Meow for Murder Mysteries Boxed Set

by Addison Moore

  Regina moans, “No, I couldn’t.”

  “Shep.” I offer him a flirtatious smile. “Nice to see you this afternoon. Will we see you at the masquerade ball tonight?”

  Jackson slaps him on the shoulder. “Are you kidding? I’m not letting my favorite author miss it. And don’t any of you worry. I’ve got a surplus of masks. No one will go without.” He leans in and adds a bit of extra drama to that last word.

  Shep’s cheek rises on one side. He’s the strong, serious type who is more than a little rough around the edges. Along with being a best-selling author, he used to work as a homicide detective at the Woodley County Sheriff’s Department, and just last week he informed me that he was going part-time with the force, more of a consulting position than anything else.

  Shep is the only one who knows about my real identity and that whole money laundering mess that landed me on a runaway train to Starry Falls to begin with.

  And speaking of secrets, only Tilly and Opal know about my ability to peer into the future. As much as I feel bad for not spilling it all to the three of them, I still go by that old adage—what they don’t know won’t hurt them. And if anyone else finds out I’m not really Bowie Binx, it might just come back to bite me.

  A whole new crop of customers walks into the café, and Thea and Flor are off to the races.

  Regina steps in close to Jackson and glides her finger down his mint green tie.

  “Save a dance for me, later, would you, Jackie?” She walks past Shep and gives him a light scratch over the chest. “You, too, big boy. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you.” She turns my way and shoots me a look that could slice my head off.

  Jackson steps in close, his eyes steadying over mine.

  “I can hardly wait to see the two of you in costume.” He inches closer. “And perhaps without.”

  Opal chortles, pulling her dashing son to the side while mentioning something about a caviar bar.

  Shep tips his head back a notch.

  “Tilly.” He nods her way. “Bowie. I take it you’re both excited about the evening about to unfold.”

  Tilly pushes out a dry laugh. “You bet your baby blue peepers. That is, unless Bowie here has some kooky spooky vision of what’s to come. And if what’s to come is a bona fide murder, I’ll be sure to make a run for Jackson Mortimer’s strong, billionaire arms. Just because his daddy cut Opal off at the wallet doesn’t mean he’s suffered the same disastrous financial fate.”

  “Good to know,” I say it curt as I threaten her with my crazy-eyed stare. How could she all but out me that way? She knows that I don’t want Shep in on my supernatural secret, and here she’s all but spelled it out for him.

  Tilly squints before her eyes grow large. Her hand claps over her mouth as she comes to the realization of what she’s just done.

  “I meant—what a great vision you have for the manor, Bowie.” She shrugs over at me. “In fact, I’ll go make sure everything is coming along in the kitchen. I’d hate for the canapés not to canappen.” She blows me an apologetic kiss.

  I’m about to let some smart-aleck remark fly just as that old, familiar, warm, fuzzy feeling grips me, and I fall into a slightly vegetative state.

  A picture begins to form in my mind. It’s the ballroom in the back of the manor. Elegantly dressed women swirl in the background and I can see Tilly’s skunky highlights to my right as Jackson leans in hard. The scene grows fuzzy as if it were going in and out of focus.

  “Meet me in the library, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I’ve got something special to show you that I think you’ll really appreciate.”

  Tilly giggles like a schoolgirl, and soon the café comes back into focus and Shep is staring sternly into my eyes.

  “Bowie, are you okay?” He steps around the counter and pulls me over to him and I blush as his hand warms my back.

  “Oh yeah, I’m fine.” I try to shake the remnants of that supernatural trance away. “I just—I guess I was daydreaming about the ball.” I bite down a smile over my lip. “How about it, big boy?” I tease. “Save a dance for me?”

  He leans back. A devilish grin struggles to break out on his face, but he’s successful in taming it.

  “Maybe.” He nods my way. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Shep Wexler is tough, and ornery, and has a history with half the women in the state of Vermont. He’s the exact type of man I swore off after ditching my louse of an ex.

  And ironically, he’s the one my heart is pining for most.

