Lock, Stock, and Feral

by Addison Moore

  A small laugh bubbles from me. “No worries. And I guess I can’t really blame her, I happen to be a little nutty about my husband, too.”

  “Your husband being the operative words.” She gives a curt nod. I should know. “Believe me, I know how you feel. I had a nutter obsessed with my husband, too, once. And, well, let’s just say she’s his new wife and I’m the ex.” And I still hope a plane falls on their house.

  The smile glides right off my face. “I’m so sorry.” I’d probably be wishing the same thing if I were in her shoes.

  Fish yowls, We won’t let Jasper leave you, Bizzy. I take back everything I’ve ever said about the oaf. He’s your oaf and you’re keeping him.

  I give the tiny kitty a quick pat.

  “I’m glad you have such a fun job,” I say, glancing out at the sea of tables and spot Georgie with two brimming tote bags apiece on each arm. “Wow, you must really move the books with this sale.”

  She glances over at Georgie and laughs. “We do. All the money goes to the library fund, and it’s an excellent way for our patrons to pick up some great reads on the cheap.” I won’t bore her with my theory on book buying being a bona fide addiction. I know for a fact people get a natural high off it. “And the kicker? About ninety percent of the purchases get donated right back to the library, so we get to sell them again and make more money.”

  “Really? That’s wonderful, but it’s kind of funny, too. I’ve donated books before but not many. I have a hard time parting with them. Once I read them, they become like friends.”

  “I’m the same way.” The only friends I ever want. “But you would be surprised. Even the diehards like us are succumbing to the e-reader. It is kind of nice to have your entire library in your purse with you, so I can see the lure. Most people are pairing down their book collections to just a few these days. That’s the thing about books. They do take up some serious real estate in the house. And most prolific readers are choosing to go digital.”

  “I get that. I certainly do both. How about that book club you’re in, the Grim Readers? Do they have a preference?”

  “You can read any way you like in the club,” she says, straightening a few books in one of the boxes I just pilfered through. “I’ve done it both ways. Most people choose digital.”

  “Oh? At the last meeting everyone seemed to be holding a paperback.”

  Her lips pucker. “That’s because those were distributed by the publisher. The paperbacks for that book weren’t available widely, and Higgins House had yet to upload the e-book.” She looks a little miffed by this.

  “I didn’t realize that. But now that I think of it, Devan, your group leader, came by a week before the event and dropped off a dozen copies in the event someone from the inn wanted to read it. It never occurred to me the paperbacks would be tough to find. It was a good book, though.”

  “Really? You thought so?”

  “Oh yeah, I’m big on mystery. I mean, it was easy for me to figure out who the killer was early on, but let’s just say I have a knack for that sort of thing.”

  She ticks her head to the side. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. You wouldn’t happen to know who offed Patterson, would you? Cops came around and questioned all the members it looks like. Rumor has it, he was poisoned.”

  “No, I have no clue who could have killed the poor man. Did you know him?”

  She glances to the sky. “From the club. He was a polarizing individual. He came to the Grim Readers as a publisher, and most members were put off by the fact he kept shoving his own books down our throats.”

  “I guess he wanted to promote his authors by getting some word of mouth going.”

  “That’s exactly what he wanted. But unless a book is a real head turner, word of mouth doesn’t amount to much. The truth is, he was giving out promotional copies, because technically it fulfilled his duty as a publisher to advertise the books. That’s what people signed up for when they chose his publishing house. Anyway, he’s dead and gone and I guess so is that publishing house, so the Grim Readers can get back to their regularly scheduled reading.” She shrugs. “Everyone knows it was Devan who offed him. Or at least that’s what the whispers are in the club. She’s the bitter ex.” She says bitter ex in air quotes.

  “You don’t believe the rumors, I take it?”

  “Hard to, I guess. She’s been nothing but uplifting to everyone. It’s hard to picture her going dark on the sly. I guess you never know what anyone is capable of, isn’t that right?”

