Meow for Murder Mysteries Boxed Set

by Addison Moore

Nora takes a breath. “Richard Broadman mentioned Perry had a gun on him at all times. But there was no gun found on the body. Instead, we found an empty holster.”

  I blink over at Shep. “He was murdered with his own gun? If that’s true, I doubt whoever did this was planning it—unless the plan was to use his own weapon against him.”

  Nora gives a bitter laugh. “You’re a little miss know-it-all, aren’t you? Do everyone a favor and leave the hard questions to me.”

  We finish up at Perry’s place and head off to the restaurant supply store where I use the money Opal gave me to buy enough ingredients to last through next week.

  Shep and I drive back to the manor and park behind the kitchen where Mud comes out to help offload the supplies.

  Molly, the fuzzy little teddy bear cat, traipses my way and I scoop her up as I stare off in a daze, trying to digest that creepy album I spotted back at Perry’s place.

  “You’re deep in thought.” Shep steps in front of me and sets those daring blue eyes over mine.

  I let out a breath. “Nora said that no one mentioned Perry could have had a stalker. I wonder why Nicki or Devin didn’t bring it up?”

  “Bowie.” Shep shakes his head as if to stave off what I’m about to say next.

  A little laugh trembles through me. “You really do know me.”

  I’m not done with Nicki or Devin just yet, and there’s nothing Shepherd Wexler can do to stop me.

  Chapter 16

  Stitch Witchery was had again, and a jolly good time was had by all—because, well, whiskey.

  As it stands, just about every woman has something that ails them, thus requiring a sufficient amount of comfort to be added to their tea. Not surprisingly, word has gotten out and we’ve swelled from one table to three. True to her word, Flo made me a pattern that reads MEOW, and next to that word is a grandfather clock with a cute little cat that I’m going to make the exact shade as Molly.

  Flo provided me with an Aida cloth and let me borrow one of her hoops, a needle, and has generously given me all the thread, floss as she calls it, to finish my project. I’ll admit, there’s something relaxing about making these detailed little X’s that will eventually result in a bigger picture. And once Stitch Witchery ended, I took my new project back to my place to work on in my spare time.

  The next day at the café, all through breakfast and straight through the lunch rush, I decide to poll our customers and find out what their favorite menu items are so I know what specials to highlight—so we can run specials in general.

  While Shep and I were in the restaurant supply store, I purchased a chalkboard and an easel to set out front as a means to show off our dish of the week—one for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But as it turns out, our customers decided to eschew the edibles on the menu and overwhelmingly agreed they love Opal, her cats, the shape of our ice, and the ambiance of the café—those last two left me a little more than baffled.

  “The shape of our ice?” Tilly gives a few rapid blinks and nearly loses a false eyelash in the process.

  I nod to the small group before me. Tilly, Mud, Thea, and Flo have all been included in this little impromptu staff meeting at the counter. Opal is off regaling the customers with King, the Bengal cat who is clearly in charge of this kitty circus, and Derby, a long-haired orange tabby.

  “Then it’s settled.” Mud scoffs and tosses his hands. “There’s no way we’re getting a new ice machine. The public has spoken.”

  “Mud.” I close my eyes a moment too long. “The ice machine was never up for dispute. I’m thinking of upping our java game with new coffee and espresso machines. But we need to have people talking about our food, too. And since nobody in this town seems to actually care for anything we serve, I thought I’d poll all of you instead. What kinds of food would you like to see on the menu?”

  Flo grunts, “Food?” Her dark hair sits on top of her head like a bird’s nest and it has an odd blue patina to it this morning. “Try world peace and climate control. Table five needs more ice.” She takes off, and I look to the others.

  Mud shakes his head. “You’re just complicating things, Bowie. Regina never cared about the food here and people still walked through that door.” He pats me on the shoulder. “We’ve given them ice the way they want it. Let’s not spoil them.” He takes off to the back, and I open my mouth to Tilly and Thea, but before I can get a word out, I give up on the endeavor.

  Thea licks her lips. “You know, my Grammy makes a great bologna cake.” She shrugs as her auburn hair fringes her eyes. “It’s frosted with mayo and sprinkled with pimentos. I’m pretty sure she’s taking this recipe to the grave, but if you want, I can try to pry it from her cold, shriveled hands.”