  I lean over and give King a scratch on his fuzzy little head.

  “I guess you can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” I whisper as I look up to see Jackson licking his chops as he looks my way. I quickly glance to my left to avoid his gaze, only to spot Shep glaring at Jackson for drooling in my direction.

  Well, well. It looks as if I’ve found a kink in Shepherd Wexler’s armor.

  Shep looks as if he’s ready and willing to break Jackson’s legs for openly lusting after me.

  Is that a spark of jealousy I see?

  Now there is something I can work with.

  I shed a toothy smile in Jackson’s direction before walking boldly past Shep as I head into the dining room.

  I have a feeling tonight’s masquerade will be one to remember.

  Chapter 2

  The Mortimer ballroom is decked out like a bejeweled queen on this hot and humid night at the tail end of August.

  The typically dank and empty halls are bustling with people. Men in dark suits with masks covering their eyes, their hair slicked back, and their cologne thick and spiced. But the women are the sparkling stars of the evening in their jewel-tone dresses that look as if they were ripped from another era entirely, each one made from heavy velour or thick braided jacquard fabric. The masks that the women have donned are far more intricate than those the men are wearing—we’re talking elaborate feathered numbers, sequins with glittering beads.

  It’s late August and September is nipping on its heels, and it seems as if all of Vermont’s upper crust has descended on the manor. The cats have successfully hidden themselves in and out of the halls. Stuffed in every nook and cranny you’ll see nothing but glowing eyes peering out from the darkness. A part of me wishes I could do the same as Tilly and I enter the grand ballroom with its dim mood lighting and the enchanted classical music bleating through the speakers.

  Tilly and I just did a quick change into our costumes, a long crimson empire style velvet dress for me and a matching one in gold for her.

  She butts her shoulder to mine. “So you really think I’m going to get lucky with the king of the ball?”

  “I can’t be sure.” I spilled every last juicy detail about that vision I had back in the café. “I may not always get things right when trying to figure out what those future ramblings are trying to tell me, but I know a come-on when I hear it. And judging by that giggle in your voice, you were more than up for whatever he’s about to dole out.”

  “Oh yes, I am, missy.” She adjusts her bosom until it’s heaving from her dress. “I can’t believe Opal shoved us in these circus tents. I’ve never worn anything so unflattering. It’s against my religion.”

  “And seeing that your religion is flaunting your body, I’d say you were right.” I glance down at my own unusual frock. “I look as if I’m seven months pregnant.”

  “I bet you wish that baby was Shep’s.” She gives a cheeky wink, and that glitter she’s slathered over her eyelids nearly blinds me.

  “Yes, well, I doubt it will be. No matter how much I throw out the signals, he seems to be ducking and evading them all. I thought you said he was a playboy?”

  “He is. Or at least he was. He had a nasty breakup with his fiancée, that homicide detective he worked with.”

  I know just the one. Detective Nora Grimsley. She’s a skeletal brunette who has clearly never had an Italian nana who could make a mean cannoli. Nora is a decent person, for the most part, but I’m not interested in being her bes
tie since she’s all but accused me of murder exactly twice. And considering I’ve only been in town for two months, that’s a staggering statistic.

  Tilly sighs. “And then he was with Regina. That girl wore him out in an entirely different way.”

  “Okay, okay. I get it. He’s into other women. I just don’t happen to be one of them.”

  “Ahh,” Tilly moans as she gives my face a squeeze with her fingers. “Don’t you worry, Bowie Binx. This room is festering with handsome billionaires. If we play our financial cards right, we’ll both get lucky.”

  A woman strides up wearing a long black metallic dress with such a wide girth she’s imparted a mandatory social distancing of a four-foot circumference in any direction. She pulls away the silver mask covering her face to reveal herself as the grand dame of the evening, Opal Mortimer herself.

  Tilly bucks with a laugh. “You clean up nice, Opal.”

  “Please,” I say. “You shine every day, woman. Great party. We should do this more often and charge a cover.”

