“That was Nina’s idea. Truly brilliant. I know you searched for the source, but you never found it. Tiny little atomizers in the passages so we could trigger them with our cell phones. We really had you going. Harley, too. He’s not as smart as I thought he was.” She grimaced. “That’s a disappointment.”
“Harley thinks you’re very special.” That was exactly the wrong thing to say, Tommie realized instantly.
“Get down those stairs. Your precious Harley has been taken care of by now. I wonder how you’ll feel when you see him, dead.”
Tommie almost cried out, but the black cat gave her leg a swat. Instead of showing weakness, the image of Harley injured—or dead—was exactly what she needed to fling back the bolt on the door and throw it open. She was just about to hurl herself down the stairs when Nancy charged. She had the gun pointed at Tommie’s face as she screamed and ran forward. Before Tommie could do anything at all, Trouble stepped in front of the rushing woman.
The world seemed to go into slow-motion as Nancy’s momentum threw her out the open attic door and headlong down the stairs. She landed at the bottom in a heap that indicated multiple broken bones.
“Oh, no!” Tommie started down the stairs but Trouble was ahead of her. When he got to Nancy’s body, he edged the gun away from her limp hand.
Tommie checked for a pulse, but it was clear Nancy’s fall had killed her. Her eyes were wide-open, staring up at the ceiling, unseeing. Tommie wanted to close them, but she dared not. She had to find Harley. He couldn’t be hurt. He had to be okay.
Trouble led the way toward the renovation area and Tommie almost wept when she heard Harley’s voice.
“I would never have suspected you. Never. I thought you were a friend.” Harley said. There was a small cry of pain and then Harley added, “This should hold you until the law gets here. Aiden is on the way.”
Tommie peeked around the doorframe and saw Harley tightening the ropes on a person in a navy-blue cloak who sat in a chair and struggled against her bonds. Another cloaked woman. It had to be Nina.
“Harley!” Tommie rushed toward him and he caught her against his chest and held her.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I got her. But you should have stayed in the attic.”
“I meant to, except Nancy Smith had other ideas. She’s dead.” She told him briefly what had happened. “Nina and Odell were lured into this. Nancy was the mastermind.”
Harley blew out a long breath. “Nancy had some help, I’m afraid. We underestimated those women. This isn’t Nina.” He pulled the hood back to reveal the lovely woman who’d once been a model, the one who had promised to help them with the blue cloak and star sapphire buttons. Patricia Murphy glared at Tommie.
“You should never have come here. Samuel should never have learned about you. We had everything in place with Nina claiming to be his wife, even though she was Jell-o, quaking at every event. She wanted the money but she wasn’t willing to do the work.”
“Why?” Harley asked her, and his voice showed the betrayal he felt. “We were friends. Samuel adored you. And you don’t need the money. Why would you be involved in this, Patricia?”
“We didn’t intend to hurt anyone. At least I didn’t. I swear it. Nancy was the one who gave Nina the drugs to give Samuel. I really don’t think she knew it would kill him.” She shrugged. “But Nina didn’t know and neither did I. That’s why we staged his death to look like a suicide. I swear this is the truth. I only wanted time to get in the house and look for the treasure Samuel was always telling us about. We didn’t want to take anything from Tommie or anyone else. We knew the marriage or daughter claims wouldn’t hold up for long, but Nina had been scoping out the house for months. We only needed a little time. But Tommie couldn’t wait. She had to hire those renovators and we knew if we didn’t do something she would find the treasure. And she did.”
Harley scoffed. “Treasure? There was no real treasure. We found a map that detailed the role Loftus Manor played in the road to freedom for slaves. Back in the day, the owners could have been hung for helping men, women, and children who only wanted to be free. That was the treasure. The map the runaways memorized to move north.”
“But the necklace—” Patricia looked from one to the other.
“Was something we made up,” Tommie said. “A photo from the internet. We never found any jewels or money. Only things that Samuel held as more valuable than money.”
“We didn’t intend to harm anyone,” Patricia said. “I ran up some debts. I had to settle them or lose my home. Nancy knew all about the hidden treasure that didn’t really belong to anyone. We only wanted what was hidden. Nothing else.”
“And you all felt entitled to Samuel’s things, especially the hidden treasure. And you truly didn’t care who you hurt. You shot at Harley and me. We could have wrecked and been seriously injured or killed. Now Nancy is dead. She fell down the stairs.” She felt the tears coming on but she blinked them back. “I’m alive because Trouble saved me.”
Harley picked up the cat and scratched him under the chin. “His name may be Trouble, but it’s always trouble for the bad guys.”
In the distance Tommie heard sirens. At long last, the haunting of Loftus Manor was done.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Harley hammered the last nail to hold up the garland of fir fronds and colored lights over the door of Loftus Manor. The sign, Loftus Manor Inn, was already decorated in glittering white lights and tinsel. And even better, the inn was completely booked. Tommie went to hold the ladder for Harley to climb down and she couldn’t resist kissing him. Loftus Manor was a magnificent place to live, but Harley was the true inheritance her uncle had arranged for her.
