Meow for Murder Mysteries Boxed Set

by Addison Moore

  “I made sure you were okay. Nora arrested both Lloyd and Kadie.”

  “Good—I think.” I make a face. “I do feel bad for Kadie. She really does love her girls. I guess when you play with matches, you run the risk of getting burned.”

  He gives a solemn nod as he examines me with a touch of sadness in his eyes.

  “Oh right.” A dull laugh lives and dies in my chest. “I almost forgot I’m the queen of lighting myself on fire.” I give a little shrug as I look to the TV. “I bet my dad talked to my Uncle Vinnie and told him I was fine. I hope he did at least. It’s no fun to burn your life down. And it’s even less fun knowing your family is worrying about you.”

  “I’m sorry, Bowie.” He gives Pixie a scratch as I pull the sweet kitty closer to my neck.

  “Don’t be. I’m the one that decided to drive on the rickety bridge of my ex’s bad ideas. It’s my fault I ended up in a vat of hot water.” I bite down on my lip as I look to this arrestingly handsome man before me. “And you know what?” I boldly reach over and take up his hand. “If I could go back and change things, I don’t know that I would.”

  A trace of a smile curves his lips. “We can’t go back. That’s both the beauty and the curse of life. But we can make the most of things going forward.”

  I nod, hypnotized by those brilliant blue eyes, that dark hair, that devilish smile blooming just for me.

  “Onward and forward,” I whisper.

  Shep and I eat our fill of tacos and snuggle with Pixie while watching TV.

  My bad luck may have burned down my old life, but this new version of me sure feels lucky.

  * * *

  Mother’s Day is finally here. I wished my own mom a happy Mother’s Day while blowing a kiss to the sky. That’s about as close to saying it to her in person as I’ll get for a while.

  It’s the night of the big dance and we’re still selling tickets at the door for thirty bucks a pop. Of course, most of the proceeds will help cover food and vet bills for Opal’s feline army and the pets in Starry Falls who have medical needs, but Opal and I are still swimming in it when it comes to our share.

  The ballroom at Mortimer Manor is dimly lit, a few pink and lavender stage lights swirl through the room, the music is loud, and there’s a throng of bodies cutting up the dance floor. Regina and I worked all day to pump out as many pizzas as we could in just about every variety. They’re not Nana Rose quality, but with the extra cheese and generous toppings, they’re turning out to be a crowd pleaser. And as soon as Opal and I have the funds, I’m gunning for that brick pizza oven.

  Opal scurries my way with a silver sequin dress that catches the light like a seizure.

  “Darling!” she elongates the word while giving the brown and orange tabby named Pumpkin in her arms a squeeze. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

  Tilly pops up from behind. “You mean we’ve outdone ourselves.” She hops over and gives me a quick embrace. “I call the leftover pizza. I think I’ve actually found the one thing I could eat for the rest of my life.”

  “You’re welcome,” I say as I bump my hip to hers and we start dancing to the rock song blaring overhead.

  “Yes, well”—Opal gives a look around—“if we keep this up, I might actually have enough to add on that third wing.”

  My mouth opens with surprise. “So you could take in boarders?”

  “No.” She swipes at me with the kitten’s paw. “So I can expand my closet. It’s brilliant. You’re brilliant.” She wrinkles her nose at Tilly. “Okay, you’re brilliant, too. Keep up the good work, girls.”

  Regina struts over in six-inch death heels and a black leather dress that looks as if it’s ready to cry for mercy as it stretches taut over her every curve.

  “Shep’s here.” She hikes the skirt of her dress up a notch. “And he’s coming this way.”

  I look over to see the stunning scribe heading in this direction in dark pants and a light blue dress shirt that matches his eyes.

  “Ladies.” He offers a polite smile. “That was kind of you to open the mother-daughter dance to the entire town.”

  Tilly nods. “We figured everyone had a mother at some point or they wouldn’t be here. And, of course, the daughters wanted someone hot to dance with.”

