by Cat Clayton
Cuff, Taffy, and Virgil lounged outside on the back patio.
“Daniel, why don’t you introduce Lucas,” I suggested.
He beamed, taking Lucas’s hand in his. “This is Lucas. He’s from out near Austin. His family raises grass-fed beef cattle and they own a steakhouse. Lucas, this is, well, everyone!”
Lucas had kind, dark chocolate eyes as warm as his smile. “It’s nice to meet y’all.”
Everyone said hello all at once and the welcome chatter erupted.
In the middle of our table talk, Pop scolded Gertie and Mr. Peters when he caught them playing on their phones.
“It’s like y’all are teenagers with your noses glued to the screen when you’re sitting two feet from each other,” Pop said.
“Well, the beef cattle conversation is boring,” Gertie said.
Pop shook his head. Everyone else laughed.
“What would you like to talk about?” Lucas asked her. He was genuine. I liked him.
“I want to talk Pickleball,” Gertie said, nudging me. “Since you owe me a bowling ball, you can buy my Pickleball supplies instead.”
“Pickle what?” Daniel asked.
“Pickleball. It’s what all the cool folks are playing these days,” she said and took a sip of her coffee. “Something like tennis. Except you use a wooden paddle and a ball sort of like a wiffle ball. Now, I think I want a purple paddle. What do you say, Bolivar? Is purple my color?” She waggled her eyebrows at him and winked.
“Purple is definitely your color.” Jackson winked back at her.
“Oh, hot damn, I almost forgot to tell y’all!” Gertie said, slapping a hand down on the table. “I know, I owe you a quarter for the swear, but wait until I tell you about Dolly!”
“Well, spit it out, mother,” Pop said.
“I’m getting there, sheesh don’t rush me!” Gertie replied.
We all laughed.
“Little Bob called me. He got a call from Dolly Parton. She said she’d seen the video of me accidentally burning her waxed version and she’s bringing him another one!”
“Looks like it all worked out then,” Mr. Peters said.
“It gets even better!” Gertie said. “She wants to meet me in person!”
“But you burned waxed Dolly,” Daniel said.
“She burned what?” Lucas asked, his eyes wide.
“Would someone clue him in?” Gertie snapped.
Daniel leaned over and started whispering the story to Lucas.
Gertie couldn’t wait. “So anyway, it seems Dolly never liked the statue. It had her boob to waist proportion all wrong. She has another one she wants to give Little Bob. And she and I will sing a duet at the brewery! She’s a real sweetheart.”
“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle,” Mr. Peters said.
“What song?” Daniel asked.
“She let me pick,” Gertie said with a smug grin. “So, I chose Islands in the Stream. But I told her she has to do the guy part.”
“Of course, you did, mother,” Pop said, shaking his head.
The front doorbell rang, and I jumped. Pop went to answer it.
Jackson leaned over. “You feeling okay?”
I shrugged. “Uneasy, I guess.”
“Well, it’s to be expected,” he said, draping an arm over my shoulder.
I froze when I heard the voice streaming from the front room.
Lloyd Madden followed Pop into the kitchen.
Chapter 29
Stoney lit up like a Christmas tree. She popped out of her chair, wavering like a flagpole near the table.
“Hi,” she said in a shy voice.
“Hi,” Lloyd said, holding onto a leash. Patches stood wagging her tail on the other end.
Thank goodness Patches is safe, I thought.
Pop positioned himself at the counter and folded his arms across his chest, a clear signal he didn’t approve of the visit. In a direct and stern voice, he announced our visitor’s intentions.
“Lloyd has something he’d like to say to everyone.”
Jackson stood up and joined Pop, presenting a united front in case Lloyd flipped out and did something stupid.
Lloyd’s face flushed. “I um... I’d like to offer my most sincere apologies for what happened, to your family, to Petunia. I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me.”
Stoney rushed over to him, took his hand, and offered him a kind smile. “We understand. And we forgive you. Don’t we?” She turned and faced us.
Nobody said a word. Even though Lloyd didn’t kill Petunia himself, he’d been involved with her and cheated on his wife. He’d set things in motion. I refused to count him as innocent in this whole nightmare.
He cleared his throat. “I also wanted to bring Patches over. I thought Stoney might find her a good companion. I’ll have my hands tied for a while, and I’m not sure I’ll even stay in Pleasant Hills.” He turned and beamed a smile at Stoney. “I figure Patches will be much happier with you.”
“Oh, I’d love to keep her. Can I, Pop?” Stoney asked, bending down and loving on Patches. She stroked the dog’s soft fur and pulled her in for a hug.
“I don’t see why not. It could be a new start for both you and Patches,” Pop said. “Now, if you don’t mind, Lloyd, my family is still processing the ordeal. I’ll see you to the door.” Pop pushed away from the counter.
