Lock, Stock, and Feral

by Addison Moore

  “Bizzy.” He inches back. “You know I don’t want you doing that. I don’t want you getting hurt. Who did you talk to? Where did you go?”

  “Hadley Culpepper.” I scowl instinctually when I say her name.

  His eyes close as he lets out a breath.

  “Bizzy.” He takes up both of my hands. “I’m sorry. I should have made time last night to assure you she’s firmly in my past. I know Camila’s words must have stung.”

  “But you said them. I mean, if you said them once, you must have meant it. And she’s Hadley Culpepper. I was one of her biggest fans.”

  “And I wasn’t. When Hadley and I met, I had never even seen an episode of the show she was on.”

  “You were her fan for other reasons.”

  “And they were short-lived. We were together for a few months and then she took off.”

  “Is that what the two of you were arguing about last night?”

  His eyes enlarge a moment before he glances to the floor. “I’m sorry, Bizzy. I’ve had a tense night, a tough day, and I can’t do this right now.” He bows his head into his hand a moment before looking back up at me. “How about we have dinner and get to bed? I just—I’m sorry.” He leans back hard against the sofa. “There’s something I need to process before I tell you. But I just can’t seem to push the words out right now.” His lips turn down as if his emotions were about to get the better of him, and a spiral of fear shoots through me.

  “Jasper, we tell each other everything—or at least that’s how I’ve been operating. I would never keep anything from you. What’s happening? If you can’t say the words, think them. Don’t shut me out.”

  He glances my way but doesn’t hold my gaze.

  I try my hardest to press into his mind, but I’m met with that foggy feeling as if a fortress was just tossed up to stop me.

  A breath hitches in my throat. “You’re intentionally trying to hold back your thoughts from me.”

  A forlorn smile comes and goes on his lips. “I’m sorry, Bizzy. But I just need a minute.”

  My heart thumps hard as if it were about to expire.

  “Take all the time you want,” I say as I get up. “I’m going to bed.”

  I fill the pets’ trays with enough kibble to last a year and do just that.

  But I don’t sleep a wink.

  Chapter 8

  Jasper kissed me deeply this morning before he took off for the station. It was a kiss that said so much without the aid of a single word—and believe me, I appreciated the sentiment.

  And even though that made me feel miles better than how we left things last night, I couldn’t focus on the inn. Instead, I left it in the capable hands of my staff and recruited Georgie and Juni to use their sleuthing skills to help me track down Devan Abner. By the time I started hunting for her, she had already left the mushroom farm for the day, so I set my meager hopes on finding her elsewhere, and find her elsewhere we did—right at the Spring Festival taking place in downtown Seaview.

  Pastel flags line several city blocks as thick crowds patrol the sidewalks looking at the wares that all the local businesses have to offer. It’s warm out and the air feels downright swampy—far too humid for springtime in Maine. The thick scent of grilled burgers competes with the sweet scent of deep-fried blueberry fritters, and I have a sudden craving for both.

  There are plenty of balloons and face painting stations for the younger set and wine and fine cuisine for the rest of us. Booths that house arts and crafts are in abundance, handcrafted jewelry glints in the late afternoon sun, and a few local bookstores have opened up outdoor samplings of their bestsellers as well. And that’s the direction where we head in first.

  Georgie has Sherlock on a leash and both Fish and Clyde are in my carrier.

  “Don’t you worry, Biz,” Georgie says, giving my carrier a little pat. “By this time tomorrow, you’ll have a fancy new wonky quilt cat carrier to call your own. I’ve already given the specs to my seamstresses.”

  By seamstresses, she means the women at the old folks home she has working as a quilting mill to create her inventory.

  “Thank you,” I say. “I’m actually looking forward to it.”

  “Tell her about the hanky,” Juni says, checking her face in a compact she pulled from her purse. Juni has her game on as she put it, with her hot pink mini skirt and matching tank top. And Georgie has opted to match her daughter in a bubblegum pink kaftan. At least this way they’ll be easy to spot in the event they wander away—or commit a minor felony. The latter of which is completely in their wheelhouse.

