How to Fetch a Felon

by Cat Clayton

  I scowled at the Glock. “I hate you, stupid gun.”

  A gun took away Mama’s life, and now, she’s gone forever. I reached up and slid the locket back and forth, back and forth. The zipper sound it created gliding along the chain soothed me.

  I heard Mama’s voice in the back of my mind.

  A gun didn’t take me away, sweetheart. An angry man did. I understand your reluctance. But, for your own safety and the safety of those around you, like my upcoming namesake, you must conquer this fear.

  I wiped my cheeks dry. Her voice was so close, she was so close. I felt her. “I don’t want to use it, because I’m angry and sad, and I don’t want it to upset you if I pick it back up.”

  That will never happen. Nothing you do upsets me. Ever.

  “Never?”

  Never. Now, pick it up. Put it in the case. You go with the rest of them and learn to protect yourself and those you love. And, give Randall a kiss for me, on the tip of his nose, like I used to do.

  “Okay, Mama.” I picked up the pistol, my hands trembling. I set it on the bed and retrieved my gun case from the closet. I packed my pistol in its case, placed the case inside the canvas bag, and zipped it shut.

  “I love you, Mama.”

  Right back at you, Steels.

  I turned to head downstairs and bumped into Jackson. “How long have you been there?”

  “Not but a second or two. I know you said to stay in the car, but with your ankle, I wanted to check on you.” He held his hand out. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded, taking his hand. “I’m better than all right. I’m perfect. And I’m in love with the most wonderful man on the planet.” I tugged his face to mine, kissed him, and let him lead me down the stairs.

  Before I climbed in the Jeep, I asked Pop to roll his window down, and when he did, I leaned in and pecked a kiss on the tip of his nose. “That’s from Mama.”

  I left him speechless with a smile.

  AT THE SHOOTING RANGE, Mr. Barton, the range master, greeted us before we went to set up our booths.

  “It’s good to see all of you here, together,” he said, motioning to the empty range. “Y’all folks have the place to your own this afternoon. Enjoy.”

  Even though I’d made amends with my pistol back at the apartment, it still felt awkward in my hands. I turned it over, studying every piece, trying to recall the names. Barrel. Slide release. Sight. Trigger. Magazine release. Grip. After I reacquainted myself with the gun, I loaded the 9MM bullets into the unloaded magazine. I had four total, the other three already filled. I loaded the first magazine, set the safety, and placed the pistol on the counter. I located my safety glasses and ear protectors in my supply bag.

  Jackson poked his head in my stall. “What’s up, buttercup?”

  “Just trying to make friends with this thing again.” I eyed my target set up at ten feet.

  “Do you want help?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No, I think I can do it.”

  He reached around and gave me a one-armed hug. “I know you can. Call me if you need me.”

  I’ve got this, I thought as I watched him slip into his own booth. I slid the ear protectors on my head and adjusted the sizing and put on my pink-tinted eye protectors. I took my shooting stance, picked up my pistol, and flipped the safety off. I leaned in, pushing my arms forward, took aim, and pulled the trigger. I emptied the magazine, dropped it, and loaded the next one. Not bad, I thought, studying the target. I heard the others firing but maintained my focus. A sense of accomplishment washed over me as I emptied the magazines, one by one. I dropped the last magazine and placed my pistol down on the counter. My pistol. I hadn’t thought of it that way in some time. Enjoying the repetition of reloading the bullets into each magazine, I savored the moment of conquering my fears like a boss.

  I glanced through the plexiglass stalls until my eyes found Jackson’s. I smiled, and he shot me a thumbs up. The words well done popped into my head, and I couldn’t help but hear it in Mama’s championing voice.

  Wanting to end the afternoon on a positive note, I packed up and limped over to chat with Pop and Mr. Barton in the soundproof room. I took one of the empty chairs at the round table and set my gun case down. I propped my injured foot up on an empty chair.

  “You did great out there, Steels. How do you feel?” Pop’s blue eyes twinkled. Proud papa bear moment.

  Through the window, I glanced over at my tattered target. “Like a rock star.”

  Mr. Barton and Pop laughed.

  “Steely, with some practice, you’ll soon put most of my customers to shame,” Mr. Barton said, nodding his head. “There’s a tri-county shooting competition coming up in April. I’d wager you have a clear shot at coming out on top. You should think about entering. It’d be nice to have a woman win this year, especially one practicing out of my range. I’d be honored to sponsor you.”

  I smiled to myself as I watched Gertie taking aim. “I appreciate your support. I’ll give it some consideration, Mr. Barton.”

  “Hey, Ricky, I thought I would be your expert winning shooter,” Pop said in a teasing tone.

  Mr. Barton picked up his coffee mug and snorted. “And miss the opportunity to have Steely show everyone up, no way.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll enter the contest, Mr. Barton!”

  Pop squeezed my shoulder. “That’s my girl.”

  Sitting there, overwhelming gratitude flooded through me. A short time ago, I’d made the first steps forward dealing with my feelings toward the tragic loss of Mama, Stoney was home safe, and the monster who’d held her hostage was behind bars. Maybe our lives could resume some sort of normalcy.

  I watched Jackson step into Gertie’s stall and give her some pointers on her stance and grip. He towered over her as she nodded, mimicking his moves. It was ironic how she’d listen to him without a fight. If it’d been me in there trying to help, she’d pitch a fit and call me a know-it-all.

