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

by Cynthia Hickey

  Maryann looked up Susan Burnett’s phone number and placed the call. When she hung up, she smiled. “She was excited to hear you want to join her garden club and can see us now.”

  “Then, let’s go.” I waved at Norma, then headed back to the car. It sure seemed like I spent a lot of time in my Mercedes lately.

  “Isn’t that Dakota?” Maryann pointed to a young man ducking around the corner at the end of the street.

  “Yep.” I switched directions and went after my once again truant nephew.

  We chased him down the alley, well, not as in ran, but as in followed. He darted between buildings, coming out across from the bank. He lifted a camera and snapped a photo as Hank Caldwell planted a kiss on Cheryl Miller. It looked as if the mistress had found herself another man…in record time, too.

  When Dakota ducked back into the alley, I grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking photos.” He looked up at me as if to say ‘duh’. “I took this camera from Mr. Dixon’s shop. He’d always told me that it would be mine someday.”

  “It’s still stealing until his estate is settled.”

  “Then, I’m borrowing it.”

  “Why aren’t you in school?”

  “Teacher development day.” He put the lens cap on the camera. “Did you see those two across the street? Eew. Since you won’t let me skip school,” he looked as if that were cruel and unusual punishment, “I have to do what I can when I can. Want to see what I’ve uncovered?”

  “Here or at the house?”

  “The house.”

  “We’re headed to Susan Burnett’s. Can we meet you at home in an hour or so?”

  He nodded. “I’ll get these photos developed by then. You should really build me a dark room if I’m going to be your photographer.” He raced away.

  My IT guy and my photographer. Angela was going to kill me. She had her hopes on her son being a doctor or a lawyer, not working for her sister. I didn’t plan on renewing my PI license indefinitely. What would Dakota do then?

  I shrugged and walked back to the car with Maryann. This time, we had no diversions and soon found ourselves in front of a two-story, plantation style house on the outskirts of town. It might not be the mayor’s mansion, but it was close. “Does being the mayor pay this well?”

  “Susan’s family has money,” Maryann said. “It’s rumored that that’s why Lincoln married her. They’ve been in this town since its beginning. They used to be an upstanding family. Susan is all that is left of the Sharps.”

  “I love how full of information you are.”

  “I’m a nerd.” She grinned. “I love to read the town’s history and gossip columns.”

  “I’m glad you’re a nerd.” I redid my bun, brushed some dust from my pants, and exited the car.

  The Burnett home had a crushed shell walk up to the house and a lion’s head doorknocker. To the right was a button. I pushed it and listened as Winchester chimes rang out. While I waited for someone to answer the door, I surveyed the yard beyond the curving driveway.

  Sculpted bushes, trailing ivy, and oaks sporting their autumn splendor proved that any garden Susan might have would be something to see indeed. I couldn’t wait to get a load of it come spring.

  A woman in a simple grey dress answered the door. “Is Mrs. Burnett expecting you?”

  “Yes. I’m Stormi Nelson, and this is Maryann Steele. We have an appointment.”

  “This way, please. Mrs. Burnett is in the garden.”

  The very place I wanted to go. Excitement bubbled up in me. I didn’t have time for gardening, but did enjoy the beauty of a well-tended lawn. Not to mention that the more work I had for Rusty, the less time he had to snoop in other people’s windows.

  Speaking of. I stopped short to see Rusty trimming a dead rose bush. Why was my gardener in Susan Burnett’s garden?

  “Miss Stormi?” Rusty brandished gardening shears in my direction. “Mrs. Burnett pay me ten dollars, too. I’m going to be rich.”

  “That’s nice.” I narrowed my eyes in Susan’s direction.

  She gave me a smug smile. “My gardener quit. I’m training Rusty to do things exactly the way I like them.”

  I did not like my friend working for a murder suspect. “Won’t that be a conflict of interest?”

  “How so?” She tilted her head.

  “He worked for me first. If I want to build my garden to the type of standard necessary to compete against you—” She could fill in the blank.

  “I didn’t know you wanted a friendly competition. I thought you only wanted to join my club.”

