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

by Cynthia Hickey

  “I cannot believe it.” Mom squeezed past the crowd. “You managed a dead body after all. We aren’t even safe at Christmas.”

  I held up my hands. “I had nothing to do with it.” I pointed at Sylvia. “She was holding the murder weapon.”

  “Only because it cost me a fortune and was on the floor!” Sylvia glared from her resting spot.

  “Who is she?” Matt asked.

  I shrugged. “I saw her with Sherlock, who I think is Sylvia’s husband.”

  “He is,” she said with a scowl. “That … spider is … was his girlfriend. That’s why I wanted a divorce.”

  “So, you killed her?” My eyes widened.

  “Of course not.”

  “Where is your husband now, Mrs. Duncan?” Matt slipped his phone into his pocket.

  “I have no idea.”

  “I saw all three of them head in this direction,” I said, “and I followed.”

  “Of course you did.” Matt grinned.

  “When I came in here, Sherlock wasn’t anywhere to be seen.”

  “Cops are here.” Dakota stuck his head in the room, then withdrew with Matt waved a frantic hand.

  “I know your niece and nephew are probably used to dead people by now, but they still don’t need to see this.”

  Agreed. I perched on a corner of the desk and did another sweep of the room. Black shoes peeked out from behind the forest green curtains. “You can come out now, Mr. Duncan.”

  He groaned and stepped from his hiding place. “I didn’t kill her. She’s a party planner.” He stood in front of Sylvia. “I hired her to plan our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary party.”

  “Then why were you hiding?” Matt asked.

  “I left her in here, ducked into the restroom, heard a scuffle, and found her like this. When I heard Sylvia screeching down the hall, I hid. Stupid, and it doesn’t make any sense, but I was still trying to be secretive.”

  Sylvia jumped to her feet and clasped his hands. “You were planning a party?”

  “Of course, silly dumpling.” He caressed her face. “That’s why I didn’t want a divorce.”

  “I thought it was because of my money.”

  “Somebody killed this woman.” Matt shook his head. “Stay focused, people. Let’s start with her name.”

  “Yes, let’s.” The oldest of two police officers said, entering the room. “I’m Officer Lincoln, and this is Officer Boxer. Officer Boxer will start interviewing the guests while I speak to those in here.”

  We were going to be here all night. I settled more comfortably on the desktop.

  Officer Lincoln peppered us with questions. When he got to me, his eyes narrowed. “You’re the writer. The one who writes about the crimes she conveniently stumbles upon. Well, Merry Christmas, you have another one.”

  “That’s not called for. I didn’t ask for this.” I glanced at Matt for backup.

  “She isn’t the suspect here,” Matt said.

  The officer shrugged. “But, she’s always around.”

  His words hurt. He was right. I did tend to find murder victims. It was a gift, really. One I’d like to return. Still, I had a hand in bringing justice to the victims. I didn’t intend to stop now because it was Christmas.

  Instead of wasting more time defending myself to an officer who already had his mind made up, I studied the victim and the Duncans.

  Sylvia and her husband seemed to have forgotten all about poor little … “What’s her name?”

  “Who?” Mr. Duncan didn’t take his gaze off his wife.

  “The spider.”

  “Oh, Charlotte. That’s why she thought it clever to be a spider. Get it?” He turned and grinned. “Charlotte Web. Her parents had quite the sense of humor.”

  Quite. Still, something didn’t add up. I slid off the desk and headed toward the victim.

  Officer Lincoln stepped between us. “That’s far enough.”

  “I just want a closer look.”

  “Nope.” He stayed firmly between me and her until two men in white coats wheeled in a gurney and removed the spider.

  Something was definitely fishy. When they’d opened the door, I hadn’t heard a single sound drifting down the hall. That many guests should make some noise, even if they were in shock. And why hadn’t my sister stuck her nose in the library?

  I glanced back at Einstein’s dented head. Did brass dent? Again, I tried to move and found my way blocked by Officer Lincoln. The man was as tenacious as a dog with one of those rubber toys you shoved peanut butter in.

