs, and murder were all related to this alley somehow.

  A sheet of paper bounced and danced between the cars. I bent and retrieved it. “Get rid of smut. Run Stormi Nelson out of town.” I rolled my eyes, crushed the paper into a ball, and tossed it into the dumpster. Good luck, Mrs. Rogers.

  I turned and stared at the back of the line of shops. There was nothing to distinguish one from the other. While the storefronts were cheerful in their vintage style, the back was a mundane taupe color. No numbers, no names, nothing but a clean line broken by doors.

  I turned again, studying the fence. Cars and dumpsters filled the space to the point where little room was left to even tell what color the fence was. At the time Jim had been killed, most likely Phil, too, there wouldn’t have been many, if any, cars in the parking spots.

  “Give me a boost,” I told Mary Ann. “I’m going diving.”

  She grimaced. “At least there won’t be rotten food.”

  That’s what I was hoping. “I’m not hopeful. I’m sure this was dumped and combed through since Jim’s murder.” But, I had nothing else to go on. Mary Ann bent over so I could climb on her back, then tossed me inside.

  “Oh, my gosh!”

  “What?” She peered over.

  “Look at all these books Ida is throwing away.” I held perfectly good books in my hands. They weren’t first addition or even classics, so not worth a lot of money. But, they were readable and someone would find them enjoyable

  “Take these. We’ll donate them to the library.” It was a grave sin and a huge waste to throw a perfectly good book in the trash. “Rifle through the pages first, to make sure nothing important is inside, then stack them on top of Mom’s car.” The morning was worth the digging if for nothing more than saving the books.

  “I haven’t found anything in the books,” Mary Ann said.

  “All right.” I wiped my dusty hands on my pants. “I’m not finding anything either.” I grasped the edge of the dumpster and prepared to pull myself out when my gaze fell on a cardboard box with an address label to the bookstore.

  I picked up the box. The postmark was yesterday. “Why would someone be shipping anything to Rocking Reads when the store has been closed for over a week?”

  “Maybe it was mailed before Jim’s death?”

  “No. The postmark is Oak Meadows and yesterday.” Why would someone mail something when it would be easier to just have it delivered? “There’s no return address.”

  “Here.” Mary Ann held up a paper sack. “I came prepared. Drop it in here. We’ll give it to Matt.”

  “You’re so smart.” The box now had my fingerprints on it, but that wouldn’t be a big deal once I told Matt. “I’m getting out, now.” I hooked my leg over the top. “Catch me.”

  “What?”

  Busy with the bag and possible evidence, Mary Ann had turned away, leaving me to fend for myself. Which never went well.

  I fell to the ground with enough force to move the dumpster a few inches toward the fence. I lay in the dirt and gravel, fighting to catch my breath. My gaze fell on a metal grate under the dumpster. Ignoring the pain in my hip, I stretched my arm until my fingers touched the grate.

  “See if you can push the dumpster farther. I see something.” I turned and planted my feet against the painted green side and shoved, ignoring the pain in my side.

  Hurting and sweaty, with Mary Ann’s help, the dumpster moved until I was able to grab the grate and pull it off the hole. “There’s something inside.” I dragged out a stained canvas bag. Now that I was on the ground, I could easily see grooves in the dirt where the dumpster had been moved before.

  “Do all the dumpsters have a hole under them?” Mary Ann reached out a hand and helped me to my feet.

  “I have no idea. I’ve never looked.” I groaned and sagged against Mom’s car. If I looked, I was sure I’d have a huge scrape along my side. “Why didn’t you catch me?”

  “My hands were full. You should have waited until I was ready.”

  I set the bag on Mom’s trunk and loosened the drawstring. Inside was a can of red spray paint, a cigarette lighter, and a baggy with traces of dried green leaves. “Bingo.” Now to find out who the bag belonged to. My guess was Phil Davidson.

  Mary Ann held open the brown paper bag which was quickly filling up with evidence. “Good thing I brought a grocery bag and not a sandwich one.” She grinned. “I was being optimistic.”

  Tires crunched along the gravel of the alley. I yanked open Mom’s car door and tossed the bag onto the back seat as Dennis Franklin stopped his mail carrier car next to us.

  “Good morning, ladies.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What are the two of you doing back here?”

  “Rescuing books from the dumpster.” I crossed my arms. “Please tell Ida that just because a book doesn’t carry a high price tag with collectors doesn’t mean it’s worthless.”