  Mr. Barton broke the moment of silence. “I’m telling ya, Chief Becker won the grand prize when that boy found his way into town.” He nodded his head toward Jackson in approval.

  Pop nodded. “My thoughts exactly. Anyone who can wrangle my bull-headed mother into complying is a winner in my book.” Pop reached over and patted my hand. “Not to mention, the positive impact he’s had on this little pistol.”

  I recoiled. “Hey, I resent that statement!”

  He and Mr. Barton chuckled.

  But Pop was dead-on right. Jackson did me good. In the six months I’d known him, my world had changed for the better. I’d changed for the better. He challenged me at every turn. And I know for a fact, I challenged him. I’d like to believe we complimented each other.

  Jackson backed out of Gertie’s stall, and she took her stance, aiming at the target in front of her. He turned toward me, winking, and shot me a dimpled grin.

  My heart skipped a beat, and I smiled back. I realized at that precise moment, I couldn’t imagine my life without him.

  Furthermore, I didn’t want a life without him.

  The End

  Readers are Catastic!

  THANK YOU FOR READING! If you enjoyed How to Fetch a Felon, I would xoLOVExo an honest review. Did you know reviews help new readers discover books they may like? It’s true! And it only takes a few seconds to jot down a few things you appreciated. It doesn’t have to be a full book report. ☺ Thank you in advance! Find more ways to connect with me in the About Cat Clayton section.

  2019 & 2020 will be BIG years for Cat Clayton Mysteries! We are busy producing the audiobooks for How to Leash a Thief and How to Kennel a Killer. I’m also in the process of writing a new mystery series and plan on releasing the first book in May/June of 2020! I will post details about the audiobooks and the new series on my website www.catclayton.com.

  *Side note: Originally, How to Leash a Thief (book 1), was written as a standalone novel. But all the beta reader feedback I received demanded it to become a series. It captured all the
qualities of a 1st book in a series. It made sense and I happily gave in to my readers! However, I only planned a 3-book series with each installment containing one mystery, and the series having an overall mystery, wrapping it up in book 3. I accomplished my mission. Technically, the series could end with this book. Mysteries are solved. We discovered the truth of Stoney’s disappearance (overall series mystery), we can assume Steely and Jackson will live blissfully ever after, and everyone’s happy. Except Mrs. Peacock. Does a person like her ever find satisfaction? Once again, I succumbed to readers’ requests. I’m thrilled to announce a 4th book in the Steely & Cuff mysteries, will release in the fall of 2020. The study title is How to Muzzle a Mobster, but subject to change. I also have the 1st book in a new sparkly series coming out in the spring of 2020!

  Acknowledgments

  I THOUGHT BY MY THIRD book, I’d be a pro at this novel writing thing. I thought I’d be able to write, edit, polish, and publish a book all by myself. I was wrong. Without the assistance of my Nine Lives Tribe—my people who shake their pom-poms when I’ve accomplished a task, nudge me when I’m down, meet me for wine or coffee to chat, read for me, assist me with book signings, give me honest feedback and reviews, and basically think I’m a celebrity—Cat Clayton Mysteries wouldn’t be worth a flip. You ALL know who you are! Some beta read, several proofread, and many do all the above. I adore every single one of y’all! Again, I’d like to thank my law-enforcement husband for having patience with my Dory complex (Finding Nemo) when it comes to gun knowledge. Every single time I write a gun scene, he has to reinstruct me on the how-to process. Jessica & Ashley, my beautiful flying sparrows, I love, love, love how y’all have spread those wings and taken flight. You both are such an inspiration to me! Thank you to Brenham PFLAG, an LGBTQ+ support group, for listening to the challenging scene at Little Bob’s Brewery. Your feedback and suggestions to improve Steely’s reaction to a few horses’ patooties was invaluable, xoxoxo! To my daughter Jessica, an EMT with the Washington County Emergency Medical Service, thank you for your expertise when writing Steely’s sprained ankle scenes. To Dawn Husted, my new & skillful editor, your developmental edit which morphed into a content / line copy edit was exactly what this book needed. Bobbye Marrs, my dear cover maven, the way you have embodied the essence of the Steely & Cuff mysteries on these covers amazes me every time I look at them. I bow to you! Thank you to my readers and book signing attendees, my gratitude to y’all is to infinity and beyond. And to Puppy Dawgs & Cat Tails in Brenham, thank you for your constant support, excitement, and for hosting How to Fetch a Felon’s book launch party. Let’s celebrate!

  About Cat Clayton

  WRITING SOUTHERN MURDER mysteries from somewhere in Texas, I love putting my amateur sleuths into precarious situations, forcing them to stumble upon dead bodies, and helping them solve the whodunits. *Think a mash-up of Legally Blonde & Murder, She Wrote. I write best with gallons of coffee, Goldfish, Raisinettes, and dill pickles (although usually not all at once).

  I confess; I’m Dory from Finding Nemo when it comes to handling guns. Thankfully, I’m married to a hunky police officer who patiently teaches me again and again when I write gun scenes. Our two beautiful sparrows have left the nest, and we’re relishing the empty nest life.

  Aside from writing mysteries, I’m an artist, a thrift store junky, and a furmama to a rescue Chihuahua mix (my very own “Cuff”), a neurotic German Shepherd, and two rescue kitties.

  I love to connect with my readers! Check out my website where I post updates about future releases, news, and I randomly write a blog called The Purr Page. You can also find me on Facebook and Instagram as catclaytonmysteries. Feel free to write me an email at: catclaytonmysteries@gmail.com.