Meow for Murder Mysteries Boxed Set

by Addison Moore

  My brain feels as if it’s pulsating after that exercise in higher relationship mathematics.

  “Biogen?” I squint. “What is that exactly?”

  “Mostly beauty creams and cosmetics. But he’s been working on a top-secret serum that’s still several years from hitting the market, too. As soon as Madeline heard about it, she was chomping at the bit to get her hands on it. Parker assured us it could stop aging in its tracks. Right now, he’s trying to get the FDA to approve it as a topical ointment, but he’s working on an oral version as well. It’s going to revolutionize the human race. Aging will never be the same.”

  “So Madeline had access to this serum?” I’m not sure I’m following. But then, that might be the wine.

  Speaking of which, she snaps up another pair of filled to the brim glasses and hands one my way.

  “Madeline wanted to be an official volunteer, a front-liner as soon as the trials got underway. But that hasn’t happened yet. Let’s just say she was spending long hours at the Biogen lab in hopes to get an early preview.” She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, Parker’s security system was breeched and the serum was stolen. He was furious. He didn’t know who was responsible, but after a thorough investigation, he was sure it was Madeline.”

  “Madeline? So she stole some serum? I mean, she was probably anxious to get a head start on the treatment. You mentioned that yourself.”

  She shrugs. “She was also anxious to sell the formula to Parker’s competitor. Parker was furious. Millions of dollars, millions of hours down the drain. And, of course, Madeline was suddenly in the money. The deceptive math was pretty easy.” She touches her glass to mine. “To good old Maddie. She certainly knew how to set her life and everyone else’s on fire.”

  She drinks up, and I join her. I’d hate to be rude.

  She cranes her neck past me. “Muffy? Is that you?” She honks out a laugh loud in my ear. “Excuse me, Zoey.” She pats me on the shoulder before taking off.

  “It’s Bowie,” I call after her, staggering a moment now that she’s not around to hold me upright.

  Wait a minute. Did she just imply that her own boyfriend killed Madeline? And—hey? I didn’t even get to ask if she was having an affair with Lucas Lane.

  My feet keep moving, and eventually I’m standing in front of a huge corral teeming with the fuzziest, long-necked cuties with the most stunning eyelashes you ever did see.

  “Llamas!” I announce to no one in particular as I hold up my empty glass.

  A waitress zips over and quickly exchanges my empty glass for a full one and I do the right thing without thinking twice.

  “You can’t be rude,” I say to the llamas milling around in front of me, each one wearing a funny little hat that probably costs more than all the money I laundered combined.

  “Stupid Johnny Rizzo.” I slap my fingers to my lips because I just so happened to say that out loud. “Oops!” I giggle. A pair of llamas break away from the herd and head my way. The first one is a creamy shade of butter with a sweet smile. And the second has light brown fur with large brown eyes. Both have ridiculously ugly hats on that look as if they were vomited out by some fancy designer who is secretly inspired by a third grader’s art. My apologies to third graders everywhere.

  “Hey there, ladies,” I say a touch too loud. “Aren’t you the sweetest. I think I’m going to call you Sugar, and you Cinnamon.” I attempt to set my glass on the edge of the corral and my foot slips out from under me, so I do the only thing I can—I latch my arms around the top of the fence.

  The world around me begins to swirl, and it feels kind of nice, like a merry-go-round I never meant to get on.

  I spot Regina striding my way, angry-faced and mean.

  Why is she so mean, anyway?

  “What are you doing, Bowie?” she hisses. “You’re letting the llamas loose!”

  “What?” I glance down and note that I’m riding the corral door as it opens wide. And sure enough, an entire stampede of ritzy looking llamas strut out and begin mingling among the guests.

  A series of screams goes off, and I note that there are just as many men shrieking as there are women. Now there’s something that would never have happened in Hastings. Back home, the men were too proud to scream no matter how many body parts were being rearranged.

  I spot Sugar trotting off toward the lake, but I catch Cinnamon by the neck as she does her best to push past me.

