Himalayan Hazard (Pet Whisperer P.I. Book 8)

by Molly Fitz

  “Why are you all dirty?” Mom swatted at my pants, trying to brush the mud and dirt away. I glanced down and saw just how messy I’d gotten as a result of my fall from the cruiser.

  Oh, well. Clothes could be cleaned or, if needed, replaced. What we’d all just been through together was worth so much more.

  “It’s a long story,” I hedged. “What time is it, anyway?” I asked, suddenly feeling the weight of fatigue washing over me. I’d only gotten a few hours of sleep sitting in the viewing car before this latest murder mystery had consumed the rest of the night and early morning hours.

  “Why don’t you check your phone?” Dad asked with a smirk.

  “I can’t because it—” I stopped and laughed sarcastically when I realized his joke. My parents were never going to let me live my low phone battery down.

  “It’s about seven thirty,” Mom said, stifling a yawn of her own. “Dad told me you were thinking about heading home instead of finishing our trip down to Larkhaven.”

  Guilt washed over me. Mom had really been looking forward to this trip, and now I’d ruined it for her. No, this was important. I could summon strength and mental fortitude from somewhere. “Yeah, but we don’t have to if—”

  Mom shook her head and smiled. “I think it’s a great idea. I’ll call the family in a couple of hours and let them know. Hopefully, by then the techs will have us moving again. We heard they were bringing in a new engine to take us back to the nearest station.”

  I met my mom’s smile with one of my own. “Smart. Even if they continue, I bet nobody’s going to want to keep traveling aboard that murder train. At least I wouldn’t want to.”

  We stood together, watching the police work, saving up our energy for the half-mile walk back through the tunnel. I watched as Octo-Cat tended to his girlfriend’s wounds in a nearby patch of grass.

  Sure, their love story was still on its first chapter, but already he was a changed cat. My heart ached, knowing that we may never get the chance to see her again, to even know where she’d ended up.

  “You’re worried about her. Aren’t you?” Dad asked, motioning toward the Himalayan with his chin.

  “She loved Rhonda, and now she has no idea what’s going to happen to her next.” An idea struck me, allowing a brief burst of hope to fill me up. “Do you think Sariah will take her?”

  “I think Sariah will go to prison as an accessory to murder,” Mom said with a sigh. “Or at least for tampering with the train. Such a shame.”

  “Then what about Grizabella?” I asked, trying not to cry before we knew for sure what would happen. She’d literally lost everything when Rhonda died, and like Octo-Cat, she was accustomed to having only the best things in life. Would a new owner know how to care for her properly?

  “I don’t know, sweetie,” Mom said, kissing the side of my head. “We can only hope for the best.”

  She was right. Grizabella’s fate was out of our hands for now, but I would definitely be following up with the police every single day until they could tell me what had happened to her.

  I owed it to Octo-Cat. I owed it to Grizabella, and I owed it to that sweet lady on the train who had only wanted a friend to keep her company for a couple hours.

  Chapter Twenty

  Three weeks later

  After a quiet Thanksgiving at home, life returned to its usual insanity. Nan crafted a custom advent calendar, which guided us through a series of over-the-top holiday festivities. A simple trip to get the pets’ photos taken with Santa Claus had somehow managed to turn into a fresh murder investigation, and it was honestly even crazier than the one we’d looked into on the train.

  Despite that little hiccough, Nan kept Octo-Cat, Paisley, and me busy practically every second of every day, and for that, I was incredibly appreciative. She was my nan, my favorite person in the whole wide world, and whatever the circumstances that had brought us together, I would always be grateful to have her in my life.

  Yes, my little corner of the world had grown by leaps and bounds, but Nan would always be my original number one. That was one thing I knew could never change.

  “Quick, quick!” Octo-Cat, a close number two, cried as he scratched at the door to my personal library, begging to be let in. “We won’t have much time before she makes us celebrate again.”

