Purrfectly Deadly (The Mysteries of Max Book 2)
Page 20
“Yes. Remember I asked you where you were yesterday between three and four and you failed to inform me? Now perhaps, after mulling it over, you might be able to elucidate me? Or did your uncle advise you not to disclose this information?”
A blush mantled her cheeks. “My uncle said no such thing. I haven’t spoken to him in ages.”
“Oh, that’s right. You spoke to your cousin,” he said skeptically.
“Look, I could tell you where I was,” she said with a shake of the head as she flipped another pancake onto a plate, “but I’d rather not, you see?”
“No, I don’t see. This is very serious matter, Miss McCabre.”
She smiled. “Why don’t you just call me Harry? All my friends do.”
“I’m not your friend, Miss McCabre. I’m a Scotland Yard inspector investigating a murder,” he insisted. “And what I’m most interested in right now is ascertaining where you were yesterday between three and four. In other words, around the time your employer was brutally murdered.”
She sighed. “Look, you’ll probably think this is all very silly, but if I tell you where I was… There’re other people involved, see? I mean, if it were just me, I’d tell you where I was in a heartbeat, but it’s not just me, is it?”
“Who else is involved?” he asked, following her movements with an interested eye. Those pancakes really did smell quite delicious.
“I can’t tell you! That’s just the point! Look,” she said, taking a seat at the table across from him, “Mr. Buckley did some of his deals, erm, well, under the table. I mean, they weren’t exactly shady deals or anything like that, it’s just that his clients preferred… discretion, I guess you could say.”
“I’m well aware that Buckley was one of the more prominent fences in the world of antiques, Miss McCabre,” he said, eliciting a gasp of surprise from her. “Which is probably the reason he was murdered. In those circles, a life is often worth a great deal less than some nice painting or fancy old cupboard.”
She deftly picked up a pancake and started slathering it with butter and jam. “Well, if you know about Buckley’s business, then you must know that he used me to, well, deliver some of his packages to some of his clients.”
“So what package were you delivering to which client yesterday?”
She threw up her hands, then licked some jam from her wrist. “I can’t tell you, can I? Otherwise I’d be implicating my client, see?”
He gave her a slight smile, like a cat about to devour a mouse. “If you don’t tell me it implicates you. It turns you into one of our prime suspects in this murder, and I may very well have to take you in for further questioning.”
Her eyes went wide, and he was surprised to find how expressive they were. Her every emotion was very clearly reflected in those golden orbs.
“You mean arrest me? What would you go and do a silly thing like that for?!”
“Because you’re refusing to tell me what I need to know!” he shot back, his smile gone. “Look, I don’t know what your uncle advised you, but—”
“My uncle didn’t advise me anything! Like I said, I talked to my cousin.”
“Is she also a cop? Is she the one who told you to keep secrets from the police? Is that how they do things in the States?”
She eyed him huffily. “My cousin, if you must know, works as a mortician’s assistant, gun store clerk and tea room waitress. Though at one time she did want to become a cop and even went to police academy. But that’s neither here nor there. What matters is—”
“What matters is that you tell me what I want to know,” he cut in, “or I’m going to have to arrest you on suspicion of conspiracy to commit murder.”
There was a momentary silence as they gazed at each other, the tension palpable. Then she simply said, “Very well. I’ll tell you what I know, which isn’t much, mind you.”
“I’ll be the judge of that, Miss McCabre.”
“Harry,” she corrected him.
“Just tell me already, will you?!” he yelled.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, all right! But if he’s cross with me I’ll tell him you made me tell on him! And if he tells me I’m a tattletale I’ll tell him it’s all your fault!”
“Miss McCabre!”
“Harry!”
“Talk!”
She stared at him, biting her lip. “Actually… I don’t know his name.”
Start Reading Between a Ghost and a Spooky Place Now
Also by Nic Saint
The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse
One Spoonful of Trouble
Two Scoops of Murder
Three Shots of Disaster
Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)
A Twist of Wraith
A Touch of Ghost
A Clash of Spooks
Box Set 2 (Books 4-6)
The Stuffing of Nightmares
A Breath of Dead Air
An Act of Hodd
Box Set 3 (Books 7-9)
The Mysteries of Max
Purrfect Murder
Purrfectly Deadly
Ghosts of London
Between a Ghost and a Spooky Place
Public Ghost Number One
Ghost Save the Queen
Witchy Fingers
Witchy Trouble
Witchy Hexations
Witchy Possessions
Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)
Witchy Riches
Ghosts vs. Spies
The Ghost Who Came in from the Cold
Tate-à-Tate
Enemy of the Tates
Standalone Novels
When in Bruges
Once Upon a Spy
The Whiskered Spy
About Nic
Nic Saint is the pen name for writing couple Nick and Nicole Saint. They’ve penned 50+ novels in the romance, cat sleuth, middle grade, suspense, comedy and cozy mystery genres. Nicole has a background in accounting and Nick in political science and before being struck by the writing bug the Saints worked odd jobs around the world (including massage therapist in Mexico, gardener in Italy, restaurant manager in India, and Berlitz teacher in Belgium).
When they’re not writing they enjoy Christmas-themed Hallmark movies (whether it’s Christmas or not), all manner of pastry, comic books, a daily dose of yoga (to limber up those limbs), and spoiling their big red tomcat Tommy.
@nicsaintauthor
nicsaintauthor
www.nicsaint.com
Copyright © 2017 by Nic Saint. All rights reserved.
Published by Puss in Print Publications.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author or publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Editor: Chereese Graves.