A Killer Tail

by Addison Moore

  “What kind of problems?”

  He blows out a breath. “Where to begin? His girlfriend was a sandwich short of a picnic. In fact, rumor has it, she has some obsessive disorder, and whatever it is, she was expending it on him. To say he was the object of her obsession is putting it mildly.”

  “That’s Molly, right?”

  He nods. “And Wyatt didn’t own this place outright. He had an investor. She was here last night, too—Brooklynn.”

  “Brooklynn Knight?”

  “Yes.” His eyes grow in size. “You know her?”

  “Met her last night. Actually, it’s my friend that knows her.” I nod to Juni who’s currently dusting her armpits with translucent powder Macy has set out. “Anyway, I guess I don’t really know the woman. For sure I didn’t know she had an interest in the bookstore. Any clue on what she’s going to do with it? It’s probably too early to tell.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know, but she has a lot to think about.” He lifts his chin a notch, his eyes never leaving mine. “She and Wyatt never really got along. I was surprised to see her last night. She’s more or less a silent partner, or at least she was up until a few weeks ago.”

  “What happened a few weeks ago?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t know. She’s some fancy lawyer seemingly content to stay in her lane, and next thing you know, she’s coming around, shaking Wyatt down every chance she gets.”

  “Shaking him down?” I ask, amused. “As in for money?”

  “That’s what makes the world go ’round.” He nods over to the shop, and I follow his gaze to find the front door opened and a line of men in vests clearly marked sheriff’s department carrying things out. “I guess they found what they were looking for. Hopefully, I can get back in there. I left some things in the employee room I’d like back, my wallet, my phone. It was a nightmare getting out of there last night. My mind was a jumble. Good thing I had my keys in my pocket or I wouldn’t have been able to drive myself home, let alone get in my house.”

  “I’m glad you got home all right. Which is more than I can say for Wyatt.”

  He closes his eyes a moment. “It was nice talking to you. Forgive me, I’m not very good with names. Was it Izzy?”

  “Close. It’s Bizzy. Bizzy Baker. I work down at the Country Cottage Inn. I’m the manager.”

  “Well, it was nice seeing you again.” He holds his hand out and I shake it. My fingers catch on something hard and I look down to find that same chunky gold ring that Wyatt had on last night with the black stone and silver etching over it.

  My eyes bounce up to his. “Nice seeing you again, too. It looks like I’ll be here fixing my sister’s window. I guess I might see you again.”

  He makes a face at something near the entry to Killer Books and I turn that way to find Gatsby, the blond golden retriever, exiting the building with a sheriff holding onto his leash.

  Thomas sighs at the sight. “Looks like Gatsby might be the second victim in all this. Molly can’t be around him for more than five minutes. She’s allergic to dogs.”

  “What do you think will happen to him?”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “My lease stipulates no pets, so I’m out.”

  “The inn runs a pet daycare.” A note of excitement seeps through my voice. “We would be happy to house him until someone steps in to claim him.”

  “I don’t see who would protest. I know Gatsby won’t mind. He loves other animals. And since you’re right up the road, I might even drop in and visit.”

  He inspects me for a moment. Nice smile. Easy temperament. It looks like Bizzy Baker is the perfect woman. He glances down at my ring finger. And very much taken. The good ones always are. It looks like it’s back to the funny farm for me. That’s okay, after what I did. That’s where I belong.

  After what he did?

  I let his cryptic words sink in a moment.

  He says goodbye before taking off down the street, and I make a beeline over to the bookstore with both Georgie and Juni hot on my heels.

  “Hey, Gatsby,” I say as the sad looking pooch meanders my way.

  The kind lady from last night. He does a double take my way. The one who had Wyatt’s blood on her hands.

  I shake my head. “I didn’t do it,” I whisper before asking the deputy if I could hold the leash and he lets me. I walk Gatsby over a few feet and whisper in his ear, “I can hear your thoughts—and understand you.” I give his back a quick scratch. “I’m hoping they’ll let me take you home with me.”