  “No, you don’t,” I say, struggling to hold on. I give a little jump and end up on her back as she hits a decent stride. “Oh my goodness!” I yelp as I hug her neck for dear life.

  The crowd before me darts out of the way as women in fancy dresses land onto the working end of the dessert table. Entire rows of charcuterie boards are destroyed as men dive over them in hopes to avoid a collision, but one man stands firm as he stares at me in disbelief.

  “Bowie?” Shep calls out just before he makes a run in my direction and manages to stop Cinnamon cold as she bucks me off. I fly through the sky and land softly in Shepherd Wexler’s arms.

  “Hey there, Shep.” I give his tie a tug. “Have you tried the tawny port?”

  Before he can answer, the world around me grows dim as a warm and fuzzy feeling fills me. A vision crops up in my mind.

  It’s Shep and me, alone in my bed. A smile swims to his lips as he dots his finger over my nose.

  The world around me roars back to life and my mouth falls open as I look up at the handsome man who’s currently glowering at me.

  “You’re taking me to bed!” The words burst from me and I quickly cover my mouth. But it’s too late. I’ve let the Sexy Wexy cat out of the bag. Speaking of cats, Pixie is going to be thrilled with this latest development. She may not say much, but I can tell by that bored look on her face that she’s sick of hearing me pining after Wexler.

  “Taking you to bed?” Shep inches back as he examines me. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  Chapter 8

  All night I have one feverish vision after another.

  Trust me. There is no mistaking these infernal wanderings as something as simple as a dream, and they certainly fall under the nightmare classification if anything at all.

  First up was Tilly and me in the Manor Café. Jackson was there, too, looking like the delicious snack he is, and he picked up one of our hands—it was hard to tell if it belonged to Tilly or me. Then he whispered the words, “I’m going to give you a night to remember.”

  I’m pretty sure all of his naughty intentions were aimed my way. I won’t even bother filling Tilly in on that one. No sense in getting her carnal hopes up anymore.

  Then there was a disturbing vision regarding Regina and Shep. I’m not sure where the three of us were, but her hair was mussed and his tie was askew—and I felt the sudden urge to slaughter them both. No words were exchanged, but I’m betting that’s because I had already peppered them both with a few salty words.

  And finally there was the doozy of the bunch. Shep and I were at some unknown locale. It was dark and the mood was tense. He looked me in the eyes and said, “This is where it ends with you and me. It’s over. It’s done.”

  It’s that last one that sends me sitting straight up and gulping for air.

  “Can’t breathe.” I gasp as I look around the strange room around me. For a split second I think I’m back in Hastings, my old apartment, my old room, one hair away from my biggest mistake. But instead of dry wall, I’m met with log cabin walls, a patchwork quilt wrapped around me, and Pixie whipping my arm softly with her fuzzy pink tail.

  “Oh, Pixie.” I moan as I gingerly place my palm to my forehead. “Pain.” A horrible sound emits from my throat and ricochets right through my skull. “This is exactly why I shouldn’t drink.”

  The room glows peach as if the sun just crested the horizon, and the shadow of a man walks into my bedroom. My eyes work overtime to quickly assess the situation. If I were back in Hastings, I’d grab my baseball bat. Note to self: buy a baseball
bat.

  Instead, I clasp my hands together and point my fingers over at the perp as if I were holding a gun.

  “I’m gonna shoot!”

  “Hold your fire,” an all too familiar deep voice sounds as Shep comes into view with his dark hair, a body built for a football field, and a smile that I’m not sure is genuine or manufactured. And if I’m not mistaken, he seems to be holding a tray with breakfast offerings on it.

  A horrible pain rockets through my head, as if someone just shot off a bottle rocket through my skull, and I moan like someone who’s having her toes sawed off with a butter knife.

  Shep lets out a breath as if my agony exasperated him.

  “This, Bowie, is exactly why you shouldn’t insert yourself into a homicide investigation.”

  I grunt as he lands the tray full of pancakes, orange juice, and coffee before me.

