Meow for Murder Mysteries Boxed Set

by Addison Moore

  In truth, the origin of every bad relationship I’ve ever been in can be traced back to this pumpkin spiced season.

  Some say spring is king when it comes to falling in love, but for me the flames of passion have always been stoked under the duress of a harvest moon.

  There’s just something about jumping into the fall foliage, apple picking, getting lost in a pumpkin patch, going for a hayride, and making a scarecrow that screams romance.

  Not that any of my exes and I ever did any of those things, but maybe if we had we would have sizzled more than we fizzled.

  A redhead strides by with her chin tucked into a mustard yellow scarf and an orange pea coat wrapped tightly around her torso.

  “Sophia!” I call out as I run to catch up with her.

  “Chloe?” She backs up a notch as I inadvertently land us in a line for fresh dipped caramel apples.

  “Bowie.” I shrug. “Fancy meeting you here. Are you here with your boyfriend? There’s nothing like a caramel apple that screams true love.”

  She belts out a laugh. “No. Parker isn’t into this kind of thing.” Her expression sours. “Jackson is. But he found someone to hit the hay with, so I was about to head home.”

  “Well, you might as well take an ooey gooey apple with you. We’re about five minutes from caramel dipped heaven,” I say as a couple of teenagers walk past us with everything but the kitchen sink adhered to their sticky apples.

  “Fine. But I’m on the one bite diet when it comes to dessert.”

  “But what a bite it will be,” I say as I inspect her a moment.

  The lights up above wash her complexion white as snow and her red lipstick takes center stage. Her clothes look as if they were ripped off the runways of Milan, and there’s an overall expressive look about her. Even her warm scented perfume holds an exotic appeal that you can bet your britches cost a diamond or two.

  “I get it,” I say. “The diet thing. Last year, I went on the all-beef diet. My boyfriend loved it. We had steaks for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

  True as grass-fed gospel. But it only lasted a week and a half. You can’t manage a donut shop and not eat your way through the inventory.

  The donuts not only crashed my diet, but they spelled out my doom in other ways, too. It was there Johnny and I thought it best to help ourselves to the money we were helping the Morettis launder. But you know what they say, nothing goes better with a felony than carbs.

  Fine. They don’t say that, but they should.

  Sophia blinks my way. “Is that the moos and booze diet?” She marvels. “I was thinking of trying that next.”

  “That’s the one. I inhaled the moos while my boyfriend inhaled the booze. He cheated on both the diet and me by having a few dozen women for dessert. He was pretty much a louse. I would’ve loved to have dipped his head in hot caramel and rolled it in marshmallows—or a spike strip.”

  She lets a sharp laugh fly. “I know exactly what you mean.” She straightens as if catching herself. “Not with Parker, of course.”

  “Of course.” Why the lie? Why not toss him under the cheating bus? And here I thought we were bonding over our skeezy exes.

  She studies me a moment. “I mean, we didn’t have a conventional relationship. We were sort of feeling things out with other people.”

  Now there’s something that might actually make sense.

  Her eyes coast down my arm and pause at the truckload of diamonds strung together on my wrist.

  “Now that’s a sparkler,” she muses with approval. “I can spot the real deal from a mile away. I used to wear one, too, until it went out of vogue. But I’m sure your darlings were mined responsibly.”

  “Oh, right.” I gasp and sputter as I bring the bracelet close to my chest. “Harmless harvest, ethically plucked from the earth until a dollar hollers and all that good stuff.” Something Lucas said yesterday comes to mind. “It was the last gift my father gave me before I was cut off.” I roll my eyes as if I meant it. “You know, that whole billionaire pact that demands the children of the rich and infamous spend the rest of their days working in a no-name diner so that their parents can feel good about themselves?”

