A Dreadful Meow-ment (MEOW FOR MURDER Book 2), стр. 39

“The show?”

She shrugs. “She’s not wrong. I’ve been to a few of these myself. They can be quite entertaining.”

“Well, thanks for coming with me.” I glance back to see Shep speaking with Lloyd and Oliver while Kadie and Hilary circle them like sharks.

Tilly leans in. “Is that the girl that’s having the affair?” she whispers and I’m quick to nod.

“I think so.” And I’m wondering if James got it wrong and Kadie is, in fact, having an affair with Oliver? Unless, of course, she’s having it with James himself.

Hey? Skip Ryan mentioned that whenever he was out of town he was glad that James and his partner were coming around to keep an eye on Kadie and the kids.

Huh. I bet James was coming around—and heading right into Kadie’s bedroom.

Of course, James wasn’t going to admit it to me. Why would he?

I think back on the conversation.

James also mentioned that Craig was trying to talk this mystery friend of his into backing out of the relationship they were having—with Kadie, I think—because she’s married.

And Shep mentioned that Craig wanted out of a bad business deal because it was dicey. The more I learn about Craig, the more it sounds as if he was an upstanding guy.

Moody music filters in through the speakers and everyone quickly takes their seats. Shep comes over and sits next to me and, sure enough, come hell or high water, Hilary lands on the other side of him.

Figures.

She’s harder to get rid of than head lice. But I’ve won a few battles with head lice in my day, and I’m sure I’ll win this one, too—even if it is a hollow win. Shep’s not interested in her. He’s still faux engaged to me. That’s got to count for something, and in this new fake life of mine, it sort of does.

The pastor gives his spiel. A few relatives and friends say a few kind words. Lloyd is up next at bat in a dark inky suit, the butt of his gun exposed on his hip. He’s muscular and his bald head has a touch of a mirror shine to it as he sheds a sorrowful smile over at the crowd.

“It’s good to see all of the familiar faces that have come out this afternoon to pay our final respects to someone that most of us grew up with. Craig was a good guy, one of the best.” He segues into a few heartfelt vignettes that involve high school baseball, a party that ended in a cornfield, and a stolen golf cart ditty that has the crowd in stitches for a moment.

He takes a wavering breath.

“Those were the good times.” He dabs his eyes with a tissue and his cufflink glints in the light. “Craigy and I went through it all. We were even business partners for a short time. And in honor of that, we’ll be hosting happy hour all day this weekend, so come on down to my place, the Dirty Habit, and we’ll drink to a man who was a very good friend.”

A light applause breaks out, and I take a moment to elbow Shep in the ribs.

“He owns the Dirty Habit?” I whisper.

He widens his eyes with surprise. “I did not know that.”

Lloyd sniffs toward the crowd. “Craig, we miss you already, buddy. Until we meet again.” He holds up a finger to the crowd. “And don’t forget to vote for yours truly next fall for sheriff. We all know Craig would want it that way.”

The crowd gives a light laugh as Lloyd takes his seat once again.

The funeral wraps up and we’re all invited into the hall next door to enjoy the taco buffet. Judging by the way people are fighting to get to the exit, I’d say the tacos were a brilliant idea. Come to think of it, tacos are always a brilliant idea. I think it’s time to implement Taco Tuesday over at the café as well.

We stand and Opal traipses over holding Nibbles close to her chest.

“Oh, that was a wonderful, wonderful performance.” She sniffs back tears as Tilly pops up beside her. “Come now, let’s get our ta-cos and find a nice place to people-watch.” She exaggerates the word tacos and makes it sound wholly unrecognizable in the process. I’m not sure where Opal’s accent is from, but all I can figure is she got it from her previous tax bracket.

Tilly leans my way. “There are some cute dudes here,” she hisses it out as if it made her angry. “And to think you were going to come without me.”

They take off and I shrug over at Shep. “What can I say? They love a good funeral.” I lean in. “And you’ve got hot friends.”

He scowls. Clearly, he is not amused.

“Don’t worry, Detective Wexler. You’re pretty hot, too. They don’t call you Sexy Wexy for nothing.”

His lips curve at the mention of his nickname. “They do?”

“I do.” I give a little wink.

Before he can respond, Hilary springs up with her hair coifed to perfection. She’s donned a little black dress that I’m guessing has gotten some mileage, and her blood red lips are quivering as she snuggles up to Shep. Her perfume is so sugary, it threatens to put both Shep and me in a casket of our own, or in the least rot all our teeth out.

“How are you doing?” She sniffs his way while strumming her fingers over his tie. “I bet you need a stiff drink. How about we head over and grab a quick bite, and then maybe we’ll hit up that bar of Lloyd’s?”

A tiny growl works its way up my throat.

“I suppose the invite is good for me, too,” I say. “Considering I’m his fiancée and all.”

She averts her eyes at the thought.

But Shep doesn’t hesitate to side with his lying bride.

“Of course.” Shep lands a soft kiss to my cheek. “But I think we’ll skip out on the drink.”

“That’s right,” I say to Hilary with a