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

by Cynthia Hickey

  “I really need to work today,” I said, sipping my regular creamed to a pale brown, coffee.

  “Play,” Roxi responded with a dimpled grin.

  “No, work. So, the problem is…what do I do with you?” Everyone else was gone, either to school or work. Not only did I need to do some writing, but I needed to do some investigating. “There’s no help for it. You’re going to have to come along. You and Aunt Maryann can stay in the car while I do the grunt work.” I could leave them both at home, but I needed my assistant to take notes.

  “That should be all right.” Maryann grabbed a rag and cleaned Roxi’s face and hands. “She won’t be out of either one of our sights.”

  Good. I trusted Maryann’s instincts where children were concerned. She’d been a teacher for almost ten years. “We’ll pay Susan Burnett a visit first, then try and speak with her ex-husband. If we still have time, we’ll try for a meeting with Pritchard.” I stood and set my mug in the sink.

  “Great. I’ll pack Roxi a lunch and be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  “I’m glad you’re here. I wouldn’t have thought to pack her a lunch. I’m going to make a horrible mother.”

  “You’ll settle in and be just fine.” Maryann set her niece on the floor. “I need to get off work early tonight. Michael and I have a date.”

  “Your hours are your own.” Matt was working, Mom was going out with her boyfriend, Angela with Wayne…that left me alone, again, with Roxi. I guess I was getting a crash course on motherhood.

  Twenty minutes later, the trunk of my car packed full of child things, and Roxi strapped into her car seat, we headed back toward Susan Burnett’s mansion on the hill. If she wasn’t the one blackmailing Pritchard, then she knew who was. I still didn’t know if the blackmail had anything to do with Dixon’s death, but it was worth digging into.

  I pulled the car as close to the front door as possible and rolled down the car windows. Maryann stepped out with me and positioned herself next to the rear door. Susan would have to step outside to talk with us this time. I banged the knocker and waited.

  The same woman in grey answered the door. “Please, come in.”

  “No, I need Mrs. Burnett to step out here this time, thank you.”

  The maid frowned. “Very well. Please wait.”

  I was starting to think Susan wasn’t going to grace us with her presence by the time she joined us. When she did, the look on her face said she’d prefer to be anywhere but there.

  “What?” She glared and crossed her arms. “I thought we spoke about all we needed to.”

  I slapped the photo of Pritchard down on the trunk of the car. “I need you to look at this.”

  She sighed dramatically and glanced at the photo. Her eyes widened. “I don’t know anything about what that woman does.”

  “This picture has been Photoshopped. This woman isn’t Amanda Pritchard. Since Lincoln is running against her for mayor, it leads me to believe that the two of you have the most to gain by tarnishing her reputation.”

  Susan gave an unladylike snort. “As if her reputation can be tarnished further. I still didn’t have anything to do with altering that photo.”

  “You wouldn’t want her out of the running so you could get back with Lincoln and be Oak Meadows’ first lady again?”

  “My personal life is none of your business.” Spots of color appeared under her makeup.

  “Mama!” Roxi hung out the window, having somehow escaped her carseat. “Potty.”

  Susan froze. “You have a child?”

  “She’s Matt’s. Long story.” I pulled Roxi through the window. “May we use your restroom?”

  “I’ve always wanted a child.”

  The way she looked at Roxi made me uneasy. I clutched the little one tighter until she protested. “Susan?”

  She seemed to shake herself free of her musings. “Of course. I’ll show you where it is.”

  I motioned to Maryann to follow, and mouthed for her to keep an eye on our reluctant hostess.

  Susan led us down a marble-tiled hall to a bathroom as big as Roxi’s new bedroom. Everything in the room was white and polished nickel. “Take all the time you need,” she said, closing the double doors.

  “I’ll wait right here.” Maryann crossed her arms and spread her legs like a hired guard.

  I sat Roxi on the toilet and started snooping. Usually the little girl took her time, swinging her legs and singing, but since we were in someone’s place that I wanted to take a closer look at, I was afraid fate would intervene and she’d conclude her business faster than usual.