  My lips seal themselves shut as I examine the ingénue before me. “Fight the good fight, Thea.”

  She gives a knowing nod before heading back out on the floor.

  Tilly gives her hair a quick fluff, disrupting the pattern in her chunky highlights.

  “How about you, Tilly? What would you like to see on the menu? And what about Jessie? What’s she into?”

  “Let’s see.” She chews on the inside of her cheek as she considers this. “Jessie likes bad boys with a side of adult male convicts, and I do believe she gets that hankering from her mama.” A husky chuckle bumps from her. “Good luck getting that on the menu.” She flips a dishrag over her shoulder as she takes off to seat new customers.

  Lovely.

  I’ll just whip up a vat full of convict soup and bring ’em in by the droves. Little do the customers here know they’ve already got a wanted felon doling out their daily dishes.

  That heavy feeling that’s been stalking me begins to seep in and I do my best to shrug it off. I refuse to fall into the pit of my own making. Instead, I make my way over to Opal and Shep.

  Opal pulls me in by the arm. “Just the girl we were talking about. It turns out, Shep’s brother is coming to town in a bit to see about that car of yours.” She squints over at me, and that black eye shadow she’s prone to using gives her that raccoon effect I’m pretty sure no woman is after—no woman except for Opal, of course. “Promise me you won’t gallivant off into the sunset. The manor needs you. I’m making a killing off Stitch Witchery now, and who knows how many more bursts of financial genius you have lurking around in that head of yours?” Her lips twist into a rather cartoonish pout. “I’m afraid you’ll have to stay.”

  My shoulders bounce in lieu of an answer. There’s a niggling part of me that insists I make a run for the Canadian border—the part of me that hates the idea of three hots and a government-issued cot—and yet there’s a whole other side of me that says plant your feet in Starry Falls and let the roots run deep.

  Shep catches my eye and nods as if he heard the whole internal debate and was siding with me building a root system. Of course, knowing Shep, he’s actually cheering for me to leave, thus, the fact his brother is coming to town.

  “Thank you, Shep. I really appreciate that.” I bite down on my bottom lip hard as I look to Opal. “You know all that income we’re seeing from Stitch Witchery? I think we should reinvest it into the café.”

  “What? No.” Her eyes round out in horror. “And ruin the prospect of wrapping myself in the entire Jill Herrera summer line? Please.” Her protest ends with a laugh, but judging by the pained look on her face, you’d think I just suggested we chop off the tails of every cat in Vermont.

  “Yes,” I insist sweetly. “Opal, with great coffee, we could start seeing real green that makes anything we earn from our comfort tea look like spare change you find in a couch cushion.”

  Shep’s brows sharpen. “Do I want to know what comfort tea is?”

  I give a frenetic shake of my head in Opal’s direction.

  Face it, with Shep’s background in law enforcement, he’s basically a narc.

  “Speaking of comfort.” I stretch a quick smile across my face. “I’m taking a poll.”

  “I heard.” He pulls his coffee fo
rward and frowns my way. “Funny, I don’t remember you polling me when I walked in.”

  “That’s because you grunted at me when I said good morning. In the event you’re not aware, that’s tantamount to a do not disturb sign. Besides, I really do know you by now. There’s no sense in trying to start up a conversation until you’ve been properly caffeinated.” I’m about to ask when he thinks his brother might get here, and just like that, a flood of emotions hits me at the thought of leaving this drafty, crooked manor that I’ve grown to love.

  Shep’s lips curl as he examines me. “My brother will be here in a few minutes. I’ve already told him where to find your car, and he said he’d let me know when he arrived.”

  “Sounds good.” I sigh, pushing all thoughts about leaving Starry Falls out of my mind entirely for now. “Shep, I’m thinking about implementing a few changes around here. Are there any specials you’d like to see as far as the menu goes?”

  “You have my vote on the new coffee machine.” He winces at Opal. “Sorry.” He looks back my way. “And I’m easy as far as food goes. I’m curious to see what you’ll come up with.”