“The champagne and cranberry juice to make Poinsettias arrived, along with the cheese and other canapes. Our first festive Christmas Eve in the manor.” Tommie did a little spin. “Tammy is coming and bringing Trouble and Aiden.” She kissed Harley again. “I can’t thank Aiden enough for getting the case into Samuel’s death reopened. He’s not listed as a suicide any longer. Thank goodness Nancy Smith admitted to killing him. He can rest in peace and so can we. The past is now truly settled.”
“It hurts my heart to think Samuel died at the hands of someone he trusted.” Harley kissed the top of her head. “But he wasn’t a suicide and I’m glad that’s been set straight.”
“I wish I could have met him. I’ve been going through the genealogy he collected and it’s fascinating, Harley. Maybe only to me, but the Loftus family covered all the territory, from horse thieves and gamblers to teachers and philanthropists. I love knowing all of this. And those ghost stories! I’m so glad he wrote some down. I still think about Jix.”
“If the manor has to be haunted, I hope it’s Jix,” Harley said.
“As long as Katie and Hank got all of those passages repaired so we can safely use them in our tours, I don’t think we have to worry about any more ghosts.” Tommie had considered sealing the passages and blocking them, but it was a fascinating part of the house’s history as well as that of the region. And she was proud of her ancestors and the role they’d played in changing the world for the better.
“I’m glad the other houses marked on the map to freedom were agreeable to being part of the underground railroad network,” Harley said. “Too many of the homes had been destroyed, but the four left have been terrific about working with us to re-create the road to freedom for smuggled slaves.”
Harley was right about that. They’d connected the trail from a home in Dothan, Alabama up through Wetumpka and on into Huntsville and finally Tennessee. The four homes still in use had been excited to join in the “freedom trail.” Three were already inns or B&Bs, and now the fourth one had begun renovations. Hank and Katie had signed on for the job as part of their TV show continuing what they’d started in Wetumpka. The connection to the freedom houses had been good for everyone.
A car pulled into the driveway and Tommie ran to greet Tammy, Aiden, and Trouble! Tammy ha
d a platter of tiny cupcakes decorated as Christmas presents, and Aiden held a tray of deviled eggs. “We’re here to help celebrate the grand opening of Loftus Manor Inn,” Tammy said. “We thought we’d come early and help.”
“Thank you.” Tommie was delighted to see her friends. They’d become very close in the last two months.
They turned back toward the house and Tommie noticed that Trouble froze, staring into the big window in the front parlor where the lighted Christmas tree could be seen. She saw it too, the image of a young girl standing at the window. Jix was smiling. Tommie nodded to her and gave her a welcoming grin. Perhaps all the ghosts weren’t gone, but this one would be a pleasure, not a problem.
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So Tommie and Harley are not alone in the manor—and of course there are the guests, all waiting inside for the Christmas Eve party to begin. I understand there will be grilled salmon bites with dill sauce just for me. The managers of Loftus Manor Inn know how to treat a feline guest.
This case has left me exhausted. I even lost five ounces, mostly because Tommie and Harley don’t understand the importance of regular meals. Let’s hope they advance their nutritional knowledge before they decide to have a baby. But as Trouble the Great Prognosticator, I predict it won’t be long before there are wedding bells and then baby rattles. Those two are so much in love they are almost…humorous. But it’s a good humor.
I’m glad to see Jix has remained on the premises, freed now of the past and the loss of her mother. Now that her mother’s bones have been found and properly buried on the estate, Jix is free to stay or leave. For now, she’s here to look out for the bipeds. That makes me feel good because I understand my services are needed on a new case. The burden of popularity grows heavy at times, but I am a cat fit to carry the weight. Now for some simple pleasure. Food, cream, and the joy of my bipeds. It’s indeed a grand holiday season.
Acknowledgments
The books in the Trouble Cat Mysteries are a collaboration of a number of authors who all work together to bring these creative and fun books to readers. Trouble was my creation, because I've had a number of so wonderful black cats, as have many of the other writers. Long ago when I wrote Harlequin Intrigues, I created another black cat detective, Familiar. He was so popular, with his Humphrey Bogart thoughts and observations, that we decided to start a new series with Familiar's son, Trouble.
Trouble studied his craft under this father, but he was also addicted to watching Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock Holmes on the telly, and so at times, Trouble pops out with a British phrase or saying in his thoughts (he doesn't talk). But like his father Familiar, Trouble is a superior creature, especially when compared to the "bipeds" he endlessly tries to help.
Along with his superior sleuthing skills, he is also something of a devotee to Cupid. In that role he pushes his charges to see the romantic potential that is right in front of them.
Each book is a standalone mystery with a completely different cast of characters, but they all share the cat.
We currently have 13 full-length novels, 2 anthologies of short stories, and 2 digital novellas with plenty more to come!
Last March of 2020, as the pandemic wreaked havoc on people's lives and jobs were lost, we Madcatters, as we call ourselves, decided to give away the entire series of books for those stuck at home, worried, and without income to buy books. We gave away over 61,000 free downloads of the series. We were thrilled at the interest and hope people loved our books and will continue to read the new books in the series.
