Murder Most Familiar (A Pattie Lansbury Cat Cozy Mystery Series Book 4)

by Nancy C. Davis

  “Don’t flatter yourself!” she scoffed.

  “What about the lion statue?” asked Juliette.

  “What about it?” Matthew replied. “There’s no legal issue. This counts as ‘mislaid property’, as it was clearly put here intentionally and then forgotten – for hundreds of years! That means I’m perfectly within my rights to keep it. Maybe I can use the lion as some cross-promotional thing with the show, then sell it. Like Patricia said – incidental.”

  “I’m leaving,” Laura snapped. “This whole thing was a waste of my time. Thanks, ‘Dad’!”

  “Don’t forget my birthday next month,” Matthew called as she left.

  Juliette also stood up. “Well, there’s nothing for me here. Unfortunately, being an jerk isn’t a crime according to the North Yorkshire Police. Angus – stabbing someone is, whether he asked you to or not. I suggest you find a new employer.”

  Angus only stared at the floor between his feet. He had been startled by a supposed curse and asked to do unthinkable things to his employer, not to mention lie to everybody about the fake threat letters and the break-in. He had plenty to think about.

  Elliott put a hand on Pattie’s shoulder. “We’ve all had our time wasted here. Mister Conrad, I trust you’re still going to keep your agreement with Pattie, about reimbursing her for her lost time at the vet’s practice?”

  “Of course,” Matthew replied. “What kind of a man do you think I am?”

  Chapter 13

  Elliott and Pattie got back home a little after ten o’clock that morning, just in time for the cats’ second feed. She looked quite pale, so Elliott offered to lay out the food whilst she sat in the lounge and waited for the hot cup of tea that he’d bring her.

  Ten minutes later, he rattled in with the tea trolley loaded with her favorite Early Grey, a choice of milk or lemon, and a selection of biscuits.

  “To get your sugar up,” he explained, sounding concerned. “You look a bit peaky.”

  “I am,” Pattie replied, rubbing her forehead and sighing. “I feel utterly weary. I’m too old for this sort of nonsense, Elliott. Lies and deceit, constantly worrying about who I can and can’t trust. I had enough drama when Charlie passed away, and then the scandal with my son and all that horrible business with the police … Why do I still do this?”

  Elliott passed her a cup and saucer, smiling sweetly. “Because you refuse to let your mind go dull, and because you can’t help yourself.”

  “Because I’m stubborn! Everyone has told me at one time or another. I just can’t let go of it all. Well, now is the time. I want to be at peace again. I want to trust someone completely without worrying if the rug will be pulled out from under my feet. I’m fifty-seven in April and that’s too old to be messing around with murderers, thieves and cat-nappers.

  “What are you saying?” asked Elliott.

  Pattie pushed her spectacles up her nose and looked him in the eye. The tension bled out of her body and she smiled warmly. “Elliott, I’m retiring. This was my final case as a consulting detective. No more!”

  Jasper the cat had jumped up to say ‘hello’. Jasper always got twitchy when he sensed that people weren’t being completely honest…

  He called up on Pattie’s lap and fell asleep.

  *

  *

  Part Two - Chapter One

  Thirty-one boxes of various sizes. That’s how many it took to repackage a business.

  Pattie Lansbury stood in the doorway of what had once been her office and surveyed its emptiness. Even though that room was part of her own house, the act of simply emptying it of a desk, computer and filing cabinet felt like walking away from a huge part of her life.

  Six months ago, Pattie had opened her very own business – her second, in fact. The first was the Pat’s Whiskers Feline Retirement Home, which was still alive and kicking. Also operated out of her house, it was a place where abandoned or donated kitties could find some much-deserved rest and love after long or difficult lives. Pattie was only fifty-seven, but she was starting to feel a little past it herself.

  The second business was a veterinary practice. Her small village, Little Hamilton, had many pet owners but no vet. Pattie had been convinced to rectify that discrepancy by a globally-successful entrepreneur who was willing to invest in the up-front costs. Several disagreements had soured her towards that man, however, and now the vet’s practice was closing. She would return every penny that Matthew Conrad had given her.

  “It’s the right move,” said Elliott Knight that evening, as they sat having a hearty dinner in Little Hamilton’s only pub, the White Panther. “Although I know you’re sorry to see it go, you were clearly more uncomfortable with being in that man’s debt. Besides, you’re not a businesswoman; someone who loves all that accounting and sales nonsense will probably come along and fill the gap once you’re gone.”

  “I hope so,” Pattie replied. She pushed some peas around the remnants of her steak and ale pie, her chin in her hand.

  Elliott noticed this uncharacteristic pose. He noticed a lot of things about Patricia Lansbury. Even though they were both fast approaching sixty, despite popular opinion they were far from losing their marbles. The kindly GP was as sharp as he’d ever been, and he knew that Pattie was as well. The only thing that had changed with regards to their years-long friendship was that it was getting warmer as the seasons rolled on.

