Meow for Murder Mysteries Boxed Set

by Addison Moore

  Shep offers a mournful smile. “How did you hear about these gigs he was getting on the side?”

  “Nicki. His personal assistant, Nicki Magnolia. She does his scheduling and gave me a copy whenever I asked. At least up until six weeks ago. I think Perry asked her to keep me in the dark. I guess you could say, things were strained toward the end there.”

  A thick bout of silence fills the air before Shepherd invites Richard to his signing tomorrow night, and Richard lets out a whoop as if he just scored every number in the Powerball.

  “Say”—he leans that shock of white hair our way—“your agent wouldn’t happen to be coming to the signing as well, would he? I’ve been thinking about branching out into books.”

  “Why yes, she will be there.”

  I caught the emphasis he put on she. It doesn’t surprise me Shep has surrounded himself with women. He’s a smart man after all.

  Richard takes off and we take our box and hop into Shep’s truck.

  “Well, Detective Binx?” He looks my way. “What do you think?”

  “I think you have a fan for life. And maybe a stalker at your next book signing.” That vision I had of Shep being attacked by a blonde comes to mind. “You wouldn’t happen to have security with you when you do those things, do you?”

  He pulls back the right side of his jacket and exposes a gun holster with the butt of a small black pistol sticking out.

  “A leftover relic from your investigative days?” I don’t bother adding a hint of sarcasm to my words.

  “A relic that I won’t be parting with anytime soon.”

  “Good,” I say. “You never know when you might need it.” Like, say, tomorrow night. “Did you get the feeling that Perry was about to let Richard go? I mean, Richard said Perry asked his personal assistant to stop feeding him his schedule. Sounds like there was a pretty big rift there. Richard and Perry weren’t getting along. Hatred could certainly be a motive for murder.”

  Shep steadies his gaze out the windshield. “Maybe. Something tells me Nicki might be able to fill me in on the rest of the story.”

  “You mean fill me in on it. We women have a natural bond. She’ll trust me more. Besides, I’ve already befriended her.”

  He looks my way and scowls. “I’ll befriend her.”

  “I bet you will.”

  We drive back to Starry Falls in silence, and all the while I think about my father meeting Shepherd Wexler long before I did.

  What a small, small world, and I don’t mean that in any good way.

  Chapter 11

  Thursday night, the Book Basement is bustling with bodies.

  The shop itself is adorably cozy with dark bookshelves lining the walls, tables of books strewn around the front, and an entire table dedicated to S.J. Wexler’s bestsellers. Apparently, there are a lot of them. There’s a huge framed poster with a black and white picture of his scowling, yet arrestingly good-looking face, and next to that is an entire litany of bestseller lists he’s dominated. Nice to know the resident snoop, aka my new landlord, is such an accomplished author. I crane my neck toward the back where he’s currently speaking with the store manager, and the entire room seems to be hyperaware of his presence.

  Rows of folding chairs are set out, each with a body already warming it. There’s a podium near the back where Shep just stepped up to, ready to read from his latest, greatest work. The bookstore itself is dimly lit, and judging by the litany of electric candles set out everywhere you look, it seems to be a purposeful endeavor. A refreshment table to the right boasts of free coffee, and the scent of fresh hot java combined with sweet paperbacks is a heady combination.

  Opal and Tilly pop up next to me, each with a copy of his new book in hand, A Made Man, and I can’t help but avert my eyes.

  “Where’s your book?” Opal sounds a bit panicked for me. Her silver locks look as if they’ve been freshly blown out for the occasion. She’s donned a black beaded gown that touches the floor. And for reasons only Opal can explain, she’s chosen to pair it with a leather choker with tiny metal studs. But, now that I know that particular biker-inspired accessory is in her possession, I might just ask to borrow it for myself.

  “I didn’t buy a book,” I whisper. “No offense, but I don’t exactly have a spare twenty-four ninety-nine lying around at the moment.”

