Meow for Murder Mysteries Boxed Set

by Addison Moore

  “Bring whoever you want,” I say. “The more the merrier.” And the less suspicious.

  Shep lowers his chin a notch as he lands those pale blue lasers my way.

  “Why are you going to Sterling Lake?” he grumbles as if the thought offended him. “Wait a minute. You’re going to investigate, aren’t you?” His brows pinch. “Bowie, you’re not a detective. This case doesn’t involve you.”

  “The blood on my new dress begs to differ. Besides, I don’t owe you any explanation as to where I eat my dinner. Just like you don’t owe me any explanation as to who you eat your lunch with.”

  He nods as if he knew that’s where this would circle back to.

  “For the record”—he leans in—“it’s not what you think.”

  Tilly chortles. “That’s what they all say. If you really care about your fiancée, you’ll join us tonight and pick up the tab.” She elbows me in the ribs. “Shut up and go with it. Butch is slow to part with his tips, and so am I.”

  Shep examines me with a satisfied look on his smugly handsome face that suggests I’ve been bested.

  “I’ll be glad to join you,” he says. “Pick you up at seven?”

  Tilly bumps her hip to mine. “It’s a date. Don’t be late.”

  “Eatie Some Ziti here we come.” I shrug over at Shep. “It’s not what you think.” I don’t mind one bit throwing his words right back at him. “It’s research. I’m looking for some great Italian menu items to swipe.”

  Hilary waves and garners Shep’s attention before demanding a cup of coffee for herself as well.

  I quickly pour two and slide them over his way.

  “We wouldn’t want to keep the other woman waiting.”

  Shep takes the coffee and pauses a moment to bear a hole through my skull with his gaze.

  “Research?” He hikes a brow my way as if implying he knows better.

  “Are you suspicious of my intentions, Honey Bunch?”

  His lips curl up one side. “I think I know how your brain works, Sweet Cheeks.”

  “You wish,” I say as he takes off.

  I’m about to turn to Tilly when that warm, fuzzy feeling takes over. The room darkens around me and I feel a tingling running up from my toes to my scalp. A vision appears in my mind’s eye. I recognize the woman with caramel-blonde hair, the pinched nose, the persnickety look on her face—it’s Hilary Campbell. She’s stuffed herself into a shiny silver dress that screams I’m single and she’s looking up with a lusty greed at someone who’s wearing a suit—Shep I’m assuming. “If what you’re saying is true about her, I’ll be sure to have her arrested. Don’t you worry about a thing. You can keep your hands clean.”

  A breath hitches in my throat as I look over at the two of them. Shep is about to spill my secret to that wily witch.

  I’ll be darned if I’m about to let that happen. Hilary Campbell not only wants a piece of my man, she wants a piece of me, too. Oh, I’ll give it to her and I’ll make sure it hurts.

  But first, I’m about to shake down her best friend.

  And who knows?

  I might just take out my wrath on Kadie Beaumont first.

  Chapter 8

  Sterling Lake is located northeast of Starry Falls. It might be relatively close in proximity, but make no mistake, it is a far cry from our humble, cozy neck of the Vermont woods.

  Tilly and her date, Butch, are meeting us here, so all the way over I tried to convince Shep that under no circumstances was he to share anything about my life with Hilary. And all the way over, Shep tried to convince me that he would never even dream of doing such a thing. Of course, he has no idea that I’ve all but seen it play out at some point in the future.

  While on occasion my sibylline status has been a curse, it’s times like these that it’s been a blessing.

  Shep helps me out of the car and I stretch my legs, looking up at the red brick building with its green and white sign that reads Eatie Some Ziti. The windows are festooned with white Battenberg lace curtains and a faux candle on the ledge burns bright from the other side of the glass. Couples dressed in suits and fancy dresses scurry into the place at record speed as if the name of the establishment was code for free truffles.

  Shep steps in front of me and furrows his brows as his gaze meets with mine.

  “Why do I get the feeling you like picking a fight with me?”