  “I’m curious to see what I’ll come up with, too.” That warm, fuzzy feeling takes over, tunnel vision sets in, and soon I’m treated to a snippet of the future via my mind’s eye.

  The ballroom in the back of the manor appears, and Max Edwards is crooning away into a microphone while people sway to the music. And just like that, the vision disappears.

  “Oh my goodness”—I pant—“I just had a great idea.” It’s times like these my visions really are a gift. “We can have a memorial concert for Perry Flint right here at the manor. I bet we can get Max Edwards to perform his songs, and I can ask Tilly to help rustle up a few other local bands.”

  Opal’s ruby red lips make a perfect oval.

  “Why, look at you go!” She pats me on the hand. “You are a genius, Bowie Binx. We’re available this Saturday. I’ll charge a cover of twenty dollars a person, and, of course, we’ll have a comfort station.” She gives a sly wink.

  “How about a ten dollar cover with some of the proceeds going to help his family cover funeral costs? That way people won’t bat a lash at forking it over.”

  “Good thinking.” She holds up a finger. “And portion can mean anything. I’m thinking cents on the dollar.”

  Shep’s phone bleats. “And he’s here.”

  Opal snaps her fingers my way. “Stay in town, missy. I’m depending on you to whip my finances into shape. Remember, fifteen percent of those are yours.” She takes off as Shep places his laptop into his briefcase.

  “I guess I get to meet another Mr. Wexler.” I bounce on the balls of my feet as Shep stands up next to me. “I wonder which one I’ll like best?”

  He sheds the hint of a smile, and I think I already know.

  * * *

  The spring sunshine warms our backs as Tilly, Shep, his brother, and I stand next to my beat-up Honda, Wanda, near the tail end of Main Street.

  “Leslie, I’d like to introduce you to Bowie Binx.” Shep’s chest widens as he looks my way. He’s wearing a suit, which he seems to do when he’s about to head over to Woodley to see Nora. I’d like to think it’s because he’s doing official business, but I’m afraid Nora might be a very real factor in his dress to impress scheme. “Bowie, this is my brother, Leslie.”

  “Well hello, Leslie.” There are some things you don’t mean to say out loud but are even more fantastic when you do.

  Leslie Wexler is a tall, beefy drink of water, muscles for days bulging out of his tank top, abs that threaten the very existence of anyone in a ten-foot vicinity, and the same lake blue eyes as his brother. And in contrast to his ornery sibling, he wears a delicious smile.

  Both Tilly and I sigh in unison.

  “Nice”—he sheds a prideful grin—“you can call me Lee.” He looks to Shep. “My brother likes to try to embarrass me a little.” He gives a wink my way, and I gasp involuntarily. “But I don’t mind. Whatever makes him feel like a big man is fine by me.”

  Shep averts his eyes as if he wasn’t having any of it.

  “Let’s get the show on the road.” Shep motions to poor Wanda who looks as if she’s never had a bath in her life. She was faded when Uncle Vinnie gave her to me, but after roasting under the Starry Falls’ sun, she’s just an idea of the color red.

  I quickly hand the keys over to Lee and he dives right under the hood before pulling his tow truck alongside her and employing every resuscitative effort in the book.

  Shep nods me over to the shade as we head for the awning underneath the ice cream shop.

  He looks through the window. “Are you up for it?”

  “I am if you’re buying.”

  We head on in while Tilly does her best to assist Shep’s brother—or more to the point, she does her best to distract him.

  The ice cream shop is light and bright inside. The walls are pink with pastel polka dots sprinkled all around, and perky music streams in from the speakers. The warm scent of waffle cones takes over my senses and I fight the urge to hop behind the counter and attack the stack of freshly made goodness.

  I order a double scoop of pistachio and Shep does the same with rocky road before we head out to the bench in front where we watch The Lee and Tilly Show unfold.

  “So what have you got, Detective Binx?” Shep taps his arm to mine. “Where are you in your investigation?”

  “Right now, my tongue is investigating this pistachio ice cream, thus the licking frenzy ensuing.”

  “Pistachio isn’t your run-of-the-mill flavor. Which makes sense. You’re not your run-of-the-mill girl.”

