An Awful Cat-titude (MEOW FOR MURDER Book 1)

by Addison Moore

  “Whatcha working on?” I try to lean forward and see the screen, but he moves the laptop over an inch, obstructing my view.

  “You left this morning.” He takes a careful sip of his coffee before landing it on the table once again.

  His dark hair is slicked back, his eyes look icy in that sexy sled dog way, and every female in a ten-table radius is at full attention.

  “I didn’t know I was required to stay.” I flash a short-lived smile. “I saw how close we were to the manor and I needed to open. I didn’t want to bother you for a lift, so I walked. Your turn. What are you, an attorney or something?” I lift a finger to the laptop.

  “Author. I write under the name S. J. Wexler.”

  I suck in a quick breath. “As in the S. J. Wexler? Thriller author?”

  “Yes.” A smile teases on his lips, but he’s too stubborn to give it. But I can see the pride dancing in his eyes and a part of me wants to call him on it. “Have you read any of my books?”

  “No, but I see them all over. My father was actually a big thriller fan.” I choose not to let him in on the fact my father was starring in a thriller of his own. Spoiler alert: it’s not ending well for him. “So you’re kind of famous.” I’m suddenly starstruck by this beautiful man. A man with a hot face is a dime a dozen. But a man with a hot face and a hot mind is a needle in a jerk stack for lack of a better euphemism. “No wonder all the girls can’t help but stare. I mean, they’re staring for far more obvious reasons as well, but I get the feeling you’re aware of that, too.”

  He tips his head back as he takes me in.

  “Strong, silent type. I like that,” I say as my body heat spikes. “Well, I’d best leave before my deodorant expires, and considering that I don’t have on any, that could pose a deadly threat to us both. But thank you for the room and shower. I really appreciate that. Hey? Can I come back tonight?”

  He dips his chin and looks up at me an inordinate amount of time.

  “Yes. On Opal’s insistence.” He frowns as he adds that little tidbit. “I’ll be sure to leave an ample tip for you so you can stop off at the store and stock up on your hygiene needs.”

  “Oh, right.” My underarms bite with heat once again as if they know the hygienic spotlight is being pointed right at them. “So tell me something about yourself. Were you born and raised in Starry Falls? Have you always been a writer? I know for a fact you were engaged to the Grim Reaper I met last night.” Tilly gave me the lowdown when she got here. Okay, so I may have shaken it out of her. But I couldn’t help it. I like to keep tabs on the people in my life. It’s in my blood to be in the know.

  His lips curl when I refer to his ex as the Grim Reaper.

  “Hey?” I beam with pride of my own. “I think I almost got a smile out of you.”

  “You’ll have to work harder.”

  I nod. “Believe me, I get it. Anyone who wants a single thing out of me is going to have to work pretty darn hard themselves. So you got burned on the relationshep front, huh? Is that what this whole wall of steel is about?” I take a sip from his coffee and his eyes widen in horror.

  “Oh, right. Sorry.” I glide the mug back in his direction. “So Starry Falls? Born and raised?”

  “Maple Grove, a few towns over.” He strums his fingers over the table. “I landed in Starry Falls about two years ago. It’s nice. The people are nice. They leave me alone.”

  “Is that like a hint?” I squint over at him a moment too long. “Never mind. I told you a little about my dad. What about your family?” I can’t stop looking at his hypnotizing eyes. No wonder he wants to be left alone. His face can’t help but cast a spell over people.

  He leans in just a notch, his lips curling at the edges once again.

  “My father is in prison,” he whispers.

  “No kidding?” I spike in my seat. “So is mine!” Okay, so it’s nothing to get overly excited about, but let’s face it, that’s common ground you simply don’t get to have with a whole lot of people.

  He leans in, that same bored look on his face is unflinching. “Did he kill your stepmother?”

  I gasp at the thought. “Geez. No. That’s brutal. So that’s why you’ve got this whole tough guy persona going on? You were raised by wolves.”

  He gives a long blink. “You’re not that far off. But my mother was decent. Still is. So are my brother and sister.”