  “What about James Foreman? I heard he had a crush on Hadley—Patterson was into Hadley. And I thought I heard something about James wanting to buy the publishing company.”

  “James?” Her lips turn down as she expresses her amusement. “That’s a new one. I mean, about the publishing house. The thing with Hadley?” She rolls her eyes. “James was always siphoning off Patterson’s leftovers, so that doesn’t surprise anyone. Patterson Higgins was a good-looking guy. Not a lot upstairs.” He was as dubious as he was attractive, but I’ll leave that out for now. No reason to berate the guy any more than everyone else has. “Anyway, Hadley wasn’t really trying to seduce Patterson as far as I can tell. She was just desperate to get her book published. And I guess she couldn’t meet Patterson’s terms, so that’s when I noticed she turned up the heat. And believe me, I think Patterson was up for some down and dirty negotiations. Hadley’s a looker. Plus, she had that whole quasi-fame thing going for herself. Who knows? Maybe she offed the guy because she couldn’t stand what he was leading her to do? There was a lot going on in Patterson’s life that led to chaos.” Damn fool is what he was. But he thought he had all the answers. Sadly, those answers didn’t work out for him, did they?

  “Well, someone killed him,” I point out. “And like you said, I guess we don’t know what anyone is capable of.”

  “Poisonous mushrooms.” She shakes her head. “I suspect the sheriff’s department will connect all the dots sooner than later. I mean, Devan does own the mushroom farm. I’m surprised they haven’t raided her compound by now, but then, the wheels of justice are slow moving. They’ll arrest her sooner or later.” She smiles over at me. “Are you coming to the next Grim Readers book club? Meets Friday right here at seven-thirty.”

  “I’ll be there. In fact, a few of my friends will be coming, too. We’re already enjoying the book.” I steady my gaze over hers as if willing her to give up something, anything new.

  She tips her head back and squints. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say the killer would probably be at our next meeting, too. I’ve read enough mysteries to know they like to go on like nothing happened. I don’t think whoever did this skipped town.”

  “You think they’re sitting back and laughing at the fact they got away with murder?”

  “I wouldn’t say laughing.” She cocks a brow at the thought. “But certainly they feel some level of satisfaction.”

  “I bet you’re right.” My phone bleats, and as soon as I pull it out, Liv takes off with a wave.

  It’s a text from Camila Ryder, of all people. I click into my phone and see it’s a picture she’s sent—of Hadley and Jasper locked in an embrace.

  It’s going down right now in his office, Bizzy. Get down here fast and put on a show for me.

  I grab Georgie, toss a fifty-dollar bill at the woman working the register, and we take off for Seaview. If I owe more to the library, I’ll ante up later.

  Right now I have a regency rake to fry.

  Chapter 13

  The Seaview Sheriff’s Department is muggy and stifling inside.

  “Here’s hoping the AC is broken and it’s not Hadley and Jasper bringing all the steam to the building,” I say as Georgie and I race with our furry friends over to his office and we come upon his secretary extraordinaire, Camila herself.

  “Ooh, goody.” She wiggles her shoulders. “The fun can begin. Go—storm in there. It’s your God-given right. Make a big stink about it, too. I would never have tolerated Jasp
er to two-time me.”

  Camila doesn’t have to tell me twice. I barrel through the door, only to find Jasper at his desk, Hadley seated across from him, and a pizza nestled between them.

  “Bizzy?” Jasper’s eyes bug out a moment.

  But before I can say a single thing, toss a shoe, or a pizza, Georgie arches her back, thrusts her head back, and belts out a wild howl that seems to be summoning all the beasts in the great state of Maine. Fish hops out of my arms, as does Clyde. I didn’t have time to fuss with the wonky carrier, and the two of them hop right onto Hadley’s chest and begin to yowl and make a great show of swiping their claws. Sherlock starts in on a barking spree that only rivals Georgie’s howls—and from behind Camila is chronicling it all on her phone.

