Belinda Blake and the Birds of a Feather

Book 3: Exotic Pet-Sitter Mystery

by Heather Day Gilbert

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Cozy Mystery; Female Sleuths

Synopsis

When exotic pet–sitter Belinda Blake starts pecking at the details of a suspicious accident in her sleepy hometown, she inadvertently digs up a murder case that won’t be solved without ruffling a few feathers . . . The moment Belinda arrives in Larches Corner, her Upstate New York hometown, she’s immediately recruited to care for a deceased friend’s flock of homing pigeons. But Belinda’s plans for a swift visit scatter after a local college student is mowed down in a malicious hit-and-run that has the whole town reeling. At first, the gruesome demise of Jackson Hait appears to be a random tragedy. But Belinda quickly uncovers connections to a tight-knit group of friends and a similar death three years earlier . . . one that wasn't as accidental as it seemed. Now, Belinda must pluck the truth from a tangled nest of lies before a cruel killer takes wing. Praise for Belinda Blake and The Snake in the Grass “A humorous series debut with exotic pets and a zany cast of characters. Gilbert’s cozy will make you smile.” — Amanda Flower , USA Today bestselling author of Premeditated Peppermint “ Cozy fans will root for pet-sitter Belinda Blake as she unravels this cleverly-crafted mystery in a delightfully-deadly new series by Heather Day Gilbert.” — Elizabeth Spann Craig , author of the bestselling Myrtle Clover Mysteries [For POD Only:] Read All of the Belinda Blake Mysteries! Show covers: BELINDA BLAKE AND THE SNAKE IN THE GRASS / BELINDA BLAKE AND THE WOLF IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING Visit us at www.kensingtonbooks.com

Release date: February 4, 2020

Publisher: Lyrical Press

Print pages: 170

Sample

1

Autumn in Connecticut brought out the best in things—the prettiest colors in trees, October skies the deep blue of the Mediterranean, and the mingled, cozy scents of fallen leaves and chimney smoke.

I adjusted the white pumpkins on my porch, determined to make the most of the fall weather. I’d been cooped up with a particularly fractious Sheltie that likely wouldn’t overcome his doggie ADD unless his owners allowed him to herd sheep every once in a while. Instead, the plump, coddled animal sat around on pillows cushier than the ones I slept on and begged for treats all day.

Shaking my head, I refocused on the task of beautifying my rented stone carriage house for the season. I shoved fake bittersweet branches into an old galvanized tub I’d swiped from my mom’s storage building. After packing the base of the tub with loose straw, I arranged colorful gourds and mini pumpkins on top and stood back to get the full effect.

A deep, amused voice interrupted my reflections. “Looks fantastic. Dad should hire you to fix up our place—I think our new house secretary is firmly stuck in the 1970s. I could swear she was wearing a muumuu yesterday.”

I turned to take in the swank vision that was Stone Carrington the fifth. He was wearing jeans, a pale green polo shirt, and leather loafers, so he probably wasn’t heading into his Manhattan office, but he wasn’t dressed for his favorite pastime of tennis, either.

“What are you up to?” I asked, stymied.

“Dad and I are home today, but we have a board meeting in Stamford this afternoon. Red’s going to drop by Susan’s bakery on the way, so we can pick up some pastries for the event.” He gave an amused smile, his turquoise eyes twinkling, as he spoke of his chauffeur’s girlfriend.

I grinned, hoping to cover my insider knowledge that Red’s relationship with Susan Snodgrass had moved beyond mere dating. Red had recently asked me to accompany him to an exclusive jewelry shop in town, where I’d helped him decide on a jaw-dropping two-carat marquise diamond he planned to offer the love of his life. Although I’d politely edged out of the way when the jeweler talked about the price, I was quite certain that Red had tapped his entire savings, as well as several paychecks, to purchase that ring.

Susan would be flabbergasted, to say the least. I’d gotten to know the Southern-sweet woman over the past several months, and while she owned nearly as many gold rings as she had pairs of strappy sandals, all her jewelry would pale in comparison to that whopper engagement ring.

I had subtly suggested that Red could propose by placing the ring atop a frothy cupcake or one of Susan’s mouthwatering pastries from her bakery, The Apricot Macaron, but I knew Red. He’d likely ditch the formalities and pop the question in a very earnest but entirely utilitarian manner. Then again, maybe he had hidden romantic depths.

Stone gave me a curious look. “You seem deep in thought. Tell me you aren’t working some weird pet-sitting job again.”

I smiled. “Actually, the exotic pet-sitting business has been rather tame lately. Dogs and cats, mostly.”

Stone’s phone buzzed, and he slid it from his pocket. He glanced at it. “Dietrich,” he said, pressing the mute button without bothering to pick up. “He keeps asking when we’re doing another billiards party. You up for one soon?”

I hesitated. Stone had asked several of his Greenwich socialite peers to join us at the last party, and I’d felt utterly uncomfortable the entire evening. My Atari T-shirt, favorite camo pants, and Doc Martens could never compete in a league with Piaget watches and five-hundred-dollar designer jeans. Although Stone and Dietrich had taken turns drawing me into conversation throughout the evening, it was painfully obvious I had nothing in common with the majority of their Greenwich lot.

