Kitty Confidential

And with that, she swooped down and pushed me with both hands. It was enough to send me rolling straight off the pier and into the unforgiving ocean below.

I sucked in a deep breath just before I hit the water, just before the darkness of the churning waves pushed me under.

Well, that settled that question. Now I knew…

I was definitely going to die.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Two near-death experiences within one week has got to be some kind of a record. Then again, time was ticking, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold on. No, I probably wouldn’t survive being pulled down into the undertow of Deadman’s Wharf. They called it Deadman’s Wharf for a reason, after all.

And if they ever did manage to find my body, it would be far from the first they’d recovered from this perilous stretch of sea.

Diane would be long gone by then.

I thrashed my arms and legs, but only sunk deeper below the waves. The salt of the ocean water stung all my fresh wounds, blinding me with a fresh onslaught of pain. I held my breath past the point of comfort, even as panic overtook me completely. I knew that the first inhalation of sea water would be the thing that ultimately killed me.

But I also knew I didn’t want to die.

No matter how much the odds were stacked against me, I had to keep fighting to survive. So I continued to thrash and hope against hope as the dark depths drew me deeper and deeper into their embrace.

As my brain began to starve from the lack of oxygen, the pain also started to fall away. My body felt lighter, warmer, almost as if it was rising back toward the surface. More likely, though, was that I had died without noticing the exact moment of my demise, and now God was lifting me to Heaven. I even saw a light shining right in my eyes.

And it hurt.

Which meant…

Was I safe now?

I finally gasped for air, unable to hold my breath for even a second longer. The overwhelming pain surged again. It was truly amazing the human capacity for pain. Somehow, I was still finding new ways to hurt, even in the final moments before my death.

I coughed and sputtered, expelling the mistakenly inhaled water in big bursts. A cold chill overtook my entire body when just seconds ago I’d felt warm and peaceful. Even though it felt as if they were weighted down by heavy blocks, I managed to open my eyes just long enough to notice I wasn’t underwater anymore.

Somebody pulled me up and onto the pier, and somebody else climbed up after. Had he been the one to pull me to the surface?

I didn’t have time to figure out their identities, because everything went dark again as I lost consciousness.

Yes, again.

Yes, that makes three times so far this week.

This was by far the worst, though.

My throat was on fire as I vomited lava onto the ground beside me. At least that’s what it felt like.

Nan’s voice was the first I discerned from the jumble surrounding me. “That’s right, dear. Cough it all out.”

I took her advice and coughed and coughed until it didn’t hurt quite so bad. When I opened my eyes to see who had saved me, I came face to face with a set of amber eyes glinting in the darkness as they regarded me with pity.

No, not pity. Fear.

Octo-Cat’s entire body shook, and I didn’t think it was from the dampness of his fur or the chilliness of the night. “I thought I’d lost you now, too,” he said between panicked kitty breaths.

“I’m okay,” I said, reaching out to pet him. My hand came away soaked, making me wonder if he’d jumped in after me despite his hatred of any water that didn’t come from an Evian bottle.

I continued to stroke him until his labored breathing became gentler and was ultimately drowned out by the beautiful, contented sound of his rumbling purr.

“Diane Fulton,” I ground out, sputtering even still. “Did she get away?”

A familiar pair of strong arms lifted me to a sitting position and wrapped a shiny insulated blanket over my shoulders. “We got her,” the police officer said with a reassuring smile. Seeing as he was just as drenched as I was, I assumed this was the brave man who had jumped in to save me before Deadman’s Wharf could claim me forever.

Nan appeared at my side, sitting right down on the pier and crossing her legs like we were at a slumber party and not a rescue mission. “That was good thinking, calling your iPad,” she told me, careful to leave out any direct references to Octo-Cat I noticed. “We were able to record our end of the line and gave it to the police as evidence. And her intention to kill you,” Nan revealed, rubbing my shoulder over the insulated blanket. “It was just awful to listen to, especially when the call went silent.”

My heart clenched, reimagining tonight’s events from poor Nan’s perspective. Luckily she was a tough, old kook, and I seemed to be okay now.