  Her crimson lips fall open. “You too?” She gasps. “Of course! Why else would you be friends with Jackson and Opal?” She shakes her head as if her entire life, and mine, were suddenly coming into focus. “It’s deplorable, really. That entire billionaire pact is ridiculous. I mean, we didn’t ask to be born with a silver spoon in our mouths. Nobody asked anyone to bathe us in hundred dollar bills for twenty-five years and then pull the plug. It’s as if we’re a part of some cruel social experiment at the hands of our parents.”

  “Oh, I get it.” That entire social experiment at the hands of our parents thing rings true when your father is in the mob, too. And once my daddy was hauled off to prison, the gilded ride was over. It was frozen pizza and clipping coupons from there on out. And that reversal of fortune was a deciding factor in why I decided to siphon a few bucks off the top of the mob’s already siphoned off the top take. “But like it or not, our parents’ lifestyles influenced us in more ways than one. I mean, look at you, you’re running the Hathaway Foundation now and following in your father’s footsteps.”

  I guess you could say I was following in my father’s footsteps when I inadvertently became a felon.

  She shrugs. “My father has never enjoyed the business end of wealth building. He retired early. And the only reason he’s a philanthropist is because he just so happens to be a little too good at making money. The more he gives away to charitable foundations, the bigger the tax deduction.” She gives a scrutinizing look my way as she takes a step in. “Just before Maddie was killed, the Hathaway Foundation donated five hundred thousand dollars to Goober, Inc.”

  “Kiera’s company?” I inch back. “That’s a half a million dollars. Why on earth?”

  She takes a deep breath as a smile curls on her lips.

  “That’s exactly what I’d like to know. Funny thing is, I asked my father about it and he didn’t seem to know what that was about.” She shrugs as we step up, next in line. “He didn’t seem to care either.”

  We order our apples, dripping with caramel and rolled in mini chocolate chips for me, rolled in sesame seeds for Sophia—to each his own, and we say a quick goodnight before she takes off into the crowd.

  Without my permission, my feet land me back under that tent which houses more local authors than you can shake a caramel apple at.

  At the moment it’s devoid of stampeding women, and just about every author here has packed up their belongings for the night. It looks as if the literary show is over.

  I head toward Shep’s table and find Regina sitting dazed with her hair mussed. Shep’s tie is askew and he looks as if he’s had a hard night out in Scooter Springs while visiting every single bar.

  “Ha!” I squawk. “My vis—” I stop short of saying the V word. “My word.” I can’t help but bounce on my heels with glee. I guess I won’t be finding Regina and Shep in a compromising position like I thought I would. I’ve never been so happy to be so wrong. “So how’d the signing go? Did you sell out?”

  Regina grunts. “There was a fistfight, a mugging, and some salty name calling.”

  Shep looks her way. “And that was just you.”

  A laugh bubbles from me. “Don’t make me sorry I missed it.” I hold out my apple for them to admire. “There are some good eats out there. It’s a real culinary feast. You should hit the booths before it’s all gone.”

  “Count me out.” Regina rises from her seat, inadvertently knocking her chair backwards as she staggers away. “I’ll be coming in late tomorrow,” she says. “I’ve got a thumper of a headache.”

  I look over at Shep. “Ten bucks says someone thumped a book over her head.”

  “If I were in that bet, you’d be ten bucks richer.” He heads over and eyes my apple. “You can count me in on that culinary feast.” He steps in close, and I take in that f
amiliar woodsy cologne of his as he sharpens his eyes over mine. “Are you up for grazing with me?”

  “Only if you’re buying, Detective.”

  His lips twitch with the hint of a smile as we make our way up and down the midway of culinary delights. I tell Shep all about my encounter with Sophia and that shady half a million dollars that made its way to Kiera’s business.

  We indulge in some hot apple cider, hit the hayride, and walk through piles of fall leaves that rim the periphery of the grounds.

  Shep and I pause in front of an enormous maple tree, red with rage, because the couple huddled beneath its branches seems to be averse to pressing their lips together.

  The waterfalls in the background glow a pale shade of blue under the duress of moonlight, and it paints a tragically romantic scene. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive Mother Nature for creating such beauty on a night when Shep is too stubborn to land his pucker over mine.