  Georgie and Juni descend on the friendly, not-so-little puppy just as a tall, dark, and vexingly handsome homicide detective emerges from the building—Jasper. His light eyes sear right through me and my insides squeeze tight. Since the moment we met, my body hasn’t stopped responding to him viscerally, and I hope it never does.

  “Bizzy Baker,” he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Why aren’t I surprised to see you milling around?”

  I twist my lips. “Because my love for you knows no physical bounds?”

  He flicks his finger for me to head his way and I do.

  “Bizzy, tell me you’re not investigating.”

  I frown at the thought. Clearly, my fiancé has a lot to learn about me yet.

  I lean in. “First you tell me whether or not Wyatt Sanders was wearing a fat gold ring when they took his body away.”

  Jasper tips his head to the side and sighs.

  “Oh yes, Detective Wilder. I am very much investigating this case.”

  Chapter 6

  The Busy Bean Coffee Shop is located right next door to Lather and Light, and that’s exactly where I’ve lured Jasper into having a quick cup of coffee with me.

  The six of us sit outside, lounging at the bistro tables while sipping on iced coffee. Yes, six. Not only have Sherlock and Gatsby joined us, but so have Georgie and Juni.

  About a half a dozen female tourists pause before us to purr over at the ornery detective with approval. And believe me, Jasper is every bit ornery.

  Sherlock lets out a moaning bark as if he heard. Bizzy, try to remember what it is that Jasper does for a living. I recognize that cranky look on his face. It’s because things are out of his control.

  “Bizzy,” he says my name low like a reprimand. “You of all people shouldn’t be returning to the scene of the crime.”

  Georgie moans as she swallows down a bite of her chocolate croissant.

  “Go easy on her, Officer.” She winks over at him. “They say the killer always returns to the scene of a crime. Bizzy’s just following protocol.”

  Juni inhales so loud and sharp I fear the heap of brownies in front of her will end up in her respiratory tract.

  “Bizzy, you’re the killer?” she hisses just above a whisper and Gatsby lets out a sharp bark.

  “No.” I shake my head as I give the precious pup a quick scratch between the ears. “I’m not the killer,” I say as I lean in toward Jasper. “But somebody out there is. And yes, I’ll admit it. I was drawn to the bookstore, but only because I wanted to find some answers.”

  Gatsby belts out a sickly moan. I want answers, too.

  Sherlock barks. That’s Bizzy’s specialty. She pokes her snout where it doesn’t belong and eventually sniffs out the killer.

  I can’t help but make a face at the cute pooch.

  Jasper opens his mouth then closes it in what looks to be a fit of frustration.

  “Then let me do it, Bizzy,” he says. “Let me find the killer. That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”

  Georgie elbows Juni. “You hear that—big bucks. When you toss the bouncer to the curb, you should aim for someone at the sheriff’s department next. Do something really creative to get arrested, like streaking down Main Street and rob a bank while you’re at it.”

  “Ohh, good thinking.” Juni rubs her hands together. “I could use me a man with money and access to the keys.”

  I shake my head at her. “What keys?”

  “To the
cell block.” She gives a flirtatious wink to Jasper before wrapping her lips seductively around her straw.

  I pull Jasper close to me by way of his hand. “Never mind those two. Yes, I know that’s why they pay you the big bucks.” I bite down over my lower lip, trying to control a burgeoning grin. “So you can spend your lunch hour with me.” A tittering laugh bounces through me. “Kidding. I know what you’re about to ask. You want me to keep my distance. And I will—as soon as you tell me about that ring.”

  He sits back in his seat and runs those light gray peepers over my features. You know I can’t deny you a thing, Bizzy.

  “Fine.” He pulls out his phone and begins tapping away. “I will see where this goes.” He gives a brief lopsided grin my way. “I’m curious about the ring myself.”

  I do my best to peer over at his screen. “Wyatt and Thomas either had a matching set or Thomas swiped it.”

  “Ooh!” Juni raises her hand as if we were at school. “If Thomas swiped it, I bet that makes him the killer.”

  Jasper ticks his head to the side. “Or at some point in the evening, Wyatt took his ring off. He could have left it on the counter. He could have given it to Thomas for all we know. Or maybe Thomas stole the ring off the body when no one was looking but didn’t have a thing to do with the killing.” He points his phone my way. “Either way, my contact at the morgue will get back to me shortly about any personal effects that made it down with the body.”

