“There,” Bethany said, blinking at me curiously. “How do you feel now?”
“A bit light-headed,” I answered, wondering why I suddenly felt so dizzy. “Can we open up the window and get some air flowing through here?”
“Sure,” she said, kneeling down on my cushy window seat and cranking the glass open. Funny, I couldn’t even remember asking her over, let alone what we’d discussed during our visit so far.
“Ahh, what a beautiful day it’s turned out to be,” Octo-Cat said, inhaling the sweet summer air.
We both stuck our noses out and took deep, contented breaths. I closed my eyes and let the sun kiss my face. What a perfect day it had been. I couldn’t remember much about it, but knew I was happy—and also that I was blessed beyond measure.
“What’s that cat doing?” someone asked from so close it startled me.
“Do you think he’s going to eat us?” another voice wondered aloud.
“Stop asking questions and fly away to safety,” a third said.
I opened my eyes just in time to see a trio of gulls launch themselves off the roof.
I desperately wanted to ask Octo-Cat if he’d heard them, too, but Bethany still stood nearby and she didn’t know our secret.
I knew one thing for sure, though. Those birds had talked…
And I’d understood every word they’d said.
What’s Next?
What’s even worse than having a snarky talking tabby as your best friend?
When he inexplicably goes missing…
Octo-Cat is gone, and all the evidence suggests that he was taken on purpose. With the growing number of people the two of us have put behind bars, it’s no surprise that someone’s out for revenge.
But how will I ever manage to solve this particular crime without the help of my partner?
The only other person who might be able to help me just relocated to Georgia. But I’m desperate enough to try anything, including exposing my secret to the whole of Blueberry Bay. Anything to bring him home safe.
Oh, Octo-Cat. Where have you gone?
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Sneak Peek of The Cat Caper
My name’s Angie Russo, and I’m a cat person.
Lately, that is the most important thing about me.
Not that I’m a part-time paralegal and also a part-time private investigator. Not that I live in a giant East Coast manor house or that my quirky nan is one of my best friends. Not even the fact that I’ve managed to rack up seven associate degrees due to my academic indecisiveness.
Nope.
The most important thing about me is definitely the fact that I have a cat.
But he’s not just any ordinary feline, mind you.
He talks. A lot. As in hardly ever shuts up.
And if you think your cat is demanding, just imagine what my life looks like.
I have to feed him a particular brand of food in a particular flavor in a particular Lenox dish and at very particular times of days. He also only drinks Evian. I’ve tried to trick him in the past to save on this ridiculous expense, but—I kid you not—he knew the difference. And, boy, did I pay for that one.
In all honesty, I can spare the expense, though. You see, my cat also has a trust fund—a big one. His previous owner was murdered, and it was by pure dumb luck that he and I ended up together. That is, if you can call almost dying at the hands of a faulty coffee maker “luck.”
I mean, I do.
I love my life and would change very little about it. I do plan to quit my paralegal gig soon to pursue detective work full-time. Naturally, my cat would be my partner in that operation. He watches so much Law & Order that he practically has an honorary degree in criminal justice, and he’s got claws that he isn’t afraid to use when we find ourselves in a tricky scrape.
Other than his sometimes gratuitous violence and over-the-top television addiction, he has plenty of other unique skills that make him an indispensable partner, too. First, there’s the fact we can communicate. Obviously, no one ever suspects that the curious-looking feline across the way is actually listening in on their conversations.
When you add Nan to the mix with her background in Broadway and knack for creating colorful characters and then bringing them to life flawlessly, we have quite the little operation.
So, go ahead and eat your heart out, Scooby Doo.
If you’re wondering about me and who I am outside of being a cat owner, I’ll make this real simple for you: I’m the Velma of the group. I love researching, learning, wrapping my mind around any and every puzzle that comes our way.
I have a near photographic memory and a knack for mnemonic devices, but lately my brain has been a tad less reliable than I’d like.
Usually, I remember everything without fail. Ever since this new guy Peter Peters started working at the law office, though, things have definitely gotten a bit fuzzy. I hated that guy almost instantly, and I’m pretty sure he has something to do with the fog that’s taken up residence in my head… But I just can’t remember why.
Lucky for me, he’ll be leaving the state very soon. Unluckily, he’s taking his cousin Bethany, a former partner at the same firm, with him. She was a good friend, and I’ll definitely miss having her around. Still, I get the fact that she needs to be there for her family—even if this particular member of her family is the creepiest guy I have ever met in my entire life.
Honestly, it’s probably time for me to quit, anyway. Well, just as soon as I work up the nerve to let down my secret crush by handing in my two weeks’ notice. I’ve had the hots for our senior partner, Charles Longfellow, III, ever since he moved here from California and began working his way up the ranks at our firm. He’s only a few years older than me, a legal prodigy and also someone who’s had a few lucky strokes like I have—so no judgement, please.
I’d probably have bitten the bullet and asked him out by now, but he has a girlfriend now. By the way, I hate her and not just because she’s standing in the way of what I’m convinced could actually be true love, but because she’s mean and bitter and has never shown me an ounce of kindness in our entire acquaintanceship.
At least she’s not a murderer, although I did suspect her of a double homicide a few months back. We solved that one, though, and got both her and her brother off the hook. We also solved the murder of a prominent senator who used to live right next door.
And as ready as I am to hang up my sign as a full time P.I., I’d much rather be chasing white-collar criminals around town than the homicidal maniacs I’ve been dealing with as of late. Because that’s the thing about murderers, they’re dangerous with a capital D. It stands to reason that eventually one of them is going to want revenge on the crazy girl and her cat that got them arrested in the first place.
I just hope I’m ready when karma comes calling…
I almost ran straight into Nan when I returned home from work that sunny afternoon.
“Look what I made for you today in my community art class!” she cried, completely unbothered by the fact I’d almost knocked her into the antique stained-glass windows that flanked either side of our front door.
I took one giant step back and studied the sizable metal sign she held between her aged hands.
“Pet Whisperer, P.I.” I read aloud, then grabbed the thing to take a closer look—and almost dropped it as soon as the heft transferred to my hands. “Oof, this is really heavy!”