  “What’s the hanky for?” I ask Georgie as she scoops Clyde from my carrier.

  “To sop up your tears,” Georgie says, dotting a kiss to Clyde’s little pink nose. “Face it, Biz, this is going to be a tough season in your life now that Jasper is taking off with that magician hussy.”

  “You got the hussy part right,” I tell her. “Did you read that book? She had my husband twelve ways to Sunday like he was nothing more than a side of beef. And believe me, there’s not a house of worship that would take her in on that sacred day either. Lusting after somebody else’s husband like that makes her darn right flammable in churches worldwide.”

  A cute little cinnamon-colored poodle waltzes up to Sherlock and gives him a sniff from nose to tail.

  Hey! Clyde belts out a rawr. Watch where you’re sniffing, hussy! Back off and find your own side of beef!

  Fish groans. Get used to it, honey. For whatever reason, Sherlock is what Jasper calls a chick magnet.

  The poodle looks up at the tiny ginger-colored ball of fury. Is that a cat telling me—a dog—who I can and cannot sniff? She barks out what sounds like a chortle before touching her nose to Sherlock’s. How about you and I find a bush and lift a leg together?

  Clyde screeches as if someone just ran over her tail and springs right out of Georgie’s arms, soaring through the air like a flying squirrel, doing a couple of spins until she lands flat over the poodle’s back. The dog jumps back on its hind legs doing its best to evict the cagey kitty but to no avail. Then in less than a second, the poodle darts off, followed by Sherlock—followed by Georgie.

  “Cheese and rice.” I cringe just watching the inadvertent pet parade as the poodle’s owner takes off after them shouting a few colorful words that children probably shouldn’t hear. “Don’t break a hip, Georgie!” I shout. “Let go of the leash!”

  “Don’t worry about, Mama,” Juni says, smacking me on the arm. “Check out those sides of beef hanging out in front of Bombalicious Burgers.”

  I glance over and spot a line of men outside of the quick serve booth situated in front of the restaurant. Behind them is the outdoor patio where couples have congregated noshing on amazing grilled sliders on what look to be a bun made of a glazed donut. Sure enough, a sign strung up over the booth reads we bet donuts to burgers you’ll love our food! Feed one to your sweetheart and you’ll have a sweetheart for life! Made with real wagyu patties!

  “Ooh, wagyu,” I moan at the thought. “That’s some fancy beef. And pairing it with donuts? That’s just brilliant. I really want to try those.”

  “I’ll tell you what’s brilliant”—Juni grits the words in a husky voice—“that line of abs they’ve got showcasing their wares. Now that’s some beef I’d like to wrap a donut around.” She cranes her neck into the crowd. “Looks like Mama’s gonna miss out on the burger buffet.” She does a double take to our left. “Lookie there”—Juni knocks me in the ribs—“ain’t that the perp in the orange blouse?”

  Sure enough, I spot a fresh scrubbed blonde with her no-nonsense demeanor in jeans and a floral orange blouse standing under a tent filled with books. Her arms are filled with paperbacks and there’s what looks to be a green smoothie in her hand.

  Fish pokes her head out and looks that way. To choose a spinach shake in a sea of burgers swaddled in glazed donuts is pretty telling about a person.

  “I so agree,” I mutter. “Juni, why don’t y
ou grab a burger and I’ll go talk to Devan. I’ll catch up with you soon.”

  We split ways and I stride over to the tent with the word books written across the front in bright yellow letters. It’s cooler under the canopy, taking the sting of the late afternoon sun away while tinting the plethora of tables laden with books with a lime green patina. Cleverly crafted towers made of hardbacks dot the middle of the tent, erecting themselves from one end to the other like literary Christmas trees.

  Devan is busy chatting away with a man in an apron who is actively straightening the books and he points her over to my general direction.

  Fish pats me on the chest. Here she comes, Bizzy! Act natural.

  I make a left without looking where I’m going and walk right into one of those cleverly strewn literary Christmas trees, causing a slow moving avalanche that my body seems to fall right into. Lucky for Fish, I land on my side and manage to swim my way through the hardbacks to a sitting position as an entire throng of employees comes to my rescue.