  So Pattie was glum about giving up on her veterinary practice – but that wasn’t her real calling. There were only three things that kept Patricia Lansbury going, and those were her many cats at the Feline Retirement Home (the latest count was thirteen); her occasional forays into the world of detective consultation, much to the appreciation of the local constabulary; and her sons Simon and Andrew, the former now living with his wife and two children in Devon, and the latter having moved overseas following an unfortunate scandal … Elliott understood that he featured relatively low on her list (he placed himself optimistically at fourth place), but he also knew that provided the three pillars of her life were in place, the towering strength of Pattie Lansbury would never fail.

  As Elliott settled the bill, the waitress directed them to the gastro-pub’s new website. “We’ve had a lot of extra business since the sightings!” she said excitedly.

  “What sightings?” asked Patricia, her inherent nose for mystery getting a whiff of something intriguing.

  “The actual White Panther!” the waitress replied. She tore the receipt from the debit card reader and passed it to Elliott. “What we’re named after, see? It’s been spotted in the valley again, prowling across the moors at night … A real big cat, hunting!”

  “I bet you’re paid to say that,” Elliott mumbled with an eyebrow raised.

  Pattie nudged him for his cheekiness. “Ignore him, dear! I’ve heard about the big cat legend. It was going around way back when I moved here, in the sixties. It scared the willies out of me when I was a little girl. I haven’t heard any new stories for years, though; I’d almost forgotten it was supposed to exist!”

  The waitress winked. “Don’t forget to lock your doors at night, hey?”

  Pattie left her a generous tip.

  On the walk home, Elliott chuckled to himself. “Every time the Hamilton Gazette or YTV news gets a hold of one of these silly myths, I get twenty patients the next week with heart problems saying they’ve seen it. Remember that Halloween, when they said York Dungeon was swarming with restless spirits of the dead? I had so many new angina patients that year…”

  Pattie laughed as she reached for her door keys. “Oh Elliott, thanks again for cheering me up … I just feel so down lately. There’s been so much change, and the last few investigations I was a part of just didn’t end satisfactorily as far as I’m concerned … At least I have all of the little furry ones … And you.”

  “You always will, Patricia,” he replied, cupping her hands in his. “It’s been a pleasure, as always…”

  “I’ll see you in the morning,”
she said with a smile, sliding the key in the lock. “Goodnight, Elliott.”

  “Goodnight, Patricia…”

  Chapter Two

  Pattie woke up with a start. She was in the lounge with her feet up on the footrest, the TV throwing its stuttering glow over her legs and the cats sleeping around her. The TV was on mute, and yet her dreams had been permeated by the low rustle of white noise.

  In the dream, she had been standing outside of Cliffton Cottage, the rural refuge of Matthew Conrad. She had been intending to knock on his door and vent her frustrations upon the rich magnate. But something had stopped her; a noise in the darkness: faint rustling, at first like TV static, then like something large stalking her through the tall grass that covered that side of the valley. When she turned, an enormous cat pounced at her, knocking her over. She thought it was the fabled White Panther, which had haunted the Yorkshire moorland for decades. But it was actually her first cat, Mischief, magically grown to enormous size.

  Mischief licked her face happily with his giant tongue. Pattie had been laughing. She was so happy with the cat that she forgot all about her business at Cliffton Cottage. It just didn’t matter. The veterinary practice was behind her, and she still had her future with the Feline Retirement Home, where Mischief and a dozen others lived happily with Pattie.

  But behind Mischief in the darkness, another shape had been waiting. It was a cut-out of Mischief in the night, and through it a white light shone. The outline of the true White Panther. Pattie knew that it had been there for a long time, waiting … waiting for her. But why…?

  The dream had really shaken Pattie. She absently stroked the cat who had settled on her lap. It was Dove, a white moggy Pattie had taken in several years ago. The placid little cat had always had a calming effect on Pattie. She helped Pattie clear her mind of clutter. But even Dove couldn’t settle Pattie’s nerves that night.

  The clock said it was almost midnight. Pattie hadn’t stayed up that late since her early years with Charlie. That was such a long time ago. Now Charlie was gone, and so were their two children, leaving Pattie alone. Well, not alone: she had her purring multitude – and she had Elliott…

  Pattie stood to prepare a late snack for the cats and then ‘put them to bed’, which in their case meant closing them in the lounge so that they didn’t chase one another around the house during the night. But just as she entered to hallway, she heard a clatter from outside the house.

  She stopped. Her nerves really were frayed; she was never usually frightened by noises. But since her house had been broken into about a year ago, she’d never felt quite safe…

  To calm herself, she began to recite the names of her thirteen cats: “Jasper, Simba, Putz, Mischief…”

  She went to peer through the frosted glass window of her front door, wondering if there was anything to see. She narrowed her eyes and squinted through her spectacles, but there was only darkness beyond.