“Of course, you’re going to need to buy me a new iPad now,” Octo-Cat added, pushing his way under the blanket with me. “And seeing all you put me through tonight, you might have to make that two iPads.”

“You did the right thing,” the officer told Nan. “Your quick thinking saved your daughter’s life.”

“Oh, granddaughter, actually.” Nan giggled and coquettishly twirled a ringlet as she looked the officer up and down. The officer, who was way, way too young for her to be flirting with. “What’s your name again?”

Some things never changed, and thank goodness for that.

“Officer Damon Bouchard, ma’am.” He smiled kindly at her, but I felt Nan stiffen beside me at the polite nickname. Her crush had ended just as soon as it had begun. That was good considering we had enough to deal with already.

“Are you ready to get in the ambulance?” the other officer asked—a woman—approaching us from the pier.

“Can my cat come, too?”

Officer Bouchard shrugged and glanced toward his partner. “I guess he can ride over with us, but unfortunately he’s not going to be able to come into the hospital with us.”

“But…” I hesitated. After all we’d just been through, I didn’t want to leave him again especially so soon.

“It’s okay, dear,” Nan said, turning her full focus to me once again. “I’ll take care of him until you’re well enough to come home.”

“Could you just give me a moment alone with him?” I asked, knowing the request made me sound crazy.

“Um, sure,” Officer Bouchard said.

“We’ll just be over there,” the other officer said, pointing somewhere to the right, but I didn’t care enough to notice.

“You can stay, Nan,” I said as she began to struggle to her feet.

She settled back down and wrapped both arms around me, then we waited together until we knew we had the privacy we needed.

“Thank you for saving my life,” I whispered toward my chest, where Octo-Cat still sat nuzzled against me. “I’m sorry I scruffed you, and I’m sorry for all the times I was rude or didn’t understand. During this past week you’ve become my best friend… well, other than Nan, I mean… and I’m so glad you’re in my life. Can you forgive me?”

A few tense moments of silence passed before Octo-Cat finally extracted himself from the warmth of the blanket and came to stand before me on the wharf. “You’re my best friend, too,” he said, rubbing his head against my hand and purring in earnest. “But if you ever scruff me again, I’ll kill you and eat the evidence.”

I erupted with laughter, and Nan joined me even though she didn’t quite know why.

“Thank you for avenging Ethel,” he said when our peals of laughter faded out. “She would have liked you, you know.”

My eyes teared at the compliment. Ugh, more salt water was not what I needed just then. Still, judging from how awesome her cat was, I bet I would have liked her, too.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Ifelt fine—all things considering—but the hospital insisted on keeping me for at least twenty-four hours since I was still in danger of succumbing to my near-drowning even now.

I groaned audibly when a familiar face popped into my room.

“So…” Dr. Artie Lewis, the same ER doctor who had treated me earlier that week, said with an obnoxiously large smile. “You decided to up the ante this time, eh? You know, real life isn’t an action movie. You can’t keep putting your life at risk and expecting to survive.”

Yes, this was the same guy who had made me feel like an idiot when I came to him for care after getting zapped unconscious by the office coffeemaker. It was upsetting to see that his bedside manner hadn’t improved since I’d seen him last.

The doctor bobbed his head, ignoring the fact that I hadn’t responded to his greeting—or his advice. “Drowning is definitely a more impressive way to lose consciousness. Good job.”

Did he really just compliment me on my method of getting hurt? Yeah, because I had a lot of control over that. I briefly wondered if perhaps the not-so-good doc was a bit of a thrill seeker in his life outside of the hospital. He seemed almost excited as he discussed the details of my near drowning.

“Just leave me alone,” I pleaded, finally breaking my silence. Hadn’t I already been through enough that day?

I’d nearly died, for crying out loud!

He shot me a withering glance before chuckling to himself and saying, “No can do. This time you need a lot more than some regular strength Tylenol. You know, a smile wouldn’t hurt you much, either.”

If I had any strength left, I’d have shot out of bed to punch him in the face. I’d had enough violence for one day, however—even though it sure seemed like this doctor guy was cut from the same sleazy cloth as my least favorite colleague, Brad.