  I laughed when he shuddered at the word celebrate as if it were the filthiest curse word he could possibly imagine.

  Once inside the library, I booted up my laptop and logged into my Instagram account. Octo-Cat had begged for his own account, but as his parent and someone who wanted to protect our secret, I had insisted he use mine instead.

  “My love!” he cried when a brand-new photo of Grizabella popped into our feed. She wore a Santa hat and an enormous scowl on her flat feline face. Peak cat.

  Octo-Cat purred and rubbed his side against my computer screen, which is precisely the reason we no longer used his iPad to access Instagram. He couldn’t help but snuggle her image, but always threw a fit when doing so accidentally booted him from the app.

  I clicked heart on the photo and sat back in my seat. I knew this could take a while based on past experience. “Well, what would you like us to comment on this one?” I pressed when he did little more than purr and rub up against the screen for a solid five minutes.

  “Tell her she’s beautiful and I love her and miss her and cannot wait until fate brings us together again,” he gushed, pausing briefly to actually look at the photo before he resumed all the rubbing.

  I groaned at the melodrama but complied—very thankful I’d made my profile private. I was also thankful that I knew for a fact Grizabella’s new owner read all the comments to her. Otherwise I would never agree to be these two lovebirds’ go-between.

  Still, no matter how embarrassing this all was for me, I loved how happy it made them both to keep up their long-distance relationship. Sometimes they even video-chatted and took naps together. It was super sweet, actually.

  As for that new owner?

  She was a friend of Rhonda’s from the show cat circle. Christine. And even though they hadn’t been close outside of the competitions, they’d always made sure to grab a meal together whenever they wound up in the same town—and that was as good as any friend poor, lonely Rhonda ever had.

  Christine was a good one, though. She loved cats every bit as much as Rhonda had, which meant that Grizabella now had a host of new sisters, also award-winning show Himalayans.

  Unfortunately, the injury Grizabella had sustained when Jamison threw her in their fight meant that her show days were over, but even though I knew she’d never admit it, I suspected Grizabella was happy to retire and live out the rest of her days as a well-loved pet and a very minor Instagram influencer.

  I typed the comment: Octavius says, “She’s beautiful and he loves her and misses her and cannot wait until fate brings them together again.”

  Christine and everyone else thought I was just being an overly dramatic pet owner with these comments, and I was happy to let them believe that. After all, I really did love my cat bunches.

  Right after I pushed enter, the doorbell chimed to the tune of “Memories” from the Broadway show Cats. I hadn’t realized Grizabella was named for the play, but Nan made the connection immediately and made sure we mixed in plenty of Andrew Lloyd Weber scores to complement our constant string of Christmas carols.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told the swoony tabby.

  He didn’t even acknowledge me as I dismissed myself, such was the enormity of a new photo from his lady love—even though we got at least one of them every single day. Young love, adorable.

  “Coming!” I called as I bounded down the stairs. The stained-glass windows that hung on either side of the entryway cast rainbow shapes against the hardwood floor but did not reveal the identity of the person waiting on the porch.

  When I flung the door open, an unfamiliar young woman stood waiting with a suitcase at her side.

  “Cousin!” she cr
ied and reached out to hug me.

  I awkwardly accepted her embrace, and upon pulling away, I realized that I did recognize her.

  Mostly because her face was almost an exact replica of mine. We were also both tall and curvy. The most noticeable differences between us were the fact that her hair was so blonde it was almost white while mine took on more of a sandy brown hue. Also, I wore an awesome 80s inspired outfit while she sported a prim cardigan buttoned up to the neck and a flowing peasant skirt that reached down to her ankles. A giant gold filigree locket hung halfway down her chest, reminding me of Rhonda’s heirloom necklace.

  She bit her lip as she studied me, then started to panic, her skin turning bright red as she did. “Oh, no. You are Angie, aren’t you? Oh my gosh. If you’re not, I’m so embarrassed right now.”

