Lock, Stock, and Feral by Addison Moore (free e novels .txt) 📕

“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 for 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