The 9 Lives Cozy Mystery Boxed Set

by Louise Clark

  When Frank saw her she heard a wolf whistle in her mind as he pretended she'd chosen the dress for him. As they left the house, she thought it was a good thing Quinn and the cat couldn't communicate.

  They assembled in the Armstrongs' vivid orange kitchen, Ellen and Christy at the table with glasses of wine, while Roy presided over the cooking area and Quinn did a stint as host, organizing pre-dinner nibbles as well as the drinks. Ellen was clearly bemused that they had centered themselves in the kitchen for the discussion, which amused Quinn, but Roy simply ignored it.

  "What do we know about this girl, Brittany Day?" Quinn asked, his eyes lingering with approval on Christy after he had set a bowl of tortilla chips and another of store-bought salsa in the center of the table.

  The cat, curled up on Christy's lap, popped his head up over the tabletop and eyed the bowls. "No. Not for you," Christy said. Frank projected a distinctly annoyed sound. Roy laughed.

  Ellen said, "That animal!" and shook her head.

  Quinn raised his brows and looked at Christy. She shrugged and cocked her head at Ellen. Quinn grinned, evidently pleased that he was no longer the only one who couldn't hear Frank.

  Ellen took a chip and gingerly dipped it in the salsa, before she nibbled delicately at the edges.

  "Brittany Day," Christy said, dunking her own chip in the salsa, "was one of the girls with Aaron DeBolt the night of the Infant Heart Transplant Foundation Gala. Do you remember, Quinn?"

  "They were smoking weed," Quinn said. "Yeah, I remember. I figured DeBolt had some kind of kinky sex thing going on with the two of them."

  "Kinky sex?" Ellen said, her voice disapproving. "Aaron DeBolt? Why, he is a fine young man from a good family. He wouldn't indulge in such behavior."

  "Maybe not when he's sober," Christy said. When Ellen frowned at her, she added gently, "He deals drugs, Ellen, and uses them. He was almost always stoned when I met him with Frank." She crunched her chip, enjoying the bite of the spicy salsa on her tongue.

  Ellen stared at her. "Impossible. I will not believe it."

  Don't forget, Natalie DeBolt is her best bud. My dear Aunt Ellen can be loyal when she wants. Just not to me, her nephew and the kid she helped to raise.

  Christy lifted her wineglass and sipped. She wasn't going to acknowledge Frank's rather bitter comment. Nor was she going to argue with Ellen about Aaron DeBolt. Their discussion tonight centered on the murder victim. Time to get back on topic. "Detective Patterson said that Brittany Day came from Calgary and she was an EBU student. Her dad is apparently the president of a petrochemical company, so it sounds like there's money in her background."

  "There, you see?" Ellen was clearly not going to let the issue of Aaron's respectability go.

  Christy resisted the urge to sigh.

  "EBU is the place to start, then," Quinn said. He pulled out one of the empty chairs at the table—the one nearest Christy—and sat down. "We'll begin with the registrar's office and see if we can find out who her professors were. Then we go and talk to them. It may take some time, though. EBU has a huge undergrad population."

  "It may not be that much of a problem, because she was a grad student." Christy said. She scooped up more salsa with a chip. "But privacy laws are pretty strict about what information can be released about students," she added, thinking of conversations she'd heard between her parents, who were both practicing academics. "The registrar's department may not be cooperative."

  "Good point," Quinn said. He shot her a look of approval that warmed her all the way to her toes. "We'll start with social media, then. See if we can discover any clues online. If we can find out what grad program she was in, it shouldn't be too difficult to find her advisor."

  "Okay. I'll get going on the computer research tomorrow morning, after Noelle is at school."

  Quinn nodded acknowledgement, then his gaze drifted to Ellen. "Even if we find out Brittany's role at EBU, it's only one element. The more important issue is why would she be in your apartment so early in the morning, Ellen?"

  "I have no idea," Ellen said stiffly. She pursed her lips. "That is what I asked Christy to help me find out."

  Quinn smiled disarmingly and nodded. "I understand, but Patterson is a smart detective. She's going to be focused on that why and digging into the how, if she hasn't started already. What kind of answer do you think she'll come up with?"