  “Enough,” Jasper thunders as he jumps to his feet. “Bizzy, I swear this is not what it looks like,” he says, attempting to pluck Clyde from off of Hadley and I do the same with Fish—although Fish is putting up a good fight, and I think she’s successfully unraveled a part of Hadley’s cantaloupe-colored cardigan.

  “I’m sorry,” I say to the woman. “About your sweater,” I add just to be clear. “You’d better stay away from my husband.”

  Hadley laughs while Georgie and Camila come up on either side of me.

  “I’m afraid you caught us catching up and nothing more. I’m no homewrecker.” Yet. “My apologies to you all.” She bats her lashes over at the Duke of Homicide. “Thank you for the pleasant conversation.” She forces a smile my way as she hits the exit. If she keeps up this lunatic act, he’ll be mine sooner than later.

  I blow out a breath because I’m half-moved to agree with her.

  Jasper has me in his arms before I can blink.

  “I would never do a thing to hurt you. I swear, she stormed in here fifteen minutes ago with a pizza and it’s been untouched ever since. And to be honest, I was just about to get rid of her.”

  Georgie clucks her tongue. “That’s what they all say.” She strides over to the pizza box and flips it open to reveal a fully intact cheesy-looking pie. “So I stand corrected. You didn’t lie about the pizza.”

  “I didn’t lie about anything,” Jasper says it with a sober tone.

  Sherlock belts out a few more barks. You tell ’em, Jasper. I knew you aren’t a cad, whatever that means. I knew you would never hurt Bizzy in any way.

  Fish hisses, It wasn’t Jasper we were worried about. It was that cheap hussy. I’m betting we stormed in just in time before she took all her clothes off.

  Clyde mewls, How shameful that would have been. It’s embarrassing enough the poor people only have a tuft of fur on their heads.

  Fish’s ear twitches as she looks to Clyde. It’s not shameful. And did you know our kind could be hairless as well? I hear it’s quite fashionable these days to have a hairless in the household. A guest at the inn had one not long ago, and let me tell you, he was a looker.

  Ooh, a looker? Clyde purrs so loud even Sherlock lifts an ear her way.

  “I believe you,” I say to Jasper. “I apologize for storming the castle. It’s just—Camila sent me this picture of—”

  Georgie steps in “Of you and Hadley locked in an embrace.” She wags a finger at him. “That’s some hard evidence. We came with receipts, as the kids say these days.”

  “Bizzy—” Jasper starts and I shake my head.

  “I have no doubt she lunged at you,” I tell him. “And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you embracing whoever you like. I guess seeing it unleashed the jealous genie from the bottle. Forgive me?”

  “Do you forgive me?” he insists and both Georgie and Sherlock coo in unison.

  “Please,” Camila gags. “Bizzy, that woman is out to snag your man. Today she comes bearing pizza, but next time it’ll be her with a bow wrapped around her waist. I know her type. She’s going to watch the two of you like a hawk, just hoping for a crack in the armor, and then she’ll pounce when he’s vulnerable.”

  I glance back at her. “So does that mean she’ll be taking a page out of your playbook?”

  She sheds a greedy grin as she strides past me. “You know me well.” She snatches up the pizza and walks right out of the room.

  “I gotta run, kids.” Georgie hitches her head that way. “I’m splitting that pizza with the she-devil. And once I’m through, I’ll be distributing my card to the men in blue. You’d be surprised how many hunky men still need a grandma in their lives. Just yesterday I got paid overtime to iron a pair of slacks and whip up a batch of chocolate chip cookies.”

  “Georgie.” I wrinkle my nose. “Be careful. There are freaks out there.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I charge more than a few freaky dollars.”

  “What’s you’re flat rate?” Jasper asks.

  “Give me five hundred smackers, and I’ll do your bidding for the day.”

  “Sold,” he says. “How about you drive Bizzy’s car back to Cider Cove? I’ve got somewhere I’d like to take her.”

  “I take cash or credit,” she says, scooping up Fish and Clyde. “I’ll see you kids later. And Jasper? Try to squeeze a cake into that mystery date. Nothing says I’ll never leave you for another woman than a slice of triple chocolate fudge cake.”

