A Claw-some Affair (MEOW FOR MURDER Book 3)

by Addison Moore

  “Anyway,” I say, sliding a plate full of blueberry muffins toward Shep. “How’s the investigation going? Did the coroner’s report come back yet? Was Madeline Swanson poisoned?”

  “Asks the killer,” Regina snickers.

  “No report as of yet,” Shep says directly to me, choosing to ignore the gnat among us. “What smells so good?” He lifts his brows my way and my stomach bisects with heat as if it were a flirtatious maneuver on his part.

  “Lasagna, if I play my cards right.” I shoot Regina a look. “My recipe cards, for the record.”

  “Please,” Regina snorts. “She’s got something cooking, Shep, and it’s a bubbling cauldron. I wouldn’t be so quick to trust this one. I think she’s cast a spell on you. I’ve wondered for months what she’s been doing in Starry Falls, and I think I just figured it out. She’s auditioning for a familiar—as in a kitty sidekick for her witchy deeds. I’d better tell Opal to keep an eye on the cats.”

  “I’ve already taken one.” I pop a bite of an apple mini muffin into my mouth before dropping a few of those onto Shep’s plate, too. Nana Rose always did say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Here’s hoping the apple mini muffins are a good start, and if all goes well, I’ll be finishing off my coital spell with Nana Rose’s three-cheese lasagna.

  Tilly’s mouth rounds out with delight as she pours Shep a cup of coffee.

  “Which cat did you swipe, Bowie?” she asks.

  “Pixie,” I say. “And technically, Shep swiped her.”

  “Aw,” Tilly coos. “Some girls want diamonds, but all Bowie wanted was a kitten. You’ve got her for life now, Shep.” She offers him a wink before bumping her hip to mine, and I bump right back like a lower torso version of a high-five.

  “Pixie?” Regina winces as she riffles through the feline Rolodex in her mind. “The gray and white tabby who went pink last month?”

  “That’s the one,” Shep says. “She wandered over to the cabin and I fed her.”

  I nod. “And the rest is cat-napping history. I’m not giving her back either. She keeps my head warm when I sleep, and slaps me with her tail just before the sun comes up. I prefer a tail swat to my alarm. Besides, we’re bonding over things.”

  “Like what?” Regina deadpans as if it were hard to believe.

  “Like our hair.” It’s true. Pixie was at the wrong place at the wrong time last month when an unruly toddler dumped a frosty pink drink over her, and now she’s more or less a punk rock diva who has rocked my world for the last two weeks. My own fuchsia infusion was more or less a fizzle. Since my hair is jet-black, it doesn’t take too well with color. And anyway, the box of hair color my Uncle Vinnie gave me as a parting gift was more effective as a bottle of Cherry Coke.

  My Uncle Vinnie just so happens to be the mastermind of my great escape from Hastings while I try to evade both the feds and the mob after what turned out to be a rather boneheaded greedy move by my ex, Johnny Rizzo.

  Johnny belonged to the Moretti crime family. He was essentially a peon who thought it was a good idea to steal from the mob’s already dirty money.

  Our setup involved a donut shop, a car wash, and some serious money mismanagement on both our parts. But come to find out, it was my love of designer handbags and penchant for driving pricey cars that sent the feds sniffing in our direction. And not only did I manage to tumble our house of cards, but the Morettis’ as well. It’s a long-drawn-out story that effectively landed two targets on my back. But in a twist of cosmic justice, I was able to turn in my louse of an ex after he pelted me with a few less than elegant threats.

  My lips purse as I look to Shep. “Did you happen to speak with Kiera Hillerman last night?”

  Shep starts to say something before he closes his mouth once again.

  “Bowie,” he says my name deep, with a stern expression, and both Regina and Tilly break out into titters.

  Regina gives a husky laugh. “Oh, come on, Wexy, toss old Bowie Binx a bone. She just wants to know if the girl she’s trying to pin the murder on has been arrested yet.”

  Shep looks over at me with a penetrating stare.

  “We don’t know if a homicide has taken place yet.” He takes a breath. “We were only able to ascertain rudimentary information last night. And, if need be, I will be conducting a full investigation. Nora gave the case to me since it happened to occur at my stomping grounds.”