  "I don't know! I doubt I ever met the girl! I certainly would question how she got my address. And why the daughter of a Calgary oil man would stoop to breaking into my apartment."

  "Maybe she didn't break in." Quinn's low, quiet voice slashed through Ellen's rant, leaving her gaping.

  Then she rallied. Her voice was cold when she said, "What are you suggesting?"

  "Nothing. Everything. Would Brittany Day, daughter of a prominent family, EBU grad student, have the skills to pick a lock?"

  "Probably not," Christy said. "Which means someone helped her."

  "Or opened the door when she rang," Quinn said, his gaze still focused on Ellen's face.

  Her brows snapped together in a frown. "What you are suggesting is absurd. Why would I admit this young woman to my apartment in the pre-dawn hours?"

  Quinn drank wine, regarding her over the rim of his glass. "Maybe you admitted her the night before—"

  Ellen gasped and her cheeks flushed scarlet. "That's disgusting! You know nothing about me. You have no right to speculate about my private life."

  "And maybe you wanted to break off your relationship with her and she threatened to expose you. She was, what? Half your age? Maybe thirty years younger?"

  The cat, who had been curled in Christy's lap, sat up. He's on the wrong track. Aunt Ellen's straight as they come. His whiskers twitched, distracting him. Is that shrimp I smell?

  "Yes," Roy said. "It's almost ready."

  "For your information, Mr. Armstrong, I am not gay," Ellen said. Her voice was steel. "Nor do I seek romantic partners who are the age of my friends' children." She stood up. "I think it best if I leave now. If you will excuse me?"

  "Sit down, Ellen," said Roy, who was dishing the fresh shrimp into a large bowl. "Quinn, come here and cut the bread for me, will you?" He brought the bowl of shrimp to the table and set it down in the center. Then he took both of Ellen's hands in his and looked deep into her eyes. "My son means well, even if he is a little heavy-handed."

  Quinn, now on the other side of the counter cutting a loaf of fresh Italian bread, snorted. The cat, whiskers twitching, cautiously put a paw on the edge of the table. Roy ignored them both.

  "Quinn is trying to show you the kind of danger you're in, Ellen. And if you think Quinn's questions and assumptions are intrusive, you'll find the questions the police ask unbearable. Better to face them here, amongst friends, and decide how to deal with them."

  Ellen said nothing for a moment. Her eyes searched his, while her expression went from hot anger to a vulnerable fear. Then she nodded. "I understand," she said in a voice that had the hint of a shake to it. Slowly she sat back down.

  Roy smiled, nodded and turned to the cat, who now had both front paws on the table and was squirming in Christy's grasp. "No filching from the table. I've got a plate set aside for you."

  Stormy wriggled free and did a nosedive onto the floor. Thanks old man. The cat figured there was too much talk and not enough food. I didn't know how long I could hold him. Nice work with Aunt Ellen. By the way, you know she's got the hots for you, don't you?

  Roy went beet red and Christy choked back a laugh. Ellen eyed them both curiously and Quinn sighed as he placed the plate of freshly sliced bread onto the table. Roy put down the plate of shrimp for the cat, had Quinn refill wine glasses and brought two bowls of salad to the table. By the time he said, "Dig in, everyone," Ellen appeared to have forgotten the odd behavior.

  "Does Natalie DeBolt know much about her son's friends?" Roy asked as he ladled shrimp onto his plate.

  "She and Aaron are quite close, so I would assume so," Ellen sai
d. She pointed to the seafood on Roy's plate. "The shrimp haven't been shelled."

  Roy liked to go down to the docks in the old fishing village of Steveston and buy shrimp fresh off the fishing boats tied up there. A quick steam and the shrimp were ready to eat. Add freshly baked bread and you had a feast. In Ellen's world, the Jamieson world, shrimp were used in fine cuisine; cleaned, beheaded, and sauced. "You can eat the shells, and the heads too," Christy said, deciding to be helpful.

  Ellen opened her mouth, on the verge of saying something disapproving, Christy thought, then closed it and visibly changed tack.

  "Really?" She scooped up three shrimp and put them on her plate. Then she added a piece of bread and a great deal of salad. She eyed the shrimp, but dug into the salad.