  Tilly gives a husky laugh. “Oh, hon, I think he’s going to gift you an entire stack of his bestsellers.” She nods. “As soon as you gift him a little something.” Her shoulders wiggle, making her chest jiggle, and I get the naughty implications.

  I glance back in his direction. “I’m not gifting him a pound of flesh. Besides, I don’t even think he’d be interested in receiving it. He’s not exactly throwing out any green lights.”

  Tilly waves me off. “Shep Wexler has been living in the red-light district for so long, I doubt he realizes some women still look for a signal every now and again. Word on the street has it, if you want a piece of Shep, you just throw yourself at him.” Her shoulders jerk. “That’s what I did.”

  “What? Eww.” I swat her on the arm and she breaks out into a cackle. “I did not want to know that.”

  Opal bounces her tresses in her palm. “Then I won’t tell you what the two of us did.”

  I gasp as I lean toward Tilly. “She’s kidding, right?”

  The lights go on and off and a murmur of excitement stirs the room to life as last-minute stragglers search for a seat to call their own. The rest of the people here are forced to stand on the sidelines and, in truth, I’m voluntarily doing so in the event I need to make a quick exit. There is only so much mobster folklore I can handle. I’m a little over the hard facts, too.

  “Do you ladies remember what we talked about?” I hitch my head at Opal and Tilly. Earlier today, I reminded them of that vision I had of Shep being strangled by some obsessed blonde. It’s not like I could have called the police and warned them that some nutcase was about to descend on the book signing.

  Opal gives a solemn nod. “I’ll flank him on the right.”

  Tilly bats her lashes. “On his right or your right? Because if it’s his right, then it’s your left—and I’m doing left, remember?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Just go in different directions,” I say in an effort to keep it neat. I suck in a quick breath. “I almost forgot to tell you, I had another vision.”

  Opal leans in. “About Shep again? Oh my God, was he dead? I’ve seen enough dead bodies for a lifetime.” She starts to fan herself with the hardback in her hand and nearly knocks herself out.

  “Careful,” I say, pulling her hand down a notch. “And no, it was about Devin O’Malley, Perry Flint’s blonde bombshell of a girlfriend. I saw her with clothes disheveled and she looked right at me and said, ‘Okay, fine. You caught me. I’m guilty. Are you happy? Perry left me no choice. I had to do it. He forced my hand. And you’re not going to tell anyone, you hear me?’”

  Tilly’s mouth falls opens. “She did it! All we need to do is trap her into confessing.”

  Opal prods me with her book. “Where do you think the two of you were when she said that? Maybe we can hasten it into happening?”

  “I don’t know. All I was aware of was her and that disheveled look she was sporting. But regardless, even if she does confess to me, it doesn’t mean she won’t change her tune when it comes to the sheriff’s department. We need evidence if we want to bump her up to the top of the suspect list.” I wrinkle my nose at Opal. “By the way, you and I are on it.”

  “Oh?” Her heavily drawn-in eyes light up. “Did I get top billing?”

  I make a face. “No, but you should have.”

  “Thank you.” She taps me on the arm. “I knew I liked you.”

  The crowd grows quiet as we quickly scuttle to our places and I bump into a body.

  “Oh, sorry,” I say, backing up, only to find myself face to face with an all too familiar detective. “Nora.”

  She smacks her lips. “I prefer Detective Grims
ley.” Her dark hair is pulled back into its signature bun and she’s wearing a pink frosty lipstick that washes her out, but I’ll be the last person to mention it because a woman should feel free to wear whatever color lipstick she likes when she’s packing heat and handcuffs.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” I pant with relief. “I mean, you know, in the event some lunatic tries to attack Shep. You’re sort of the first line of defense. You’d think they’d have security at these kinds of events, but it seems no one really cares about his safety except for you.”

  “I don’t care all that much either.” She gives a sly wink.

  “Funny. But I get it. I have an ex that I would pay to see some crazed maniac attack. But, thankfully, you’ve taken an oath to serve and protect. And judging by all the hyperventilating women here tonight, I suggest you remain on high alert.” And that way I won’t be forced to use the zip ties I stuffed in my new-to-me Louis Vuitton bag. I was a little apprehensive to use them to begin with.