  “Bowie,” he whispers my name like a secret and my head inches toward his as if it were a bona fide invitation.

  “Shep,” I whisper back with a hint of a nod in the event he was waiting for a green light.

  A smug smile inches up the left side of his cheek.

  “Do you know what we have to do next?” The words slip from him, dark and commanding.

  “What’s that?” My mouth falls open at the prospect of what it might be.

  “I think it’s time we pay my sister a visit over at Financial Premier.”

  Of all the things I could have guessed, visiting his sister wouldn’t have made the short or long list. But then I remember she works at the financial firm that handles Wallace Hathaway’s billions.

  Shep offers me a ride home, and I accept. He walks me to the door and offers a peaceable nod goodnight.

  It’s not the romantic ending to a beautiful evening that it could have been, but on the bright side, he did say we should pay his sister a visit.

  I curl up in bed with Pixie and purr just as loud as she does at the thought of Shep and me making up that royal we.

  Now there’s something I can get behind.

  And it looks as if I have a half a million dollar mystery donation to thank for it.

  Chapter 13

  Financial Premier looks remarkably similar to the library at the manor. But without the cats to offer that homey appeal, it just looks plain stuffy.

  Kelly Wexler sits back in her enormous leather chair with that cat who ate the canary grin on her face as she takes the two of us in.

  Her hair is blonde and brassy with her two-inch roots showing a mixture of brown and gray. She’s got the same baby blues as her brother, but that’s where the resemblance ends. She’s a couple of years younger than him, of a stockier build, and a touch shorter, and judging by that budding grin, my guess is she’s a fun one.

  “So this is a thing, huh?” She points a red glossy fingernail between the two of us. “You go with the one who tied me up and almost shanked me?” she muses his way.

  “I didn’t almost shank you,” I’m quick to correct her. Apparently, she likes to exaggerate, too. “I thought you were attacking him. He does have his fair share of crazed fans.” Geez. Hogtie someone once, and you never live it down.

  She shrugs my way. “I’m not surprised. Shep always did like them spicy.” She shoots a look to her big bro. “Word to the wise, I’d have something to cut yourself loose with if you’re going to keep company with this one. Now what brings the two of you out my way?”

  “We’re not dating,” I clarify. “Shep is just my landlord, and we share a cat.”

  “You share a cat?” She nods his way as that expression on her face lets us know she’s thoroughly amused. “I thought the cabin in the back was your office?”

  My mouth falls open as I look to him. “Is that where the magic happened?”

  Kelly gives a guttural laugh. “Office was code for skank tank. Shep didn’t like the hordes of women he was hauling in night after night to wrinkle his sheets.”

  “Eww.” I swat him on the arm. “And you let me sleep there? I’m going to bleach the place from top to bottom when I get back.”

  Kelly leans my way. “Never do something for a man that he should be doing for himself. It’s his place, after all.”

  I’m liking Kelly more by the moment.

  “Wallace Hathaway.” Shep clears his throat. Judging by the way his brows have formed a hard line over his daring blue eyes, I’m guessing he’s not all that amused with his spicy little sister. “What’s going on with his money?”

  “It’s safe and sound right here in my proverbial arms.” She taps her keyboard with a pen. “Just the way it should be.”

  “Kelly.” I scoot in a notch. “One of the suspects in Madeline Swanson’s murder investigation, Sophia Hathaway, Wallace’s daughter—she let me know that a half a million dollars was gifted to Goober, Inc. She said she asked her father and he didn’t know anything about it. She also mentioned he didn’t seem too concerned either.”

  She lifts a hand. “That’s neither here nor there. He doesn’t have to tell his daughter anything about his financial transactions. Whether or not he knew about the donation is something we may never know.” She narrows her eyes on her brother while pointing my way. “I thought you said she was a waitress?”

  “She is.” Shep gives a long blink. “And she’s also a little too curious for her own good.”