“Maybe we could go into the city sometime instead and visit Dietrich at his place?” I suggested. Dietrich’s artist loft in Brooklyn was large enough to comfortably house a good-sized family, plus it had beautiful views of the East River. However, I didn’t relish being surrounded by Dietrich’s half-finished “masterpieces” that looked more like something the cat dragged in.

Stone blinked as if trying to ascertain the root cause of my angst. “How about a dinner party with you, me, and Dietrich? We don’t have to do billiards. You know how Lani loves to cook for us.”

Lani, the Carringtons’ Hawaiian cook, was worth every bit of her salary and then some. I didn’t have to think twice about the enticing offer. “Sounds great.”

“How about tonight?” Stone pressed. “I know it’s abrupt, but Dietrich texted that he’ll be heading in today, and he’s literally begging to see you.” He gave me a slow smile, one that was equal parts angelic and seductive. “Then we can kick him out and you and I can stay up late talking. I’ve been wanting to show you those pictures of my trip to Grenada, remember?”

Stone and his dad, who was unsurprisingly named Stone the fourth, had gone on a beach trip to Grenada this summer, and Stone hadn’t stopped talking about the white beaches and crystal water since then. Every time we spoke, Stone was angling for a photo show-and-tell session.

“If Lani doesn’t mind having two extra mouths to feed on such short notice, then sure, tonight would be fine.” Something tickled at my back, and I turned to see that my bittersweet branches had taken a nosedive. I propped them firmly behind the pumpkins then swung back around, only to find that Stone had hustled up the steps and was standing right next to me. His long hands shot out to steady my forearms, giving me the thrill of his unexpected touch.

“Tonight, then,” Stone said. His tone was charged with something way past friendly. “How about seven?”

“Definitely.” I mentally kicked myself for my purely chemical response to his closeness.

After giving me a slow smile, he took a couple of long strides off my porch and onto the sprawling, manicured lawn that separated our houses.

I shook my head, trying to clear the brain fog that seemed to be happening more and more often around Stone. It needed to stop.

Back in the spring, Stone had returned from a trip to Bhutan and made it clear he was quite interested in me. But I had pulled back from him…mostly because my heart was preoccupied with Jonas Hawthorne, a farmer who also happened to be my parents’ neighbor in Upstate New York.

Jonas had faithfully been calling me once a week, but as of yet, he certainly hadn’t made any ardent declarations of love. Mostly, we wound up discussing his mother’s health, since she had late-stage breast cancer, as well as the local book club selections I tried to keep up with from afar. Still, it remained a mystery as to what kind of relationship we had. Although he’d said he wanted to talk to me about something during my last visit, he’d never followed up on it. It was undoubtedly due to his preoccupation with his mother’s care, but it had left me stranded in a bad place emotionally.

Meanwhile, Stone literally was the guy next door, and he seemed to be amping up his efforts to hang out with me. He cleverly couched his invitations in non-date form—like attending a polo match with his dad, or running into Manhattan to pick up something from work—but it was obvious that any free time he had was designated for me.

I sighed, and a small pumpkin toppled out of the washtub. Why did my romantic relationships always get complicated?

* * * *

I headed up to the manor house at seven, wearing a sweater and dark jeans because the evening had turned nippy. My newly-trimmed blonde hair had decided it was time to achieve maximum height with its corkscrew curls. Dietrich took one glance at my voluminous mane and couldn’t look away.

“It’s like an electrified halo, my dear,” he said to my curls.

I wasn’t quite sure if that was a compliment, so I shrugged it off. “I really can’t control my hair.”

“It’s amazing,” Stone said, walking up behind me. His fingers danced over my curls for a brief moment. “Come on into the dining room. Lani’s made us a feast.”

Dietrich, who was chronically gaunt, rubbed his stomach. “If anyone can fatten me up, it’s your magical cook. I wish I could think of some way to steal her away from you. She can’t be bought off—I’ve already tried it.”

Stone shook his head, chuckling.

Lani emerged, bearing a savory tray of food. Once she set it down, she wrapped me in a long hug. “You must come over more often,” she urged. As she began to place the serving dishes on the table, I recognized that she’d prepared each of our favorite foods. She truly was a gifted cook.

Dietrich dominated the conversation, chattering about an art show he would be featured in next week in New Jersey. He explained the theme of his show (ears, as it turned out), and the materials he’d integrated into his oil paintings to add extra dimension (cotton swabs and empty eardrop bottles were among the highlights).

When Dietrich finally paused to take a bite of his au gratin potatoes, Stone pounced on his chance to launch into a new topic.

“I have the movie screen all set up so we can look at my pics of Grenada,” he announced.

Dietrich waved off Stone’s excitement. “I’ve already been there, remember? My father owns one of the resorts.”

Stone huffed. “Good for you. But Belinda hasn’t been there yet.”

