The 9 Lives Cozy Mystery Boxed Set

by Louise Clark

  She stood her ground and watched him.

  Cossi stopped inches from her. He looked down from his six-foot-plus height and the brilliant smile darkened into something demanding. "I don't carry undergrads," he said in a low, velvety voice. "I only help those who are willing to help themselves."

  Christy looked up into his beautiful blue eyes, now smoldering with seductive heat, and said, "Really?"

  He frowned.

  "If you're going to proposition students you could at least be original about it."

  His head jerked and the frown deepened. "Who the hell are you?"

  She grinned at him. "I'm Christy Jamieson." She loosened the fastening on the tote and the cat's head popped out. "This is Stormy and Frank."

  Stormy and Frank? Should be Frank and Stormy. Where are you priorities, Chris?

  "Your cat has two names?" He reached out to pat the cat's head and Stormy flattened his ears, narrowed his eyes and hissed. Cossi pulled his hand away to avoid a scratch.

  "He's something of a split personality," Christy said. "I didn't come to get my marks pumped up. I'm here to ask you some more questions about Brittany Day."

  Cossi's eyes narrowed as recognition suddenly hit. "You were here a few days ago."

  "That's right."

  He shrugged and turned back to his desk. "Ask away. But if any of my students come in for a consult, you'll have to leave."

  "Why?" Christy asked. "Do you have sex with them here?"

  He whirled around to face her, feet set apart, hands knotted into fists, shoulders tense. "What are you talking about?"

  Christy moved to Bradley Neale's desk by the door and perched on the edge. Quinn would be able to see her here and know she was all right, now that Cossi was starting to turn ugly.

  He'd only get worse as she asked what she needed to know. "Before he died, Dr. Peiling told me that you'd been investigated for sexual harassment of your students."

  He took a step toward her. "Those allegations were unsubstantiated. They were dropped."

  She opened the tote a little wider. Stormy's shoulders appeared and he put his front paws onto the edge of the bag, but he didn't jump out.

  "The afternoon before Dr. Peiling died, he talked to Brittany's dad. Did you know that?"

  Cossi took another step. "No."

  He's going to rush you, babe. He's going to jump you and rough you up, or worse.

  "Nah. He's all bluff and no substance."

  You're taunting him. I tell you, babe, he's dangerous.

  "Who are you talking to?"

  She scratched Stormy's chin and smiled at Cossi. "Who do you think?"

  Cossi looked at the cat as if contemplating the possibility that a conversation was going on he wasn't in on, then his mouth tightened. "Are you wearing a wire?"

  Clearly he wasn't the type to bond with animals. "No." True enough. She did have her phone on, though, so she needed to divert him before he guessed. "Good idea. I wish I'd thought of it." She shrugged as if it wasn't important, before she moved on. "Peiling told Roger Day that he'd discovered you were blackmailing Brittany. Is that true?"

  Cossi visibly relaxed. "Why would I blackmail Brittany? And what could I possibly blackmail her about?"

  "Peiling said it had something to do with the alibi Brittany supplied for Aaron DeBolt."

  The color leeched out of Cossi's face, then rushed back up in a wash of blood that turned his cheeks red. "That's not true."

  Yeah, right, Frank said, disgusted. If ever a guy looked guilty, this one does.

  Christy laughed. "I think you were having sex with Brittany the night Aaron DeBolt helped to murder my husband, Frank. I think—"

  "Frank?" Cossi stared at the cat.

  That's right, moron. And if you don't lay off my wife, I'll make you sorry.

  Christy ignored both of them. "I know Aaron is guilty and the alibi Brittany gave was false. I think Brittany changed her mind and decided to retract the statement she gave to the police. The thing I don't understand is why you killed her."

  She smiled at Cossi, who looked both flabbergasted and irritated. "I didn't kill her. Why would I want to kill her? I wanted to have sex with her."

  Too much information, jerk.

  "But she didn't want to go to bed with you, did she, Lorne?" Christy said gently. "You had to blackmail her into it."

  He flushed again, but didn't say anything.

  "What did you have on her?" she asked.