  “Did someone say morgue?” a female grunts from behind as Macy pops up in our midst. “It looks like I came into this conversation just in time.” She takes a seat and looks at Jasper. “Did my sister throw a mallet at your window, too? Is that why you’d rather send her to the morgue than down the aisle?” She shoots a sarcastic smile my way.

  Jasper’s eyes widen with a look of amusement as he turns to me. “What’s the best way to answer this?”

  “By ignoring her,” I say. “Macy, no one is sending me to the morgue, and I’ll pay for your window to be repaired. In fact, as soon as I get back to the inn, I’ll call a repair man myself.”

  She shrugs. “I already beat you to it. So what exotic locale are you off to next in hot pursuit of the ever-elusive homicidal maniac? And was that him you were talking to?” She hitches her thumb in the direction of Killer Books. Because if it was, that man is smokin’. Count me in on this comely caper.”

  Georgie shakes her head. “No way, Macy. You can’t date a homicidal maniac. Take it from someone who knows. They’re not the good time you would think they would be.”

  Juni doesn’t hesitate to smack her mama on the arm. “Don’t you listen to her, Macy May. There is nothing hotter than a felon on the run from the law. All that pent-up frustration, those rampant paranoid delusions, the inaudible voices.”

  I glance to the sky. “Sounds like a dizzying aphrodisiac of psychiatric maladies. Macy, take note. I’d look elsewhere for your next psychotic ex-boyfriend if I were you.”

  Macy takes a moment to glower at me. “Have it your way. But rumor has it, you’re headed to a tattoo parlor next, and if so, I call shotgun. I’ve been meaning to finish the tramp stamp on my back for years now.”

  Juni nods. “I feel you, sister. Wanna see mine?”

  Jasper’s phone pings. “Looks like we’ve got some jewelry in the mix.” His chest expands a moment as he settles his gaze on mine. “You up for a quick trip down to the Seaview morgue?”

  I waggle my brows his way before turning to my sister. “Sorry, Macy. It looks like you’ll have to count me out of the tattoo parlor adventure.”

  “That’s okay.” She shrugs with a look of indifference. “I hear there are plenty of hot men at the county morgue. I’ve got someone watching the shop, and I’m in the mood to tag along.”

  “Newsflash, Macy”—I say, cinching my purse over my arm—“the men at the morgue are cold and unresponsive.”

  Georgie snaps her fingers. “My last three dates in a nutshell.”

  Sherlock whimpers and covers his eyes with his paws. Count me out, Bizzy.

  Me, too, Gatsby barks. I’d rather remember Wyatt the way I knew him. Full of warmth and life.

  Poor guy. I can’t blame him.

  “Georgie, Juni?” I turn their way. “Would you ladies mind taking Sherlock and Gatsby back to the inn? I spoke to Thomas and he didn’t seem to think anyone would mind. It looks like I’ve got a hot date at the den of the dead.”

  “You bet.” Georgie stands and is quickly tangled in two leashes.

  Juni stands and tries to detangle her mother, and soon the two of them are flailing and twirling like twin peach hurricanes. Then, in a burst of energy, they’re down the road with both Sherlock and Gatsby in tow.

  A suggestive smile curves on my lips as I look to the smoldering, very much taken, homicide detective beside me.

  “Looks like it’s just you and me, hot stuff.”

  “Not so fast.” Macy lifts a finger. “Unless you want to pay for that window, I’m calling shotgun.”

  I shrug over at Jasper, and before long the three of us are on our way to Seaview, to the morgue, to see about a dead guy with some serious bling.

  The three of us set foot into the gray cinderblock building with its sterile white walls and flooring. The strong scent of peppermint lingers in the air, and it makes me wonder if they’re trying to mask an odor.

  Macy leans in. “At what point do we get the tattoos?”

  “I’m not going to lie.” Jasper gives a wistful tick of the head. “They’ve got the tools here.”