Maybe it was time to start exploring some alternative medicine therapies… or to stop getting knocked unconscious every other day. Either worked.

“I’ll be back later,” Dr. Lewis announced after a brief glance over my vitals. “By the way, you have some guests waiting in the lobby. Should I send them in?”

“Yes, please.” I nodded excitedly, wondering if Nan had somehow found a way to sneak Octo-Cat into my room. I definitely wouldn’t put it past her.

It wasn’t Nan who came to see me, though.

A few minutes later, Mr. Fulton and Bethany shuffled into my room. Mr. Fulton carried a giant pink teddy bear that said It’s a Girl which made me giggle.

Ouch. Laughing hurt deep in my chest.

“How are you doing?” Bethany asked, trailing her fingers along the foot of my bed. I’d never seen her out of office clothes before and was surprised to find her personal style was actually pretty fun. She wore red polka dotted pants with a white button down shirt, an outfit that would have fit perfectly with either Nan’s or my own wardrobe.

“Pretty good, considering.” I smiled to show her I was all right and that there were no hard feelings between us.

“I’m sorry my wife almost killed you,” Mr. Fulton interjected, catching me off guard. I mean, I’d only been in the hospital a few hours. It seemed strange that he and Bethany already knew what had happened.

“How did you find out?” I asked, wondering just how much he knew about what had transpired between me and Diane, if he knew that she was also to blame for killing his beloved aunt.

He rushed to explain. “I came home from my trip early and saw your car in front of my house and the door wide open. A short while later, officers showed up and brought me in for questioning. Let’s just say they caught me up on my wife’s shocking extracurricular activities.”

“And you?” I asked Bethany. I remembered now that, in the middle of her maniacal raving, Diane had mentioned something about Bethany being Mr. Fulton’s daughter. I still had so many questions about that but was hoping they might fill me in without being prompted. After all, it technically wasn’t any of my business.

Bethany glanced toward Mr. Fulton nervously. “He called me on the way over.”

“It’s okay,” I coaxed, apparently unable to play it cool. “Diane told me the truth. At least, I think she did.”

I turned to Mr. Fulton. “Is she really your daughter?”

“Yes,” they answered in unison, both regarding me with similar expressions.

“How come you didn’t just tell me that?” I asked Bethany, recalling the hard time I’d given her at the funeral. Of course I felt terrible now.

“I didn’t want it getting out,” Mr. Fulton explained. “Diane was already so upset.”

I glanced back toward Bethany. “Did you know all this time?”

“Not all this time. I suspected he might be my mysterious missing father when I took my position at the firm, but we only just had it verified by DNA testing. In fact, that’s why I decided to apply in the first place.”

Mr. Fulton looked like he was going to be sick as he explained, “I cheated on Diane while we were dating. Just once, but—”

“It led to my mom getting pregnant,” Bethany supplied. “I’ve had some strange… health issues these past few years, and I’ve been trying to learn more about my best options. So, finally my mom caved and told me more about my father.”

“Oh,” I said simply. It sucked for Diane that her husband had cheated on her. Sure, they hadn’t been married at that time, but they’d still been committed to each other. You always assume that your partner will be faithful—but then again, you also assume they won’t try to murder anyone you care about, too.

“We figured since you were already part of the family drama, thanks to Diane, you at least deserved to know the full story,” she said with a sniff.

“I’m so sorry, Bethany. I treated you horribly.” It all came rushing to me then. She’d grown up without a dad. She’d suffered health issues she didn’t feel comfortable disclosing, and she’d recently lost an aunt she never even got the chance to know.

“Yes, you did,” Bethany said with a frown that quickly transformed into a smile. “But I’ve treated you horribly on so many other occasions that perhaps we’re just even now. Let’s stop trying to tear each other down and start lifting each other up instead now, okay?”

“We girls have to stick together,” I said in agreement. “By the way, I really like your outfit.”

She smiled and sashayed playfully at the compliment.

“Again, I’m so sorry that my wife tried to kill you,” Mr. Fulton said with a pained expression. “What I don’t understand is why. Do you know?”

Both he and Bethany studied me with curious eyes.