  “What’s wrong with both? Rusty, I’ll pay you twelve dollars.”

  His eyes widened.

  “Fifteen,” Susan said.

  “Twenty.” I grinned. “You do realize that we aren’t talking about twelve dollars, right? You have to add a zero to it. Rusty just doesn’t understand money.”

  She seemed taken aback. “I can’t afford that.”

  “So, you were taking advantage of him.” I crossed my arms.

  Her cheeks darkened under her carefully applied blush. “This is between me and Rusty.”

  “She’s trying to cheat you, Rusty.”

  He tossed down the shears and stormed out. “Rusty is mad.”

  Susan huffed. “Now, I have to find someone else, and they’ll charge a lot more. I don’t think I want you in my club, Stormi.”

  “That’s fine by me.” I pulled the photographs of her from my purse. “Do these mean anything to you?”

  She covered her mouth with a hand covered with a gardening glove. “How did you get these?”

  I explained about Dixon and how I know had all his files. “I doubt you hired him to take the photos.”

  She shoved them back at me. “These are over two years old. Nobody cares anymore.”

  “Isn’t your ex-husband going to re-run for mayor?” Maryann asked. “That would make these important to someone.”

  I loved how my assistant’s mind worked.

  15

  After our informative meeting with Susan, we headed back to my house so I could write another chapter, give my agent an update on the book, and go over the information Dakota found. My nephew hadn’t arrived yet.

  The one hour photo place must be running behind. I checked the pantry for supper, threw some ground turkey, cheese, salsa, and layered tortillas into a pan and stuck it in the oven. Supper was done.

  While I wrote and answered emails, Maryann worked on stamping postcards on my latest release.

  “Aunt Stormi!” Dakota barreled into my office. “There’s a woman with a kid on the front porch.”

  I turned in my chair. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s me.” Rachel stepped up behind him, holding the hand of the cutest little girl with Matt’s eyes. “I’m headed off on a job. Since you seem bent on marrying her father, here’s your trial period. Her name is Roxi. She no longer takes naps, only eats peanut butter and jelly and macaroni and cheese, and goes to bed at eight o’clock. With me. She won’t sleep alone.” She set a cotton candy colored suitcase on the floor, planted a quick kiss on the child’s cheek, and left.

  I stared at the girl with my mouth open. I started to say something, then clamped my mouth shut while Dakota and Maryann both looked as if Rachel had left an alien in our midst. Which, in a manner of speaking, she had.

  “Call my mother,” I told Maryann. Mom would know what to do. “Oh, and let Matt know his daughter is here. Dakota, put her suitcase in my room.” While they scattered to do my bidding, I held my hand out to the child.

  She came willingly and climbed into my lap. I was hopelessly in love from that moment. Still clueless, but in love.

  “Here.” Maryann thrust her Ipad at me. On the screen, colors swirled. “See?” She moved her finger, causing the colors to dance. “There’s another app for numbers and letters. Matt, and your mother, are both on their way.” She dashed back out as if I’d threatened to set her hair on fire.
>
  “What do you like to talk about?” I gently tugged on a chestnut curl. “I don’t have any toys in the house.” I made a note to go shopping. I moved the child to a different chair, pushed it up to a small round table, and turned to see Matt standing in the doorway.

  Tears ran down his cheeks. He didn’t speak, just stared at his daughter. His throat worked for a few seconds before words emerged. “She’s beautiful.”

  “Just like her daddy,” I said. “Roxi, this is your daddy.”

  She looked up and smiled. That was all it took.

  Matt rushed to her side and swept her in his arms.

  My throat clogged with tears, and I glanced up to meet Mom’s gaze.

  “I’ve always wanted another grandchild,” she said, her eyes shimmering.

  We were all a bunch of saps.

  Matt glanced at me. “I can’t stay.”

  “I know. She’ll be fine.”

  He pulled me close, sandwiching Roxi between us, and kissed me. It felt right, somehow, that there was a child.

  “I’ll be back by supper.”

  I nodded and stepped back as Mom took Roxi from his arms. “We’ll go buy some toys.”