  Regina scoffs. “Face it, you were after wallets. You don’t care if these people were hatched from an egg.” She swoops close to Shep and gives his silver tie a quick tug. “How about it, prince? You up for grinding your hips to mine on the dance floor?”

  I scowl over at the flirty floozy.

  “Actually”—Shep looks my way—“ I was hoping I could speak to Bowie in private.”

  “Ooh!” Tilly grunts with glee. “Private is my favorite place to be with a handsome man on a moonlit night.”

  Mine too, but I decide to play it cool.

  “Sure,” I say before turning to Regina. “Don’t worry. Mud is out there warming the dance floor up for you. I’m sure he’d love your company.”

  She snarls as Shep navigates me to the back of the manor and we end up in a secluded alcove under a weeping willow with the navy sky full of stars.

  My vision!

  My entire body straightens at the thought that Shep and I might be ready to share a genuine kiss.

  Shep takes me by the hand and my mouth falls open as we step in front of a crystalline blue three-tiered fountain.

  “There’s something I need you to know, Bowie.” He hitches the hair behind my ear and steps in close. His serious eyes penetrate mine and the tension between us is palpable.

  This is it!

  The kiss!

  I won’t lie, my lips have been craving his ever since he laid that fake pucker on me. To be honest, for that reason alone, I’m starting to miss Hilary’s daily haunting.

  “This is important and it concerns us.” He leans in, bringing his mouth ever so close, and I close my eyes, my lips pursing ever so slightly. “I’ve decided to take a consulting position at the Woodley Homicide Division.”

  “What?” I inch back to get a better look at him. “A consulting position?” What about my kiss?

  “Yes. That way I can still write—and I have my PI license. I can take on cases if I need to without it infringing.”

  “Huh.” I give an indignant huff. “Well, it looks as if you’ve got it all figured out.” I lick my lips absentmindedly as my heat index rises.

  Shep washes those pale eyes of his over my features and his lips curve with approval as if he likes what he sees.

  “I have something else to share with you, Bowie.” Any trace of a smile glides right off his face. “I got a text from an unknown number this afternoon.” He pulls out his phone and flashes the screen my way. “I don’t know if this has anything to do with you, but in the event it does, I thought I’d share it.”

  Dear Mr. Wexler,

  I am watching you.

  A breath hitches in my throat at the sight and I quickly pull out my own phone and show Shep a picture of the note I found pinned to my door last week that reads the very same sentiment.

  Someone is watching us.

  More to the point, I bet it’s me they’re watching.

  It looks as if my days in Starry Falls are numbered.

  And Shep and I are over before we ever began.

  Copyright © 2020 by Addison Moore, Bellamy Bloom

  Edited by Paige Maroney Smith

  Cover by Stunning Book Covers

  Hollis Thatcher Press, LTD.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples either living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, places, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination. The author holds all rights to this work. It is illegal to reproduce this novel without written expressed consent from the author herself.

  All Rights Reserved.

  This eBook is for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase any a
dditional copies for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Copyright © 2020 by Addison Moore, Bellamy Bloom

  Created with Vellum

  Book Description

  A highly inaccurate psychic. A grumpy writer. And a corpse. Welcome to Starry Falls. Running from the mob can be murder.

  Fall is in the air, and to celebrate, there’s a masquerade ball at the Mortimer Manor, where socialites and dapper men abound. But when someone drops dead in the middle of the dance floor, fingers are pointed at everyone—including the deceased.

  Shep is as ornery as ever. Whoever keeps sending me those threatening notes has grown far more brazen, and my insights to the future have not only increased, but I’ve just seen a glimpse of something that I want no part of. With my luck—that will be the only vision that comes to fruition, just the way it’s threatened to.

  Living in Starry Falls is proving to be deadly.