  My mouth falls open with surprise. “I have a brother and a sister.” I lean in. “Any marriages? Children?”

  “Nope, and not that I know of.”

  “Ha-ha, I get it. I hear you get around. I’d stay off the DNA websites if I were you.” And if I were me, too, for entirely different reasons.

  A laugh bubbles from me, but his flat expression doesn’t waver.

  “So what’s the new story about?” I peer over at the laptop, and this time he doesn’t seem to mind me catching a glimpse, not that I can make heads or tails from all the errant letters running around the page.

  “It’s about a mystery woman who stumbles into town, and then just as quickly stumbles upon a body. I’ll give you a hint. I think she’s somehow involved.”

  I sober up real quick and shoot him the stink eye. But before I can let a smart-aleck comment fly, a shadow darkens the table and I look up to see Detective Grimsley frowning down at the two of us.

  “We’re ready for your close-up, Ms. Binx.”

  Chapter 6

  Dead.

  I’d rather be dead.

  I feel as if I’ve died and gone somewhere, but just not heaven, and maybe not quite hell either.

  Detective Grimsley, Nora, who actually asked me twice not to call her by her first name, was insistent that we head down to Woodley County. And in an odd turn of events, Shepherd Wexler, author extraordinaire and professional scowler, offered to give me a ride himself. Seeing that it was either him or her in the glorified paddy wagon, I hopped shotgun in his truck. Little did I know that all the way to Woodley—a whopping twenty-minute drive—he would be not-so-gently interrogating me about my family, the brother and sister I inadvertently brought up, and that father of mine who is doing time and why. About halfway there, I finally figured out I hopped into the wrong car.

  The Woodley County Sheriff’s Department is gray and dismal, and despite the fact it’s a warm spring day, everyone inside is huddled in sweaters and jackets because it’s a frosty minus ten degrees in here. I’m still stuck in my jogging clothes, and I’m guessing sooner or later someone is going to notice—mostly due to the ripe scent I’ll be emitting, and they’ll be forced to run me out of town.

  Nora walks us to the back, and before I know it, I’ve filled out all the vital information via the phony records my Uncle Vinnie furnished me with. Fake name. Fake Social Security number. Let’s hope to God the real owner of those dicey digits isn’t wanted for a major felony, or I’ll have a little more in common with my father than I bargained for.

  Nora drags me into her office and conducts another quickie interview about the things I witnessed last night. After I fill her in once again on the things that happened, she excuses herself briefly and steps outside to talk to Shep.

  The two of them murmur between themselves while I’m left to my own devices, so I do the only thing I can do—snoop. A couple of pictures are lined up on the shelf behind her desk, and surprisingly, not one of them stars her former beau. There’s a lip balm and a compact lying loose on the edge of her desk and a smattering of paperwork strewn over it.

  A file marked Flint in large red letters sits less than a foot from me, and as much as I’d like to mind my own business, I reach over and flip it open. I’m not too worried about getting busted due to the arctic blast coming from the AC unit at seventy miles per hour. I don’t think it would be a far cry to blame it on the hurricane force gale whipping through the office.

  A yellow piece of paper stares back at me and my name is at the top of the list. Under it I see the name Opal Mortimer. Figures, we’re both suspects. Both innoc
ent, too, but I’m betting that doesn’t carry much weight anymore. It’s all about numbers and quotas, and putting innocent people away isn’t all that big of a deal anymore.

  I spot Shep’s name at the bottom of the list, but he’s the only one who’s already had a line drawn through it. Figures. He’s probably too good in bed to get rid of. He’s basically an asset to her. And if she’s still interested in him, she might see me as a threat. I already mentioned that I stayed at his cabin last night. I needed an address, and God knows that Chicago, Connecticut baloney wasn’t going to fly twice in a lifetime.

  I glance to the list once again. Devin O’Malley, Richard Broadman, Nicki Magnolia.

  Huh. Devin was Perry Flint’s girlfriend. Richard was the hot-to-trot silver fox slash manager. And Nicki was Perry’s assistant. But she doesn’t have the name of the guy Perry got in a fight with just before he went on stage—most likely because she has no idea he exists.