  She shoots her fingers my way. “I like the way you think, Bowie Binx. Now scat you two and get to work. Thea and Flo are already passing out the canapés. Regina has stationed herself at the caviar table. And Mud is manning the bar all by his lonesome. I’ll be on the dance floor. Wish me luck.” She lands the mask over her face once again and moves out into the crowd.

  I crane my neck in the direction of the bar and see Mud’s dirty blond hair spiked like a cactus. Mud is a thirty-something bachelor who helps with the general maintenance around the manor, and apparently he’s quite the bartender, too.

  “I’ll work the bar with Mud,” I volunteer. “You go ahead and have a good time.”

  Before Tilly can accept my tempting offer, a masked man in a dark suit and a wicked grin strides over.

  “Most beautiful ladies.” He nods and lifts his mask just enough to reveal what I already suspected—Jackson Mortimer’s wooing of Tilly has already begun. “I’m afraid I’ll have to escort you to the door myself if you don’t don one of these. “He hands a hot pink sequin mask in the shape of a heart to Tilly, and a navy velvet mask to me with what looks to be a spray of diamonds embedded around the eyes. And with this ritzy crowd, these sparklers might just be the real deal.

  “Thank you,” I say as I quickly put on the snazzy velvet number. A part of me hopes he won’t come around collecting these beauties at the end of the night. Not only is this thing drop-dead gorgeous, but I’m betting there’s a pawn shop in Scooter Springs that will be hungry to give me a good chunk of cash for it.

  Tilly titters as if he just whispered a naughty sweet nothing into her ear. She pulls on the mask and blows him a kiss.

  “Don’t you forget who I am underneath this,” she purrs as she paws at his tie. “And if you do, I’ve got ways of making you remember.” Something catches her eye toward the entrance and she gasps. “Jessie Lynn Teasdale.” She takes off toward a group of underdressed teens that seem to have infiltrated the elegant soirée.

  Jackson steps in close, caressing my cheek with the back of his hand.

  “Alone at last.” The words growl from him in a seductive manner just as another masked man steps between us, effectively making Jackson stumble a bit.

  “Bowie.” The man before me might be wearing a mask, but I’d recognize those light blue eyes rimmed in navy, that wayward grin itching at his lips, and that heady cologne that holds the scent of an entire Vermont forest.

  Jackson chuckles, but he doesn’t look amused, not even with that mask on.

  “If it isn’t the brooding scribe. Glad to see you made it, Shepherd. I was just about to tell Ms. Binx how glowing she looks this evening.”

  Shep gives me the once-over with his eyes, and judging by the way his lips seem to be burying a smile in the side of his cheek, I’d like to think he agrees.

  Shep hardens his gaze over Jackson. “Quite a party. You have a lot of friends. You do this often?”

  Jackson laughs. “Only once a year. It’s been a long summer for all of us—what with the jet setting, the endless yachting around the Med. There’s something to be said for coming home and spending time with loved ones.”

  A trio of women with heavily jeweled necklines attack him all at once, and it’s a giggle storm of limbs all vying for his attention.

  “Ladies.” Jackson laughs at the estrogen attack while Shep and I exchange a glance.

  The girls whip off their masks, and the brunette on the left has something extra about her that has both Shep and me taking a quick breath.

  She’s tall, good cheekbones, and pouty pink lips that look as if they’ve been augmented one too many times, but it’s that fuzzy caterpillar crawling just above her eyes that leaves us stunned. It’s a unibrow for all practical purposes, but my God… I lean in. I think it’s braided.

  Jackson waves a hand her way. “Bowie, Shepherd, I’d love to introduce to you my friends. This is Madeline Swanson, my former fiancée.”

  The unibrow belts out a cackle that would make any witch proud. Her gown is blush pink with rhinestones trimming her neckline and, I’ll admit, it’s breathtaking to look at.

  “Do tell, Jackson.” She smacks him over the face with her jewel-encrusted mask. “I broke his heart for sport.” She leans my way. “It served him right for what he’s done to countless women. Someone had to take one for the team. Of course, that was ages ago.”

  The two women to our right giggle at the sentiment that I’m not even sure made sense.