  “Ha!” I bark it out. “Don’t flatter yourself. Besides, I’m not picking a fight with you. I’m simply asking you to refrain from the urge of regurgitating my life story. Look, if you want to get lucky with Coital Campbell, you have the blessing of your phony fiancée. Just don’t throw me under the bus to score some booty points with her.”

  His mouth opens and closes. “I don’t know how to respond to that. As someone who doles out words by the hour for a living, you have truly rendered me speechless.”

  “You’re not the first man I’ve heard that from.”

  “Something tells me I won’t be the last.”

  Shep and I stare one another down as if it were a showdown at noon. But it’s not noon—it’s evening—and the night air here in Sterling Lake is perfumed with rosemary.

  Shep looks caustically handsome in his dark suit and his pale gold tie. His dark hair is slicked back, the stubble on his face trimmed down, and his lips look particularly kissable. About three different women have already given him a double take, and I can’t say I blame them. His lids are hooded and he looks far too dangerous, too delicious to ever be around and it only seems to fuel my rage.

  Shep opens the door like a gentleman and the sound of Rosemary Clooney singing “Mambo Italiano” enlivens the atmosphere. The scent of decadently thick, rich, red sauce permeates my senses, and I can practically taste the garlic in the air.

  A hard groan evicts from me. “I’ve died and gone to ziti heaven.”

  Shep steps in front of me, his warm cologne quickly enticing my senses in a whole other way.

  His cool eyes seem to smile over at me all on their own.

  “Bowie”—a touch of sadness sweeps over him, but his lips are curved in the right direction—“you look great tonight.”

  A part of me wants to shoot off a sassy comeback, but another part of me is busy drinking down his words.

  Before I can thank him, a waitress hops before us.

  “Shepherd Wexler?” The brunette’s hot pink lips round out. “Twice in one month, go figure!” She pulls him into a hearty embrace before pulling back with a laugh.

  It’s Kadie Beaumont wearing a little black dress with a white frilly apron. Her dark hair is neatly pulled back into a low bun, and not only does she look well-polished, she looks bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

  Shep glances my way. “What a surprise, honey.” His lips expand. “I had no idea we’d be running into an old friend tonight.” He shoots me a look that says but I’m guessing you did.

  He would be right.

  Kadie bucks at the thought. “Well, you’re on a roll because there’s another old friend who I know would love to see you.” She glances to the floor before looking my way as if she felt a twinge of guilt about it. “I’ll get you to a table.”

  “There will be four of us,” I’m quick to tell her and she promptly scoops up four menus.

  Kadie leads us through the dimly lit restaurant, with its dark hardwood floors and matching rustic looking furniture with a candle dotting each table. But it’s not the candles that have caught my eye; it’s the plates full of extra-large portions of pastas, chicken Parmesan, eggplant, and lasagna with golden brown layers of baked mozzarella cheese on top. My stomach is demanding it. My mouth is salivating. And it takes all of my might to keep my hands from snatching one of those luscious dishes right out from an unsuspecting patron.

  Kadie leads us to a round table near the window, and just as Shep holds out a seat for me, the sound of a wailing cry heads in this direction.

  We look over in time to see a blonde bouncing her way over as if someone with a
hatchet were chasing her.

  But then, I’m not that lucky.

  Kadie shrugs with delight. “Surprise! It’s Hilly!”

  “Hilly,” I say her name with a touch of disdain. I’ve never been one to hide my feelings from my face or my inflection. I can’t help it, and in this case, I don’t mind a bit. But something tells me Hilary won’t take the hint regardless of how many stink eyes or sourpusses I send her.

  She presses a hand to her chest as she takes Shep as if he were the exact juicy steak her mouth has been watering for. Okay, fine. That may have been my first thought when I saw him tonight, but it’s perfectly acceptable, considering I’m about to be his wife. Sort of.

  “Hilary.” Shep steps over and glides his arm around my waist as if it were as natural as breathing—heavy breathing that I wholeheartedly agree with.

  “Bobbie.” She nods my way as her eyes trace out his arm and a faint scowl takes over.

  “It’s Bowie.” Shep sheds a brief smile. “So what are you doing here? I thought you mentioned you were still in Maple Grove.”