  Maybe I should say something?

  But then, if I say something, I might garner more of her unwanted attention, and I’m already sweating like a pig just before a luau.

  No thank you. I’ve got places to go and people to see, outside of the prison system. It’s probably best I let her do her job. But then again, if she doesn’t make an arrest soon, she just might come sniffing back my way, or in Opal’s direction. And for knowing someone for less than twenty-four hours, I sure seem to have built up an affection for the crazy broad.

  Nope, we’re not going down.

  And I’ll do whatever I can to stop it from happening.

  Nora knocks on the door and I startle, jumping to my feet and bolting from her office.

  She lifts her chin my way, and I can’t help but note she has a hardened look about her. She would have made an excellent mobster. Her dark lipstick and heavy angry eyes let me know she’s not interested in entertaining niceties with me—or perhaps anybody else sucking up oxygen at the moment.

  “Don’t leave town,” she says it like a threat and my mouth falls open, because as soon as I have enough to resurrect Wanda from the dead, I plan on doing just that.

  “Okay,” I hear myself say.

  I know for a fact there’s nothing they can do if I skip.

  It’s not like I’m under arrest.

  “Good.” She pulls her lips in a line. “Because if you do, I’ll hunt you down and arrest you.” Her dark eyes hook to Shep’s. “It was nice seeing you again. Do you have any book signings coming up?”

  His shoulders twitch. “One in town.”

  She gives a little laugh. “Lucky for you, that’s the only place you’re allowed to be. No out-of-state trips. Hopefully, we’ll have this wrapped up in a few days.” She lifts her gaze to me. “Quicker if we get a confession.”

  Shep thanks her and navigates us the heck out of there.

  “Hey?” I look back at the building he just hustled us out of. “Why do I get the feeling she thinks I pulled the trigger?”

  “Maybe because you were left holding the murder weapon.”

  “You think you’re funny, don’t you?” A glittering sign that reads half off all clearance catches my eye from across the street. “Whoa.” I pull us to a stop while checking the place out. “I’m just a smidge excited about that sale, but the just a smidge part is literal because it’s a secondhand store. Normally, I wouldn’t pay it any mind, but at the moment I’m down one wardrobe.” I dig into my pocket for the tips I shoved in it this morning and count out nine dollars and thirty-seven cents, mostly in quarters. “You wouldn’t mind if I ran in, would you? I’ll take less than ten minutes. I could really use another pair of everything.”

  “Knock yourself out. I don’t mind ducking in and checking out the book section. I’m a bit of a collector.” He digs into his pocket and lands a bill in my hand before closing my fingers. “I meant to tip you before we left the café.”

  “Smooth, Wexler. Real smooth.”

  We get into the thrift shop and I wait until he disappears for the book section before checking out what he gave me and I gasp at the sight of it. With one zero it would have been too much, but with two it’s an abundance of riches.

  “A hundred dollars,” I whisper to myself. A part of me says hunt him down and give it back, but the part of me who’s itching for something a little less encrusted to wear says make smart choices in the clearance aisle, and I do just that.

  After almost an hour, I call it a success and ante up. Shep meets me at the front and helps me with my bags as we load up the back of his truck.

  “Would you look at this?” I wiggle my greatest find in his face as we head back toward Starry Falls.

  “What’s that?” He pulls back and inspects it a moment. “Dead cow?”

  “That’s right. But it’s not just any dead cow. It’s a certified Louis Vuitton Neverfull dead cow. I’m guessing it’s about eighteen years old judging by the oil stains on the shoulder straps and the small hole on the piping. But it’s new to me, and you better believe I’m going to take care of this baby as if I pushed it from my loins.”

  “Good. I’m glad you found something that gives you joy.”

  “You and me both. What about you? Find any good books to read?” I’d point out that he came out empty-handed, but that might spoil the fun.

  “Found three of my own in there.” He shrugs. “A few others I thought were interesting but didn’t pull the trigger.”

  “I guess you don’t have much time to read since you’re always writing your own stuff. I hear writing’s a lonely profession. You ever think about getting a pet?” I suck in a quick breath. “Hey, we should get a dog!”