  “Will do,” he says, and Georgie, the cats, and Sherlock sail on out the door.

  “Ooh, a mystery date?” I muse. “And cake? We’re not going to a bakery, are we?” I tease, but secretly I’m sort of rooting for the bakery.

  “I’ll gladly take you wherever you want right after I make all of our mushroom dreams come true.”

  I take in a breath. “You got the warrant?”

  “Yup. Just landed on my desk twenty minutes ago. Are you in, Detective Wilder?”

  “I’m in.”

  And just like that, we’re out of there.

  Bramble Point is less than a half hour drive from Seaview, and we arrive at Abner Farms just an hour before it closes to the public.

  It’s country out here, nothing but farms for miles, and a cheery red sign reads Welcome to Abner Farms as we drive under its arches. Of course, we’re not alone. A few patrol cars are following along, filled with people from toxicology ready to take some soil and water samples. Jasper told me that he let Devan know the other day that they would be coming in force, but that it was strictly procedural seeing how the victim died. He also told me that he didn’t get too far with tracking down whoever is terrorizing my mother. But he did convince her not to send a single dime. Here’s hoping it worked.

  We park, get out, and Devan comes out of a large two-story structure to greet us.

  Nearby are three smaller structures that look like modern barns comprised mostly of dark slats of wood. The acreage stretches out before us in every direction. To the right there are a few cows and a horse penned up in a corral, and to the left there looks to be an ample vegetable garden with lots of green leafy goodies and a few tomato plants as well.

  “Welcome,” Devan greets us with a wide smile, and behind her are a handful of women. She’s dressed in a red flannel, jeans, and cowboy boots, looking perfectly homey and charming. “Your deputies are free to go wherever they like. I’d just appreciate it if they didn’t trash the place. My co-owners will show them around.” She motions behind her, and the men and women here from forensics head that way. “But as for you two—” Her brows furrow a moment as she tries to make sense of me. “Bizzy?”

  “That’s me.” I shrug. “This is my husband. Once he mentioned he was coming to your farm, I had to tag along. I’ve never been to a mushroom farm before.”

  “Well, come on. I’ll show you around.” She navigates us into the first building behind her, and it’s wide and brightly lit with closed doors to the right and left. “We keep all of our mushrooms in contained environments, and every species of mushroom has its very own grow room. And that’s precisely what happens there—they grow. We’ve got an extensive system throughout each of the four grow centers, and each one is meticulously monitored f
or light and climate control. Some of the species require a bit more babying than others, sort of like men.” She winks my way and a laugh bubbles from me. “Let’s head in this one.” She opens the door for us, and Jasper and I are led into a cavernous room that’s dimly lit, cool, and slightly damp as the scent of fresh soil bites our nostrils. Rows of pods laden with mushrooms line the walls. These in particular are orange with wavy bottoms that look like miniature frilly skirts, and it looks as if we’ve just been transported to some exotic forest.

  “Stunning,” I say.

  “Aren’t they?” She shakes her head as she looks around with a satisfied smile. “They’re my babies. These are chanterelles. I’ll make sure to send you home with some. Just sauté them in a pan with a little butter and serve with your favorite meal.”

  “The first three buildings is where the action happens, and in the last building we do the packaging and sorting.”

  “How did you get into this?” Jasper asks as he runs his finger over one of the delicate blooms.

  “I was having a hard time after my divorce, and I knew I wanted to go into business for myself. A few of my girlfriends were feeling the same, and we took our time until we found something we could get passionate about—and something that was needed in the area. It turns out, the mushroom business is booming. And not only that, but restaurants love to boast of farm-to-table vegetables, so we thought we’d start here. We applied for an agricultural loan and got a little seed money. We scampered for the rest.” No thanks to Patterson for holding out on me. “And regardless of our obstacles, we now have a thriving business.”

  “You’re a real go-getter,” I say, still marveling at the elongated elegant necks of this curious looking mushroom. “You know if I ran into this in the woods, I don’t even think I’d realize it was a mushroom.”