Meow for Murder Mysteries Boxed Set

by Addison Moore

  “Yes,” I pant over at him as the room roars back to life around me. I take a deep breath, glancing back toward that infamous hall and catch a glimpse of both James and Lloyd looking this way. They give a slight nod before stepping back into the darkness. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Shep escorts us through the door and out into the warm spring air. We arrive at his truck in no time and he pauses before unlocking the door. Shep takes a moment to penetrate me with his eyes.

  Without hesitating he pulls me in and wraps me in a warm embrace, and I reciprocate with a touch more vigor and enthusiasm. My chest bucks with emotion as I struggle to keep it together. But I memorize the way the stars hang like jewels against a navy velvet night and the way the three-quarter moon slices through the sky like a sharpened sickle. But mostly, I take the time to memorize the way Shep’s spiced cologne mingles with the warmth of his skin and the way his rock-hard body feels strong and safe pressed against mine.

  His heart ricochets over my chest for a generous spate of time before he pulls back and opens the door for me.

  We don’t say anything all the way back to Starry Falls.

  Chapter 4

  Mortimer Manor is in top form today, less than twenty-four hours after Shep and I stumbled upon his old friend’s body.

  The cats are out in force with King, the Bengal, leading the charge as they take over the steps, the porch, the foyer, the interior, and yes, the entry to the café as well. For the most part, they don’t venture into the café itself. It’s almost as if they have an understanding that people aren’t looking to get a hairball as a bonus with their meals.

  It’s almost noon, and I’ve just arrived. Since I knew I was going to be out late last night with Shep at his high school reunion, I asked Thea, one of the waitresses, if she’d open up shop for me. Of course, I thought last night might take a turn in a much spicier direction than the fatal one it opted for. After all, I had dolled myself up, spritzed, sprayed, and shaved to the hilt, so I thought I’d take a stab at seducing the handsome author while I had his attention.

  I can’t help it. Even though I’ve never been one of those women who needed to jump from relationship to relationship, it doesn’t negate the fact I need a man—particularly one who is good with his hands. And, according to those best-seller lists, Shep’s fingers know exactly what to do and when to do it. That man can use my body like a keyboard anytime he wants. But I guess we’ll never know what would have come from a little innocent flirting.

  Instead of waking up next to that handsome grump, I had to wake up grumpy all by my lonesome. And since waking up alone has been at epidemic levels since I’ve arrived in Starry Falls, it’s precisely why I’m so bent on kidnaping one of Opal’s many cats. I just need one to love and share a bed with. I’ve been meaning to ask permission before I choose my victim and run her or him all the way to my cabin, but I keep getting waylaid by sexy authors and dead bodies.

  Thea waltzes by. “Please take over. I can’t stand the stress of managing this place. I don’t know how Regina did it.” She twitches her head. “But then again, she always took off and left me in charge. Hey? That’s right around the time I started to pull my hair out.” She gives the peach fuzz at the base of her temple a quick pat. “I’m glad to report it’s growing back nicely, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  Thea Bradley is a sweetheart, with her freckled nose and picket-fence smile. And apparently, she has a nervous habit of committing more than a little follicular damage to herself as well.

  I glance across the café and spot Tilly flirting with a man in a muscle tee, and across from her stands Flo Jenkins, our resident Goth princess, complete with freshly dyed navy hair—this week—and enough black eyeliner to draw a map of the constellations over her eyelids and matching onyx lipstick. She wears thick combat boots despite the fact it’s heating up nicely outside. And if I were a paying customer, I’d be worried she might spit that gum she’s hacking away at right into my food.

  Opal strides into the place dressed in a silver gown that looks as if it’s made exclusively out of safety pins and, my God, if she doesn’t make it look like a million bucks. It’s probably couture, from some weird and pricey designer, a throwback to her days as a billionaire. Word on the Starry Falls streets is that not only does Opal live upstairs in this grand mansion all by her lonesome, but she keeps the spare eleven or fifteen rooms as her private walk-in closet.

  If only my breakup left me in the same predicament.