  Way to act natural, Fish yowls. Are you okay? You’ve only got two legs, for goodness’ sake. You’d better take care of them before we’re both getting around on all fours.

  “Funny,” I say as I nod to the kind men who help hoist me up. “Thank you so much. I’m sorry about that.” I take a step out of their way as they get right to cleaning up the mess I made, and I step right into the path of Devan Abner.

  A jovial laugh comes from her. “Bizzy? Is that you?” She pulls me to the side. “My goodness, are you okay? Is your cat okay?”

  “I’m fine. And Fish is fine, too. My other cat is the small orange tabby, but she’s actually not with me at the moment. Technically, she’s not really my cat. She’s sort of staying with me until we figure everything out.”

  “I saw her that night at the inn.” She gives a wistful smile. “If you ever want to place her, you let me know. I’d love to give her a home. Are you sure you’re okay?” She helps dust off my arm.

  “Yup. I was just showing off some of my top klutzy moves. I’m super embarrassed.”

  She belts out another laugh. “Well, don’t be. I’ve had my fair share of red-faced moments—like the time I walked right into a giant hole in the ground. My ex kept right on walking and didn’t miss a beat.” Funny how the roles are reversed and I’m the one who’s still walking and haven’t missed a beat.

  My eyes widen a notch. “That wouldn’t be Patterson, would it?” Normally, I wouldn’t have segued to the deceased so quickly, but I figured since she gave me an inch I was going to take a macabre mile.

  Her expression sours at the mention of him. “How did you know that?”

  “Someone whispered something to the effect at the book club meeting the other night. How are you doing? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Her back shudders. “I still can’t believe he’s gone.” I’m not sorry about it, but I can’t believe it. I’ve dreamed of this for years.

  My lips part at the horrible thought and Fish mewls.

  This must be good, Bizzy. You look as if you’re ready to fall right over once again.

  She’s not wrong.

  “So how long were the two of you married?” I ask.

  “Just a few years. Patterson was a pretty good basketball player in college and got recruited to the Red Claws. That’s when we were together.”

  “Really? That’s huge.” The Red Claws are in the National Basketball Association. That must be why all those women were pawing at him. They were bona fide jersey chasers.

  “It would have been.” She glares past my shoulder as if she was looking right at him. “But he sustained a shoulder injury to his rotator cuff that was a career ender. We were just about to move to Portland and everything. Anyway, we drifted apart. I couldn’t stand the attention he was still getting from his basketball groupies, and as it turned out, he loved it. I don’t know if you noticed or not, but he was still what I like to call a crowd pleaser right up until the end. Women found him irresistible.”

  I nod. “It was noticeable. So you must have been on friendly terms. I mean, he came to the book club you head up.”

  She plucks up a book off the table before us with a cartoon picture of a dog knocking over a wedding cake, and I can’t help but notice there’s a shiny silver knife in that pile of frosting.

  “Cozy mysteries are my favorite,” she whispers it as if it were a secret. “And I didn’t invite Patterson that night. Technically, he invited himself. You see, years ago when we were still legally bound, he needed to come up with another way to make money since hoops were out, and as fate would have it, his uncle had a small press he was looking to offload, so eventually Patterson took over. He changed the name and Higgins House was born. He only had a handful of clients. I’m not sure whatever became of it because we split ways that summer. Anyway, fast-forward to about six months ago and he asked if I would feature one of his client’s books with the Grim Readers. I looked them over and they fit the mold, so I said yes.” She shrugs. “Sure, he wasn’t my favorite person, but we’ve been amicable over the years.”

  “So you’ve featured a few books for him?”

  “Three,” she says it with a note of anger. “He practically begged me, but I told him this would be the last this year. My book club members were starting to talk. They wanted to vote on the books we read, and instead I was shoving books down their throats. And to be honest, the books were so-so. I’d say this last one was the best, but even still I was putting my foot down.” She gives a sideways glance to a group of women laughing near the registers. “Besides, I wasn’t crazy about watching my ex get hit on by a bunch of women each time he showed up. It made me uncomfortable.” And how I hated that he loved the attention. I caught those glances he cast my way as if he wanted to make sure I was witness to the spectacle. And that cheesy redhead that was dripping all over him? Lady Has Been? It’s as if he especially wanted to showcase her level of ditziness to me.