  “I’ll be sure to tell her. I delivered some yesterday, even. She forgot to cancel some of the orders. Why are you digging in the garbage in the first place?” His dark eyes, so similar to ones a person might see on a shark, stayed glued on my face.

  “Mom lost an earring. Please keep an eye out while you’re delivering mail. She thinks she might have accidentally tossed it, but we haven’t found it.”

  “I’ll ask around, but something like that will be hard to find.” He gave a nod, glanced toward the dumpster, and drove away.

  “I thought he was going to blind us with those shoes,” Mary Ann said. “Did you notice them? Fluorescent lime green. Wow.”

  “I was too busy trying to keep him from seeing what we had in the back seat.” I gathered up our evidence and hurried into the bakery. I could shove everything into one of Mom’s large cake boxes and no one would be the wiser when I walked to my car.

  “Why are you limping?” Mom frowned, glancing up from where she put candied rose petals onto a cupcake.

  “I fell out of the dumpster. If Dennis Franklin asks, you haven’t found your earring.”

  “I’m not even going to ask,” she said.

  “That’s probably best,” Greta added coming from the front of the store. “If we don’t know, then we’re innocent if questioned.”

  I shook my head and squeezed everything, except the books and the bookstore’s latest delivery, into a cake box. “See you at home.” I motioned for Mary Ann to follow me out front. We climbed into my car and hurried to the police station.

  Angela glanced up from her desk as we rushed inside and frowned. Just once, I’d like for my older sister to be happy to see me. “What now?”

  “I thought you were staying home with Dakota?” I propped the box on my hip.

  “He didn’t want me to.”

  She probably blamed me somehow for that, too. “Is Matt around?”

  She punched a button on her desk, informed him I was here, as if she were alerting him to a horrible plague, then motioned me back.

  “Thank you.” I hurried down the hall, Mary Ann on my heels.

  “Hey, gorgeous.” Matt stepped from a conference room. Behind him, Michael Barker beamed at Mary Ann. Matt glanced from him to his sister and frowned.

  “Hush,” I whispered. “They like each other. Do you have a minute?”

  “A quick one.” He glared over his shoulder at Barker, then ushered me into his office. “Did you bring a cake?”

  “No.” I explained what had transpired in the alley and set the box on his desk. “It might be nothing, but we thought it worth looking into.”

  “Good work.” He leaned against his desk. “Sweetheart, I’ve been thinking of what you asked in regards to me sponsoring you for a private investigator’s license.”

  “And?” Please don’t say no.

  “I’ve been talking to some people and everyone agrees that it would be a conflict of interest. I’m going to have Wayne do it.”

  My hopes fell. “He doesn’t like me.”

  “Sure he does.” Matt cupped my cheek. “He
just doesn’t always agree with how you get your information. But … he is a stickler for the rules. Keep a log of everything you do. It will help.” He brushed his lips against mine. “I’ll stop by later and let you know what we find out about this stuff.”

  I nodded. “Okay. Mary Ann and I will be making a stop at the library before heading home.” Where, hopefully, Dakota had found some interesting information on our suspects.

  “Please let me know if my son is not at home,” Angela said as we passed her desk. “I’m really counting on you to respect my wishes in this regard.”

  “Definitely.” I tossed her a wave. “Keep your ears and eyes open.”

  She sighed. “You only put up with me for what information I might discover.”

  “Of course.” I went outside and leaned against the car to wait for Mary Ann.

  Down the street, Ida pulled in front of Rocking Reads. Without a glance to see whether anyone was watching, she ducked under the crime scene tape and into the building.

  18

  I waved for Mary Ann to hurry and took off after Ida. With a glance in both directions first, I followed the woman into the dark recesses of the store. She wasn’t anywhere in sight, and I couldn’t help but think of every B-horror movie where the Too-Stupid-To-Live heroine follows the killer into a dark building.

  Mary Ann rushed into the building and barreled into me. I shrieked and turned, ready to fight.

  “Don’t do that.” I put down my fists. “You scared me.”

  “What are we doing in here?”

  “I saw Ida come in. Shush.”

  A muffled thud came from across the room, sending me and Mary Ann into a quick duck behind the counter. With the shelves empty of books, magazines, and anything to do with reading, the room echoed like a cave.

  “Stay close and stay quiet.” Staying low, I used the bookshelves as cover and I worked my way toward the small room at the back of the shop.

  A melody rang out, then Ida’s voice answering it. I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing at the tune that was reminiscent of a strip tease with a feathered boa.