  “My stomping grounds.” I give a sly wink.

  Regina scoffs. “She’s goading you. As soon as the homicide is official, I demand you arrest her. The thought of a murderous witch roaming the streets of Starry Falls gives me the shivers.”

  Tilly gasps as she looks my way. “If there’s a homicide, that means we get to investigate! I’m ready and raring to go. How about we trek over to Scooter Springs later tonight to see what’s cooking in that ratty tat town?”

  “No.” Shep doesn’t hesitate with the command. “You can do what you like this evening, but not in the name of an investigation.”

  A crowd wanders in, and Regina scoops up a stack of menus.

  “If you’re going to Scooter Springs, count me in.” She glowers at me a moment. “Heck, if you’re investigating, I want in on that, too. No fair that Tilly gets to have all the fun around here.”

  “What do you call playing Frisbee with Jackson?” Tilly calls after her as they both take off.

  Shep’s phone buzzes over the counter and does a little spin before he picks it up and glances at the screen. He takes a deep breath as he knots up his lips.

  “What is it?” I try my best to snoop, but I can’t see a thing.

  “It’s the Madeline Swanson case. It was just ruled a homicide.”

  Chapter 5

  A homicide.

  “No way, Bowie.” Shep shakes his head my way. “I recognize that look on your face.”

  The Manor Café is still hopping this morning, and Shep just broke the news that Madeline Swanson’s death was, in fact, brought on by the hand of another.

  “What killed her?” I quickly take the seat next to him, leaning in so hard my knee touches his thigh—and don’t think for a minute I don’t feel the Sexy Wexy burn.

  Shep gives a quick glance over his shoulder before bearing those silver-blue eyes my way.

  “Potassium cyanide.”

  I suck in a quick breath. “Cyanide?”

  “Yes.” He gives a quick nod. “Nora is briefing the family. I suggest you and I plead the fifth if we’re asked what killed the woman.”

  “You bet.” I make a zipping motion across my lips before pulling out my phone and looking up my number one suspect, Kiera Hillerman. Not only did she have not-so-nice things to say about the deceased, but that vision I had painted a grim picture regarding her innocence.

  The screen quickly populates with all sorts of things about a company called Goober, Inc., located someplace out in Sterling Lake. Apparently, killer Kiera runs the outfit.

  Shep leans over, and once he spots what I’m looking at, he grunts.

  “No.”

  “Yes.” I pull my phone to my chest just as a shadow darkens the area before us.

  “Bowie Binx,” a deep voice rumbles.

  I look up to find Jackson Mortimer is dressed to the nines—I’m guessing it’s a lovely Mortimer quirk, and lucky for me, not one I’m opposed to. He gives a slight bow my way.

  “Your eyes shine like ambers.” He glances to Shep. “Detective Wexler.” His lips expand a moment, and about ten different women crane their necks this way, momentarily confused by who to give their full attention to—Jackson and his bedroom eyes or Shep and his strong jawline filled with tension.

  “Bowie.” Jackson quickly takes up my hands, and before I know it, he’s kissing the back of each one. “It’s been far too long since I’ve visited Starry Falls. How about a tour of this lovely town by yours truly? I’m sure I can arrange to give you the afternoon off. I have an in with the owner.” He gives a sly wink and about three girls sigh—Til
ly, Regina, and Thea to be exact.

  An idea pops to mind. “Why, I would love to. Just give me a second to pop my lasagna into the oven and give the cooks a couple of instructions. Hey, I’ve got an idea, after I give you the nickel’s worth tour of Starry Falls, how about you take me on a tour of that fancy place your friend Kiera owns, Goober?”

  Both Tilly and Regina scoot our way.

  “Goober?” Tilly’s eyes bulge as she looks at Jackson. “Last year I splurged and bought that candle that smelled like a wealthy woman’s feet.”

  Regina nods. “And I have the responsibly harvested organic cotton tee from her spring line collection. It set me back ninety-five big ones.”