  I huffed, crossed my arms, and plopped into the office chair. The whole thing was hopeless.

  Why was Matt smiling? Surely, he wasn’t enjoying my predicament. How could I possibly be face-to-face with a mystery and not get involved? We were going to have to stay longer at Sylvia’s. There was no other way. I had to have time to solve this.

  Matt and Officer Lincoln conversed quietly in the corner, then ushered us all from the room. Officer Boxer, who was obviously the fastest interrogator on the planet, strung yellow tape across the library door.

  They handed us business cards, asked us to call if we remembered anything pertinent, then hurried out the strangely empty house.

  “Where is everyone?” I surveyed the foyer. “This should have taken hours. They didn’t do a very good job questioning everyone.”

  “Leave the murder to the police,” Matt said, slipping an arm around my shoulders. “It’s Christmas.”

  I sighed. “But I don’t feel as if they were thorough enough. I’ll have to stay a few extra days and question the guests myself. Poor Charlotte deserves that.”

  He chuckled and kissed me. “That’s my girl. Always out for justice.”

  Exhaustion caught up with me and settled over my shoulders like a heavy woolen shawl. I gave Matt another kiss. “I’m beat. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I climbed the stairs to my room, surprised to see Maryanne already tucked in. Why did no one seem to care about the poor dead woman?

  4

  Comfortable in my normal attire of jeans and a long-sleeved tee shirt, I splashed cold water over eyes gritty with lack of sleep and then tromped down the stairs to the kitchen. Christmas Eve, and I couldn’t enjoy the day because of pity for a dead woman.

  “Good morning!” Mom smiled from the kitchen island, then turned back to watch a woman in a white apron and chef’s hat, fold an omelette. It had to be killing her not to be the one at the stove.

  “Mornin’.” I perched on a stool next to her. “I’m thinking of going to the police station today.”

  “Can’t.” Her grin widened. “Roads are iced over. It looks like we’ll be spending Christmas at Sylvia’s.”

  I groaned and banged my forehead on the counter. Stuck in the middle of a murder investigation and stranded because of ice. What kind of cruel joke was this?

  “Cheer up.” Mom patted me on the shoulder. “You can snoop around this big old house for clues.”

  “I doubt the killer is still under this roof.”

  “But, you don’t know that, do you?”

  She was right. I could focus on Mr. Duncan. He was still the prime suspect. I straightened. Or Sylvia. One could have killed Charlotte to keep her mouth quiet and the other to get her out of the way. I wasn’t totally convinced Mr. Duncan was telling the truth about her being a party planner. “How many staff does Sylvia hire?”

  “More than five, but less than ten, I think.” Mom’s eyes smiled over the rim of her coffee mug.

  I was sliding off the barstool when Matt’s arms wrapped around my waist, stopping me. He nuzzled my neck, eliciting a squeal from me when he gave it a playful nip.

  “Where are you off to?”

  I turned to face him. “I was headed off to ask questions about Charlotte.”

  He tweaked my nose. “We’re iced in for a day or two. I thought we could spend quality time together.”

  “You can help me. It’ll be the first mystery we solve where you aren’t
in the role of detective.” I slipped my hand in his. “So, will you?”

  He grinned. “Anything to spend time with you.”

  “Great.” I started to leave the room, but was held fast by his grip.

  “After breakfast,” he said, smiling. “No one is going anywhere right now.”

  I let him pull me into his arms. He had a point. Why not simply enjoy each other for a while?

  After a wonderful breakfast of strawberry and cream cheese crepes, I led Matt to the library. We ducked under the yellow tape and I grabbed a small notepad and pen from the desktop. It was time to take notes.

  “Not too close,” Matt said as I squatted next to the carpet. “Don’t destroy evidence.”

  Seriously? I doubted the crime scene folks were going to trek up the mountain. It wasn’t like I was going to stomp over the … blood stain?

