A Dreadful Meow-ment (MEOW FOR MURDER Book 2), стр. 36
We didn’t technically exchange names, but that’s beside the point. I know for a fact he’s Skip Ryan, Kadie’s husband—or at least I surmised as much.
He hops into his sedan and leaves a trail of dust in his wake as he takes off down the street.
My heart pounds erratically as I glance to the door. He said I was welcome to go inside. And for reasons unknown to me, I’m motivated to do just that.
I head on in to find a rather clean and spacious oasis, vaulted ceiling, white marble floors in the entry, and gray distressed wood just beyond that. There’s a grand room up ahead with a stone-covered fireplace, chunky white sofas, and a sleek black television hanging on the wall. To the right, there’s an elongated hall with cathedral ceilings and I head that way with nothing but the clip-clop of my footsteps to keep me company. I pass a few closed doors until I hit the room on the end, presumably the master bedroom, and I peer inside. A king-size bed sits to the left with a fluffy white comforter and white enamel nightstands. It’s pretty much bare, with the exception of a stuffed recliner in the corner with a jacket lying over it. To the right, the room opens up to a bathroom the size of my cabin, and I find myself in the middle of it without warning.
It’s as if my feet have a mind of their own. And before I know it, my hands are pulling open drawers as if they, too, were here on some reconnaissance mission I’m not privy to.
But when you get right down to it, I’m well aware of what I’m looking for. This situation may feel like an out-of-body experience, but there is something I have a hunch about.
I glide open the last drawer next to the wall and there they are—an entire collection of gold SMACK lipstick tubes.
Sure, just about anybody could have purchased one and dropped it in that dark hall where Craig was killed, but just about anybody wasn’t seen having an animated conversation with Craig Walker that night—Kadie was.
And I’ll bet all the cats at Mortimer Manor that the lipstick tube I saw lying just feet away from Craig’s body belonged to the woman who lives in this house.
I pull my phone out and take a picture of the golden loot, and then I run like hell all the way out of there.
Somebody killed Craig Walker, and I’m starting to think the killer just might be a woman.
Chapter 15
Once Tilly and I got back to Starry Falls, I dropped her off at home before driving home myself. I figure I should take advantage of the fact Regina is in charge of the café, and this way I won’t have to finish off the day by her ornery side.
No sooner do I park and hop out of Wanda than Shep pulls up and steps out of his truck carrying a large pizza box.
His brows pinch as he inspects me.
“Are you up for dinner?” He hikes the box in the air a few inches.
“That depends if you’re having a side of Hilary to go with that pizza.”
His cheek flickers. “Nope. I’ve had my fill.”
A dark laugh brews in my chest as I follow him over to his cabin.
He leans my way. “Wow, Bowie. You’re eyes—they’re beautiful.”
My lips part at the seemingly genuine compliment. I guess it was worth having my eyelashes chemically frozen after all.
I’m about to thank him when the faint hint of a meow comes from somewhere behind me and I turn to see an adorable, albeit unnaturally pink, Scottish Fold.
I gasp with delight. “Shep, it’s Pixie!”
“Yup.” He nods her way. “The cats come around now and again. Opal’s menagerie likes to fan out over the entire town.” He quickly unlocks the door. “I have some kibble if you want to feed her.”
“Heck, yes, I want to feed her. I want to steal her, or in the least borrow her.”
Shep steps inside before emerging with a small bowl filled with cat kibble and Pixie quickly runs toward it.
“Lure her inside,” I whisper.
Shep does as he’s told, and as soon as that cute cat crests the threshold, I entomb the three of us inside.
“We got her!” I bounce around in a circle and Shep looks both amused and aroused.
“How about we eat our dinner while she eats hers?” He nods me over to his sofa, and in a blink the two of us are stuffing our bellies with a sausage and mushroom dream.
“Mmm,” I moan. “So good. Did you splurge for extra cheese?”
“You bet I did. I don’t mess around.”
I shrug over him. “I bet Hilary wishes you did. Can I ask how things are going? If you’re going to nix our wedding plans, I’d like to be the first to know.”
“You’re safe for now.” He gives a little wink. “And I don’t mind you asking. I’m not interested in Hil. We’re old news.”
“I don’t think she got the memo.” Something in me stirs because even though Shep isn’t remotely interested in me, I’m relieved on some level he’s not interested in Hilary. There are far better women out there who are much more suited for him like… Oh, what the heck, me.
Shep glowers at the fireplace. “I guess I should spell it out for her. I’ve been helping with her book. She’s not a bad writer. It’s always been a dream of hers. That was our connection way back when.”
“And she’s using it as your connection now. Why don’t you give her the name of someone who can help her and be done with it?”
A crooked smile curves into his cheek. “That’s not a bad idea.”
“You’re welcome. Now let’s change the subject to another old friend of yours.” I’m about to mention the deceased when