I took a deep breath to steady myself before revealing, “She thought I was psychic and that I had figured everything out. As part of that, she confessed to killing Ethel in a scheme to get more money out of your divorce.”

Mr. Fulton sighed and shook his head.

“Are you?” Bethany asked, her breathing hitched slightly as she awaited my response.

I scrunched up my face in confusion. “Am I what?”

“Psychic,” she supplied.

“What?” I chuckled nervously. No one besides Nan could ever know the truth about me and Octo-Cat. “No, of course not. Don’t be silly.”

Bethany laughed, too. “Just seeing if you still have your wits about you after that massive loss of oxygen to your brain.”

Mr. Fulton placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Bethany, could you give us a moment?”

“Sure. I’ll be waiting for you outside,” she answered, smiling at me one more time before leaving the room and clicking the door shut behind her.

Fulton grabbed a nearby chair and pulled it up beside my bed. “I think it goes without saying I’ll be resigning from the firm.”

I nodded, unsure of what he wanted from me now.

“I’ll actually be using it as an opportunity to retire, get to know my daughter, and enjoy life outside of work for a change.”

“That’s great,” I said, happy for him but finding it hard to maintain my enthusiasm. My brain felt heavy with the weight of all the new knowledge I’d acquired that day, and I needed my rest.

“I had no idea what Diane was up to all this time, but I’m so sorry you got hurt because of it.” He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a check book. “I know I can never make it fully right, but let me help you somehow. Do you think one-hundred thousand is enough to…? Well, to forgive me?”

I edged my hand toward his, but couldn’t quite reach. “You don’t need to pay me off. I forgive you.”

“Please let me do something. This money and more was going to go to Diane in the divorce, but now that she’ll probably be spending the rest of her life in prison, I suddenly have far more than I need.” He seemed so sad, so desperate to give me a small fortune in recompense. But he had never done anything wrong. Well, not for the past thirtyish years, at least.

“I don’t need anything,” I said, realizing as soon as I said the words that they weren’t entirely true.

Mr. Fulton must have caught onto my ambivalence, because he said, “I can see you do. How about one hundred and fifty? Two hundred? Please, just tell me what you need.”

For the briefest of moments, I allowed myself to envision what life would be like with that kind of money. I could stop working, put a sizable down payment on a house all my own, or even take a couple years off to travel the world.

I could do anything my little heart desired.

But, honestly, I liked my life, no matter how lackluster it may appear to an outsider. Sure, I wanted to be rich one day—who doesn’t?—but I also wanted to make my own fortune, my own way.

There was one thing, however, I now desperately wanted that only Mr. Fulton could provide.

“I do have a request, if you don’t mind,” I said after licking my cracked and dried lips.

He perked right up and poised his pen over the checkbook. “Anything. Name your price.”

“Would you mind if I keep the cat?” I asked, almost afraid to breathe until he gave me his answer.

He closed his checkbook and stared at me blankly. “The cat?” he asked to clarify.

“Yeah, Octavius Maxwell…” I broke off in a laugh. “You know, Ethel’s cat, the one I’ve been looking after this week.”

“The cat!” Recognition at last lighted in his eyes. “I forgot about him with everything else that’s been going on these past few days.”

I smiled and waited for his answer.

It came with a wink that I didn’t quite understand. “Of course you can have the cat. I’ll send over his things in a couple days when you’re settled back at home.”

My heart filled with joy over being able to keep an animal I had until very recently considered the bane of my existence, but now wouldn’t trade for the world—or for two-hundred thousand dollars.

“Thank you so much,” I called after Mr. Fulton’s departing figure, absolutely beside myself with delight.

I couldn’t wait to get home and tell Octo-Cat the good news.

Iwas given the next two weeks off work to recover from my ordeal and spent most of it curled up on the couch with Octo-Cat, catching up on all our favorite human TV shows. We even found a show about a cat trainer, which we both found hilarious. Every time the “expert” interpreted what the cat was feeling, Octo-Cat corrected him and we both broke out laughing.

A few days into my forced vacation time—yeah, they really had to twist my arm on this one—a parcel arrived by courier.