  He stared at her narrow-eyed, then after a moment he shrugged. "She stopped doing her job. She cut classes and let Brad Neale do her shifts at the lab. By the end of last March, we were getting complaints. I'm the senior TA, so I checked up on her."

  "And you found out why."

  He nodded.

  "Let me guess," Christy said. "Aaron DeBolt."

  Cossi raised his brows. "He had her hooked good and tight. Drugs, sex, who knows what else. He told her what to do and she did it."

  Poor Brittany. "How did you find out about Aaron?"

  He shrugged. "Once I knew she wasn't doing her shifts at the lab, I thought it would be useful to know why." He smiled thinly. The expression was a cruel mockery of his usual blinding smiles. "I thought it might be fun to make her squirm a little before I went to Peiling."

  Nice guy.

  Christy agreed with Frank's sarcastic comment. She had to resist the urge to walk away without asking any more questions. Lorne Cossi was a contemptible human being and she felt dirty just being in the same room with him. But she had come here to prove Peiling had been murdered and to find out how his death fit into Brittany's murder. So far all she'd learned was how despicable Lorne Cossi was. She needed more. "So you followed her."

  "And watched her make out with Aaron." His smile widened into one that was smugly self-satisfied. "I knew I had her then. There was no way she would want to admit what she was up to. Not to Peiling. Not to her proper papa and uptight mom in Calgary."

  A chill shivered down Christy's spine. "And the payment for your silence was sex with you."

  Cossi nodded. He moved a little closer.

  Christy eased the straps of the tote bag on her shoulder. "So your blackmail was successful. Brittany slept with you on the night my husband was killed."

  "As it happened, yes."

  "That's pretty specific. How can you be so sure of the date?"

  "Because I only slept with her once." Cossi's lip curled. "She was a boring lay. She was so stoned she wouldn't even play."

  "Play?" In the hallway Christy heard the rustle of movement.

  Cossi did not. "I expected her to fight me. She'd already made it clear she didn't like me and wasn't interested. But that night she just lay there and let me do what I wanted."

  Unable to say no, Brittany had drugged her senses so she would feel little and perhaps remember less from her night with Lorne Cossi. Filled with pity for a girl whose life should have been different, Christy said, "Oh, God! That's horrible. You're no better than Aaron."

  "Aaron DeBolt is a drunk and a druggie who's nothing without Mom and Dad's money," Cossi said hotly. "He pranced into the parties Peiling gave for the donors and acted as if it was him who'd supplied the cash. I loathe him!"

  Cossi's outburst gave Christy a chance to recover. "Why did you go to the parties, then?"

  "I had to. We all had to! Peiling held at least one a semester. He said celebrations were the perfect way for the donors to get to know the program and the people in it." He snorted and his lip curled. "Yeah, sure. They all treated us like peons, but the DeBolts were the worst. They acted like we were a meat parade."

  "I guess you didn't like Jacob Peiling much then either."

  "Peiling was an idiot, but he knew his stuff."

  "So you say. Was it you who laced his food with peanut oil?" Christy mentally crossed her fingers. She would be very happy if it turned out that Cossi was the one who murdered Jacob Peiling.

  He stared at her, his eyes widened with surprise. "Peiling was murdered? I
thought he was just being a hypocrite. He lectured us about bringing food into the office and eating at our desks. Constantly. Then there he is, doing exactly that and getting caught at it!" He shook his head and added, "And here I thought his death was just the universe being ironic."

  That sounds like the truth, Frank said. Disappointment echoed in the voice, as if Frank, too, had hoped Cossi was guilty.

  If it was the truth, she needed confirmation. "Where were you when Peiling died? And when Brittany was murdered, for that matter."

  "Are you asking me if I have an alibi?" he asked, sounding incredulous. He took a step toward her.

  Christy nodded. "That's exactly what I'm asking."

  He took another step. "Why should I tell you?"

  She slid the tote off her shoulder and set it on the desk, opening it wide. Stormy stepped out carefully. "I'm asking. You don't have to answer, but eventually you'll have to tell the police."