  Thea gasps. “Regina, you could have bought that same thing from Dollar Duds up the street. You can count me out of this little field trip. Everyone knows Goober is nothing but an overrated, overpriced, elitist bid on capitalism to make the general masses feel inferior.” She wrinkles her nose at Tilly. “If they have any free samples, pick me up a few.” She nods my way. “I’ll help with the lasagna.”

  “Then it’s settled.” I look up at Jackson. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

  Shep takes a deep breath and his chest expands the length of a football field.

  “I guess I’ll see you all there.” He stretches a tight smile my way—albeit short-lived. “It just so happens to be my first stop of the day.” His jaw tenses as he stares hard my way, and that’s all I need for my stomach to explode with heat.

  Shep takes off, and I glare in his wake. I’ll be darned if he gets to the good stuff without me.

  Thea and I toss my lasagna together, and before I know it, Jackson, Tilly, Regina, and I are out the door.

  Kiera Hillerman, we’re coming for you.

  After our brilliantly, yet all too brief tour of Main Street, not to mention pointing out the stunning falls behind the manor, Jackson drives us straight to Sterling Lake in his pricey SUV with all its fancy bells and whistles.

  Goober’s corporate offices are in a four-story building covered with mirrored windows and clean black lines set out like a grid. Inside, the air is cool and crisp, a welcome compared to the heat still clinging from summer’s death throes. The floors are shiny and white, the reception area is comprised of white marble countertops, and even the secretary has a gleaming white smile.

  Jackson puts in his request to see the queen of Gooberville herself, and soon we’re ushered upstairs, through a labyrinth of halls, until we enter into the holy of holies, the nexus of Kiera Hillerman’s—neck?

  Standing approximately fifteen feet ahead of us is Shepherd Wexler himself who looks to be sniffing his prime suspect at the moment, right at the nape of her neck.

  “Hello, Shep.” I don’t hesitate implementing just the right amount of sarcasm.

  Shep turns our way and offers our motley crew a once-over.

  “I see the tour is finished.” He lifts a brow in my direction.

  Jackson chuckles. “The girls and I had a grand time.” He nods to the blonde with the bad orange spray tan. “Kiera, a few friends of mine were interested in touring the facility. I hope you don’t mind that we’ve stopped in unannounced.”

  “Not at all.” She frowns our way. “Welcome to the laboratory.” Kiera has donned a simple blue dress that looks more like a glorified extra-long T-shirt that just so happens to show off that wayward colored tan. “The tour begins and ends here.” She holds out her svelte arms to a spacious facility that looks less mad scientist’s laboratory and more soup kitchen for the rich and famous, with its expansive marble counters and rows of stainless appliances. A bevy of women clad in black stand around in clusters while sneaking sideways glances to both Shep and Jackson. I’m guessing having two hot men in the vicinity is the reason for all the spontaneous giggling.

  “In fact, I’m thrilled you girls are here.” She points to a trio of beakers on the counter next to her. “We’re auditioning scents for our next gender neutral perfume, but regardless of the unisex implications, I want it to drive men wild—especially while on the neck of a beautiful woman. Why don’t you girls come here? I’ll dab a little behind your ears and we’ll see which one these two men prefer.”

  You don’t have to tell Tilly and Regina twice. They’re at the front of the proverbial line getting doused by Kiera and her little glass wand. Jackson heads over to observe the delicate operation while I scoot on over to the hunky homicide detective giving me the stink eye.

  “Did you get anything?” I whisper. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. It was clear from what I saw, you were about to get something.” I make a face at the thought.

  Shep’s chest vibrates with a silent laugh.

  “I was just getting to the good part when you barged in.” His brows dip down into a hard V, like a bird in flight. “Bowie, I asked you not to investigate. You don’t follow orders very well.”

  “Now you’re catching on.” A thought comes to me and I take in a quick breath. “Hey? I bet whoever poisoned Madeline Swanson had access to all sorts of dicey ingredients. Maybe they acquired it via their very own lab?” I tick my head over to Kiera, aka the potential killer, but Shep merely exhales as if he were exasperated with me.