  “Oh good, you’re here.” She gives a dramatic sigh as she sashays her way over. Opal’s silver locks complement her steely frock, and that cranberry-hued lipstick adds to the edgy appeal she’s sporting today. “I just heard the news. Congratulations.”

  “Ooh.” Tilly bops over, nearly spilling coffee from the carafe in her hand. “Just in time for the gossip.” She looks to Opal with expectation. “Let’s hear it, woman.”

  Opal makes crazy eyes at me, and with the way her blue eyes are ringed in kohl, it really does add a psychotic flair.

  “Fine.” Opal feigns disappointment in me, or at least I hope she’s feigning it. “I’ll tell you—I just found out you’re—”

  “Oh, the body!” I snap my fingers as if I just scored the right answer in a pop quiz. “Yeah, Shep and I found another one last night. It was a friend of his, too.”

  Tilly sucks in a breath. “I bet you saw it coming.”

  Tilly and Opal are the only two souls in Starry Falls—heck, in all of Vermont—

  who know about my extracurricular supernatural abilities.

  “I did not see it coming.” I frown with the confession. “But I did have a vision of someone threatening to kill Shep. That’s actually why I agreed to go to the hyped-up senior prom to begin with. But that sort of turned out to be a bust. It came true.” I nod. “And it wasn’t anything but his friend being playful.”

  “But you never know,” Tilly says with morbid fascination.

  “That’s for sure.” I sigh. “In fact, I had another vision right before we left. I think I know who the killer might be.” Oliver Kincaid, the silver fox who wields a hammer for a living, comes to the forefront of my mind and I do my best to momentarily push him away.

  “Really?” Tilly’s eyes grow twice their size. “So who are we tracking down? I can get Thea and Flo to close up shop.”

  “Thea opened,” I say with a slight wince because I’m not above her asking, I just thought it needed to be pointed out. “And the suspect in question just so happens to be a silver fox.”

  Tilly leans my way. “Is there some code of ethics that says I can’t date a suspect?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Then I’m in like sin, sister.” She holds out a hand and I slap her five.

  Opal waves her hands at the two of us. “Oh, stop it. The two of you are just viciously toying with my emotions. You’re both well aware of the good news. And now you’re the ones that need to spill the details.” She bends over and scoops up a fluffy white Persian named Matilda.

  “Hey there, pretty girl,” I say, giving the sweet kitty a pat on the head. “Do you want to come home and live with me forever and ever?”

  Opal twists her body so that Matilda is well out of reach.

  “You mean with you and Shepherd.” Opal gives a knowing wink.

  I blink back. “Why would I live with Shep? The man can’t stand me.”

  “Oh, it’s a ploy.” Opal is right back to winking. “Of course, he can stand you. Why else would he ask you to be his wife?” She drawls the word out and adds about ten syllables.

  “Oh, that news.” I make a face. I’m about to debunk it when I realize how far and fast that news had to travel. “Where on earth did you hear that?”

  “Why from Shepherd, of course.”

  My mouth falls open as Tilly swats me on the arm.

  “I thought we were going to be besties”—she takes a moment to growl at me—“and now you’ve up and ruined it by holding out som
e seriously vital information. Had you chosen to confide in me, I would have gladly shoved Matilda into a tote bag and delivered her to your door as an early wedding present.”

  “Shepherd told you?” I’m too stunned by Opal’s words to play along with Tilly’s rant. Although, I do like the loyalty she’s bringing to the bestie table. It’s not just anyone who would consider partaking in a cat-napping for you.

  “Yes, Shepherd.” Opal looks mildly miffed as she strokes Matilda’s back, making that beautiful creature purr like a jet engine. “He’s outside right now speaking with Regina and some other woman I’ve never seen before.” She leans in. “Just between us ladies, I have a sneaking suspicion both Regina and this mystery woman are interested in snagging your man right from under your nose. I think suggestive lingerie is called for at times like this. If you want to swipe a couple of bills from the register to make this happen, I promise to look the other way.”