  “I am.” She pauses a moment to glower my way. “But I like to stop by once in a while to spend time with Kadie. She’s too busy during the week with the kids. This way I catch her for a quick drink on her dinner hour and we can catch up. I’m sure Bowie can appreciate how precious a little girl time can be.” Her eyes travel up and down my body with a look of disapproval.

  Is there something wrong with the red dress I threw on?

  Sure, it was purchased at a thrift shop, but it’s the environmentally sound thing to do these days. I‘m sure that silver lame tinfoil number she’s stretched over her body is not only a fashion disaster, but an ecological one as well.

  “I can certainly appreciate a little girl time,” I say a touch too chipper as I spot Tilly and her bartender friend making their way over. “In fact, here comes my right-hand gal now.”

  Shepherd leans in. “And apparently a human cactus,” he whispers.

  It’s clear that Butch the bartender from the Dirty Habit has gone all out for the occasion. His hair is spiked in every direction at once, hard and crunchy looking as if you could impale yourself if you happened to fall on top of him. He’s donned a spike collar, matching bracelet, and belt to complement his black as night suit. His boots look as if he fished them out of quicksand then maybe lit them on fire, and if I’m not mistaken, the faint scent of something illegal emanates from him, and maybe from Tilly, too.

  We all take a seat, and to my alarm Hilary pulls up a chair and lands on the other side of Shep.

  “You mind if I join in on the fun?” she squawks it out with a laugh. “What’s a little lasagna among friends?”

  Shep ticks his head her way and I get the feeling he’s just too nice of a guy to tell her to beat it. It’s crystal clear the blonde stalker is the reason Shep needed me to play his plus one at the high school reunion to begin with.

  Kadie sticks around while we put in our orders, both appetizers and main dishes alike, and, of course, a few extra dishes—for research purposes—and on top of all that, garlic bread and Caesar salad for all. If Hilary hadn’t haunted us with her presence, I would have dubbed this as the first perfect night in Vermont—in my life if you want to draw back the curtain enough. It feels right with Shep by my side. Tilly too. Butch and the silver-clad stalker? Not so much.

  Kadie leaves and two things hit me.

  One, Hilary is here. I can shake her down and make her rattle like a screen door in a hurricane and Shep can’t say a thing about it.

  And two, Hilary is here. That vision I had—she was wearing the very same ridiculous accouterment. And since I have a feeling Hilly isn’t the type to touch a dress twice, I’m guessing that little future-based nugget is on its way to coming to fruition.

  My God, Shep is going to spill my secret tonight!

  Kadie comes back with a sommelier by her side.

  “A bottle of red,” she trills. “A never-ending glass. My compliments. It’s always a pleasure to have old friends under my roof.” She nudges the man popping the cork. “Make it a big pour.” She winks over at Hilary before taking off. I bet they’re in cahoots to get Shep good and drunk. And I’m betting that a drunk Shep will have loose lips.

  You know what they say—loose lips sink felonious ships.

  I’m in trouble.

  Tilly leans in. “This place is snazzy.”

  “And there’s free booze,” Butch belts it out like the lyrics to his favorite heavy metal song.

  “Nothing is free,” I say, looking directly at the unwanted guest at the table. “In the end, someone always pays the piper.” It comes out like a threat, and Hilary’s eyes widen with a touch of fear.

  I’ll admit, there is something extremely satisfying in making her tremble.

  “Hey”—Tilly leans toward Hil—“weren’t you and Shep high school sweethearts?”

  I make a face at my so-called new BFF. Why did she have to bring that up?

  “Yup.” Hilary gives a little giggle as she attaches herself to his arm. “That we were. Let’s just say not only were we inseparable, but a good time was had by all.”

  “Well, isn’t that dandy,” I say, carefully removing her hand from his. “And now that Shep has grown out of his experimental phase, he and I are looking forward to spending the rest of our lives together.” I link my arm to his and can’t help but note how strong he is. I bite down over my bottom lip just to keep from grinning like a loon.

  Tilly snaps her fingers toward Hilary. “That means you were there the night of the murder. So who did it? Was it you?” Tilly all but hands Hilary’s head over to me on a silver platter.