  I made a beeline for the medicine cabinet. Bingo! A full bottle of anti-depressants. I checked the prescription date. Almost a month ago. Through research, I knew what happened to people who didn’t take their meds. They went bonkers.

  “She’s coming back.” Maryann knocked on the door.

  I replaced the pill bottle and turned to Roxi. “Finished, sweetie?”

  “Yep.” She hopped down and pulled up the ruffled tights I’d purchased for her. “I’m hungry.”

  “We’ll eat in the car.” I took her hand and stepped back into the hall where Susan waited with Maryann. “Thank you.”

  She eyed Roxi as if the child were a slice of cake. “Of course. Children are our most precious resource.”

  Right. “Let us know if you find out who might be blackmailing Pritchard.” I walked away as fast as Roxi’s legs would move.

  Back in the car, with Roxi buckled in tighter, I turned to Maryann. “Am I the only one creeped out by the way she looked at Roxi?”

  “No, it was strange.” She unwrapped a package of peanut-butter crackers and handed them over the seat to her niece. “But, I’ve seen that look on faces of women unable to have children before.”

  “I’m probably overreacting, as usual.” I took one last glance to where Susan stared from the doorway of her house, then drove down the curving drive toward town and Burnett’s business offices.

  The man owned several Savings and Loans, one of which was in our fair town, and housed his home office. I parked in front of the red-brick building and unbuckled Roxi. Having a child took twice as long to get anything done.

  The three of us trooped into the modern reception area. Maryann and Roxi took seats in the waiting area while I flashed my PI badge and asked to see Mr. Burnett.

  The receptionist, who looked as if she indulged in Pritchard’s services one too many times, pursed her collagen enhanced lips. “I’ll see if he’s available. Please, have a seat.”

  I filled a paper cone with water from a nearby cooler, took a drink, then refilled and handed it to Roxi. Maybe I could do this mother thing after all. I second-guessed when she upended the cone over her clothes.

  A blast of cool air met us as someone pushed open the double glass doors. Cheryl Miller, looking a little more put together than the last time I’d seen her, even as far as wearing expensive-looking jewelry, stormed in and approached the receptionist. “Someone has made a mistake with my account.”

  “I’ll get you an account manager, Miss Miller. Please have a seat.”

  Cheryl huffed and turned. Spotting us, she rushed toward us and scooped Roxi into her arms. “Whose little darling is this?”

  “Matt’s.” I took Roxi back. “You shouldn’t pick up other people’s children.”

  She gave a wry smile. “I heard of how an ex of his kept the child a secret.” She put a finger to her lips. “I wonder…hmmm. That might just work for me.” She chucked Roxi under the chin and sashayed to a nearby chair.

  “Does every parent have to worry about someone snatching their child the way it seems?” I stared across the room at Cheryl, but spoke to Maryann.

  “I hope not. This has been a very strange day.”

  “Miss Nelson, Mr. Burnett will see you now,” the receptionist said.

  “Keep one hand on Roxi at all times,” I told Maryann. “I’ll make this quick.”

  The receptionist directed me three doors
down. I knocked on one with a brass placard that read, “Lincoln Burnett”, then entered when invited.

  The man was extremely attractive for his age. Dark hair, peppered with grey. Blue eyes that could see right through a person. Cleft in his chin. He must have been a heart breaker when he was young. He pasted on a grin and held out a hand for me to shake. “What can I do for you, Miss Nelson? You’re a local celebrity in this town.”

  “Thank you, but I’m afraid I’m here today as a private investigator.” I sat in a chair opposite his leather one and pulled the altered photo from my purse. I slid it across his desk. “I’m wondering whether you know anything about this.”

  He sat in his chair and perched a pair of reading glasses on his nose. “That’s priceless. May I have it?”

  “No.” I snatched it back. “The photo isn’t real, Mr. Burnett.”

  His smile faded. “Are you saying I would resort to blackmail to win this election?”

  “Would you?” I raised my eyebrows.