  “Macy, Mia … Lister, Tyson … Harlequin…”

  Then the security light pinged on. The front garden was suddenly flooded with white light. Pattie jerked away from the glass, startled – there was a silhouette on the front lawn!

  “Softy … Archie…”

  Pattie couldn’t make out the figure standing on her lawn, which now ducked to one side and disappeared, close to the wall of the house. The frosted glass distorted the image.

  “Churchill…”

  She pressed her hands against the window, whispering now, her breath appearing on the glass in front of her.

  “Dove … Oh—!”

  A dark shadow loomed up against the front door. Shocked, Pattie yelped and fell backward, landing hard in the carpeted hallway … The door handle rattled as the intruder attempted to open the locked door. Then, astonishingly, there was the sound of a key being inserted…

  The door opened. Even though there was no light on in the hallway, Pattie recognised the outline. It was one she hadn’t seen for years.

  “Andrew?” she gasped.

  “Mum…”

  She got to her feet and gave her son a tight hug. Her heart was still beating wildly in her chest, but less so from the fear, now. It beat from the joy of seeing her estranged son again after such a long time.

  “When did you get back to England? However did you get a key? I changed the locks a few months ago after a break in…”

  He smiled as he held her tightly. “Come on, Mum. I used to be a policeman, you know.”

  Chapter Three

  Mother and son sat together in the lounge, surrounded by curious cats. Some of the eldest – such as Putz and Mischief – seemed to remember the scent of Pattie’s long-absent son. He had lived with Pattie up until his marriage, which had later failed partly due to a scandal involving one of Andrew’s investigations. He had falsified evidence against a ruthless killer in order to secure a conviction, and had subsequently been driven out of the force, and out of Little Hamilton.

  The atmosphere was strained in those first few minutes. Pattie rattled in a tea trolley with hot tea and snacks, a noise that strained to fill the silence between them. But soon Pattie was overcome with emotion, and had no choice but to embrace her son again.

  “Oh, Andrew – why did you have to leave?”

  “Do you remember Billy Watkins, from the force?”

  “Yes, Thomas still talks about him sometimes.”

  “When he retired he bought a place in France, and after the whole scandal thing and everything fell apart with Nina, he offered to put me up for a while. Eventually I found some private detective work with a guy named Robert Durand, and after the first year he offered to set up a partnership. I’ve been doing it since. They don’t care over there, the stuff that happened to me – they have a more practical outlook. You would disapprove!”

  “I do,” said Pattie, wiping away tears. “I don’t agree with what you did, whatever the reason. Look what it’s brought us. Separation … and unhappiness.”

  “I’m sorry, Mum.”

  “You must be tired.”

  He nodded. “I’ve been travelling for about eight hours.”

  “Your old room is the spare room now. It’s already made; I keep a sheet over it to keep the cat hairs off…”

  “You have a lot of cats now…” he said, hesitantly. Unlike Simon, Andrew was never a fan of domestic pets. He was too practical to find the care and company of animals a worthwhile endeavour. But then, he’d always been a loner.

  “After Charlie passed away, the two of you moved on so quickly. It was a silly daydream I’d always had, opening a cat retirement home. Then suddenly I had an empty house, so…”

  “It’s great,” Andrew said, hugging her briefly. “I need to head out for a little while, sort something out. I’ll come back more quietly than I did this time. When did you change where you keep the dustbin?”

  “About two years ago,” Pattie replied quietly.

  Andrew nodded.

  “Okay,” he said, getting up stiffly. “Goodnight, Mum.”

  “Goodnight.”

  He left via the front door. The security light blinked on, then off a minute later. He managed not to knock over the dustbin this time. Her heart full of conflicting emotions, Pattie locked the door behind her son. He looked the same as he always had: short dark hair, relatively slim, serious-faced. He hadn’t smiled once.

  Chapter Four

  Pattie slept for a few hours, but ended up waking with the sun around six thirty. She crept past the spare room, seeing that the door was closed. Andrew must have returned and gone straight to bed whilst she was sleeping. At the bottom of the stairs were his muddy boots. She took them into the kitchen and scrubbed them clean, then put them on some newspaper back in the hallway.

  She was halfway through feeding the cats when there was an urgent knock at the door. She tightened the belt on her dressing gown and went to answer it. She was surprised to see Detective Constables Thomas Downey and Juliette Palmer.

  “Morning, Mrs Lansbury,” said
Thomas. “Sorry to call on you so early…”

  “Please, Thomas – I’ve known you since you were in nappies, so I believe it’s time you started to call me ‘Patricia’! And it’s no trouble at all. Would you like to come in for tea?”

  “We’d love to, but actually we’re on our way out to the valley,” said Juliette. “I was just there and came back to pick up Thomas. It’s … a bit of a strange one.”

  “There’s been an accident?” asked Pattie, concerned.

  “A murder,” Thomas replied darkly. “Well … Possibly. It depends. We were hoping to utilize your expertise, Mrs Lansbury.”

  Pattie smiled. “I’m a little puzzled.”