  “No tattoos this afternoon, Macy,” I say as Jasper nods to the secretary and leads us through doors marked staff only. “In fact, don’t talk to anyone—dead or alive. Don’t make me wish I had paid for the window instead.”

  “Don’t worry about a thing, Biz. You know I always make you pay in other ways.”

  “Now that I can take to the bank.”

  Jasper leads us into a linoleum-tiled room with stainless counters and far too many stainless drawers and trolleys to ever be comfortable. Just the thought of what might be lurking in those drawers has my stomach doing a sharp roll, and suddenly I’m rethinking the lox and bagels I had this morning for breakfast.

  A man steps out from a pair of folding doors that leads into a far more invasive room, I’m guessing. He’s tall, baby-faced, and clean-cut with short brown hair and pale green eyes. He sheds a warm smile once he sees us, and I swear on all that is holy Macy just groaned like a dying woman.

  Good Lord, here we go.

  “Detective Wilder.” His smile broadens as he takes the three of us in. “I didn’t realize you were traveling with an entourage these days. New coworkers down at the sheriff’s department?”

  “My fiancée and her sister.” He nods my way. “Rob, this is Bizzy, my soon-to-be bride, and her sister, Macy. Bizzy, Macy, meet the keeper of the crypt.”

  Rob chuckles as he nods my way then to my sister.

  Jasper’s got himself a catch. And this girl? I can spot a man-eater a mile away. Looks like every ex I’ve ever had rolled into one barrel of fun. She is hot. I’ll give her that. Those eyes, those lips, those—

  I clear my throat. “Jasper says you’ve got a rundown on the deceased’s personal belongings?”

  “I do.” He disappears a moment into the back room before reappearing with a silver basket. He plucks a dark cloth from it and lays it over the counter, revealing the same gold chunky piece of jewelry I saw earlier on Thomas.

  “Jasper, that’s the same ring,” I say.

  Macy bats her lashes seductively at the poor man before us.

  She leans in, forcing her bosom to blossom right out of her top. “How about you give me a tour of the place, big boy?”

  Jasper’s eyes widen my way. Did she just say big boy?

  My lips twitch in lieu of a nod.

  Rob perks up as if he were just asked out on a date by the popular, albeit snobby and mean, girl in school. And in the event he’s not aware, that would
be true.

  “It would be my pleasure.” A shifty smile curls on his lips. “Step this way. I’ll introduce you to the residents.”

  Gross.

  I watch as Macy is led behind closed doors before looking to Jasper.

  “Nobody will ever accuse my sister of being subtle.”

  “What do you think?” Jasper’s chest bounces with a silent laugh. “Love at first sight?”

  “I doubt it. And there’s an over-my-dead-body joke in here somewhere, but I’m too preoccupied by this ring to fish it out.” I fish my phone out of my purse instead and take a few pictures of the gold bauble. “Jasper, what’s that silver thing lying over the black stone?”

  “A sword.” He takes a picture with his own phone. “I’d better do a rough and dirty internet search.”

  “Ooh.” I tug on my lower lip with my teeth. “You just sent me somewhere heated with those words.”

  His lips curl my way. “Remind me to repeat them after dinner.”

  “Does this mean you’re stopping by with takeout?”

  “Wyatt Sanders might be dead, but I’m very much alive and plan on stealing every moment I can with the woman I love.” He takes a quick nip from my ear.

  “You keep up the sweet talk, Detective. It will get you everywhere.”

  Something pops up on his screen and we both lean in to inspect it.

  “It looks as if the ring was made by Johnson Jewelers,” he says. “They’re renowned for collegiate rings like this. I’ll call and see if I can get anywhere with the people at Johnson’s.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” I shake my head while looking down at the ring. “They must have gone to the same school. Maybe even the same fraternity?”

  “I bet you’re right.” Jasper pulls me in and wraps his arms around my waist, those day-glow eyes of his settling over mine. “Let me do this, Bizzy. Let me figure this out. I’ll talk to Thomas Dean and see what he can tell me about the ring.”

  “But I can be there with you while you quiz him, and I can read his mind and let you—”

  He dots my lips with a peck of a kiss before I can finish the sentence.