  “Did you just judge me based on the flavor of ice cream I chose to enjoy?”

  “No judging. Just pointing out a fact.”

  “Okay, fine. I’ll spill all I know about the investigation, but only because you pitched for frozen dairy.” I blink up at the pristine blue sky. “Let’s see, we’ve got Devin O’Malley. The deceased’s ex. She’s a bit of a character, but who isn’t?” That vision that I had of her comes to mind and I get lost in thought. “There’s definitely something up with her, but I can’t quite pinpoint it.” I can pinpoint it, all right. She confessed. Now all I need to do is get to that point in the future. “She mentioned that Richard and Perry had troubles. Something about Perry booking gigs without Richard’s knowledge and that Richard was ticked because he wasn’t getting his cut.” I shake my head. “I don’t know. There’s just something about her. I can’t put my finger on it. Something isn’t sitting right. How about you? Any thoughts on Devin?”

  Shep tips his head back. “She was jumpy when I questioned her. Nora said the same thing. She’s definitely hiding something.”

  “Knew it.” I quickly lap up as much of my cone as I can before it drips all over my fingers. “Then there’s Richard Broadman himself, Perry’s manager. I’d definitely call him a bad character. He’s a big flirt despite the fact he’s very married with children. When I confronted him about his beef with Perry, he said the rumors were true. Perry was running around on him and he didn’t like it. At least he got an ounce of what his wife will feel when she finds out he’s a hound dog. My apologies to hound dogs everywhere. Anyway, he had a solid motive. He wanted his piece of the pie, and Perry wasn’t giving it to him.”

  “Duly noted.” Shep tosses those silvery blue peepers my way and his cheek glides up one side. “Next.”

  “I don’t know. There’s Nicki Magnolia, but all she seems to do is help. She’s the one scrapbooking a memento for the poor guy’s family. Did you ever ask her about that stalker scrapbook we found?”

  “Nora said she was sending it out for testing first.”

  “I see. The wheels of justice spin slowly.”

  Shep lowers his chin and it feels as if he’s pressing his weight against me with those eyes.

  “They do, Bowie, but the vehicle eventually arrives at its destination.”

  A chill rides through me despi
te the heated temperatures at the thought of Shep arriving at his destination—namely me.

  “Max Edwards.” I clear my throat. “Poor guy. I can’t imagine how frustrating it would be to know that someone hijacked your life’s work like that.”

  “I wouldn’t call it his life’s work, but nonetheless, not a good feeling. I’ve actually had a writer or two accuse me of stealing their plotlines, and their novels weren’t even published. I get it. People get possessive over what they’ve created. I’m the same way. And I think for that reason alone, Max will come running to perform at the memorial. That was a great idea, Bowie. And I want to thank you for helping Opal at the café, too.” His brows bounce. “I’ve come to regard her as a somewhat eccentric aunt.”

  “Eccentric is a bit too mellow of a word when it comes to describing her. That ex of hers must have really done a number on the poor girl.”

  “She had it all and she lost it. Her old life disintegrated before her very eyes, and she was forced to start over right here in Starry Falls.”

  A dull moan comes from me. “Boy, can I ever relate.” I finish up my cone before pulling my phone out. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a memorial to pull together.”

  I head off around the corner in hopes to call Devin first. But since I don’t have her number, I leave her mine with the bartender at the Tumbleweed Tavern and ask her to call me back when she has a chance.

  Next I text Nicki, who thankfully slipped me her card that first night. I send a lengthy message about the gathering for Perry and let her know she’s welcome to invite her siblings, friends, and anyone else she can think of.

  I don’t have Max’s number, but I call the Blue Vase and ask for him and, sure enough, he’s there. I let him know who I am and what I’m after and he’s more than thrilled to accept the booking. He doesn’t ask for cash in return. He’s just thrilled to sing his own songs for a crowd of people.

  My phone pings and I glance to the screen and it’s a resounding yes from Nicki. The dancing ellipses ignite again and another message pops up. Lol! No siblings, but I can rustle up a few friends to haul along with me. I’ll bring some posters from his latest promo package and a couple of his personal belongings that I think his fans might appreciate.