  The woman with a cascade of blonde ringlets fans herself with a peacock mask. There’s something unnerving about that orange glow emanating from her skin. It’s less St. Tropez and more bad DIY spray tan. I should know. I’ve Oompa Loompaed myself on an occasion or two.

  “That’s our Maddie, always suffering to help a friend out.” She snarls her way as if there was a darker meaning to those words. She looks to Shep and licks her lips. “Kiera Hillerman.” She shakes Shep’s hand and pulls it close to her midsection. “I just love your books. I’ve got a few plotlines milling around my mind myself that I’d love to run by you.”

  “Interesting.” He nods her way. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  He’ll keep that in mind?

  I shoot him the stink eye for even considering it.

  The bubbly redhead gives a little wave. “Sophia Hathaway.” Her lavender dress looks as if it’s made of the richest brocade and her mask is comprised of tiny gold beads.

  “Nice to meet you all,” I say.

  “Indeed.” Shep nods, and the three females before us sigh in unison.

  Great. Another round of ovaries all waiting for a chance to steal Shep’s attention. Why do I feel as if I’ve just been shoved to the back of the line?

  “So what do you ladies do?” I ask and they each exchange a quizzical look. And then it hits me. These are true-blue socialites. Their day job is commissioning designers to whip up a gown for their next fancy soirée—and apparently braiding unibrows. I’d add painting their skin a shocking shade of orange, but I’m not sure that was an intentional horror.

  Sophia, the redhead with tiny pixie-like features, broadens a smile.

  “I run all the social media for Jackson’s empire.” She cuts a curt glance to Madeline the queen of the unibrow. “Maddie is an assistant to my father.”

  Madeline quickly waves it off. “I’m no one’s assistant. I simply volunteered to aid in Wallace Hathaway’s philanthropic efforts.” She nods to Shep. “Hospital fundraisers, art galleries, things of that nature. I’d love to work with you. Perhaps we could arrange a private meeting to discuss a venture with your books? I’m sure I could make it work for both of us.”

  My blood boils in an instant. I’m about ten seconds away from elbowing all three of them in an effort to keep them away. A girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do to protect her personal space and perhaps her imaginary man. I can’t help it. I’ve been born and bred to protect what’s mine—both real and imagined.
r />   Shep bows graciously toward Madeline. “I will consider that very kind offer.”

  Very kind offer?

  I’ve got something very kind to show him. The working end of my fist.

  Kiera, the woman with the impossibly tight gold ringlets, adjusts her pewter gown, still fanning herself with that peacock feathered mask.

  She glares over at Madeline as if she just let an egregious offense fly and suddenly I like Kiera best.

  “Yes,” Kiera growls at Madeline. “You’re quite philanthropic—with the men.” Both she and Sophia giggle it up at the woman with the unibrow. “Word to the wise, Bowie. I’d keep a leash on your boyfriend if I were you. Piranhas aren’t very discerning whose relationship they tear apart.” She tips her chin with a sense of pride at the dig. “I’ll go order us all a round of drinks. I think we need it.” She takes off abruptly in the direction of the bar just as Sophia offers us a meager smile.

  “Some people just can’t control their temper.” She shrugs to Madeline. “Steer clear of her tonight, would you?” She stalks off to the bar as well.

  But Madeline doesn’t seem to be fazed by the entire ordeal. Something near the entry catches her gaze and she quickly excuses herself.

  I watch as a man with a white feathered mask catches her by the elbow, and when he turns, I note the fact he has a slight bald spot near the top of his head.

  They seem to exchange a few heated words before she breaks free from his grip and takes off toward the door where a man in a red suit pulls her in close before the crowd closes over them like a tomb.

  Jackson’s jaw tightens as he cranes his neck in the direction Madeline took off in.

  He reverts his attention my way with a tight smile.

  “Bowie, do keep your dance card open. I look forward to getting to know you much, much better this evening.” He nods as he stalks off toward the bar.

  A small giggle works its way up my throat.

  Shep's brows rise over his mask, but judging by that stony-faced look, he’s not nearly as amused as I am.