I want to acknowledge my partners in crime–the Madcatters who work so hard to bring readers entertaining stories with a hint of romance and a lot of mystery, with the bonus of that sassy and superior Trouble.
I want to thank our Beta Readers who volunteer to go over our manuscripts to cull out the typos, punctuation, nonsensical errors I make (and putting in the wrong name–oh how I HATE doing that. Brain collapse).
And I really want to thank Priya Bhakta, the Vice President of Good Fortune Farm Refuge, who formats the books, puts them up, keeps up with the millions of details, keeps me straight (soon she will be spoon feeding me if my brain doesn't snap back to work) and who NEVER has an unkind word for anyone. Priya also creates terrific promo materials for us to post on FB and other social media and in ads and newsletters.
I'd also like to acknowledge Jennifer Williamson, who does our accounting and makes sure the authors are paid royalties on time. (Never, never put me in charge of money! I lose it!) My agent, Marian Young, who got us a terrific audio deal with Tantor Books.
And Cissy Hartley with Writerspace, an author promotional service. Cissy does our covers and helps get the word out about our books. She goes above and beyond.
And most importantly, thanks to our readers who gave a new series a chance and have now become our best ambassadors to spread the word about Trouble, the black cat detective.
About the Author
Carolyn Haines is the USA Today bestselling author of over 80 books. In 2020, she was inducted into the Alabama Writers Hall of Fame. She was the recipient of the 2019 Lifetime Achievement Award from the Alabama Library Association and the Mississippi Writer’s Guild, the Harper Lee Award for Distinguished Writing, the Richard Wright Award for Literary Excellence, as well as the "Best Amateur Sleuth" award by Romantic Times. Haines writes in a number of genres, from cozy mystery to horror and short fiction. She got her start in publishing in romantic mysteries with one savvy black cat detective called Familiar. She's delighted to bring back the first Familiar stories–and to introduce Trouble, son of Familiar, in a delightful new Trouble Cat Mysteries series which features a number of talented authors (and cat lovers!)
www.goodfortunefarmrefuge.org
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Thank you for reading this book published by Good Fortune Farm Refuge, a 501(c)(3) animal rescue. 100% of all proceeds from the sale of this book will be donated to the GFFR which helps pets receive loving homes and medical treatment.
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www.carolynhaines.com
[email protected]
Also by Carolyn Haines
Sarah Booth Delaney Mysteries
Them Bones
Buried Bones
Splintered Bones
Crossed Bones
Hallowed Bones
Bones to Pick
Ham Bones
Wishbones
Greedy Bones
Bone Appetite
Bones of a Feather
Bonefire of the Vanities
Smarty Bones
Booty Bones
Bone to Be Wild
Rock-A-Bye Bones
Sticks and Bones
Charmed Bones
A Gift of Bones
Game of Bones
The Devil’s Bones
A Garland of Bones
Independent Bones
* * *
Sarah Booth Delaney short mysteries
Shorty Bones
Bones on the Bayou
Guru Bones
Jingle Bones
Bones and Arrows
Clacking Bones
Enchanted Bones
* * *
pluto’s snitch
The Book of Beloved
The House of Memory
The Specter of Seduction
A Visitation of Angels
* * *
Fear Familiar
Fear Familiar
Too Familiar
Thrice Familiar
* * *
jexville chronicles
Summer of the Redeemers
Touched
Judas Burning
* * *
Novels
The Darkling
The Seeker
Revenant
Fever Moon
Penumbra
Deception (originally published as Summer of Fear)
* * *
As R.B. Chesterton
The Hanged Man (short story)
Trouble on th
e Mountain
Trouble Cat Mysteries #14
Rebecca Barrett
Chapter One
Trouble on the Mountain
Rebecca Barrett
Children are not my thing. Noisy little buggers. They’re tolerable, I suppose, from a distance. Which is exactly what I plan to do…distance myself from this pack of little ruffians before they decide that rolling down a grassy slope toward a precipitous drop down the mountain isn’t entertaining enough.
The Red Head is the leader. He’s showing off for the little girl with a Scottish terrier sitting at her feet. His attempts to produce a smile from her have been unsuccessful for the past fifteen minutes. I suppose you must give him credit for effort. That said, I will climb another branch higher in this dogwood tree. In my experience, the biped attention span in males of this age has never been of long duration. I don’t plan to be his next challenge.
It’s beyond me why adult bipeds bother to drag their offspring to places of educational value before the age of adulthood. These little boys are probably no more than eight or nine, an age when the historical significance of FDR’s Little White House is a bore. Especially since, I believe, the school system has not yet freed them from the current term. With summer and the promise of freedom only days away, who would think a trip to a museum a good idea?
Ah, they have tired of playing at Federal agents shooting villains trying to storm the doors of the Little White House. One races across the drive toward the servants’ cottage near where I perch. He brandishes the bit of tree branch he is using as a gun at his colleagues-in-terror as he turns to stand his ground at the door to the garage beneath the living quarters.
Trouble Restored Page 23
