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

by Cynthia Hickey

  I agreed. If she was, and he found out she was playing him, my sister might be the next person whose head got shoved into a vat of chocolate. Or worse. Almost any way of dying would be worse in my opinion.

  I leaned on her desk. “I need you to do something for me.”

  “More? Haven’t I done enough?” She rolled her eyes.

  “Do you have his number?”

  She nodded.

  “I want you to text him and ask him to meet you at the park tonight at seven o’clock.” I held up a hand to ward off her protest. “I’ll be the one actually meeting him.”

  “Not alone!”

  Aww. My big sister did care about me. “Have you seen the park in the summer? It’s crowded. I won’t be alone.”

  “That’s right,” Mom said, stepping up behind us. “I knew you two were up to something dangerous, so I followed you. I’ll be hiding in the bushes tonight with my cell phone ready to dial 911.”

  23

  “Aunt Stormi?” Dakota hovered in the doorway of my bedroom.

  I turned from the mirror. My hair was in a ponytail and out of my face. I had on my running shoes, just in case, and wore my most comfortable Capri yoga pants. If things turned nasty, I was pretty confident I could outrun Dennis. “What’s up?”

  “I thought you could use these.” He opened his hand. “Earpieces. One for you and one for your sidekick. Grandma, I guess. They’ll be able to hear everything that goes on.”

  “This is wonderful.” I slipped the earpiece over my ear and removed the hair tie from my hair. I could bear the heat of long hair if it meant my safety. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be in the house with a tape recorder,” he said. “We’ll get everything that happens on tape. That should give us all the evidence we need to convict Mr. Franklin.”

  I clapped him on the shoulder. “You, my dear, are an excellent detective.”

  “Remember that when I’m eighteen and we go into business together,” he said, walking beside me.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever stop writing books, Dakota. My private investigator license is to help me do that.”

  “You never know what the future holds. I have two years for you to change your mind.”

  He did indeed. Right now, I had something else entirely that needed my full attention.

  Mom, dressed all in black as she always insisted on doing when we ventured out at night, paced the kitchen floor. Angela sat at the table, drumming her fingers, and staring at what looked like recording equipment.

  “Mom, you do realize it won’t be dark for another two hours, right?” I grabbed a couple of water bottles from the fridge. “Not to mention, you’re going to swelter in that get-up.”

  “I can’t be seen. That will ruin the entire plan.”

  I rolled my eyes and grabbed a small backpack I used on the rare occasions I went hiking. I tossed in the water, my gun, my Tazer, and two granola bars. It never hurt to be prepared.

  “All you have to do is push the little button on the back of the device,” Dakota instructed. “Don’t forget. If you don’t press it, we can’t hear you, and you’ll be out there alone.”

  “Not alone.” Mom held up a finger. “I’m there.”

  “You’re wearing one, too.” He handed Mom an earpiece and pulled the beanie off her head. “You have to cover it with your hair.”

  “But my hair shines in the moonlight.” She patted her blond strands.

  “It isn’t dark yet.” I slung the backpack over my shoulder. “Let’s go.” I pressed the button so I wouldn’t forget and rushed out the front door.

  I had fifteen minutes to get to the assigned bench by the fountain. Once Dennis showed up and realized he’d been tricked, I expected to have to do some fast talking to keep him from getting physical. If he was Jim’s and Phil’s killer, as I suspected, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill again. I’d be the one in his line of fire.

  “I’m trusting you to call Matt right away if something goes wrong,” I said to Mom as we got into the car.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll call him and every other law enforcement officer I can get on the line.”

  I was counting on it. I had texted Matt where I was going but hadn’t heard back. It was for the best. He’d only try to convince me not to go.

  I parked as close to the designated spot as I deemed safe. “Show time.” I glanced at my watch. I had five minutes to get to the bench. “I don’t know how much he will be able to hear if you start talking, so talk softly, okay?”

  Mom nodded. “I’ll be behind those thick bushes over there. I’ll be able to see, and hear, everything.”