  I’d smelled blood before, and this didn’t come close. This was a sweet smell … like syrup. I peered closer. Corn syrup with food coloring? I opened my mouth to say something, then snapped it shut. Something wasn’t adding up. I pushed back to my feet and made my way to the dining room.

  I had stood here. Matt had gone to get me a drink, and he and the other man next to the table had looked and grinned my way several times. The room had been claustrophobic with people. Mr. Duncan and Charlotte had gone, looking very cozy, into the foyer. Several seconds later, Sylvia followed. Then, I had fought like a salmon swimming upstream through a crowd that seemed to be doing everything it could to prevent me from following her. Then, once I broke free, I heard a scream. I burst into the library to see Sylvia holding a bust of Einstein …

  I raced back to the library and grabbed the bust from where it had rolled in the corner. Not brass at all! A very good plaster imitation, complete with a dent. If someone had hit someone with this, they would have barely felt it. Someone had some explaining to do.

  I brushed past Matt as he said “uh-oh,” under his breath. I’d question that later. First, I needed to talk to Sylvia. I went up the stairs, while Matt rushed toward the kitchen. Curiouser and curiouser.

  After banging for several minutes on Sylvia’s door, and trying not to wonder what the hurried sounds of scurrying people might mean, she opened the door in a flowing red nightgown and robe.

  “There are some things that needed clarifying.”

  She clapped her hands. “Wonderful! Let me get dressed and I’ll meet you in the family room. We can talk while enjoying the beauty of the Christmas tree.”

  O-kay. I shook my head and made my way to the family room, surprised to see my family sitting there with foolish grins on their faces. I glanced over my shoulder to see whether they were smiling at me or someone else. Not finding anyone, I glared and crossed my arms. “What in the world is going on here? Has everyone lost their mind?”

  “What do you think has happened, dear?” Mom leaned forward and stared into my face, her smile never fading.

  I glanced around the room. At Matt’s loving gaze that sent my heart into overdrive, to my sister’s smug look and the amused ones of her children, to my mother’s indulgent one. When Sylvia entered the room, her arm linked with her husband’s, I knew I had solved the murder of a pretty little spider.

  5

  Once everyone was seated, I glanced at each in turn. “Who’s idea was it?”

  “In regards to what, dear?” Mom tilted her head.

  “Faking Charlotte’s death.”

  “How did you figure it out?” Sylvia plopped into a wing-backed chair. “We were so clever with our plan.”

  “First of all,” I held up a finger, “I write mysteries, so I can tell fake blood from the real stuff. Second of all, I retraced my steps and discovered Einstein’s head couldn’t kill much of anything.” I perched on the arm of the sofa next to where Matt sat. “So, why the charade?”

  “Merry Christmas!” Mom clapped and bolted to her feet. “This whole murder thing was my gift to you. I know how much you enjoy solving mysteries, and wanted to come up with one tailored just for you.” She looked so proud of herself.

  “This was my gift?” I scratched above my eyebrow to rid it of a twitch. “Everyone knew about it but me?”

  “Yeah.” Matt put his arm around my waist. “Don’t be mad,” he whispered. “She went to a lot of trouble.”

  I sighed. A regular weekend for Christmas would have been the best thing, but having Mom go to so much trouble only showed how much she loved me. “So, who is Charlotte?”

  “She’s the gardener,” Sylvia said. “Isn’t she lovely? Nothing would have gone as planned had she been homely.”

  I rolled my eyes and kept my attention on Mom. The pleased look on her face was fading. I hurried to her side and gathered her in a hug. “Thank you. It was fun. Are we really iced in?”

  “That part was God’s work,” she said. “A little help from the big man upstairs.”

  I resumed my seat on the sofa arm. “The two officers?”

  “Friends of mine,” Mr. Duncan said.

  “Rhett?”

  “That my dear is Charlotte’s husband.” Sylvia leaned back. “They were very happy to accommodate us in our little Christmas deception. I haven’t had this much fun in ages.”

  “Did you have the party just for this?”

  “No, silly. I love parties.” Sylvia giggled. “Your mom came up with the deception.”