  Chapter 1

  “We’ll need two to three bartenders and all waitresses on deck to rove around the ballroom serving canapés. I’ll make sure this is one masquerade ball no one will forget.” Opal Mortimer presses out her very best smile, one that looks as if she’s just sucked on a lemon as she strokes the back of the brown and black spotted Bengal cat named King.

  Any conversation that starts off with hard liquor has the power to pique my attention. Not that I drink. I can’t with my condition. And no, I’m not in the family way. But you could say that my family got me in this supernatural predicament to begin with.

  My name is Stella Santini, or at least it was until I got caught up in one heck of a hot mess that involved both the feds and the mob, not to mention one rather idiotic boyfriend. I’m known as Bowie Binx now, and I’ve got long black hair, light brown eyes, stand at an average height of five-foot-five, and I can see the future.

  Okay, fine.

  Confession: I’m no psychic. Nor have I ever come close to predicting what the future might hold—not with any accuracy anyway.

  You see, ever since I was a little girl, I had what my Nana Rose called the shakes. Technically, it’s more of a shiver, and when you get down to it, there’s a warm, fuzzy feeling involved that makes me want to forget about the world around me for a moment and retreat to the dark recesses of my mind where a thought plays out like a movie and I see things. And trust me when I say I have been wrong about interpreting the things I see on more than one occasion.

  “Consider it done, Opal.” I nod over to the older woman with all of the confidence I don’t have.

  I’m the manager of the Manor Café, and it’s my responsibility to make sure anything to do with this quirky eatery works like a well-oiled machine. The café itself has seen better days, with its red Naugahyde booths and chairs, the chipped tables, and dizzying black and white square floor tile. But we have our fair share of regulars and I take their culinary happiness personally.

  Opal burst into the Manor Café this morning and let me know that her son is hosting a ritzy masquerade ball this evening, and the venue in which he was to host the event flooded due to bad plumbing. So he did what any red-blooded American would do. He called up his mommy and demanded the use of the ballroom in her manor.

  Opal Mortimer is an eighty-something divorcee with gray wiry curls that sit over her shoulders, and wears what some might say is a dramatic amount of cosmetics on her face. She has dark kohl ringed around her eyes, traffic cone orange lipstick, and wears a paper-white foundation that gives her that unearthly glow I’m not sure she was shooting for. But my favorite part about this eccentric, kindhearted woman is the fact her accouterments tend to lean toward the avant-garde. I’ve never seen so much lace, leather, and spikes worn by a woman of any age, let alone all at once. It’s inspiring.

  It turns out, Opal’s ex-husband took her for a financial ride and left her with nothing but this manor and the couture clothes that take up the entire second story. The manor itself looks as if it was pulled brick by brick from England and sits crooked on a tiny hill at the end of Main Street right here in Starry Falls. And it just so happens to be home to well over a hundred cats.

  Opal is a self-professed cat lady who not only cares for the cats of the manor, but every feline stray in the great state of Vermont as well.

  Tilly bounces on her heels as she stands by my side. “Bowie and I have it all under control. Don’t worry, Opal. Your billionaire son will be blown away when he sees the level of sophistication the Manor Café is able to provide.”

  “Wonderful.” Opal shakes her head at the two of us as if she were in awe. She leans my way. “Have you had any visions regarding the event that you’d like to share?” She purses her lips. “Perhaps I’ll be meeting a wealthy earl this evening who will sweep me off my feet with his trillions?”

  Suffice it to say, Opal isn’t too comfortable with her newly minted cash-strapped status, and I can’t blame her. She was born with a silver spoon in her mouth straight from in utero. She’s not used to trying to hustle for a dollar, and I think that’s why she appreciates me so much. Ever since I’ve been in Starry Falls running from the feds and mob—both of which have landed targets on my back—I’ve helped her squeeze an extra dollar or two from the kind residents of this one cow town.

  “Sorry.” I wrinkle my nose over at her. “No visions about anything as of late. But as soon as I get one, you’ll be the first to know.”

  “What about me?” Tilly bucks her hip into mine. “I thought we were certified besties now.”