“I’ll walk him out,” Stoney said.
She faced Pop, who looked like he could explode.
I stood and went to Pop’s side. I put my arm through his.
“She’s only walking him outside. She’s not running off with the guy.”
He grumbled under his breath. “Fine.”
Stoney and Lloyd disappeared around the corner. The front door shut. I let Patches out into the backyard with the other pups, and a chaotic bark party erupted.
Patches! You are safe! Cuff’s thought came in loud and clear.
I approached Pop and took his sweating hand in mine. “We’ll deal with this. I promise.”
He let out a sigh. “She’s... pregnant.” He wore a pained expression.
Everyone remained silent, the room so quiet I swore I heard my heart pounding.
Pop dropped my hand, moved to the table, and collapsed in a chair.
Jackson and I followed and sat down.
“Oh my goodness.” I tried to contain my shock. Poor Stoney. She’d endured so much. “When did you find out?”
“Back at the hospital. She’s in her first trimester and insisting on keeping it. I didn’t know how to tell y’all.” Pop folded his hands, clenching them. “And while she’s out of the room, I found out who sent me those pictures back during the summer.”
“Who?” I asked.
“One of the other girls,” he said, his voice cracking. “Apparently, she and Stoney had talked about home and how she missed us, but felt like she couldn’t come back, not after what had happened to her. The girl didn’t know their return address, but she found mine in Stoney’s room, and she sent them, hoping I’d rescue Stoney. She admitted she had to ask the mailman for the stamps; she told him it was very important he mailed them.”
“That’s crazy,” I said.
“Have they rescued this girl too, Mr. Lamarr?” Jackson asked.
Pop nodded, his eyes tearing up. “Yes, she’s in foster care. But she told the police she’s still in fear for Stoney’s life. She said she’d overheard two of the men say Stoney needed to be dealt with.”
Dealt with? “What do you think they meant?” I asked.
Pop pushed his glasses up and dried his cheeks with a napkin. He looked me square in the face. “I can’t be positively sure, but I think it means they planned on killing her.”
Daniel sucked in a breath and clapped a hand over his mouth.
I had no words. No wonder Pop had been so fiercely protective since her return.
“Well, it’s a good thing you saved her,” Gertie said.
“I’m not sure it’s over.” With angu
ish in his eyes, Pop wrung his hands together.
“Didn’t they arrest the guys involved?” Jackson asked.
“Only three of them. There’s a fourth guy still out there. Somewhere. Apparently, the ringleader.”
I had a bad feeling I knew what Pop thought. By the haunted expression in his eyes, I concluded Pop believed Stoney might still be in trouble.
“Do you think he’ll come looking for her?” I asked, dreading his reply.
“Yes, and when he does, I’ll be ready,” Pop said.
I put my hand over his. “No, we’ll be ready.”
“Damn straight,” Gertie said with a grin, stacking her hand over ours. “And, before y’all say it, I know. I owe the swear jar a quarter.”
Soft laughter filled the room. Thank goodness for Gertie. Her humor, intentional or not, was a welcome blessing at the table.
One by one, the rest added their hands to the promise pile in the center of the table. If and when Stoney’s captor came looking for her, we’d be ready.
The End
Readers are Catastic!
IF YOU ENJOYED HOW to Kennel a Killer, 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 on the About Cat Clayton in the next section.
2019 will be a BIG year for Cat Clayton Mysteries! We are busy producing the audiobooks for How to Leash a Thief and How to Kennel a Killer. Details will be posted on my website.
How to Fetch a Felon, A Steely & Cuff Mystery, Book 3 will release Sept. 2019, with book 4 following in 2020.
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 with 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: [email protected].
Acknowledgments
I shudder to think what this book would be without my tribe. First and foremost, thank you to my husband, my rock, and my best friend. Where would I be without you? Seriously. Thank you for all your law enforcement expertise and forcing me to handle a gun, so I may write true. Even though I still shut my eyes when I pull the trigger. To my two beautiful daughters, thank you for being a constant avenue of love and support. My caboodle of beta readers; Margie, Suzy, Rachael, and Brooke, I appreciate all your insight, suggestions, comments, and reader wisdom. To my lovely developmental editor, Patricia Flaherty Pagan, thank you for insightful assistance in developing a kick-butt story. Debbie and Dawn, your fabulous proofreads went above and beyond my expectations. Bobbye, my cover queen, I thought “Thief” had the best cover, until I saw this “Killer” cover. I can’t wait to see what you come up with for “Felon.” To anyone and everyone who put up with my prattling on about Steely and her latest debacle, thank you. It takes a village. xoxoxoxo ~Cat