  Everyone looked so pleased with themselves. Well, everyone except Angela, but she was never pleased when attention centered around me. I decided then and there, that my Christmas gift to them would be to act as happy about the gift to me as they were about giving it.

  “Thank you, Mom. Everyone. It was very thoughtful and loads more fun than mingling with dozens of people I didn’t know.” I found as I said it out loud that I actually believed the words I said. I had had fun. A lot, actually. I grinned and stared at the blinking lights on the gigantic Christmas tree.

  Front and center hung an ornament that flowed with an inner bulb. Carved in the center was a nativity, bringing to mind the real reason for the season. I leaned back into the solidness of Matt.

  While Mom’s gift was precious because of the time and effort she put into it, God’s gift to us of his son was infinitely more so. I thought of the new baking ware I’d purchased for Mom for Christmas. Since she owned her own bakery, shopping for her was easy. But how precious was it going to be? I hadn’t done more than thumb through a catalog for her gift.

  Matt’s gift was a three day stay for two at a resort. I thought it perfect since he always wanted to spend one-on-one time with me. But, had I chosen it with my heart? I thought so, having thought of his feelings and wants.

  “Mom, your gift was very thoughtful. I’ll cherish it for years to come.” My eyes welled with tears. “I really am thankful.”

  She shrugged and grinned. “It was kind of a gift to us all, since we all played a part.” She straightened. “When we get home, we should host a murder mystery-dinner party!”

  God help us all. Why did so many of our family gatherings revolve around someone dying?

  The End

  Dear Reader:

  It is with both joy and sorrow that we come to the end of Stormi’s gumshoe days. As a wife and mother, it’s time for her to leave the dangers behind, except on the page. I hope you’ve enjoyed the time you’ve spent with her and her crazy family, and that the love shared between her and hunky Matt made you sigh a time or two.

  I have two other cozy mystery series, one beginning with Fudge-Laced Felonies and another with Deadly Neighbors for you to enjoy while I write the first book in a new series, releasing early 2016. I hope you wait impatiently for the Shady Acres stories.

  I’ve enjoyed writing the Nosy Neighbor series, but it’s time to move on to something new.

  God bless you and keep you,

  Cynthia Hickey

  Multi-published and Amazon Best-Selling author Cynthia Hickey had three cozy mysteries and two novellas published through Barbour Pu
blishing. Her first mystery, Fudge-Laced Felonies, won first place in the inspirational category of the Great Expectations contest in 2007. Her third cozy, Chocolate-Covered Crime, received a four-star review from Romantic Times. All three cozies have been re-released as ebooks through the MacGregor Literary Agency, along with a new cozy series, all of which stay in the top 50 of Amazon’s ebooks for their genre. She had several historical romances release in 2013, 2014, 2015 through Harlequin’s Heartsong Presents, and has sold half a million copies of her works. She has taught a Continuing Education class at the 2015 American Christian Fiction Writers conference. She is active on FB, twitter, and Goodreads, and is a contributor to Cozy Mystery Magazine blog and Suspense Sisters blog. Her and her husband run the small press, Forget Me Not Romances, which includes some of the CBA’s well-known authors. She lives in Arizona with her husband, one of their seven children, two dogs and one cat. She has seven grandchildren who keep her busy and tell everyone they know that “Nana is a writer”. Visit her website at www.cynthiahickey.com

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  Enjoy other books by Cynthia Hickey

  NEW SERIES

  Shady Acres Mysteries

  Beware the Orchids, book 1

  INSPIRATIONAL

  (scroll down to see clean books without inspirational message)

  Nosy Neighbor Series

  Anything For A Mystery, Book 1

  A Killer Plot, Book 2

  Skin Care Can Be Murder, Book 3

  Death By Baking, Book 4

  Jogging Is Bad For Your Health, Book 5

  Poison Bubbles, Book 6

  A Good Party Can Kill You, Book 7 (Final)

  Christmas with Stormi Nelson

  The Summer Meadows Series

  Fudge-Laced Felonies, Book 1

  Candy-Coated Secrets, Book 2