Santa Claws Calamity (Country Cottage Mysteries Book 3)
Addison Moore
Santa Claws Calamity
Country Cottage Mysteries 3
Addison Moore
Bellamy Bloom
Contents
Book Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Recipe
Bow Wow Big House (Country Cottage Mysteries 4)
Preview: Murder Bites
Preview: Kittyzen’s Arrest
Preview: Cutie Pies and Deadly Lies
Books by the authors
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright © 2019 by Addison Moore, Bellamy Bloom
This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination. The author holds all rights to this work. It is illegal to reproduce this novel without written expressed consent from the author herself.
All Rights Reserved.
This eBook is for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase any additional copies for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Copyright © 2019 by Addison Moore, Bellamy Bloom
Created with Vellum
Book Description
My name is Bizzy Baker, and I can read minds. Not every mind, not every time, but most of the time, and believe me when I say it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
It’s Christmas in Cider Cove, and it’s time for the annual house-decorating competition. But on the night set to determine the winner, the residents of Candy Cane Lane get more than they bargained for. They don’t just get an award. They get murder.
Bizzy Baker runs the Country Cottage Inn, has the ability to pry into the darkest recesses of both the human and animal mind, and has just stumbled upon a body. With the help of her kitten, Fish, a mutt named Sherlock Bones, and an ornery yet dangerously good-looking homicide detective, Bizzy is determined to find the killer.
Cider Cove, Maine is the premier destination for fun and relaxation. But when a body turns up, it’s the premier destination for murder.
The Country Cottage Inn is known for its hospitality. Leaving can be murder.
Chapter One
My name is Bizzy Baker, and I read minds. Not every mind, not every time, but it happens, and believe me when I say it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
Like say now for instance.
My, my—Camila Ryder offers a dark smile as she takes me in—aren’t you and Jasper an adorable couple? Out and about on this December night, pretending to be a family.
I shoot a side-glance at my newly minted boyfriend, Detective Jasper Wilder. He’s six-foot-two, dark hair, has eyes the color of lightning bolts, and is a bit ornery around the edges. He commands the attention of every woman in all of Maine simply by being present in the state, and yet, for some reason, he’s chosen me to spend his time with.
Lucky, lucky me.
Camila is Jasper’s ex-girlfriend, who has since decided that she wants him back. And that potshot about having a family has everything to do with the fact I’m pushing a stroller specially designed to house my sweet kitten, Fish.
As soon as I started in on how excited I was to see the Christmas lights on Candy Cane Lane this year, Fish begged to join me, and I wasn’t about to deny her a night of illuminated holiday fun.
And yes, I can read an animal’s mind as well as a human’s—and as far as I’m concerned, animals have nicer things to say.
Sherlock lets out a sharp bark as if in agreement.
Sherlock Bones is a red freckled mixed breed that Jasper adopted before we met. Sherlock is a sweetheart of a pooch, and he and Fish get along famously, mostly.
The sound of a bell chiming across the street demands our attention as a group of carolers, complete in Dickens’ era costumes, starts off with a harmonizing tune before they break out into a cheery rendition of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”
Next to the cheery carolers is a stand with an oversized sign that reads Christmas Treats! It has a menu written in large print that boasts of hot cocoa, eggnog, and frosted sugar cookies—the three basic food groups this time of year. And that’s exactly where Jasper and I were headed before we bumped into the ghost of girlfriends past.
It’s the official opening night of Candy Cane Lane, an area of residential houses on the west end of Cider Cove where they go all out with Christmas decorations. Each home selects a theme and somehow works Christmas into it, and everyone in Cider Cove comes out to cast their vote for their favorite over-the-top holiday display. And that’s exactly what we’re doing tonight. Each home has a different motif. There’s an adorable display featuring the Peanuts characters, others have a traditional snowman, some celebrate the Grinch, and others hold true to the meaning of the season with a simple nativity.
Visiting Candy Cane Lane is something I’ve done since I was a child. And each year I look forward to coming here and seeing the decorated houses as well as the famed oak trees that line the streets in these neighborhoods. The overgrown oaks are planted next to the sidewalk and go on in a line as far as the eye can see. Each oak is strung up with white twinkle lights, illuminating all of Candy Cane Lane with the enchanted appeal of a winter wonderland. As a whole, it creates a magical aura only this season can bring.
But it’s the houses that steal the show.
Two of the houses have really turned the Christmas spirit on high volume this year, and that would be the Bronsons’ and the Brooks’ homes, which are both located directly across the street from one another. And oddly, both homes have decided to go with the very same North Pole theme with a dedicated throne for Santa. Each of the houses is buzzing with bodies as the crowds press in trying to get a look at the thousands of lights, the shiny wrapped gifts that sit under the enormous well-decorated—and well-illuminated—evergreen trees erected on their front lawns. There are lines snaking around each of their driveways as children wait eagerly to speak with the head elf himself and yet both Santas seem to be suspiciously away from their thrones at the moment.