  “We?” He sounds mildly panicked.

  “Yeah, you know, back at the cabin.”

  “You may not realize this yet, but Starry Falls is a feline kind of town.”

  “Oh, right. I forgot about King and his minions. In that case, let’s just snatch one of them flirty felines up. You know what they say about cats. Once you feed them, they’ll never want to leave.”

  He frowns my way. “You’re not part feline, are you?”

  “Very funny.”

  We pull into the driveway next to his cabin and I quickly scoop up my haul.

  “Shep, thank you for all this.” I hoist the bags into my arms as I look him in the eye.

  A smile flickers on his lips, and if I blinked, I would have missed it.

  “You’re welcome, Bowie. Can I ask what your dad went to prison for?”

  My mouth opens and I can’t seem to draw a single lie out of it.

  “Let’s just say he made the government very, very angry.”

  He gives a quick nod. “I get it.”

  I shrug up at him. “I wish I did.”

  His eyes search mine and I resist the urge to give the dark scruff on his cheeks a playful scratch.

  Before I can say goodbye or run for my life, that warm, fuzzy feeling takes over and an electrical current courses through me. The world around me seems to close off and in my mind’s eye, I see Shep standing in a room filled with books. He’s speaking to a crowd when a woman bulldozes her way through the crowd, wraps her hands around his neck, and begins to throttle him.

  “Bowie?” The sound of his voice forces me to take a sharp breath. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I give several hard blinks as the world rushes back to life around me. “Hey? Um, you mentioned that you had an author signing coming up here in Starry Falls?”

  “This Thursday at the Book Basement right on Main Street. Seven-thirty. You’re more than welcome to come.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  His eyes press to mine a moment before he nods, and we part ways.

  I’ll be there, all right.

  Some loon is about to do her best to snuff the life out of him, and I’m going to do my best to stop her.

  But first, I need to get Detective Grimsley to draw a line through my name—and Opal’s, too.

  Chapter 7

  The Mortimer
Manor sits like a stone in the path of this otherwise cheery and sunny day, or at least what’s left of it. The café is lit a little too bright and the scent of French fries, onion rings, and hamburgers lingers in the air.

  King sits on Opal’s lap with his tail gently whipping her on the chin while Tilly and I catch a breather from the early dinner rush that just blew through the place.

  “Did you know half the people I served asked me what the special was?” I direct it to Opal, but Tilly is the one that scoffs.

  “Good idea. We should have a special. How about dead man stew? Half the people I served wanted a firsthand account of how I found Perry Flint.”

  “You didn’t find Perry Flint,” I’m quick to inform her.

  “Yeah”—she wrinkles her nose—“but they don’t know that.”

  A couple of the waitresses, Thea and Flo, head this way. I’d say they were both in their early twenties. Thea has reddish-brown hair, long and glossy. Her face is covered with a healthy dusting of freckles, and she has a white picket fence smile for just about everyone she greets.

  And for as sunny as Thea can be, Flo is just that dark. She’s basically a Goth girl with black harshly dyed hair and eyebrows that I think are tattooed onto her forehead in the shape of sharp pointy peaks. Her perpetual frown is painted black, and she has that overall look in her eyes that says I just might kill you in your sleep.

  She grunts my way, “The place is empty. What do we do now?”

  “I know.” Opal gives a silent clap. “Bash men.”

  Tilly clucks her tongue. “If we bash men now, what will we do at the Stitch and Witch?”

  “Stitch Witchery,” Opal corrects as she gives King a quick stroke over his pleasantly spotted back. “And you’re so right.”

  “We can think of a monthly special,” I say just as the bell on the door chimes and in strides a familiar face.

  It’s Nicki Magnolia.

  “Nicki,” I say as I head her way. After my little thrift shop adventure, I did a quick change before coming back to the café, and now I’m feeling cute in my skinny jeans and blue-checkered top. My mother would say I looked like a country bumpkin, but I’d rather look like anything that belonged in the country than something that belonged in a women’s correctional facility. “How can I help you? Would you like a table or a booth?”