  “I cannot believe you would have the gall to come into my place of business and accuse me of such a low act.” He planted palms flat on the desk and stood. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “You have yet to deny my allegations.” I refused to shrink back under the hard glint in his eyes.

  “Miss Nelson.” His tone grew colder by several degrees. “I’m denying your allegations. Ms. Pritchard is a…” He sighed. “I won’t besmirch her to you. Ask anyone else and you’ll receive the same answer I would give. I’ll win this election without resorting to underhanded means. If you were to ask around about me, you’ll find that I am an upstanding citizen of this town. Other than my divorce, there isn’t a black mark to be found.”

  “If not you, then who would benefit?”

  “My crazy ex-wife? One of Pritchard’s many liasons? Take your pick.”

  I really felt as if I could cross his name off my suspect list. I wasn’t always hitting homeruns, but my gut told me that despite the man’s cold demeanor at being questioned, he was telling the truth.

  I thrust out my hand. “My apologies. Thank you for talking with me.”

  He returned the handshake. “Miss Nelson, be careful. Whoever killed Dixon wants something kept hidden. If you go around asking questions, you’re only putting yourself in danger.”

  Just like that, he was back on my suspect list. “I’ll be careful.” I stepped out of his office and ran smack dab into Mom’s boyfriend, Jerry.

  “Good afternoon, Stormi.” He leaned on a wheeled dolly piled with boxes. “Fancy running into you.”

  “Do you come here often?”

  “Every day.”

  I got a brilliant idea.

  17

  The authorities released Dixon’s body and I woke the next morning preparing for a funeral. I hoped to gather information, since murderers often attended the service of those they killed.

  “You did what?” Matt frowned. “I know I didn’t hear you correctly when you said you went snooping with my daughter in tow?”

  “Since I seem to be her primary caregiver, how else am I going to work? We kept her in the car—”

  “We?” His face darkened.

  “Maryann and I. Between the two of us, she was perfectly safe. Although, Susan Burnett and Cheryl Miller did seem very curious in her.” I handed him a mug of fresh coffee.

  “Two murder suspects have taken an interest in my daughter?” He set the mug down without taking a sip. “Maybe we should postpone our wedding until you settle more into the role of a mother.”

  My heart plummeted. “Are you serious? Wouldn’t a better solution be to find a babysitter?” I didn’t want to think he was serious, but the look on his face said he was very serious.

  “She just lost her mother, Stormi. She doesn’t need to be foisted off on daycare.” He shook his head. “No, Maryann is going to have to stop working for you for a while and take care of my daughter.”

  Tears stung my eyes. I knew Rachel’s death, and Matt acquiring a daughter would change my life, but I didn’t anticipate it spiraling downward. “Are you serious? I’ll not investigate anymore until Mom is home to watch Roxi. I need Maryann with me.”

  He turned a tortured look my way. “We’ll talk about this again after the funeral.” He glanced at his watch and stormed out the front door.

  Feeling very much like a scolded puppy, I followed and climbed into the front passenger seat. We didn’t need to worry about Roxi, since Mom elected to stay behind and babysit. Maybe, I could start dropping Roxi off at the bakery when I needed to leave the house.

  We didn’t speak on the way to the funeral home and pulled into the parking lot at the same time as Maryann and Michael. Maryann took one look at me and Matt and shook her head, mouthing that she’d talk to me later.

  I nodded, slipped my arm through Matt’s stiff one, and allowed him to lead me into the building and take a seat in the back. Somehow, I needed to make things right so our wedding could get back on track.

  Dixon’s casket took up prominence at the front of the room. A red-eyed, tear-stained faced Jordyn, the barista, sobbed over the casket. No one else approached the body, but all the suspects were there, sitting in pews and staring straight ahead. Them, and us, were the only so-called mourners. How sad.

  A few seconds later, Dixon’s daughter slipped through a side door and sat in a corner. April’s face was pale, but no tears ran down her cheeks. How sad. She’d never had the chance to make amends with her father. I could relate in her loss only as far as to say my father had been murdered. Other than that, we had nothing in common. I’d loved my father with every fiber of my being.