  "Ellen, why don't you talk to Natalie and see what you can find out about Brittany?" Roy suggested. He popped a shrimp in his mouth, head and all.

  Ellen's eyes widened. Then she looked down at her plate. "Yes. Yes, of course." She stabbed her fork into the body of the shrimp. "I intended to phone Natalie anyway, to tell her about the break-in." Her knife hovered over the plate, as if she planned to cut away the offending head and shell. "I see no reason why I would not ask her some questions about the young woman." Instead, she put the shrimp in her mouth, head included, then slowly, almost reluctantly, began to chew.

  Christy felt her eyes widen. She looked over at Quinn. Amusement was clearly written on his face. He glanced her way and winked. She wondered if he'd be so cheerful if he'd heard Frank's comment about Ellen's feelings for his father. She pushed the thought away.

  "I'll see what I can find out about Brittany's family, especially her father," Quinn said. "He shouldn't be hard to track down." He cleaned a shrimp, shelling and beheading it with his fingers before he ate it. "What about you, Dad?"

  "I'll talk to Three and see what he thinks. He retired a couple of years ago and lives on Salt Spring Island now, but he can probably arrange for someone from his former firm to look out for Ellen's interests."

  Ellen's eyes widened. "Three?"

  "An old friend," Roy said, smiling at her. "He's actually called Trevor Robinson McCullagh the Third. I call him Three because he's got such a pretentious name."

  "I know the McCullagh law firm," Ellen said. Her bemused expression said she didn't see anything pretentious about Trevor's name. "How do you know him?"

  "My late wife Vivian used to work with him. He provided his services pro bono for protesters who got into trouble."

  "I see." Ellen cut the head off a shrimp, then scraped off the shell before she put it in her mouth.

  Having consumed his portion of shrimp, the cat was now washing his whiskers and Frank was back in the conversation. Looking into Brittany Day's background is a good start. Finding Aunt Ellen a lawyer is a priority. We can reconvene same time tomorrow and share what we've learned. Stormy jumped up onto Christy's lap, evidently focused on the shrimp remaining in the bowl.

  "How... how managerial," she said as she put the cat back onto the floor.

  "Yes, very organized," Ellen said. She beamed at Roy.

  Roy smiled back, then winked at Christy. He'd heard Frank's comments too. "And not a bad idea."

  Chapter 4

  When the doorbell rang at one fifteen, Christy was ready to do anything to escape being shut up with Ellen for a minute longer. The worries of yesterday seemed to have been forgotten as Ellen complained about the size of the bedroom she was using, Christy's choice of breakfast foods, the absence of a three-course, beautifully plated, luncheon meal, and Christy's insistence on performing mundane tasks like loading the dishwasher, vacuuming, and laundry. Fifteen minutes before, Christy had suggested Ellen dust the joint living/dining room and received a blank stare in reply.

  It was just too much. Christy wanted Ellen to leave, and this after one day and in the midst of a major investigation.

  It didn't help that Frank had been broadcasting snarky comments all morning. Content ranged from how Ellen behaved to what she said and her whole attitude toward life. Ellen was blissfully unaware of the comments, but every sneering, bitter observation grated on Christy's nerves.

  When she opened the door to discover Quinn on the other side, her heart did a little flip and her breath hitched. He was wearing a leather jacket, jeans and a sweater. Nothing special, but he looked all male to her, and her immediate reaction was one of pleasure.

  "Hi," he said. "I wondered if you would like to go for a walk with me?"

  There was a faint smile on his mouth and his gaze was filled with intensity. Christy was reminded of the night they had gone to the IHTF gala, when she'd stood in this doorway and kissed him after he'd brought her home. His gaze now was filled with the same smoldering desire that had shaken her that night and had brought a mutual need roaring to the surface.

  "I'd love to," she said, glad that the jeans she was wearing hugged her hips and the V-necked sweater she'd chosen that morning was a cashmere and silk blend that caressed her skin and clung in all the right places. "Just let me get my jacket." Her voice sounded low and husky in her ears. Sensual. Something flashed in his eyes and his smile deepened. Her muscles tightened in response. Keep it light, she thought, a little desperately. She couldn't kiss Quinn here, in her doorway, with Ellen lurking somewhere in the townhouse. She didn't want to expose her feelings for Quinn and have Frank's aunt tear them apart. They were too new, too fresh to handle a thorough critique by a disdainful in-law.