  I frown over at her. “I’ll take you up on that,” I say as she squints out a smile and makes Matilda wave to us with her paw as she turns to leave. “Opal, wait. Tilly and I came up with an idea for a mother-daughter tea party right out in the garden. I think it’ll be a huge moneymaker. We can charge twenty-five dollars a plate, cater all the food ourselves on the cheap, and we’ll do a raffle and everything. We can tell them all proceeds will go directly to the cat sanctuary.”

  Tilly tips her chin up. “What cat sanctuary?”

  “This one.” I knock into her with my elbow. “And we’ll pocket all the money. You feed the cats and pay their vet bills. So it’s not a lie.”

  “Brilliant.” Opal moans as she gives my cheek a squeeze. “Brilliant, I tell you. Where has your masterful mind been all my life, Bowie Binx?”

  “Hey?” Tilly waves a dishrag in Opal’s direction. “I thought I was the brains of this disorganization. Besides, Bowie’s idea is okay if you like those tea party kinds of things, but that’s what we have Stich Witchery for. Besides, I say we kick this mother-daughter stuff up a notch where modern mothers such as myself will truly want to participate and not spend the afternoon trying to figure out how to have one of the many cats, shedding their dander in my petit fours, claw my eyes out.”

  I avert my gaze. “Well, when you put it like that. Let’s hear what you got.”

  “I’m thinking a mother-daughter dance. I mean, why do dads always get to have all the fun on the dance floor while the women who pushed those drama queens through their loins have to sit outside in a glorified litter box? I say we turn the ballroom into a disco, invite all the cute boys in town, and voila. Let the good times rock and roll.” She shakes her chest and makes the girls bounce in the event we didn’t get the memo on exactly which good times would be rolling.

  Tilly gives an aggressive nod to Opal. “What do you say? Are you Team Tilly or Team Binx?”

  “Team both of you.” Opal buries a kiss on Matilda’s furry forehead. “We’ll go with option B and hold a dance in the ballroom. But we’ll serve dinner first, and, of course, the cats can come and go as they please. That way we get the money we need for our sorely underfunded sanitarium.” She gives me a wink. “Shep really found a jewel in you.” She takes off to greet the customers just as Regina storms in.

  Tilly leans in. “Did Opal just say sanitarium?”

  I nod. “Sounds about right.” A mental health facility sounds exactly like what the doctor ordered right about now.

  The queen bee herself stomps her way over.

  Regina Valentine is the reason I’m standing where I am today. If she hadn’t partaken in a knock-down, drag-out fight with the kitchen staff all those months ago I’d be sleeping on the front lawn of Mortimer Manor alongside that army of cute little kitties.

  Regina bounces up to the counter with her long chestnut hair, her dark knowing eyes, and those brown lips that look as if she dipped them in cinnamon.

  “I can’t believe what you just did.” She hisses the words at me with such venom you’d think I had tested out my kidnapping skills on her firstborn.

  Tilly sighs with boredom. “Ignore her, Bowie. Regina here has tried to tie down Shep twelve ways till Sunday. She’s just jealous because you beat her to it.”

  “Tried?” Regina’s left eyebrow fishhooks into her forehead. “Oh, I’ve succeeded more than once and usually twice on Sunday.” She takes a satisfied breath as she looks my way. “In other words, I’ve taken your betrothed out for a test drive or two.”

  “How’d he do?” I bounce on the balls of my feet and watch as her face turns every hue of crimson. I knew girls like Regina Valentine back in Jersey. Heck, Jersey invented girls like Regina Valentine. I can play her games any day of the week and outsmart, outwit, and outlast her in every one of them.

  Her entire countenance morphs with rage—mostly underlying, but I can practically see the steam emanating out of her ears.

  “He did well.” She leans in. “He’s an expert at handling a woman’s body, as I’m sure you’re well aware.” She gives me a cocked stare. “Bowie Binx.” She shakes her head at me as if she were doubtful about my identity, and every muscle in my body seizes.

  I may have known girls like Regina back in Jersey, but even then I knew better than to mess with them.

  “Where did you say you came from?” She angles her ear my way as if the better to slaughter me with my own words later.

  “I, uh…” I glance to the door for help, or to run. Either way, I need to get out from under the bus that is Regina Valentine.