  I nodded and, clutching my backpack like a lifeline, made my way to the carved concrete bench and perched on the edge. The five foot fountain, depicting frolicking dolphins, bubbled away. Children screamed and laughed from nearby play equipment. It was the safest and most crowded section of the park.

  The early evening sun warmed my shoulders, and despite a slight breeze, a fine sheen of perspiration appeared on my upper lip. Arkansas summer humidity at its finest. I slapped at a mosquito and waited. And waited. And waited.

  By seven thirty, I knew Dennis was a no-show.

  “Where is he?” Mom’s voice came through my earpiece.

  “Not here.” I stood and arched my back to get the kinks out. “Sorry, Dakota. You recorded a half hour of nothing.”

  “Better than recording your death,” he said.

  True. Very, very true.

  Mom joined me. “Let’s take a drive through town. If we’re lucky enough to spot him, we can come up with another plan.”

  “Makes as much sense as anything.” We’d come that far, and I didn’t want to return home without accomplishing my mission.

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” Dakota said through the earpiece. “Matt and Wayne are here at the house listening to everything you do.”

  “Thanks for the warning.” I grinned.

  My man was never far away when I put myself into a dangerous situation. If he could tie me up to keep me safe, he would. Unfortunately, he knew that would put a very large wedge between us. As long as I didn’t break the law, which I did my best not to do anymore, he let me do my thing.

  I drove down Main Street as slowly as possible, only speeding up if an impatient driver got behind me. “We should park and walk.”

  “I agree. Your driving is making me nuts.”

  “I’m only trying to see between the buildings.” I pulled into a vacant spot in front of the drugstore. “If I go too fast, we might miss him.”

  Mom shoved open her door. “We don’t even know if he’s here.”

  Maybe not, but a Mrs. Rogers walking at the pace of a speedwalker and looking over her shoulder might be just as good as finding Dennis Franklin. I shoved open my door and hurried to catch up with her.

  “Mrs. Rogers. Wait.” Thankful for my gym shoes, I jogged to her side. “Are you all right?”

  “Go away. I need to get home.”

  “My mother and I can give you a ride. We’re here to locate Dennis Franklin, but—”

  She grabbed my arm and yanked me between the bank and an empty storefront. “You don’t want to mess with that man.” She wagged her finger in my face. “I know you’re nosy and like to stick your nose into things that don’t concern you, but that man is—” She glanced over my shoulder and paled.

  I turned to see a plump man wearing a ski mask and lime green sneakers aiming a gun at us. And, in typical fashion, I’d left my backpack, which contained my gun and Tazer, in the car with Mom.

  The gunman motioned for Mrs. Rogers and I to proceed down the alley and into a blue panel van. At first, I thought maybe the two of us could overpower him and take his gun, but Mrs. Rogers shook like an old Chihuahua and the papers, more fliers to run me out of town, rattled in her hands like skeletal bones. Our only chance to stay alive at this point was to cooperate.

  I put my hand on her elbow and helped her into the van. The gunman yanked the fliers from
her hand and tossed them toward a dumpster. They fluttered to the ground and away from us like fuschia-colored leaves.

  “Get in,” he ordered.

  I climbed in the back. “Where are we going?”

  “Shut up.” He slammed the door, casting us into darkness. Seconds later, the van roared to life and we headed to only God knew where.

  “Aunt Stormi?” Dakota’s whisper reminded me I had more company than just an old lady who disliked me.

  “Yes.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In the back of a van. I’m pretty sure my abductor is Dennis Franklin. He’s wearing lime green gym shoes and driving a blue panel van. Mrs. Rogers is with me.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Mrs. Rogers peered through the gloom at my face. “Or are you so touched in the head that you’re talking to yourself?”

  I moved my hair and showed her the earpiece. “You are now part of a sting operation, Mrs. Rogers. Hush.”

  “I’m following the van,” Mom said. “It turned onto Highway 64.”