  “Oh, we are, sister.” I hold up a hand and she slaps me a high-five.

  In the last couple months since I arrived, Tilly and I have already been involved in two murder investigations together.

  Tilly is a touch shorter than me, dark hair with chunky blonde highlights. She’s a tough cookie who likes to flaunt her bodily wares by way of tight tops and even shorter skirts. We’re both in our late twenties and happen to share the same no-nonsense approach to life.

  I think if I had met Tilly in New Jersey, where I originally hail from, we would have been best friends, too. I’m sort of like Opal in regards to my riches-to-rags story—or more to the point, cautionary tale. Throw a pending felony offense her way and we’d practically be twins.

  Opal gasps and gives poor King a hard squeeze.

  “I almost forgot,” she drags out that last word as if it had fourteen syllables. Opal definitely has an unidentifiable accent that can only be credited to her old tax bracket. “We’ll need the staff outfitted appropriately for the masquerade. I’ve picked out a gown for each of you girls to wear. You can find them in the library once you’re through here. Oh, we’re going to have such a ball.” She twitches her hand our way and her mouth squares out with the idea of a laugh. “Get it? Ball?”

  The bell on the door chimes and into the café strides not one but two heart-stoppingly handsome men, one of which is Shepherd J. Wexler.

  I can’t help but swoon at the sight of him. Shep is a tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed drink of water that I’ve been thirsty for ever since I showed up in Starry Falls. Not only is Shep dangerously handsome, but he’s a best-selling thriller writer who spends his time hunkered down right here in this café clicking away at his laptop while I keep him stocked with strong coffee and sweet muffins—he also happens to be my landlord. I rent a tiny cabin behind his much bigger cabin a few blocks over. And I won’t lie, I’ve tried my hand at being a genuine peeping Tom in hopes of catching him strutting around his place in his skivvies. So far no such luck.

  Every female in this place pauses to give their full attention to the two hotties that just graced us with their presence.

  The man next to Shep is a looker, too—dark hair tinged with auburn highlights, dark eyes, a dark smile, and that look in his eyes lets me know he’s filled with naughty intent.

  Shep is in his early thir
ties, and I’m betting the mystery man in the dark suit is somewhere in that age range, too.

  Opal tosses her arms in the air and poor King sails right out of them as he jumps onto a neighboring stool.

  “Jackie!” Opal howls as she latches onto the handsome devil, and he quickly sheds a grin as he embraces her as well.

  “Mother,” he says as he winks over at Tilly and me—and to be honest, it’s a bit unnerving. “I love what you’ve done to the place.” He plucks her off his person as he steps close to the counter, taking both Tilly and me in with a sly smile. “Well, well, what delicious treats do we have here?”

  Before either of us can say a proper hello, all three of the waitresses on the floor materialize before us.

  “Regina Valentine,” says the most notorious vulture in all of Starry Falls as she takes his hand and shakes it without any intention of letting go. Regina is a brunette stunner who used to date Shep, and I use the word date loosely when referencing the state of their late relationship. She used to run this place right up until Opal fired her and hired me. Regina is a bit of a drama mama, and we’re not exactly one another’s biggest fans. “At your service. Anything you need, all night long, I’ll be your personal liaison, Jackie.” She gives a cheeky wink his way and he chuckles.

  Then there’s Thea, the corn fed, auburn-haired, freckle-faced girl with a sunshiny smile for one and all. And lastly, there’s Flo, Starry Falls’ own resident Goth princess, with her harshly dyed black hair and enough eyeliner to rival Opal’s.

  “Ladies.” Opal’s son growls with delight. “Please—call me Jackson. I’m afraid I’m unable to make my mother do the same. I’ll forever be a child in her eyes.”

  Opal gives his cheek a squeeze to prove his point.

  “Would you look at this face?” she coos as if she were speaking to one of her cats. “Could you blame me for wanting to kiss those loveable cheeks?”