But just prior to the great Santa disappearance, it’s been confusing and delightful for all the little kids here to say the least. They kept crossing the street with their parents, making sure to ask both of the men in red suits for gifts as to not accidently whisper their sincerest desire to the phony of the two.
“Camila.” Jasper takes a breath and sags as he says her name. I snap to, momentarily forgetting all about her evil presence. Evil might sound a bit harsh, but it’s not much of a stretch. “Enjoying the lights?”
“That I am.” She warms her arms with her hands. Camila is a stunning beauty with long, dark, wavy hair and cutting features that could easily have earned her millions as a supermodel. But she’s as cunning as she is beautiful. Not only is she gunning to land Jasper back by her side, but she’s somehow discovered that I’m able to read minds.
You see, when Camila cheated on Jasper with his best friend, Deputy Leo Granger, way back when, she had somehow figured out that Leo, too, could pry into people’s most intimate thoughts. So naturally when she saw both Leo and me communicating without the effort of our lips, she put two and two mind readers together. Now she’s threatened me with all sorts of horrible things in an effort to get me to dump Jasper so she can have him back.
As if.
I shake my head at the thought. There is no way I’m going down without a fight. Camila can get a bullhorn and shout out the fact I can read minds to the world, but I’ll deny it until I’m blue in the face. Despite her best adolescent efforts, she can’t scare me.
Okay—fine. She scares me just a little. But she can’t scare me much.
“So Bizzy”— Camila leans in, that manufactured grin of hers ever-expanding—“I took a look at the activities board for the month, and it seems I’ve settled in the right locale. The Country Cottage Inn is the place to be in December.”
I can’t help but frown.
It’s true. Camila is taking up residence at the Country Cottage Inn where I’m currently the manager. The inn itself is a massive structure that mirrors a colonial era mansion. And in addition to the inn itself, we rent over thirty cottages that are scattered across the grounds. Both Jasper and I happen to each live in our own cottages, and as fate would have it, we’re next-door neighbors. Jasper fled to Cider Cove after Camila sliced his heart open and ate it.
And here she is, hungry for the rest of him.
I look right at her and force a smile. You’re not getting another bite.
“That’s right.” I raise my voice a notch over the carolers and over all holiday revelry as the crowds start to balloon from seemingly nowhere. “We’ll have an activity every few days—crafts and cooking demonstrations, and there will be a benefit the Sunday night before Christmas Eve—the Let It Snow Ball. All proceeds collected from the ticket sales and silent auction will go directly to help provide Christmas meals for families in need.”
“Oh, wow.” Camila chortles as she looks to Jasper. “You really found the jewel in the bunch with this one, haven’t you?” She offers me a mocking nod. “You’re very altruistic, Bizzy. I can see why you’ve captured Jasper’s heart.” She tightens her smile as she looks to me. Don’t blink, Bizzy. He’ll be mine before you know it. “Any other events I should be aware of? I’m new to Cider Cove. This will be my very first Christmas here.”
And hopefully last.
Jasper threads his fingers with mine and gives my hand a gentle squeeze. Don’t do it, Bizzy. Whatever you do, don’t invite her to Christmas Eve dinner. I can feel her angling for something. Come to think of it, it’s probably me.
A dull laugh warms in my chest at his thoughts. Jasper has no idea I can read his mind—and thankfully so. I’m not sure what would become of us if he did.
I clear my throat as I look to Camila. “That’s all that I know of.” I push Fish’s stroller along a few inches, hoping Camila will take the hint. “Enjoy the neighborhood. I’m sure we’ll see you around.” Unfortunately.
“You’ll both see me,” she practically sings as the two of us start off down the street. “I’m the coordinator for your mother’s wedding, Jasper.”
We both stop cold in our tracks as an icy wind cuts right through our winter coats.
Jasper gives a sly look back. “She’s gone.” He gives a long blink. “Why did she have to remind us of that looming disaster?”
“Because she’s a looming disaster.”
Sherlock barks. That’s right, Bizzy. That woman has never been kind to me. Did you see her openly refuse to acknowledge me? She didn’t even have a sliver of bacon in her pocket to greet me the way you do. He nuzzles his forehead to my knee and I offer him a quick pat on the head.
Jasper gives a mournful laugh. “She is a disaster. One I thought I would be able to avoid. Is there any way you could evict her from the inn?”
“Not that I know of. Is there any way you can arrest her?” I’m only half-teasing. Jasper is the lead homicide detective down at the Seaview Sheriff’s Department, and I wouldn’t be opposed to him putting his badge to good use.