  I’ve spent most of my life as a virtual magnet for trouble. The last thing I need to be doing is arresting members of the general public with plastic handcuffs that need to be cut off with scissors.

  Besides, I’m already at the top of the list in a murder investigation. And believe me, I would have gladly given Opal that honor. In fact, she can have top billing in just about everything. I’m supposed to be laying low and avoiding the radar for Pete’s sake, not starring in a crime drama and carrying around plastic restraints in the event a bombshell attacks the cute boy in class.

  Nora attempts to step around me, but I block her path.

  “Where are you going?” I hiss without meaning to.

  Her forehead furrows with enough worry lines to let me know I’m the one who should be worried.

  “Up front. I like to see him sweat. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  “Okay, but remember, stay vigilant.”

  She makes a face as she blows right past me.

  Shepherd taps the mic and the room explodes into titters as if that’s all they needed to alleviate the pent-up frustration they’ve been harboring all night. If I’m not mistaken, I think I just heard about a dozen ovaries pop in his honor.

  Shep welcomes the crowd and slides in a little self-abasing humor just as a stunning brunette walks in and begins to sashay her way down the aisle as if this were her wedding day. Regina Valentine looks as if she just strutted out of the pages of a glossy magazine with her chestnut hair, long and flowing, and a tight white dress that’s cut down to there in the front and sitting up to here in the back. And honest to God, the only thing I can think about is when is she donating that sucker? I bet she trashes her wardrobe seasonally. If I’m lucky, New Year’s Eve will see me in white.

  I blink back at my own odd thought. I’m not planning on being here through the new year. I’m not even supposed to be here through the weekend. The plan was to fix Wanda and hightail it to our neighbors in the Great White North.

  Shep says something that has the room tittering once again, and I give a quivering smile as if I heard it.

  Those hypnotic pale blue eyes of his latch onto mine, and for a moment I feel as if I’m the only woman in the room. He leans into the mic, his gaze never leaving mine, and he says something I miss because I’m too busy swooning. The room lights up with laughter twice as riotous as before. Figures. I was probably the butt of some dumb joke. And I’m starting to feel like just that.

  He tilts his head my way. “In all seriousness, the themes explored in my latest book, A Made Man, are those of redemption, a new beginning, taking chances on something you never thought you’d have, and embracing change when it’s right in front of you.” The birth of a sly smile crests his lips as he nods my way.

  Am I the change?

  My cheeks heat so much they can rival the surface of the sun.

  Shep goes on to read chapter one and I can’t help but note he has the rapt attention of every woman in this room and the few men that bothered to show. The chapter seems to be dragging a bit, so I leave my post and head for the coffee station. I’ve always been a sucker for a free cup of just about anything, and so much more now that I have just about nothing.

  I glance back at Shep as I take a careful sip of what tastes like the world’s best cup of coffee, so creamy and smooth. I’ll have to make a point to give a cup to Opal. We really need to up our java game at the café if we want to corner the coveted soccer mom demographic. I’ve got some solid ideas to help build both her revenue and mine. And it’s high time I implement them. With her financial backing, of course. I’m guessing an espresso machine doesn’t come cheap.

  Shep thanks the audience for coming out, and the manager of the place steals the mic to let them know Shep will be mingling with the audience before we get to the signing portion of the evening.

  Soon, Shep is engulfed with a crowd of women, and their shared laughter echoes off the walls.

  And that’s when I see her.

  A quick moving blonde zips in through the doors, weaving her way through the sea of limbs as she darts right for him.

  “It’s her!” I shout to no one in particular as I traverse people and folding chairs alike in an effort to save Shep’s life.

  The blonde wraps her hands around his neck and begins to throttle him just the way it played out in my mind’s eye and I catch a glimpse of Opal running in the opposite direction in a panic, while Tilly is riding her leg up one of the male employee’s sides as if she were looking to score a little more than a couple free bookmarks.

  Geez.