“What’s this?” I asked, after signing my name on the dotted line.

He shrugged and trotted away, leaving me alone with the mysterious letter. It was a very thick letter, at least twenty pages long.

“Whatcha got there?” Octo-Cat asked, coming to sit beside me at the table as I continued to puzzle over the manila envelope lying before me.

“I honestly have no idea,” I answered while fiddling with the clasp.

“Well, open up! I’m dying of curiosity here.”

I decided to let that one go since I was also quite curious myself.

After pulling out the bundle of pages, I quickly scanned the first, then flipped through, glazing over the headlines for each subsequent section of the legal document before me.

“Say, Octo-Cat,” I murmured, unable to tear my eyes away. “What’s your full name again?”

“Octavius Maxwell Ricardo Edmund Frederick Fulton Russo,” he said, each syllable rolling off his sandpaper tongue seamlessly.

“Aww,” I cooed. “You added my last name.”

“Well, of course I did. You’re my human,” he said with an endearing twitch of his whiskers.

“Um, for legal purposes, you’ll have to drop the Russo, though.”

“Why?”

I pushed the papers toward him, even though he couldn’t read very well yet.

“What’s that say?” His tail flicked in agitation.

“This is the paperwork for the trust fund Ethel set up for you. Now that you live with me, I’m your official guardian and thus guarantor of your estate.”

He yawned. “And that means?”

“Two things,” I told him with a huge smile on my face. “One, you’re legally mine now. And two, we will receive a stipend of five thousand dollars per month to contribute to your care and provide the lifestyle to which you are accustomed.”

Octo-Cat’s eyes grew wide.

“Finally!” he cried. “I knew Ethel would come through for me. Now let’s have a little talk about these living quarters…”

WHAT’S NEXT?

I’m finally coming to terms with the fact I can speak to animals, even though the only one who ever talks back is the crabby tabby I’ve taken to calling Octo-Cat. What I haven’t quite worked out is how to hide my secret…

Now one of the associates at my law firm has discovered this strange new talent of mine and insists I use it to help defend his client against a double murder charge. To make things worse, Octo-Cat has no intention of helping either of us.

Our only hope rests on a spastic Yorkie named Yo-Yo, who hasn’t quite figured out his owner is dead. Can we find a way to get Yo-Yo to help solve the murder without breaking his poor doggie heart?

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SNEAK PEEK OF TERRIER TRANSGRESSIONS

Hi, I’m Angie Russo, and I have a talking cat for a pet. Well, he only talks to me, but still. A few months have passed since he came to live with me following the murder of his owner—a sweet old lady who was poisoned by a member of her own family in a greedy inheritance grab.

Since then, Octo-Cat and I have been settling into our new life as roommates, and he’s nice to me more often than not just so long as I feed him his breakfast on time and never, ever call him “kitty.” He’s even learned how to use his iPad to call me on FaceTime so we can check in with each other while I’m at work.

Yes, his iPad.

Have I mentioned just how spoiled he is?

Not only does he have his own tablet—and a trust fund, too—but he insists on drinking Evian fresh from the bottle and will only eat certain flavors of Fancy Feast when served on specific dishes and according to his rigorously kept, though fully unnecessary, schedule.

I have to admit he’s grown on me, something I honestly never thought would happen. I even kind of like my job as a paralegal at Fulton, Thompson and Associates these days. Things have been pretty interesting since the Fultons left town rather abruptly and our firm lost its senior most partner.

A cutthroat competition as to who will take his place has ensued. Until Mr. Thompson decides whom he’d like to promote, though, we’re simply Thompson and Associates. Lots of candidates—both from within our firm and from outside—have been passing through our office in hopes of securing the coveted position at Blueberry Bay’s most respected law firm, but Thompson is having a hard time making up his mind.

Can’t say I blame him. I definitely wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.

Our firm is now a bit infamous following the surprising murder involving one of its partners and his family. Everyone wants the scoop, but Mr. Thompson has made it very clear: we aren’t supposed to discuss what happened with anyone.

In the meantime, he has hired a new associate to help keep up with the newly increased workload. Charles Longfellow, III, came to us highly recommended with a great resume and even better looks.