  “Wow”—I muse, breaking off a piece of a pancake and popping it into my mouth—“On the contrary, if you’re going to roll out the culinary red carpet, I might just sign up for the part of town lush.”

  He takes a seat next to me and touches his finger over my nose, and just like that, the vision I had at the wine festival comes true.

  A swell of relief fills me.

  It was something simple for a change. I like that.

  “So do you always make breakfast in bed for your boarders?” I take a careful sip of my coffee, my eyes never leaving his.

  “Nope. You’re my first.” He tips his head flirtatiously before getting right back to frowning. “Bowie, you were pretty wasted last night. You couldn’t walk. I had to carry you in here. You were moaning and talking in your sleep all night.”

  “All night?” My voice hikes a notch at what this might mean.

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t take advantage of you.” His pale blue eyes bear into mine and a spike of heat bites through me. Judging by my visceral reaction, my body was rooting for the former option. “I spent the night on the sofa in case you needed help, or felt the sudden urge to stagger out the door. Jackson wanted to take you home.”

  I gasp as I lean back against my headboard.

  “That could have been disastrous,” I muse.

  “Yes.” He gives a curt nod, and I can’t help but note how comely he looks when he’s good and upset. Come to think of it, that’s a rather natural disposition of his. “That’s why I took it upon myself to help you out. In the event you haven’t noticed, you can’t hold your liquor.”

  “You got that right, buddy. And that’s exactly why I don’t drink. It was all Sophia Hathaway’s fault. But on the bright side, she basically told me that she thinks her boyfriend is involved in Madeline’s murder. How strange is that?”

  “Not strange at all. She hinted at that with me as well when I questioned her.” He presses his tongue against his upper lip, and, oh my wow, I think I just drooled.

  He nods as if he heard me. “She made it clear she doesn’t think Parker is responsible, but that something went awry with a project the two of them were working on. Don’t dig into this, Bowie. Nora and I have handled tougher cases. You make a mean lasagna. Stay in your lane. Your stint as a llama jockey could have resulted in a broken neck. I’ve got control over this. I promise.”

  “Stay in my lane?” My lips twitch from side to side. “I’m not sure how I feel about you telling me to stay in my mean lasagna lane.”

  “It’s not me talking. It’s the law.” His chest expands with his next breath. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

  “You’re changing the subject.” A smile curls on my lips as I pull the tray forward and pour a river of syrup over those light and fluffy pancakes. “It’s nice to know if I’m short-staffed at the café, I can call in a culinary expert. So tell me something about yourself. Start with your family.” I wince because I happen to know that Shep’s father is doing time just like mine. But unlike the RICO charges my father is in for, his is in for murder one for killing Shep’s stepmother. Fun fact: our fathers are both serving time at the same correctional facility. And in a cosmic twist of fate, here we are—their offspring chitchatting in bed over a plate of pancakes.

  “Dad’s still in prison.” He shrugs. “Mom lives in Sterling Lake now.”

  My mouth falls open with delight. “Was she at that fancy party yesterday?”

  “No.” He glowers. “And I’m thankful for it, too.”

  “You and me both,” I say as I indulge in a syrup-drenched bite. “Mmm, wow, Detective. You’ve got the right moves in the kitchen. I bet you’re pretty good in other rooms of the house, too.” I give a cheeky wink and his lids hood a notch. “Never mind. Keeping talking. I’m starting to feel human again. So how does your mother pass the time?”

  “She’s active in the community. She was a librarian, so she reads a lot.”

  “Aww—a librarian?” I coo at the thought. “It’s no wonder you grew up to be a best-selling author. How about your siblings? Lee and Kelly?” Technically, I’ve met them both, but I don’t know a whole lot about them.

  “There’s my brother Leslie—or Lee as he prefers.” He frowns at the thought of his more than comely brother. “He’s got the auto shop out in Scooter Springs to keep him busy. And Kelly whom you’ve met.”

  “I sure as heck did.” In fact, I tackled her at one of Shep’s book events a few weeks back because I thought she was a deranged fan. It turns out, I was the one who looked deranged in that scenario. Kelly is blonde, has about five years on me—so that puts her in her mid-thirties—and as far as I know, she’s single. “What’s she up to?”

