Meow for Murder Mysteries Boxed Set

by Addison Moore

  One thing is for sure, our home always smelled like an aromatic Italian paradise on days the sauce was simmering. And it just so happens the heavenly scent trailing from the kitchen behind me brings back those wonderful memories.

  Tilly comes my way with an empty coffee carafe as I stand staunchly behind the register.

  “Smells like Nick’s Pizzeria.” She sniffs the air. “You’re not making a pizza, are you? I’m getting hungry for a large pepperoni with olives.”

  Regina steps up. “It smells like a hostage situation brewing with my senses. You do realize nobody in Starry Falls wants a side of garlic with their pancakes. Hold off until noon next time.”

  “I can’t hold off until noon,” I say. “Everyone knows a good lasagna takes hours to perfect. I’ll be lucky if I’ve got a lasagna to serve at noon.”

  Regina rolls her eyes. “Next time make a so-so lasagna. And by the way, the jury is still out if this one will be any good.”

  “It will,” I assure her.

  I hope.

  Tilly scoots in close. “Do you really think there’s another killer on the loose?” she asks as she reworks her blouse and ties it beneath her bellybutton, forcing two of her best assets front and center.

  “Yes, Tilly,” Regina answers for me. “And spoiler alert? She’s the killer.”

  “Bowie?” Tilly giggles my way before her expression falls flat. “You’re not really the killer, are you? No, wait, don’t tell me. If you’re about to kill me, I want it to be a surprise. Can you somehow work Jackson Mortimer into that killer scenario?”

  “I’ll do my best,” I say, shooting Regina a look.

  Regina snorts. “Please, Tilly. Jackson Mortimer is easier to land than a Frisbee.” She grins like the cat who ate the Mortimer canary, and both Tilly and I groan.

  I lift a brow to Tilly. “At least we know who he was playing Frisbee with last night.”

  Tilly grunts my way. “It’s all my fault. I should never have gotten comfortable with that vision you sold me. I let my game slip. And now look what’s happened. I’m altering my uniform in hopes of landing Regina Valentine’s leftovers.”

  Regina leans in, her eyes squinted and beady as she examines us both.

  “Wait a minute.” She turns her ear toward Tilly. “You said she sold you on a vision? What in the name of black magic is going on here?” She jabs a finger in my direction. “Are you reading cards? Do you have some crystal ball tucked in the office? Is that what’s happening here? Did you cast a spell on Shepherd Wexler? Because nothing else can explain his sudden urge to rebuff every offer I toss his way.”

  “I’m no witch.” I dip my chin. “Maybe Shep just doesn’t feel like playing Frisbee with you. Maybe he’s tossed his Frisbee in another direction.” Okay, so it’s not mine. But there’s no harm in her thinking it is. Regina has been nothing but snippy, rude, and darn right wicked to me ever since I set foot in Starry Falls.

  Hey? Maybe she’s the witch?

  The door whooshes open and a cool breeze snakes into the café. Summer is quickly giving way to fall in these parts, and I’ll be the first to sing hallelujah. I’m not a big fan of triple digits and ninety percent humidity. I’d rather curl up by the fire with a nice cup of cider, a book, and my new sweet cat, Pixie.

  Pixie is actually an accidental acquisition. She wandered from Opal’s cat farm here at the manor, and Shep just so happened to feed her—the rest is cat-napping history.

  “Well, well.” Tilly wraps an arm around my shoulders. “If it isn’t Sexy Wexy,” she purrs as Shep pops up and surveys the overcrowded landscape.

  He’s donned a suit, a silver tie that offsets his eyes, and his dark hair is slicked back, still dewy from the shower. His heady cologne has already made its first arrest of the day—me and my good senses—and suddenly it doesn’t seem fair that Shep isn’t interested in playing a game of Frisbee with me.

  “I see business is brisk.” He sheds a brief smile our way. “Opal must be happy.”

  Tilly leans his way. “Opal is sleeping off a hangover.”

  Regina scoffs. “Ten bucks says she’s dead and this one did it.” She hitches her thumb my way as Shep takes a seat right here at the bar. “Did you know she’s a witch?”

  Shep’s eyes widen my way a moment before he nods to Tilly and me.

  “Morning, ladies.” He frowns at Regina. “No name calling.”

  “I’m not kidding.” Regina continues her baseless campaign against me.

  Okay, so it may not be that baseless, but it doesn’t make it true either.

  Regina plops down in the seat next to Shep. “Did you know she gave Tilly a vision that she would land on her back in the carnal sense with Jackson Mortimer?”

  I suck in a quick breath.

  “A vision board,” I blurt it out so loud, half the room looks my way. “I gave Tilly a vision board.”

  Tilly snarls my way. “A lousy one at that. It turns out, Jackson was interested in landing Bowie here on her back, but he had to settle for Regina instead.”

  My lips invert to keep from laughing.

  “What?” Shep’s jaw tenses as he studies me a moment, and a part of me is afraid he’ll see right through me and straight into my otherworldly abilities.

  It’s not that I don’t trust Shep with my inadvertent supernatural talent—although, some might contest the use of the word talent, and by some I mean me. I just don’t think he’s the type of person who would respond well to the idea. I’m not sure why I was so quick to share it with Opal and Tilly when I arrived in Starry Falls, but in a way I’m glad I did. It gave me a sense of kinship with them, and after unmooring myself from everything and everyone I knew, I think I needed it.

  When I was of age—seven to be exact—Nana Rose explained to me that the strange ability we shared was something she called transmundane. Apparently, there are many supernatural talents that fall under the umbrella of transmundane, such as reading minds, seeing the dead, and other cool and slightly off-putting things that I don’t even want to think about. Nana Rose and I happen to fall under the umbrella of something called sibylline—meaning we can catch a sneak peek of what’s to come.

  “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—Tilly, 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 Ma
in 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.