  “Stormi?” Matt’s voice brought tears to my eyes. “Do whatever you have to, but do not, I repeat, do not, provoke him.”

  “I’ll do my best, but if he lays hands on me…”

  Dennis banged on the wall. “No talking!”

  “I’m telling your mother, Dennis Franklin.” Mrs. Rogers shouted back. “I don’t care if she is in a nursing home. She deserves to know what a low-down snake her son is.”

  The van swerved and came to a stop sudden enough to dump us onto the floor. “Please, stop, Mrs. Rogers. We don’t want to die tonight.” I got to my hands and knees, ready to fight if need be.

  The back of the van opened. Dennis reached in, hit Mrs. Rogers in the head with a two-foot board, knocking her unconscious, then climbed back out. “I said no talking. Stupid women who don’t listen.” He slammed the door closed again.

  I scrambled to the old woman’s side and felt for a pulse. Steady, but weak. “He hit Mrs. Rogers, but she’s still alive. I have to stop talking.”

  “Then just listen,” Matt said. “Is there anything you can use as a weapon? One grunt for yes, two for no.”

  The van started moving again, making my own movements clumsy. I crawled around the back of the van, encountering nothing more than empty food wrappers. I grunted twice.

  “I’m right behind the van,” Mom said. “The next time Dennis gets out, I’ll hit him with the car.”

  “Do not do that, Anne,” Matt told her.

  My mother was going to get me killed. I scooted until my back was against the side of the van. I was weaponless with no food or water and at the mercy of a madman. I tried to think of where he could possibly be taking me.

  “I think someone needs to contact Ida and make sure she’s all right. If she broke things off with Dennis, he could be a bit deranged.” I kept my voice as low as possible.

  The van slowed, finally coming to a stop. A shot rang out. Mom screamed.

  I bolted to my feet and banged against the van door. “Let me out! He fired a shot, Matt. He’s trying to kill my mother.”

  “Hush, Stormi,” Matt said. “He just called us asking for five hundred thousand dollars ransom for you. Cooperate. You’re more valuable to him alive.”

  The van doors opened and I fell to the ground. Rocks dug into my hands and knees.

  Dennis wrapped his fist into my hair and yanked me to my feet. He ripped the earpiece from my ear and bashed it with the butt of his gun. “Now, get over there with your nosy mother.”

  I was so relieved to see that he had only shot out the tire on my car that I sagged against the Mercedes. Mom wrapped her arms around me. “I still have my earpiece,” she whispered.

  I nodded and watched as he dragged Mrs. Rogers from the van. Her head bounced against the fender, then the ground.

  “Mrs. Rogers needs medical attention,” I said loud enough, I hoped, to be heard through Mom’s earpiece.

  “Stupid woman. She can lay there and rot.” He laughed. “After all, where’s she going to go?” He motioned for Mom and I to move ahead of him. “I have the perfect little cabin to stash you two in,” he said. “Maybe I’ll up the ransom to include your mother. A bestselling author such as Stormi Nelson should have enough money in her account. If not, I’m sure the bakery will bring in enough funds for me to live quite nicely in Barbados.”

  “What did you do with Ida?” I asked.

  24

  “I didn’t do anything with that nagging harpy.” He unlocked the front door on a ramshackle cabin. “Watch your step. These boards are rotting. You won’t bring me any money dead.”

  That’s a relief. At least he didn’t intend on killing us, at least not right away. I took Mom’s arm and steered her around a hole in the porch floor. Behind us, Mrs. Rogers twitched. Thank you, God, she was still breathing. Hopefully, she would gain consciousness in time to help us.

  “Sit over there.” Dennis waved us toward a sofa so stained the original color was indistinguishable and stuffing was visible through several holes. “I don’t want to tie you two up, but I will if I have to. I’m not a fan of violence against women.”

  “Tell that to Mrs. Rogers,” I muttered.

  “That couldn’t be helped.” He scowled. “I have a bad back. There was no way I could lift her and lower her gently to the ground.”