  “Wait a minute.” Kelly squints over at him. “You’re into her, aren’t you?”

  “No.” Shep’s eyes round out for a moment before glaring at his sister for even suggesting something that I wish would happen. “Bowie and I are”—he pauses to glance my way—“just friends. She has an interest in the case and she came to me with the information she just shared. Look, I know you can’t tell us any private information regarding your clients, and I would never ask you to do that.”

  I would ask my siblings in a heartbeat. And if they didn’t give it to me, I’d probably slam their heads against the wall a couple of times.

  Kelly nods my way. “So she’s going to do the dirty work?”

  “You bet that bottom dollar you were about to invest.” I strum my candy pink fingernails against her desk. “All we want to know is the date of the transaction and who authorized it. And”—I wince—“if there are any other dicey financial moves we should be apprised of.”

  She blinks over at Shep. “You know I can’t put my license on the line like that. If the sheriff’s department needs this information, then they’ll have to get a court order to obtain it. Or better yet, ask Wallace to hand it over. If there’s nothing shady going on, I don’t see why he’d have a problem with that.”

  Shep shakes his head. “That’s not happening any time soon. And there’s no way I’m willing to risk your license. But if you happened to look at his file, and you happened to note that a sizable donation to a certain social media mogul’s account within the last few weeks, maybe you could—”

  “Blink twice.” I shrug as I say it and Kelly takes a moment to scowl my way.

  She fiddles with her keyboard while twisting her lips at the enormous screen before her in the exact manner Shep is prone to do when he’s deep in thought.

  “All right.” She looks right at her brother and gives two slow blinks. “Now get out of here and tie one another up or whatever it is you do for fun. I’ve got some money to make.”

  Shep and I hightail it right out into the cool fall air.

  “What do you think?” I ask, pulling him close, and he glances down at the proximity of his chest to mine before shedding the hint of a devilish grin.

  “I think it’s a dead end. I can’t just ask Wallace Hathaway to see if he’s willing to divulge any philanthropic donations his foundation might have made in the last year or so because I have a hunch. Sophia didn’t divulge any of that to me. She divulged it to you. I’ll have to start with her. And if she shares that information with me, I’ll ask Wallace to see his financial records
. It’s not the quickest way to get the answers, but it’s the legal way.”

  “And by that time, the killer could be long gone. I don’t like the legal way.”

  “Because it’s in your blood,” he teases.

  “Is that a dig at my heritage?”

  “It’s a dig at what brought you to Starry Falls to begin with. You can’t make your own rules, Bowie. If anyone has learned that the hard way, it’s you. Leave Madeline Swanson’s murder investigation in my hands. You’ve done enough to help.” His eyes seem to be pleading with me. “There’s a killer out there, Bowie. And they’ve already taken one life. If they find out you’re digging around, you might find yourself next on their list. I don’t want that and neither do you.”

  A smile curls on my lips. “Are you saying you care about what happens to me?”

  Shep sighs at the thought. His eyes steady over mine for a good long while.

  “I’m a member of the force. It’s my job to care about you.”

  “I’m a member of the public. It’s my job to care about those who drop dead at my feet.”

  A heavy sigh expels from him. “You’re not going to stop your investigation, are you? Don’t answer that. If you keep interfering, I’ll have to cuff you.”

  A dark laugh brews in my chest. “I’m the one that does the tying up in this relationship and don’t you forget it.”

  Any trace of a smile fades from his lips as his eyes dance around my features.

  “Bowie.” He leans in a notch and his lips come dangerously close to mine. “Don’t put yourself in any additional danger. It’s not necessary.”

  My shoulders sag at the thought.

  “You’re right,” I whisper as I glance down at that tennis bracelet glittering in the light. “I’m in enough of that to begin with.”

  Shep drives us back to Starry Falls, and all the way there I think about the fact somebody out there knows who I am, where I am, and what I’ve done—and it rattles me to my core.

  A part of me wonders if Madeline Swanson’s killer feels just as rattled.