  Well done.

  Brilliant segue into the inquisition—I give an approving nod her way.

  Hilary’s expression sours and she’s visibly miffed.

  “No, I didn’t kill him. Everyone loved Craig.”

  “Somebody didn’t,” I point out just as a sea of appetizers lands at our table.

  Hilary shrugs. “Well, I don’t know who killed him. But I’m betting they knew Craig, and to know him was to love him.”

  I glance at Shep. “So someone who knew and loved him killed him?”

  He looks just as perplexed as I do momentarily. “I’m afraid it happens every day.”

  Butch waves a breadstick at us. “You know, I’ve heard there are only three main motives for murder: greed, lust, or power. So which was it?”

  “Good point.” Shep wields a breadstick right back in his direction. “But we can’t pry into the mind of the killer until they’ve been caught.”

  “That we can’t.” Hilary shrugs as she slides a stuffed mushroom onto her plate.

  “Hilary?” I lean past Shep to get a good look at her. “Do you know anyone who may have had a disagreement with Craig? Did he have any enemies?”

  Shep gives an approving flicker of a smile. “Good questions.”

  Hilary frowns as Shep doles out the accolade my way.

  “Craig didn’t have enemies,” she snips. “He had friends.”

  Okay, if she refuses to go right, we’ll go left.

  “So he had a good circle of friends?” I ask. “You and Kadie?” I try my hardest to remember the others Shep introduced me to that night.

  Tilly grunts through a bite of calamari, “Don’t forget Oliver.”

  “And Oliver.” Hilary sheds a thorny smile over at Shep. “Sheppy and I were great friends with Craig, too.”

  A thought comes to me. “Weren’t Craig and Oliver business partners? I thought I heard someone mention it.” Like Oliver himself.

  But who knows? Maybe bringing it up will jog Hilary’s memory and she’ll give us a vital clue that has to do with a spat Craig and Oliver had.

  Hilary gazes up at Shep as if he cast a spell on her. “Oh, who cares the poor guy is dead. RIP and all that other good stuff.” She pulls her wine glass in close. “In a strange way it’s as if Craig is working from the other side to bring all of h
is friends closer together—and land them with all the right people.” Her fingers start in on a spider walk over to Shep’s tie and I quickly smack them away.

  Our dinners arrive and I all but shove my face into the cheesiest, sauciest, meatiest lasagna known to man. If Nana Rose were here, she would shed enough tears to create an Italian river. This is ecstasy. It’s as if my entire life, even that briar patch known as Hastings, New Jersey, had been pointing me in this direction—right to Eatie Some Ziti to experience this slice of Italian heaven. The ricotta. The provolone. The brown and bubbly mozzarella caramelized on top.

  Shep sets his fork down and takes a deep breath as he soaks in the magic we’ve just experienced.

  “Amazing,” he muses.

  “I heard angels sing,” I moan.

  “Save the pillow talk for later, Cupcake.” He gives a sly wink. “This is a family restaurant.”

  Hilary shoots me the death rays. “So the two of you are the real deal, huh?”

  I openly scoff her way. “And why wouldn’t we be? It’s almost as if it’s not enough that Shep told you we were engaged.”

  She gives a little shrug. “I thought maybe he was trying to play hard to get.” She glides her finger over his tie and takes it back before I can slap her hand once again. “You know, it’s not like I see a ring on that finger of yours.”

  I glance down at my bare left hand.

  “I don’t do rings,” I hear myself say the words, and even I don’t believe them. “At work,” I add as if it made sense, and in a weird way I think it will. “I work with food all day, and I’m terrified I’ll lose it. Shep bought me a beaut of a rock, a boulder actually. His love for me knows no financial or carbon pressed bounds.”

  “Oh?” She looks from Shep to me. “My stepfather owns Linder’s Jewelers. He can make a fake for you that you can wear anywhere without fear of losing it.”

  Tilly waves her off. “Bowie hates jewelry. She’ll probably never wear it. Hey, I know?” She makes wild eyes at me. “You should both get tattoos for the wedding.”

  Butch nods. “I like that. So when’s the big day?”