  “Oh, let me.” Mom snuggled her close. “What fun!”

  Just like that, they all left. Funny how lonely I felt. Roxi had been here less than half an hour and already the room felt empty. Maybe I was meant to be a mother after all.

  “Wow.” Maryann came back into my office.

  “Wow is right.” I plopped into my chair. Writing was the least thing on my mind. “Does Dakota have his pictures?”

  “Right here.” He squeezed past Maryann and spread them out on the table. “I didn’t want to bring them in while the kid was here. She might have gotten them dirty.”

  I bit back a grin. “You also said you found out some other information.”

  “Yep.” He glanced up. “There’s a small online magazine that follows the local elections pretty closely. Mayor Burnett is in the middle of a smear campaign with that plastic surgeon. You wouldn’t believe all the stuff they’re saying about each other. My guess…the former mayor plastered the doc’s face on that picture. Now, she’s out to get him good.”

  He tapped the photos he’d taken today. “Cheryl Miller seems to have forgotten all about the principal and moved on. This is quite the seedy town, Aunt Stormi.”

  “I’m beginning to agree with you.” Especially after all that had happened over the last year. “While your information is amazing, we’re still no closer to finding Dixon’s killer.” We had enough suspects to form a baseball team.

  He nodded. “I’ll keep digging, but I’m placing bets on Burnett or Pritchard. They have the most to lose.”

  “I agree.” Now, to figure out our next move.

  “Let’s go over our suspects. Cheryl Miller is upset that Principal Miller won’t leave his wife. Not really a strong motive to kill Dixon when compared to the others. Hank Caldwell is scum, but again, not a strong motive. Susan Burnett’s ex-husband wants to rerun for mayor. Pritchard and the ex-mayor are running against each other. It’s a hodge-podge.”

  Maryann perched on the corner of the desk. “Some of the people on this list aren’t actually the ones who hired Dixon. So…how did they find out it was Dixon surveilling them?”

  “Someone snitched,” Dakota said.

  “But who and why?” I paced the room. “Since Pritchard has hired me, let’s focus on her and Burnett for now.” I speared my nephew with a stern look. “I don’t want you ditching school, but go ahead and continue snooping.” People tended to overlook kids. He might get closer than either I or the police could.

  My laptop dinged, alerting me to an email. I opened it. “Got an email from Caldwell. He wants fifty thousand dollars to do the attic. That sounds reasonable.” I’d still run it past Matt, but with Caldwell under my roof, I’d be able to watch him. “What would be his motive for killing Dixon?”

  The other two thought for a minute, then Maryann spoke up. “Maybe he’s afraid it will hurt his business? Oak Meadows is a small town. People talk.”

  I grinned. “Yes, they do. I need to talk to Rusty and Mrs. Rogers.” Those two knew more about the people of this town than anyone. “You two hold down the fort.”

  Since Rusty seemed to be off sulking somewhere after Susan’s attempts to cheat him out of his money, I jogged across the street and knocked on Mrs. Rogers’s door.

  “What?” She yanked open the door.

  We might have faced down a killer together, but the woman still didn’t like me. “You answered the door mighty fast. Were you spying on me?”

  “Who’s the child?”

  “My soon-to-be stepdaughter. My turn. What do you know about the people on this list?”

  She glanced at the paper in my hand. “Come on in. I’ll make tea.”

  This had to be a first. I followed her into a surprisingly modern house. I expected floral print furniture and doilies. Instead, her house looked as if all came from IKEA.

  “Sit at the table.” She pointed to a small dinette set and bustled around the kitchen making tea. Once she had a stainless steel pot on the stove, she sat across from me. “Did one of these people kill Dixon?”

  “Possibly. Did you know him?”

  “Yep. Didn’t like him either. He is, or was, my former son-in-law.”

  That was a bombshell I didn’t expect. “Tell me about him.”

  “He was always out to make a quick buck, no matter who might get hurt in the process. He got so many death threats, my Becky got scared and filed for divorce. She’s remarried with two kids.” She narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t know Detective Steele had a child.”