It’s been a while since I’ve had a crush but—boy—do I have it bad for Charlie. He’s got this thick, wavy hair that falls in a perfect dark swoop on his forehead. He’s tall, like maybe played basketball in high school but probably not in college tall, and you could easily get lost in his deep green eyes. I know, because I already have a few times.

Yes, as much as I usually prefer books to boys, I often find myself a bit twitterpated whenever Charles is near. That’s probably how I made such a colossal mistake in the first place…

Now I’m being blackmailed about my biggest secret, the fact that I can talk to animals.

The worst part? I kind of like it.

I should probably start at the beginning, huh?

Well, here goes nothing…

Octo-Cat called me via FaceTime just before noon. I was at the office, of course, but since he knew not to call unless it was an emergency, I decided to put my research on hold to answer him. Besides, almost everyone had left the firm for an early lunch meeting, leaving me more or less alone in the building.

“What do you need?” I asked after scanning the premises just in case I wasn’t as alone as I’d thought. Normally I took my calls with Octo-Cat in the bathroom, but one of the junior associates had been holed up in there for at least half an hour before he left—and I definitely wanted to avoid whatever disaster scenario he’d left behind.

“There’s a fly in my Evian,” my cat complained with a keening mewl. His face looked utterly scandalized as he leaned in close to the camera.

“Oh, you poor thing,” I cooed while rolling my eyes just out of his view. Octo-Cat was definitely too spoiled for his own good sometimes, but then again, I received a five-thousand-dollar monthly allowance for his care, so I really couldn’t complain too much.

“My thoughts exactly,” he answered with a grimace and a sigh. “I need you to come home immediately to rectify this situation.”

“I can’t. I’m at work,” I reminded him with a beleaguered sigh of my own while clicking through my overfull email inbox idly.

Octo-Cat growled when he noticed he didn’t have my full attention. “I thought you were supposed to only be going part-time now?”

Why was I constantly explaining my life choices to a cat? He rarely remembered what I told him, anyway. We’d had this exact same conversation about my work at least three times already. Rehashing it now felt like the ultimate exercise in futility.

Still, it was easier to explain yet again than to deal with one of his hissy fits.

“Yes, technically I am part-time,” I explained patiently. “But I need to help out extra until Thompson finally hires a new partner. It’s been really busy around here, and unfortunately I just don’t have time to stop home and pour you a new cup of water right now. I’m sorry.”

His eyes narrowed, ready to go to war over such a simple thing. “But don’t you receive a generous monthly stipend to ensure I’m cared for in the manner to which I am accustomed? Because I most definitely am not accustomed to having a wiggly-legged fly swimming in my Evian.”

Once again, it was easier to cave than it was to argue for hours or days on end. “Aargh, fine. I’ll send Nan by to pour you some more water. Happy?”

He yawned, which only annoyed me more. “Not exactly. It will take me days to recover from this horrible event. Could you make sure Nan knows she needs to throw out the contaminated cup?”

“You are a cat,” I said between clenched teeth. “You are supposed to be a fearsome hunter, not a spoiled baby. You know, other cats even—”

“Angie?” a deep, dreamy voice broke into the middle of our conversation.

Oh, no, no, no. Everyone was supposed to be gone!

I spun around in my chair to find none other than Charles Longfellow, III standing behind me and gawking over my shoulder at the image of Octo-Cat on my phone screen.

“Um, hi, Charles.” I tittered nervously as I pushed the button to end our call, but it was too late. He’d already heard and seen more than enough to figure out my secret. The best I could hope for now is that he would think one or both of us had gone crazy.

I took it as a good sign that he stood looking at me as if I’d sprouted a second head. Perhaps that would have been less strange than what he’d really walked in on.

“Is everything all right?” he asked, raising one thick eyebrow in my direction. The air suddenly felt impossibly thin like the office had been transported to the top of the nearest mountain.

I nodded, desperate for Charles to go away and stop questioning me. “Perfectly all right. Thanks,” I lied, wishing I’d inherited Nan’s legendary acting skills. As it was, I could tell my colleague wasn’t fooled by my feeble attempts to downplay the situation.