  “I am Angie,” I said with a friendly smile. “I just didn’t realize anyone was coming.”

  “My aunt told your nan and… Let me guess, she didn’t relay the message?”

  “Sounds like your aunt and my nan have a lot in common,” I said with a laugh. “Please, please come in.”

  I took her suitcase and set it by the stairs, then guided her to the kitchen in search of snacks. Snacks made everything better, especially Nan’s homemade baked goods.

  My cousin accepted a bottle of Evian and twisted the cap off at once. “You must have gotten quite the shock. I’m sorry nobody told you I’d be coming for the rest of the year.”

  This made me pause in my search. “The rest of the year?”

  “Well, I mean it’s just a couple more weeks, right? Sixteen days total, actually, just like you were supposed to have for your trip to Larkhaven. I couldn’t wait to meet you, so Aunt Linda suggested I come to you instead. Only I flew instead of taking the train. I mean, who would want to take a train when there are so many faster ways to travel these days?” She giggled and made a funny face. If I hadn’t already decided I liked her, that would have definitely done the trick.

  I laughed again as I handed my guest one of the chocolate chip banana muffins that Nan had baked just yesterday. “Well, I may not have known you were coming, but I’m really happy you’re here. This may be a teensy bit awkward, but… Um, what’s your name?”

  “Oh, gosh! Sorry! Mags McAllister here,” she said, hugging me tight again and speaking around a mouth full of muffin. “Your long-lost cousin from Larkhaven, Georgia, and I can already tell that we’re going to get along just great!”

  Warmth spread through me as I relaxed into her embrace.

  I’d never had a sister, brother, or cousin with Mom being an only child—a fact I constantly bemoaned growing up. But now with Mags here, I sensed how important this new cousin would become to me.

  And even though I didn’t quite know it yet, the next couple weeks would show just how important, indeed.

  What’s Next?

  Nobody does the holidays like small-town Maine, and my particular small town just so happens to be the very best at decking the halls and rocking around the big Christmas tree downtown.

  Yes, every year, Glendale puts on a Holiday Spectacular that’s grander and greater than the one that came before. Unfortunately, the only thing everyone’s going to remember this year is the two dead bodies that show up in the center of the ice sculpture garden.

  With the whole town having come out to play, everyone’s in close proximity to the crime scene—and everyone’s a suspect. A great many fingers are pointed my way, too, since it was me and my cat that discovered the deathly duo. With only my whacky Nan, recently discovered cousin, overly optimistic Chihuahua, and snarky feline to help me, can I clear my name and save Christmas all in one perfectly executed investigation?

  Hold on to your jingle bells, because it’s going to be a wild ride.

  Pre-order to save! HOPPY HOLIDAY HOMICIDE is just $2.99 until it releases on December 12.

  Get your copy here!

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  Sneak Peek: Hoppy Holiday Homicide

  Hi. I’m Angie Russo, and while you may not immediately recognize it, I’m probably one of the most unusual people you’ll ever meet.

  Why?

  Well, how many other people do you know who can communicate with animals? And, no, I’m not talking meows, woofs, and chirps. We have actual conversations, and we even solve crimes together—but I’m getting ahead of myself here.

  Before I say any more—shhh!—my strange ability is a secret that must be protected at all costs. Not because I’m in danger or anything, just because I’d rather people not know.

  Okay?

  And, no, I’m not a witch, werewolf, or other kind of fictional supernatural creature. I’m just a normal girl in her late twenties who got electrocuted by an old coffee maker and woke up with the power to communicate with animals.

  First, it was just the one cat, Octo-Cat as I call him. He was in the room when I got zapped. We were both there for a will reading, me as the lowly paralegal and him as the primary beneficiary.

  When he realized I could understand him, he revealed that his late owner had been murdered even though everyone thought the rich old lady had died of natural causes. Turns out that wasn’t what had happened at all.

  She’d been murdered, and now he needed me to help him prove it.