  Another step. He was almost at the desk now. Christy wasn't sure why he'd suddenly turned hostile, but she didn't like his proximity.

  He looked down at her and bestowed that devastatingly beautiful smile on her. "Maybe I've already told the police."

  She looked into his marine-blue eyes. They were cold as polar ice. "I don't think so. If they had your testimony, they wouldn't have arrested my aunt for Brittany's murder."

  He stepped closer, invading her space, crowding her against the desk. "I think you've got a real need to know what I was doing on those two nights. Tell you what. I'll give you what you want to know, but I want something in return." His voice lowered. Roughened.

  Really? This guy is hitting on you for payment? Stormy hissed and sprang into action.

  Christy caught him as he leapt toward Cossi. "Not a good idea, Lorne. My friend here doesn't like it. Just tell me where you were and we'll both get out of here." Soon, I hope, Christy thought.

  "Too bad princess. No payment, no info." A sneer polluted the rough sensual voice, turning the potential of pleasure into the promise of mistreatment.

  The cat hissed again, and his legs scrambled for purchase. Frank clearly wanted at Lorne Cossi. At that moment Quinn decided to intervene and walked into the office. The cat stilled and there was a moment when he and Quinn eyed each other and Christy could have sworn that they communicated.

  Quinn's gaze swept from the cat to her. Christy felt her body respond with an undeniable rush as his eyes searched her for evidence that Cossi had harmed her. She smiled at him and shook her head. Quinn gave her an almost imperceptible nod, then he moved to within inches of Cossi. They were both similar heights and Quinn did nothing aggressive, except to push his way into Cossi's personal space, but the TA moved back a step, then another. "Tell the lady what she wants to know," Quinn said. "No strings attached."

  Cossi looked from Quinn to Christy, then to Frank in Stormy, and back to Quinn. His face twisted. "The morning Brittany died I was shagging one of my undergrads. I like morning sex."

  "And Dr. Peiling?"

  "I was in the lab. I've got a dozen undergrads to prove it."

  Quinn nodded. "I hope that's the truth, because I expect you'll be telling the police your story very soon." He reached out his hand. "Come on, Christy. Put Frank back in his carrier and let's go."

  Looking grim, Cossi said, "Is the animal Frank or Stormy?" as he watched the cat step back into the tote.

  Christy slung the bag on her shoulder and pushed away from the desk. She took Quinn's hand. He raised his brows and allowed his mouth to curl up in a tiny, superior smile. "Like the lady said—both."

  Chapter 25

  I wanted to scratch his eyes out. Better yet, I could have scarred his pretty face. The cat was practically vibrating with tension inside the tote bag on Christy's lap. You should have let me, Chris. The jerk deserved it.

  "I don't like it when you put yourself in danger like that." Quinn's tone was grim, his body tight with strain as he guided the car away from the university, back toward the city center.

  The two males were both upset. And because they were both vocalizing at the same time it was like being lectured in stereo. Though she wasn't frightened while she interviewed Cossi, his vile nature had given her the creeps, so Christy was edgy too. "Look, you were just outside the door, Quinn, and Frank was ready to mess up his face and make him suffer. I was never in any danger."

  "Really?" Quinn grinned, apparently pleased by the thought of Lorne Cossi's handsome face marred by cat scratches. He kept his eyes on the road, though, so Christy couldn't be sure. It was rush hour and the street was packed with commuters, though fortunately the traffic heading downtown, as they were, was still moving freely between lights. On the other side of the yellow line, commuters on their way home after work were already in stop-and-go mode.

  "Really. So both you guys stand down. I was fine."

  The light ahead changed to yellow then red. Traffic slowed and stopped. Quinn looked over at Christy. His gaze was troubled. "I know I'm being overprotective, but it was only a few weeks ago that you were almost killed. You gave me a scare. I'm trying to deal with it, but..." The light changed and Quinn looked back at the road.

  Think of me! I was worried too that day, but I couldn't do anything beyond trying to get this lug to figure out that you were in danger.

  Traffic started to move again. Quinn's eyes were on the cars ahead as he added in a low voice, "Christy, please understand..."