  Tilly waves me over. “Bowie? It’s your turn. Hurry up. I want to get to the sniffing.” She snorts and giggles as she looks over at Jackson.

  I head over and Kiera quickly dabs a little of the oily solution behind each of my ears as the scents of gardenias and plumerias overtake me.

  “Ooh, wow, I like this,” I muse “But are you sure it’s considered genderless? I mean, it’s a bit floral—in a good way.”

  She nods as if she’s already considered this. “It’s supposed to be on the lighter side. Tilly has the fresh cotton on a tropical isle scent, and Regina is wearing sandalwood and ash.”

  The fact that Regina smells like the aftermath of a bonfire seems fitting.

  Kiera lines us up about six feet apart and Jackson sniffs Regina first.

  “Excellent scent.” His lips come shy of hers and she strategically turns her head in time and we’re forced to watch lips brush over one another. They share a dark laugh as he makes his way to Tilly, and my bestie wastes no time in doing the same.

  “I’m two for two.” Jackson laughs as he looks over at Shep.

  But Shep isn’t laughing as Jackson makes his way over to me. In fact, Shep looks downright angry.

  Jackson Mortimer towers over me by a head as he bows in close and I can feel his breath tickling my neck.

  He touches his nose to my ear, and I break out in a string of giggles as if the cute boy in class just asked me to dance. Although, I get the feeling Jackson here wants to sniff his way around more than my ear.

  A hand lands over Jackson’s shoulder and effectively plucks him off me.

  Shep frowns my way a moment before stepping in close. Those glowing eyes stay magnetized to mine.

  “My turn, Kitten.”

  I roll my eyes even though every time he calls me that my insides quiver. It’s so not fair to feel one way emotionally about someone and have your body respond in the opposite sexual direction.

  Shep leans in just enough and takes in a full breath.

  “Excellent,” he whispers as he pulls back. His eyes snap back to mine as if they never left. “I like this one best.”

  A spear of heat drives through me, and I can’t help but shoot a gloating smile over to Regina.

  Kiera curls her finger at Shep. “All right. It’s the boys’ turn.” She quickly dabs a new batch of her bubbling brew onto their necks, and before we know it, every woman in the facility flocks around them for a quick—or rather not-so-quick sniffaroo.

  Tilly and Regina get quickly crowded out as Kiera calls us over.

  “Please, girls”—she pets one of Tilly’s chunky highlights as if it were a cat—“there’s a bin of all three scents, bottled and ready to go right over there.” She points to a chocolate brown woven basket sitting on the counter. “And next to it a
re samples of my harmless harvest cocoa lipsticks with a propriety blend of ingredients that are guaranteed to garner a kiss from your man.” She points to a stack of hot pink bags stacked in the corner of the workstation. “Grab a tote bag and fill it to the brim.”

  Both Tilly and Regina waste no time flying over to the bins in question with their promises of casting just the right spell on unsuspecting men. But I don’t move a muscle. Instead, I flex a brief smile at the blonde before me while she examines both Shep and Jackson as if she couldn’t make up her mind between the two. Or more to the point, as if she couldn’t make up her mind which one to cast a pox on first.

  “I’m sorry about your friend.” I wince because, honestly, it feels as if I’m having to remind her about it. You would never know she was grieving—if, in fact, she is.

  She looks momentarily confused.

  “Oh right. The masquerade ball.” She makes a face as if the ball in question was a disaster for far less mortality-laden reasons. “That’s just like Maddie—making a dramatic exit.” She averts her eyes as if the thought truly irked her.

  Wow. Not only did she potentially slip the girl a deadly Mickey, but she’s unremorseful about it, too. A classic sociopath if ever there was one. A socialite sociopath if you want to get technical.

  “That she did.” I lean in. “I bet she had it coming, right?” I tip my ear her way, hungry for a confession, but Kiera groans instead as if my words were in poor taste.

  They were, but that’s beside the point.

  “She did, though.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “That was our Maddie. Always stirring the pot. Always having her way with whoever’s boyfriend she wanted.”

  So that’s the bee that’s buzzing around in her bonnet—a cheating boyfriend with a wayward stinger.