An all too familiar couple bustles in this direction and my stomach churns. Just look at these two, holding hands, grinning like lunatics at one another as if they were genuinely in love.
A hard groan comes from me. “I think Camila is the least of our troubles. Don’t look now, but there’s a looming disaster at six o’clock.”
Jasper cranes his neck past the crowd of bundled bodies, and his eyes enlarge once he sees the heresy.
A few months back, his mother, Gwyneth Wilder, a divorcee, and my father, Nathan Baker, the king of divorces—with more marital dissolutions under his belt than the annals of history can number—collided like two battleships in the night set on a collision course for calamity. And after about three solid weeks of partial interactions, half-hearted hellos, and perhaps one or two instances where they were in the same place at the same time for under thirty minutes, they announced that they would be tying the knot this Christmas Eve.
I predict it’s going to be less of a celebratory event and more like an Irish wake. In other words, a night steeped in deep regret and mourning—at least for Jasper and me.
“Mom.” Jasper pulls the woman who brought him into this world in for a quick embrace, and I do the same with my father. “It’s nice to see you getting out and enjoying the season.” Jasper looks to my father. “Nathan, it’s good to see you, too. My mother isn’t typically a fan of these kinds of events.”
Of course, she’s not. Good tidings and joy aren’t typically on the top of the list for your average Scrooge.
A twinge of remorse blips through me. I’m not trying to disparage her. It’s just that I sort of can’t help it. Gwyneth Wilder made it clear to me when we met that I wasn’t good enough for her son. In fact, she worked her hardest to reconnect Jasper with his ex, the aforementioned Camila. I suppose that’s what the wedding coordinator stunt is about, too. At least in part. I’m guessing Camila came up with that breakup brainstorm—the aforementioned breakup just so happens to feature Jasper and me.
“Bizzy Bizzy, how’s it going, kid?” Dad gives my ear a playful tug before he does a double take at the stroller. “What’s this? I haven’t been away nine whole months, have I?” He takes a peek inside the mesh net keeping Fish from running wild into the streets. “I’m too young and good looking to be a grandpa.”
“You’re a grandpa, all right,” I say. “And your granddaughter has pointed ears and a furry tail.”
The four of us share a warm laugh on my playful father’s behalf. Dad has always had an irresistible boyish quality about him. And that’s exactly how he’s gotten away with marrying and divorcing so many women without his head—or other far more southern anatomical features—ending up on the chopping block.
He’s notorious for all of his exes loving him post their amicable dissolutions. I don’t think there’s been a soul who hasn’t been susceptible to my father’s charm. Even Gwyneth’s well-tarnished soul has succumbed to his snake charmer-like advances. Which explains a lot, considering.
“It’s just Fish, Dad,” I say, unzipping the netting a few inches so he can take a peek. “And yes, you are very much a grandfather to her. She’s just as sweet as a human, if not sweeter.”
Fish yowls. Thanks for the endorsement, Bizzy. You’re not going to have one of those human babies with Jasper, are you? I’ve seen the destruction they’re capable of. And they’re not trained to squat and bury. They do their business right in their pants! I’m not sure the cottage would be big enough for a creature like that.
A small laugh trembles from me.
A baby with Jasper—now there’s a thought.
Dad coos and scratches at the netting before straightening again.
Dad and I share the same dark, wavy hair. Mine touches just past my shoulders, and he wears his short
and thick like a carpet. We also happen to share the same icy blue eyes, although his seem to be backlit at the moment.
“Jasper”—Dad takes a deep breath, expanding his chest the size of a door—“Bizzy.” He nods my way as if signaling things just took a turn for the serious. “Gwynie and I would like to invite you both to Maxwell’s next week for dinner.” Maxwell’s is a snazzy restaurant out in Seaview owned by Jasper’s brother who happens to share the moniker of his well-beloved eatery. Another odd but fun fact? Max is my mother’s current hot-to-trot boyfriend. “Of course, we’re inviting all of our children so we can get to know one another a little better.” And hopefully by the time this wedding rolls around, her kids won’t want to slaughter me.
I wrinkle my nose at my dear old dad.
I’m about to tell him that I think he and Gwynie should get to know one another—for like a year—or a decade—maybe a millennium or two, when the sound of two men arguing garners our attention. We collectively look to our left and our mouths fall open at what we see.
Two men in jolly red suits, cheesy white scraggly wigs, and cumbersome hats are shouting obscenities while threatening one another at top volume.
“Good Lord”—I whisper to Jasper—“it’s Santa versus Santa.”
Jasper hands me Sherlock’s leash. “I’d better get over there before this gets ugly.”
“Me too,” Dad says as they take off in a flash.