  She shouted to Ellen that she was going for a walk, then shrugged on the jacket and slipped out the door. Before she could close it, paws thundered down the stairs as the cat bolted for the opening.

  If you're going out, so am I. Aunt Ellen has been driving me crazy all morning and the cat doesn't like her.

  Quinn raised his eyebrows as Stormy rushed past him, then disappeared into the bushes on the opposite side of the street. "Problems?"

  Christy closed the door. Quinn took her hand in his as they headed down the steps. The intimate gesture warmed Christy in a way that lightened her mood. She smiled up at him as she said, "Problems isn't exactly the right word. Ellen is being a princess who expects to be waited on constantly and Frank is annoyed about everything she does. Stormy isn't happy with her either."

  "What's the cat's problem?"

  Since the morning when she'd gone to confront Frank's killer and Stormy had tried to communicate her danger to Quinn, he seemed open to the potential that there was something more to the Jamieson family pet. Not that he had fully accepted that Frank's essence had taken up residence in Stormy, it was more that he was willing to suspend judgment.

  Christy laughed. "Stormy jumped up on Ellen's lap this morning when she was sitting in the living room. Frank said Stormy expected to have a tummy rub, or at least have his ears scratched, but Ellen just sat there, stiff as a statue and didn't touch him. I think she's cat-phobic. Eventually Stormy jumped off and left her alone." The cat could have been the poster image of an annoyed feline as he stalked away, tail up and shivering with irritation, his back stiff. Ellen didn't seem to care, though, which annoyed Stormy even more. At least, that's what Frank had told her.

  She and Quinn were heading up the street now, toward a path through the treed greenbelt behind the townhouse complex. Quinn evidently had a destination in mind. "So Stormy doesn't approve of humans who don't cater to his every need and Frank doesn't like Ellen because she was one of his trustees. How about you?"

  They turned on to the dirt path that meandered through the dense trees. It skirted a couple of complexes before it reached a connecting path that led to the school, then continued on to a park with a playground. Beyond that another intersecting path led to an open area with tennis courts, a soccer field and yet another playground. When the kids were out of school it would be busy, but now, in the middle of afternoon classes, Quinn and Christy were pretty much alone, except for the odd new mom pushing a buggy or ambling along with her toddler-aged child.

  "She's been drivi
ng me crazy. I needed this break," Christy said. The lush conifer woods of a Pacific Northwest rainforest bordered the dirt path and closed around them as they walked. Laced through the evergreen of the spruce, cedar, and pines were the skeletal arms of deciduous trees that had dropped their leaves for the winter. On the ground beneath their feet lay the fading colors of the fallen leaves, the orange and scarlet of maple, the gold of cottonwood and birch.

  "Poor sweetheart," Quinn said. He drew her off the path into the trees. Then, sheltered by a large hemlock, the tips of its long branches drooping toward the forest floor, he slipped his arms around Christy's waist and drew her against him.

  She gazed up into his eyes to see him studying her expression, searching for her reaction. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she rose up onto her tiptoes, offering herself. His eyes gleamed with something she thought was satisfaction, then his mouth was on hers and her eyes were closing with the pleasure of his touch.

  They kissed for a minute or an eternity, making love with their mouths because nothing more was possible at this moment in time. He used teeth and tongue to tease and tempt until Christy was throbbing with a pleasure she couldn't have. When he finally drew away they were both breathing hard.

  "You know how much I want you," he said, leaning his forehead on hers.

  "Yes, but—"

  "I know. You have Noelle and Frank, and now you have Ellen, too. I understand."

  An iron restraint echoed in every word and Christy was both torn and touched. She reached up to stroke the dark hair off his forehead. "I'm rebuilding a reputation too," she said huskily. She swallowed hard. "Otherwise I'd arrange for your father to babysit Noelle and I'd ask you to take me to a hotel for a night."

  "I don't want a one-night stand with you, Christy. I want more. I want a future." He straightened and with a little laugh, said, "I can wait... I think." He took her hand and they resumed their leisurely walk.