  Lady Has Been? I don’t doubt that she knows about Hadley’s regency porn.

  “Some men really like the attention from a pretty girl,” I say. “I’m sorry things ended badly between the two of you.”

  “I’m not. That man never had any faith in me. He actually had the nerve to suggest I’d go crawling back to him one day because I wouldn’t be able to make it in the world.” Her expression sours. “I’m the one that busted my tail putting him through school. Once he got out and started playing in the NBA, he was going to return the favor and I was going to head to the university, but well, things didn’t go that way for either of us.”

  Fish mewls, She’s bitter, Bizzy. Maybe she offed the man because she’s not satisfied in the direction her life took?

  I graze my teeth over my lip. “So where did life take you?” I know for a fact she works at the farm, but is that where she wanted to be?

  “Abner Farms”—she sets down the books in her arms and quickly manufactures a business card for me without so much as spilling her smoothie—“I bought a couple acres out in Bramble Point with my girlfriends and we grow an entire variety of organic mushrooms. Reishi, corydceps, turkey tail, chaga, shiitake, lion’s mane, white button, oyster, cremini, portobello, enoki, black trumpet, and chanterelle just to name a few. I’ve been addicted to fungi since I was a kid, so my move to produce them was no surprise to those who knew me. We sell local, so feel free to pass the word on to the chef at the inn. I’d be glad to offer up a tour of the grounds to you anytime you’d like.”

  “Sounds interesting. I just might take you up on that,” I say as I slip the card into my purse. “And it sounds as if you’re passionate about your work. There’s nothing more empowering than that. I guess you proved Patterson wrong.”

  “You bet I did. Right up until I asked him for a small loan.” She frowns at the thought. “I even told him I’d pay him double if he’d give it to me quickly, but he said no. Said he didn’t have it himself—which I didn’t believe for a minute. You don’t roll around in a fancy SUV l
ike he did and live in a house overlooking the water without having some spare change. And well, I guess the bottom line was he didn’t want to spare it in my direction. As he saw it, I’m the one who left him all those years ago. He would have been perfectly happy cheating on me all the while.” A dry laugh pumps through her.

  He wouldn’t loan her money? Fish growls up at me. Is that a motive? I suppose one could fit in there somewhere.

  Devan clucks her tongue as she gives Fish a quick scratch. “Such a cute cat. I saw your little orange tabby there that night, too, and she about melted my heart. I had one just like her when I was a kid. Best cat ever. I keep saying we need one or twelve at the farm to keep the critters away.”

  Fish mewls, Quick, give her Clyde. I’m sure she’ll fall in love with the next oaf she sees.

  I swallow down a laugh. “Hey?” I look back up at Devan. “Are you thinking about rescheduling the book club? You could meet up at the inn again if you like.”

  She winces. “That’s very nice of you, but considering how our last meeting ended, I think the venue would overshadow the event. But we’re meeting up at the Cider Cove Public Library next Friday night. You’re welcome to join us, and please extend the invite to your guests as well. In fact”—she plucks a paperback from her pile and shows me the cover—“this is our next selection. The Killer Barked Twice. It’s another cozy, but the Grim Readers can’t get enough of them. And the club got to pick this title, so everyone is pretty excited about it. I hope to see you there.”

  She starts to take a step, and I block her path.

  “The sheriff’s department let me know they suspect foul play in Patterson’s death,” I tell her.

  “Oh?” She snaps up the stack of books once again. “That’s terrible.” Her eyes expand a touch too wide, and I can’t help but think her reaction feels contrived. So they know something? I’m shocked they haven’t hunted me down by now. “Poison, I’m guessing?” She shakes her head. “He dropped dead without a battle wound or a puncture. I’ve read enough mysteries to narrow the field.”