  Well, we got justice for Ethel Fulton and eventually wound up living in her stately manor home. Since none of the relatives wanted Octo-Cat and I really, really wanted him, we ended up together, too.

  We live with my eccentric grandmother, who’s known around these parts simply as Nan. A few months ago, we also adopted a rescue Chihuahua named Paisley. She’s the sugar to Octo-Cat’s spice, and the cute little thing can never say a bad word about anyone…

  Well, except for about the naughty raccoon named Pringle who lives in our backyard. He used to live under the porch, but then he kind of blackmailed us into building him a custom treehouse—two treehouses, actually. Oh, boy, is that a long story.

  Speaking of long stories, I’ve got several of those. Just you wait.

  You see, a lot has changed in the months since Octo-Cat and I officially opened our P.I. business together. We haven’t had a single paying client yet, but we’re still getting tons of experience by accidentally stumbling into one mystery after the next.

  Hey, whatever works. Right?

  Oh, also, I’m in love with my boyfriend and former boss, Charles Longfellow, III—although I haven’t exactly told him that yet. Octo-Cat is also in a long-distance relationship with a former show cat and minor Instagram influencer named Grizabella. And he never stops telling her—or anyone who will listen—just how much he loves her. He’s even started giving me guff about how slow Charles and I are moving by comparison.

  Then there’s the fact that we’ve discovered Nan isn’t actually biologically related to me or my mom, but we’re still working on digging up the full story there. Yes, this entire time, she hasn’t understood the reason we were shoved together, either.

  On the positive side of that crazy bit of news, we have connected with long-lost family in Larkhaven, Georgia. I was supposed to visit them last month, but a murder derailed our travel plans just a bit. So, instead, my cousin Mags showed up here and is staying through the end of the month.

  Mags is a hoot, and we all love her. She and I have so much in common and look so much alike that I sometimes wonder if we’re not actually twins instead of just cousins.

  She’s a couple years older than me, though, and as far as I can tell, she’s completely normal. Her family owns a candle shop in her town’s historic district, and she’s promised to teach Nan and me how to make our own candles before she heads back home.

  We have lots to do before that happens, though.

  For one thing, it’s almost Christmas. Nan keeps all of us busy with the custom advent calendar she made at one of her community art classes, and today we’re also scheduled to head into town for the twelfth annual Holiday Spectacular!

  The Holiday Sp
ectacular is a time-honored tradition for our small town of Glendale. People come from all over Blueberry Bay to gather around the big tree downtown, compete in the ice sculpture competition, and celebrate Christmas with the staggering variety of small businesses downtown.

  We get everything from hot cocoa stations to learning Christmas carols from around the world to meeting local authors and getting signed books from them to…

  Well, each year is completely different, and that’s what makes it so much fun. I can’t wait to show Mags my hometown at its best. I hope she’ll love it every bit as much as I do.

  Hey, look at that, it’s time to go find out!

  I smacked my lips together after dragging my new cranberry red lip stain across them. Perfect for the holidays. Normally, I wore very little makeup, since my clothes made enough of a statement without any outside help. Lately, though, Nan had begun insisting I put a little more effort into my appearance. She claimed it was for all the holiday festivities, but I suspected she secretly hoped that my glamorous new efforts might rub off on my cousin, Mags.

  It’s not that Mags was plain, but she did prefer a simple, non-fussy wardrobe. While working in her family’s candle shop in the historic district, she actually wore old-fashioned clothing with big skirts and a bonnet—and I suspected that was all the fuss she could handle. I didn’t blame her for wanting to keep it easy during her leisure time.

  Mags’s signature knock sounded at my bedroom door—three short, one long, two short again.

  “Come in!” I called, turning away from the mirror and toward the door.

  Mags wore a white button-down shirt and white skirt with white flats. Her white-blonde hair fell midway down her waist, and her fair skin had not a stitch of makeup on it. She looked like a snow angel... or a ghost.