  “Neither did we. Don’t get off topic.”

  She shrugged. “Fine. Caldwell is a philanderer, Pritchard is a whore, Miller is a two-timer, don’t get me started on his mistress, and Burnett is a whiny scared of her shadow slip of a woman.”

  “Please do get started on Cheryl Miller.”

  “Crazy as a bat.” She got up and removed the whistling pot from the stove, talking as she poured hot water over tea bags. “Told everyone in town that her and that principal were married. Nobody believed her, or course. I sure am glad I don’t have any kids in his school. I don’t know how the real Mrs. Miller puts up with him.” She waved a spoon at me. “He might have killed Dixon to save his marriage. Who knows? Of course, Cheryl might have killed Dixon to protect her fantasy.”

  She set a steaming cup of tea in front of me. “They all have the same motive. To keep Dixon’s material from getting out.” She smiled a sinister smile. “But, it is out, isn’t it? I bet you have it.”

  “I do.” I smiled over the rim of my cup.

  “I don’t know why you put yourself in danger when you could be writing those smut books of yours.”

  “I don’t write smut, and you know it.” I motioned my head to her coffee table. “Would you like me to sign the book?”

  “I only bought it because I’m in it. But, yes, please sign it before you leave.”

  I think the two of us had taken a giant step forward in our relationship. “Do me a favor, okay? Keep your eyes and ears open? Let me know if you find out anything that might alert me to Dixon’s killer.” I sipped the tea, a pleasing blend of orange and cranberry.

  “I never figured your man to commit fornication, other than cavorting with you on the front porch, anyway.”

  So, we were back to Roxi. “It was a long time ago. I trust him.”

  “That’s what they all say. Men can’t be trusted.” She glanced at the window where Rusty peered in. “I thought you were going to stop that behavior.”

  “I tried.” I opened the window. “What?”

  “Big man at your house. He yelled at the yellow-haired girl.”

  “Caldwell yelled at Maryann? What did he say?”

  “To tell you to stay out of his business and he wasn’t going to fix your house.” Rusty turned and trotted away.

  I sighe
d. Now, I’d have to find a new contractor.

  “My son can do renovations.” Mrs. Rogers opened a small porcelain box next to her phone and pulled out a business card. She handed it to me. “Tell him we know each other and he’ll give you a good deal.”

  “Thank you.” I glanced at the card. Roger’s Construction. Through the front window, I noticed Matt’s car pull up. I frowned. He shouldn’t be home yet. “Thank you for the information and the tea.” I took another sip and let myself out.

  I hurried across the street and met Matt as he was getting out of his truck. “What’s wrong?” The palor of his face told me he didn’t have good news. “Mom? Angela?”

  “No.” He pulled me into his arms. “Rachel was in a car accident. She didn’t make it.”

  “She’s dead?” I peered up into his face.

  “Yes. Roxi is now officially ours.” He let go of me and ran his hands through his hair. “Rachel ran into a tree when her tire blew out. The medical examiner says she died on impact, so that’s something.”

  “I’m sorry.” I cupped his cheek.

  “I’m sorry for Roxi. She’s so young, she won’t remember her mother, and I don’t know enough about Rachel anymore to keep the memory alive.”

  “I’ll find as many back issues of magazines with her photos in them as I can. We’ll keep them for Roxi.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “I’ll do anything for you.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave Mrs. Rogers something else to talk about.

  16

  I moved my office to a corner of my bedroom, at least until the attic renovations were complete, and turned the former office into a pink and purple room fit for a princess. Matt kept his daughter most nights at his house, but with his work schedule, I’d been her primary caregiver for the last three days.

  After asking a few times where Mommy was, Roxi had settled into a sort of routine. I wished I could say the same. Instead, I sat across the kitchen table from her and watched her eat oatmeal sweetened with raw sugar.

  Mom had gotten rid of the child’s refusal to eat but a couple of items right off by using bribery. She kept a cupcake in plain sight. Eat your dinner and the cupcake was yours. Roxi, being the smart little thing she was, caught on quick.