  Tilly rolls her eyes. “Chicago, Connecticut. Now shoo.” She swats Regina with the dishtowel in her hand until Regina steps away and eventually ends up all the way to the door.

  “Chicago, Connecticut.” Regina’s lips pull into a straight line, the threat of a woman possessed to do a faux relationship takedown. “I’ll see you later, Bowie Binx. I don’t go down without a fight.” She shrugs. “Some people just have to learn the hard way.”

  “She’s going to fight me?” I gulp as Tilly and I watch the queen of mean exit the café.

  “Sounds like it.” Tilly shrugs. “Too bad for her—you already won. You’re engaged to Sexy Wexy. I say we head out to celebrate with a certain silver-haired suspect.”

  “I’m not so sure I won,” I say as I head over to the window to make sure Regina isn’t assaulting Shep outside for information on me. Besides, chasing down a killer again is the last thing I need to be doing. God knows I need to be staying away from the criminal spotlight—not trying to shine it over me like a floodlight.

  But I don’t see Regina at all. Instead, I see Shep talking to that caramel-haired hussy from last night, Hilary Campbell. How dare she come sniffing around my phony fiancé. I’m about to head on out and put on the show of a lifetime when Shep pats her over the back and the two of them take off down the street.

  How do you like that?

  Shepherd Wexler has the nerve to cheat on me in broad daylight with his old high school sleaze-heart.

  “On second thought,” I turn to Tilly, “I would love to go out on the town with you tonight, Tilly.”

  Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, off to hunt a silver fox we go.

  Chapter 5

  It turns out, Tilly is a natural at tracking down men—especially when they’re single and deemed somewhat handsome by her newly minted bestie.

  Once Oliver Kincaid finished up at his current construction location, which just so happens to be at Kadie Beaumont’s home, or Kadie Ryan, whichever surname she’s using these days, he took off for a drink at a place called the Dirty Habit located in downtown Scooter Springs.

  Tilly gleaned all that with less than two minutes alone with one of Oliver’s foremen. I’m not sure how she wrangled it from him, seeing that she took him behind a trailer to shake him down, but let’s just say she came away with her blouse buttoned wonky and the foremen went away with a grin on his face.

  Scooter Springs sits just below Starry Falls geographically. It’s dark, seedy, teeming with rebel-rousers commandeerin
g the streets, not to mention the clusters of rowdy women howling at the sky while brandishing beer bottles. I would have fit in nicely with these people back home.

  Tilly drives us straight to the Dirty Habit. We park out back and carefully make our way past a group of greasy-looking men, all who take the time out of their grunting conversation to belt a few catcalls at us.

  Tilly winks and shimmies her chest their way in return while I yank her into the establishment before us, which holds the scent of beer and urinal cakes.

  The sound of rock music blares from the speakers, and once in a while there’s a crackling noise that alerts us to the fact the owners of this place don’t think too highly of investing in a decent sound system. I guess they figure with all the liquor they’re pouring into the patrons, the sound quality doesn’t really matter. I’m betting they’re right.

  “Wow,” I muse as I take a look around at the dimly lit wonder.

  Peanut shells are scattered around the floor, the walls are dark, there’s a glass bar that runs the length of the place with what looks to be a million bottle caps displayed underneath it, a couple of dartboards are set in the back, and there are two pool tables currently occupied. It’s a split ratio of men to women.

  The men all look as if they stepped off of a construction site and the women all look as if they stepped right out of the red light district. And, dear Lord, I think these really are bona fide ladies of the night. In fact, I’d bet my second life on it. My call-girl radar has always been on point.

  “Tilly.” I pull her to the side as we continue to inspect the inhabitants, and strangely enough, the inhabitants seem to be inspecting us right back. “I think this is a working bar.” I tick my head to the side over and over again trying to get my racy point across.

  “Of course, it’s working.” She nods with wild eyes. “Why else would it be open?” She cranes her neck to get a better look at the crowd. “He’s got to be here somewhere. I can’t wait to lay my eyes on the next Mr. Tilly Teasdale.”