  He needs to open his mind and listen to me!

  There was a charged silence. Christy understood the emotions motivating both males. Frank had loved her and failed her in life. She thought that was why he was still here, rooming with Stormy the Cat. He needed to deal with his human frailties before he could move on. Quinn's life as a conflict-zone journalist had shown him firsthand the devastation that violence brought. Both needed her support, but she couldn't answer one before the other, because the one she didn't comfort first would feel slighted.

  Juggling two males sitting beside each other was more stressful than dealing with a sexual bully like Lorne Cossi. She swallowed hard and prepared to say what she hoped both would respond to.

  She didn't get the chance.

  "...I don't want to lose you," Quinn said. Emotion roughened his voice.

  Inside the tote bag, the cat went absolutely still as Quinn's voice echoed through the car.

  Hell. Open the bag, Chris. Stormy and I will go and sit in the backseat.

  Christy sighed. She put one hand on Quinn's arm and hugged the tote more closely with the other. "Thank you. I understand your worries, I really do, but I was never in any danger. I walked into Cossi's office knowing I had backup. I wouldn't have gone near the guy if you hadn't been there."

  Under her hand, some of the tension eased from the muscles in Quinn's arm. She squeezed it briefly, then released him so that she could open the tote and give Frank the option of leaving her lap.

  Stormy's green eyes looked up at her and he didn't move. Frank might want to lick his wounds in the relative privacy of the backseat, but Stormy preferred the comforts of a human lap. He butted her hand, demanding to be petted. She tickled him under his chin. When Stormy began to purr, Christy chuckled.

  Quinn glanced over, brows raised in question, before returning his attention to the road.

  "Frank is as upset with me as you are," Christy said. "He wants to go sit in the backseat and sulk. Stormy is resisting."

  The cat's purr deepened with contentment and he sprawled on his side to give her access to his belly.

  Quinn gave the utterly relaxed Stormy a quick, sidelong glance before he looked back at the road. A muscle jumped in his cheek as he stared at the traffic ahead of them. "Are you sure it's just the cat who doesn't want to leave?"

  The purring stopped, then started up again, louder than before. He's got a point. I am your husband, after all.

  Christy sighed, then deliberately changed the subject. "How long do you think it will take to reach the police station?"

 
When they left the university, they'd decided they needed to get the information they'd gleaned from Roger Day and Lorne Cossi to Detective Patterson without delay. A quick check had reassured Christy that Noelle was having a great time with Ellen, Roy, and Trevor. They were at the Christmas tree lot, walking through the stands of pine, searching for the perfect tree. The ground was soft, but not mushy, it wasn't raining and Noelle was out in the fresh air and having fun. During the call, Christy heard Ellen's voice in the background say, "That one is nice and bushy," followed by Noelle's shouted reply, "It's too small!" At that, both she and Roy had laughed and he told her not to worry and get back when she could.

  "In this traffic? Probably another forty-five minutes."

  Patterson had agreed to meet them at the coffee shop near the station. If Quinn was correct, and the traffic cooperated, they'd be right on time.

  * * *

  The small restaurant was much as Christy remembered it from her previous meetings with Detective Patterson, when Frank had been missing, and presumed to be the embezzler of the Jamieson Trust. The place was a favorite with the cops who worked out of the main police station and at any time of the day it was always packed. The décor was bare-bones—Formica-topped tables, vinyl-covered chairs, linoleum flooring, and walls in need of a paint job.

  Patterson sat at a table situated so that she had a good visual of the entryway. There was a thick white coffee mug in front of her and she was turning it on the Formica tabletop as if her hands needed movement while her body remained still. When Christy and Quinn entered the room she didn't move, even though Christy was quite certain she'd seen them.

  "Mrs. Jamieson, Mr. Armstrong," she said by way of a greeting as they reached her table and sat down.

  A waitress appeared. Quinn ordered coffee. Christy shook her head.

  When the waitress had gone, Patterson sat up a bit straighter, then leaned forward. "You have some information for me pertaining to the murder of Brittany Day?"

  "Yes," Christy said.

  Patterson raised her brows.