  If you want something done, you have to do it yourself.

  “Aargggh!” I run, shrieking, as I grab a fistful of her hair and try my hardest to pluck her off him, but since that tried-and-true tactic I’ve used since the seventh grade doesn’t seem to be working, I do the only other thing I can think of. I dump my coffee over the two of them.

  The woman shrieks right back and lets an entire litany of salty words—and a few blatant threats—fly. But I don’t bother with a comeback. Instead, I whip those zip ties out of my purse and hog-tie her with her arms behind her back and her ankles to her wrists.

  Okay, confession: I may have fantasized about doing just this to Johnny right before I threw him over the tallest bridge in Jersey to a watery death below. It’s still my favorite go-to mental escape when I need to relax my jangled nerves.

  “What the hell, Shep?” the woman yelps up at him.

  I land my fists to my hips as I pant a smile his way.

  “You’re welcome,” I say as his eyes round out in horror.

  A hard tap comes over my shoulder and I turn to see Tilly shaking her head at me.

  “Bowie?” She grimaces my way. “I don’t know how to break this to you, but that woman you just tied up like a Thanksgiving turkey is his sister.”

  “What?” I jump back in horror as Nora pops up.

  “All right, Shep,” she says, looking my way. “How much evidence do you need before you see I was right? The girl is a lunatic.” She pulls out a Swiss army knife and cuts Shep’s poor sister loose. “I told you I had a bad feeling about her. And now look what she’s done.”

  A bad feeling?

  “I’m so sorry.” My fingers fly to my lips as Shep helps his sister up. Her hair sort of has this tumbleweed thing happening, and her lipstick is smeared clear across her cheek, and as much as I’d like to believe this weathered look she’s sporting isn’t entirely my fault, I’m afraid it is.

  Shep lands a stern expression my way. “Kelly, this is Bowie Binx. She’s new in town.”

  The woman bats her lashes my way forcefully and slowly, cluing me in on the fact she’s not all that happy with me.

  “Kelly, did you say?” I tug at a lock of my hair until it hurts. “So nice to meet you. Sorry if that was a little rough. I’m from Connecticut. That’s how we greet one another.”

  Was there really anything else to say?

  Those icy blue eyes she has in common with S
hep burn a hole right through me.

  “I’m from Connecticut,” she seethes. “And that is most certainly not how we greet each other.”

  Crap.

  Shep pulls his lips back in what I’m hoping is a smile—although I’ve yet to see one from him, so it’s not as if I can be conclusive about that.

  “I’m sure Bowie has a good explanation.” He rocks back on his heels as if he were ready to hear it.

  The manager comes by and quickly shuttles him over to the signing table. And his sister waves a special finger at me as she takes off, too.

  I spend the rest of the night watching as miles of women sigh and swoon in Shep’s presence.

  Soon enough, the tired, huddled masses of estrogen stream back out onto Main Street while Shep enjoys a lively conversation with his sister and Nora.

  Tilly gives Opal and me a ride home, dropping me off first, and I sit out on the bench in front of my cabin, watching the stars in the sky as they glitter like broken glass. For some reason, Hastings seemed devoid of any constellations, and now I know why. Starry Falls has been hogging them all to herself this whole while. She all but confesses the starry heist right there in her moniker.

  The sound of footsteps shuffling in this direction startles me back to life as Shep makes his way over with a copy of his book in hand.

  “Thought maybe you might have wanted one of these.” He passes it to me, and I stand as I take it. “It’s signed by the author. I hear he’s a little full of himself, so I don’t blame you for not waiting in that line tonight.”

  My lips invert as I try to hide a smile. “Is that what you wanted?” I whisper as I take a step close to him. “Me, standing in a line fifty deep, while I wait my turn at bat?”

  His cheek hikes up on one side. “You do realize how that sounded.”

  “I was simply pointing out a fact. Your dirty mind took it elsewhere.”

  He gives a long blink and nods. “Before I forget, I suggest you leave the zip ties at home next time. Restraining people against their will could land you in restraints.”