  A man in a dark gray suit approached the podium, said a few generic words about death, closed with a prayer and asked if anyone wanted to say a few words. The room quieted as if holding its breath. No one got out of their seat. No one looked at each other. When it became uncomfortably obvious that no one had anything to say, we were dismissed.

  I had hoped someone would get up, if only to bad mouth Dixon. Instead, I left the building feeling sad that no one seemed to care a man was dead.

  Matt slipped his hand into mine. “I’m sorry. I know you’re doing the best you can.” He turned me to face him. “I worry so much about you out there snooping, then to find out you took Roxi—”

  “I promise she was safe the entire time. But, it won’t happen again. I’ll leave her at the bakery if I have to. Mom will give her some dough to play with.”

  “Thank you.” He flashed the smile that never failed to melt my heart. “I don’t want to push back our wedding. You know I’d marry you this instance if you were to say the word.”

  Just like that, all was right with my world once again. I snuggled close to him. “Come to supper tonight and meet Mom’s boyfriend.”

  “I will. This investigation is going nowhere. A night off will do me good. Maybe I’ll think of something.”

  He drove me home and headed off to squeeze in a few hours of work. I watched him go then headed across the street to see why Mrs. Rogers was frantically waving.

  “Do you have something?” I asked.

  She pulled me into her house. “That new barista was dating Dixon. No one seems to know anything about her, but I found out something, thanks to that gardener of yours. She seems to spend some time with Lincoln Burnett, too.”

  “Do tell.” Excitement welled.

  “Yep.” She shook her head hard enough to wobble the curlers in her hair. “Before that, she dated Caldwell. I think that gal might know something. She hasn’t shown up at Delicious Aroma for three days. Folks say she’s hiding.”

  “She was at the funeral.”

  “Drat. I wanted to go to that. Anything exciting happen?”

  “Nothing. People just sat there, then left. No one other than Jordyn even went up to the coffin.”

  “Not a successful funeral. Too bad.”

  “Rusty gave you the information on Jordyn?”

  “I had
to pay him ten dollars to get him to talk. That boy is tight-lipped.”

  While approaching the age of forty, folks still looked at Rusty as a boy. Maybe it was his childlike attitude. I worried about him poking his nose in other people’s business, but he did dig up information others overlooked. “Where is Rusty now?”

  “Poking around in your tool shed, last I saw.”

  I glanced across the street. “Thanks. I’ll catch you later.” I jogged back across the street and to my backyard.

  As I approached the tool shed, I ducked a shovel and gardening shears. “Rusty?”

  “Yep.”

  “Would you mind telling me why you’re chucking my things into the yard?”

  “Looking for camera.”

  “I don’t have a camera in there.”

  “Rusty does.”

  All right, I wouldn’t ask.

  “Found.” He came out, covered in dust, and clutching a rather new looking digital camera. “Dakota gave me a present.”

  “Did he tell you to hide it?”

  He nodded. “This is the best place. Very messy.”

  Cleaning my tool shed was not a priority. “What kind of pictures are on there?”

  He thrust the camera at me.

  I turned it on and scanned the photos. One after another were of Jordyn. One showed her snooping in Dixon’s house, despite the crime scene tape. Been there, done that. Another showed her having drinks at the same biker bar where I’d made new friends. The last photo showed her in what seemed a heated conversation with Lincoln Burnett. Clearly, the woman was looking for something.

  “What made you watch Jordyn?”

  “Dakota.”

  Ah. Since my nephew had to go to school, he had Rusty doing his snooping. “You did good. These are great. May I borrow the camera?”

  He seemed uncertain. “What if you lose it?”

  “I won’t. I’ll print off the photos, then give the camera back. Will that work?”

  “Yep.”

  “Clean this up, okay?” I patted him on the shoulder and hurried into the house.

  Mom and Roxi sat at the kitchen table playing with giant sized Legos. I gave them both a kiss and made a beeline for my office. I knew Rusty enough to know that if I didn’t return the camera soon, he’d start whining about me stealing the thing. Five minutes later, I had two prints of each photo and the camera back in Rusty’s hands.