Sure enough, his voice dripped with sarcasm as he said, “Really? Because it seemed like your cat needed some help with his…” A delicious smile crept across his face, stretching from one high cheek bone to the next. “Evian? Is that right?”

My mouth fell open from shock, but no additional words came out to explain away the freak show my crush had just witnessed.

“Well?” he prompted, widening his eyes at me. “Were you or were you not just having a conversation with your cat?”

I tucked my hair behind my ears and swallowed hard before stumbling over my answer. “Um, I call him sometimes when I’m away. He has separation anxiety so…” I gave him my most ingratiating smile, but it didn’t seem to work. I was seriously outmatched here.

“But it sounded like maybe he was talking back to you,” Charles insisted. “Like you were having an actual conversation with each other.”

I blinked hard as I stammered, “What? No, don’t be silly. Of course I can’t talk to animals. I mean, who can?”

“You, apparently,” Charles said, narrowing his gaze at me. Clearly he wasn’t going to let me off the hook until I revealed the one thing I most wanted to hide.

I swallowed the giant lump that had become lodged in my throat, then broke out in hysterical laughter. “Gotcha! I can’t believe you fell for my little office prank.”

Charles shoved both hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels, but didn’t say anything.

Oh my gosh. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

My heart galloped like a wild stallion as my nervous laughter fell away.

Charles studied me for a long time, and stupidly I couldn’t bring myself to look away. “You’re coming with me,” he said.

“What?” I crossed my arms over my chest in defiance. “No. I have too much work to catch up on here.”

He placed his palms on my desk and leaned down so our faces were only a few inches apart. Given pretty much any other circumstance, I’d have enjoyed having his gorgeous face so near to mine.

As it was now, though? I was absolutely terrified.

“You’re coming with me,” he repeated with a devilish grin. “Unless you want me to tell everyone what I saw.”

I gulped. “Everyone?”

“Everyone,” he confirmed before returning to his full height and straightening his tie.

Completely bewildered and unable to see any practical alternative, I rose to join Charles.

“Excellent,” he said, leading me to the door and motioning for me to go through it.

I turned back to study him. “Where are we going?”

“My place,” he answered coolly as we strode through the parking lot toward his car. Charles had never invited me anywhere before, especially not his apartment. Unfortunately, something told me I wouldn’t like what was waiting for me there one bit.

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WHAT’S AFTER THAT?

I never signed up to be a private investigator with a snarky, talking cat for a partner, but there’s no backing down now. Especially considering a prominent politician was murdered pretty much right in my backyard.

The only witnesses were the senator’s two hairless cats, Jacques and Jillianne. Normally pets want to help us solve their owner’s murders, but this time it seems the two devious felines might actually be the ones who committed it…

Surprisingly enough, my own partner in crime, Octo-Cat, actually wants to help this time, but he can barely understand our two prime suspects because of their strange Cornish Rex accents. And I thought speaking tabby was hard!

So, there you have it. Even with two successful cases behind me, I really don’t know how I’m going to solve this one. Is it too late to go back and pick another career?

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ABOUT MOLLY FITZ

Molly Fitz is the quirky, cozy mystery pen name of USA Today bestselling author Melissa Storm. And while she can't technically talk to animals, she and her doggie best friend, Sky Princess, have deep and very animated conversations as they navigate their days. Add to that five more dogs, a snarky feline, comedian husband, and diva daughter, and you can pretty much imagine how life looks in the Casa de Fitz.

Molly lives in a house on a high hill in the Michigan woods and occasionally ventures out for good food, great coffee, or to meet new animal friends. Head to www.MollyMysteries.com for more Molly, or www.MelStorm.com to learn about her alter ego, Melissa.

MORE FROM MOLLY

If you’re ready to dive right in to more Pet Whisperer P.I., then you can even order the next books right now by clicking below:

Terrier Transgressions

Hairless Harassment

Dog-Eared Delinquent

CONNECT WITH MOLLY

Sign up for Molly’s newsletter for book updates and cat pics: mollymysteries.com/subscribe

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Join Molly’s reader group on Facebook to make new friends: mollymysteries.com/group