  “The obvious reason for killing Jim Worthington was for his money,” I said, glancing out the window in hopes Mrs. Rogers had moved. She hadn’t. “But why put him in the bakery?”

  “I couldn’t leave him in the alley.” Dennis shook his head and glanced at his watch. “I needed time to establish my alibi. A smart sleuth such as yourself should know that.”

  “I guess it messed up your plans that shop owners weren’t willing to sell out.”

  Why couldn’t Mom sit still? She moved around next to me like a child who needed to go potty.

  “Yes, but there are other ways to achieve the same means. When Ida found out I liked the ladies a bit too much, she kicked me out. Won’t even share her husband’s life insurance.” He shook his head as if the thought was completely alien to him. “We had a deal, her and I. If she came into a lot of money, we would get married and go away together.”

  “Then, you would kill her.”

  “No! I love her, as much as I’m able to love just one woman.”

  “Does she know you killed her husband?”

  “I don’t think so.” He frowned at Mom. “Why do you keep fidgeting?”

  “I need to use the restroom.”

  “I doubt it works, but it’s through that door.”

  She dashed into the room and slammed the door.

  “Did you kill Phil?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “The nosy little twerp saw something he shouldn’t. Didn’t his mother ever tell him that painting graffiti on public property would get him in trouble?”

  Mom raced past the cabin window. My mouth fell open. She left me. My mother left me alone with a madman. She stooped beside Mrs. Rogers, glanced around, and sprinted down the dirt road away from the cabin.

  “Oh, well.” Dennis shrugged. “I’ll be gone before she can get help. You’re the one worth the real money.”

  “You do know that just because I’m an author doesn’t make me rich, right?” Such a common misconception. I’ve done all right for myself, and have no complaints, but I’m no Janet Evanovich or Stephen King.

  “I read a magazine article on you when you made your first million dollars.” He waved the gun at me. “So, don’t pretend you don’t have any money. I only want half.”

  He pulled up a rickety wooden chair, sat down, and stared at me. “You’re quite lovely. You wouldn’t contemplate coming to the tropics with me, would you?”

  I shook my head. “I prefer a more solid, trustworthy type of man, but thanks for the offer.” Like Matt. Where was my mother?

  “Oh, look,” he said, glancing out the window. “Mrs. Rogers is gone. That’s good. I was wo
ndering how I was going to back the van out of the yard with her body in the way.” Another look at his watch and we were leaving the cabin and heading for the van.

  “Are we heading for the ransom drop?” I reached for the van doorhandle.

  “You may sit up front.” He shook his head. “I can’t take you with me, dear. I’ll leave you in a secure location and tell the police where to find you once I am long gone.”

  “Why not here?”

  “I want to be out of the country before your mother leads them here. My best chance of that is to leave you somewhere else.” He tapped the barrel of the pistol against his head. “I have a backup plan.”

  “Did you plan for this?” Mrs. Rogers hit him across the side of the head with the very board he had knocked her out with.

  He crumbled to the ground like a balloon that had suddenly lost its air. The gun slid under the van.

  “I hope you have something to tie him up with,” she said, handing me my purse. “I got this out of the van. I’m feeling nauseous.” She turned away and lost her dinner in the dirt.

  I crawled under the van and retrieved the gun. “Help me drag him to the cabin.”

  “Just lock him in the back of the van.” She leaned against the vehicle. “We can drive back to town.”

  “Duh.” I fished the keys from his front pocket and, with Mrs. Rogers’s help, hoisted him into the back of the van.

  Leaving her to climb into the front seat, I raced for the cabin and searched until I found a length of rope. Back at the van, I tied Dennis’s hands and feet together, locked the back of the van and slid behind the steering wheel.

  I grinned at Mrs. Rogers. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” She waved a hand in my direction, keeping her eyes closed. “Drive carefully, please. I do believe I have a concussion.”

  I started the van and steered it down the dirt road. Night had fallen and that far out in the country it got very dark. I turned on the van lights and illuminated my mother on the side of the road.She was bent over at the waist, struggling for breath.