  His lips pull tight. “Kelly is a hedge fund manager at Financial Premier. She still lives out in Maple Grove. That’s where we grew up, blew up, and reunite every now and again.”

  My shoulders sag. “Be grateful. I’d give anything to have one more Sunday dinner with my motley crew. My brother, Lorenzo, is probably still schmoozing the ladies two at a time. And Steph, my sister—she’s way too involved with her loser of a boyfriend to notice there are actually other people in the world. Don’t tell her I said that.” We share a quick laugh.

  “I’m sorry.” He reaches over and gives my hand a quick squeeze.

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m the dodo bird who got herself into this predicament to begin with. I don’t even know what I was thinking. Scratch that, I know exactly what I was thinking. I was going to get ahead by way of cheating the mob. Not the brightest idea I’ve ever had. But now that I’ve had a chance to think about it, I wonder if that came from the fact my dad was sitting in a prison cell because of his dicey connections. Okay, so his decision to squeal may have played a part in it. But do you know why he did it?”

  Shep gives a sorrowful nod. “I do know because he told me.”

  Shep met up with my father in prison before we ever met—for research purposes for his books. Come to find out, his books read like a who’s who of the crime families of New Jersey—namely mine.

  Shep leans in. “He did it for his family. He wanted out. He wanted a better life for his children.”

  Tears come to my eyes. “That’s exactly why.” I sniff hard in an effort to get ahold of my emotions. “Come here.” I scoot over and pat the spot next to me. “Don’t think I didn’t notice there were two forks here.”

  “Did I do that?” A devilish grin twitches on his lips as he scoots in close. That musky cologne of his clings to his skin and electrifies my senses.

  Shep and I indulge in a pancake breakfast while reliving my short-lived career as a llama jockey. I tell him all about my new friends, Sugar and Cinnamon, and we laugh until we cry. Okay, so I laugh until I cry. Shep winces a lot and chuckles.

  It feels good to laugh with Shep.

  As much as I hate to admit it, I’m falling hard for this ornery sourpuss of a man.

  What’s not to love? He checks off all the sexy boxes, with intelligence and dark humor being the two most important.

  Love.

  Now there’s something that will never happen for the two of u
s.

  That last vision I had before I opened my eyes sealed the depressing deal.

  Too bad.

  I think we would have made a good team.

  Chapter 9

  It turns out, Parker Goldman is Dr. Parker Goldman. And not only does he own the Biogen Laboratory, but he’s also a practicing plastic surgeon who specializes in youth and beauty treatments.

  As soon as I got to the café this morning, I started to research the guy. I called his office as soon as I spotted his number and, sure enough, there was a cancelation this afternoon I was able to procure. Of course, I’m not actually having the consultation myself. The last thing I need is Dr. Feel Good digging around and discovering that I have no medical history, so Tilly volunteered for the effort. I didn’t tell her why I didn’t want Parker poking around in any part of my fictitious history, but no sooner did I mention that Dr. Goldman has the ability to erase the effects of Father Time, than not only did Tilly hop into my beat-up Honda, Wanda, but Opal did, too.

  Wanda was a parting gift from my Uncle Vinnie that he gave me when I took off from Hastings in an effort to ditch the mob and the feds. Wanda and I had our sights set on Canada, but she gave up the vehicular ghost as soon as we rolled into Starry Falls.

  I guess you could say I have Wanda to thank for my new life in Vermont. And even though she sputters and stutters far more than she zooms or vrooms, I sort of consider her my good luck charm.

  The Fountain of Youth Clinic owned by Dr. Parker Goldman is in the heart of Sterling Lake’s posh downtown district. The building is a conglomerate of squares smooshed together and the inside is a modern sea of glass and stainless steel.

  I somehow manage to parlay our single office visit into a two-fer and the nurse allows both Opal and Tilly to be seen in the same room at once.

  Both Opal and Tilly are commanded to strip from the waist up and put on a paper gown.