The Realm of the Shadows (Tropical Breeze Cozy Mystery Book 2)

by Mary Bowers

  He nodded silently.

  “And you? What if they start flinging accusations at you?”

  “They’ve already been interviewed by the State’s Attorney’s office. They aren’t implicating me.”

  I exhaled and laid my head back on the sofa. “Thank God.”

  He put his arm behind me and massaged my neck. Then he said, “Well, will you look at that. You didn’t tell me the cat came back.”

  It was Basket. After the confrontation in the keeper’s house, she had disappeared, and I hadn’t been surprised. She’d done that before. I hadn’t expected to see her again, but there she was, walking into the great room from the direction of Vesta’s old bedroom. She looked at us blandly and got up on the sofa, forcing her way in between us. Michael had to move aside for her.

  “Where did she come from?” Michael asked.

  “Myrtle must have let her in and not told us.”

  Actually, I doubted it, but it would do for an explanation. The cat appeared and disappeared when it suited her. The only mystery to me was why she was here now that the murderer was locked up. I didn’t need her protection anymore.

  And then a thought suddenly struck me, and I asked, “Michael, did you buy any of Vesta’s stuff at Girlfriend’s when we got that donation?”

  “Didn’t everybody? I got a little paperweight that looks like King Tut’s golden mask. I keep it on my desk back in town.”

  I was getting a vague idea about what the cat’s presence might mean. Everybody in Tropical Breeze had some of Vesta’s things now. We were all connected . . . .

  My coalescing thoughts were interrupted when the cat made a move, turning her head sharply to stare at me. I was almost afraid to touch her. In the time she’d lived with me, she had never acted like a housecat. But Michael, who didn’t know her real identity, stroked her gently and crooned at her. She turned to gaze at him loftily, but permitted it.

  “I think she might just be starting to like me,” he said. Then he angled his head and looked at her critically. “You know, she’s really too queenly for a name like Basket. But she probably knows her name by now, so we probably shouldn’t change it. Oh! How about this? Let’s call her Bastet, after the ancient Egyptian cat goddess. It sounds the same, and it suits her better. What do you think, girl? Do you want us to call you Bastet?”

  The cat gazed at him coolly, put her head down and closed her eyes.

  “She’s not easy to get to know,” I said, touching her gingerly.

  “You’re not afraid of her, are you? You’ve handled thousands of cats.”

  “Never one like her.”

  “Oh? That must be why you adopted her.”

  “I’m not sure I did.”

  “Oh, yes,” he said, laughing. “You told me before. She adopted you.”

  He had no idea how right he was.

  The End