It took a moment, but Dietrich’s gaze suddenly narrowed on Stone. “Ah, I see how it is. If you wanted to ask your next-door goddess of light on a date, why didn’t you just do it? Why’d you drag me along tonight?”

We both rushed to reassure Dietrich that this wasn’t a date, but the moody artist would have none of it. After polishing off his tiramisu and downing two cups of coffee, Dietrich bestowed hugs on Lani and me, then charged out the door.

“Sorry that was so awkward,” Stone said.

I shook my head. “Not awkward in the least. It’s Dietrich playing the dejected artist—one of his favorite roles, I’d imagine. But we really should go to his art show next week.”

Stone agreed, so we decided on next Thursday night. Lani came in and offered coffee, but neither of us were interested. She collected Dietrich’s dishes, so we took that as our cue to evacuate the dining room. I glanced at my phone and was surprised to see that it was already 8:50.

Ushering me into an ample-sized home theater room, Stone gestured to the cozy wraparound couch that was closest to the movie screen. Four leather recliners were positioned on the raised level above us. I sank into the leather couch, glancing around to note that even the wall paneling resembled a real movie theater. Now this was how every new release should be watched.

He pressed a few buttons on a remote control, then on his phone. Oversized pictures sprang to life on the screen. After dimming the lights, he jumped onto the couch next to me.

In an instant, I was transported to Grenada’s foggy, tree-covered mountains, then to white sands on a secluded beach edged with tall palms. A video clip played of Stone and his father as they laughed on a yacht, gliding over nearly transparent water.

I was smacked in the face with the fact I generally tried to suppress—Stone Carrington the fifth was ridiculously wealthy. He had stayed at a resort that had private pools in each room—and he’d stayed for a week, not just a night.

Stone tapped my arm. “We’re coming up to my dive. I think you’d love diving, Belinda. Maybe next time you could come, too?”

I tried not to look too closely at the video of the sculpted Stone in his diving suit. I also tried not to think too hard about his invitation, because it was practically impossible to resist. It wrapped some of my favorite things into one sweet package—adventure, travel, and Stone Carrington the fifth.

My phone rang, but it was no ordinary ringtone. Although I didn’t listen to country music, I hadn’t been able to resist loading up the song “Big Green Tractor” for Jonas’s ringtone. The song blared as I struggled to silence the phone—and instead wound up answering the call.

I shoved the phone to my ear, motioning for Stone to pause the video. “Jonas,” I said breathlessly.

“Is this a bad time?” he asked. There was something strange about his normally confident voice. He sounded stuffy, almost like he’d been…crying?

“What’s going on?” I turned away from Stone and hunkered into the couch.

“It’s my mom.” He took a deep breath. “Her doctor recommended hospice at her appointment today, so I planned on calling them in the morning, but…there wasn’t time. She slipped away sometime after supper. I missed it, Belinda. I missed being there by her bedside.” His voice cracked. “I conked out early because we’d been chopping corn—it’s been so wet this year—and it took all hands on deck to get the silage bagged. I just woke up five minutes ago, and I checked on her. But I found her lying there, with no pulse or anything.” A choked sob escaped, and he coughed to cover it up. “I didn’t hear her yelling for me, but what if she did?”

Unable to process what Jonas had told me, I stood and stumbled through the darkened theater room into the hallway. Swiping at tears, I tried to clear my head enough to say something even the slightest bit comforting.

“I’m sure she didn’t yell for you, Jonas. Didn’t you give her a little bell to keep by her bed? She would’ve used that if she was in pain, and you would have heard it. Aren’t you sleeping on a pull-out couch near her door?”

He mumbled a yes.

“Then I’m sure you would have heard her. She knew you were close by. Maybe she just eased on in her sleep.”

He gave another unintelligible muttered response. I wrapped my arm tightly around my stomach, wishing I could pull him into a hug. His grief was going to be heavy, since he had been his mom’s primary caregiver for years.

“Your mom died at home, which was what she told me she wanted, Jonas,” I continued, gaining momentum. Was I the first person Jonas had called? “She didn’t want to be hooked up to machines at the end. She wanted to hear the wind in the trees and the cows lowing, just like she’d heard all her life. She wanted to have her favorite things around her and her family nearby. I have to believe God granted her that wish.”

“I guess,” he said bleakly.

I didn’t want to ask about funeral plans for his mom, because he didn’t need to mentally go there yet. But I knew one thing for sure. I’d be taking a trip to Upstate New York in the very near future.

2

Stone didn’t ask questions when I walked into the theater room, my eyes wet with tears, and told him I needed to get back to my carriage house because there’d been a death at home. He simply walked me back to my place and acted…well, just like his name—a regular rock.

My mom called later that night to check in with me. Jonas had asked if she could come over and help him get his mother ready for the mortician. Mom sounded shaken by her longtime neighbor’s death—probably because Naomi hadn’t been much older than her. But she reassured me that Naomi had looked peaceful. She confirmed my idea that the sweet woman had died in her sleep.

My psychologist sister, Katrina, called soon after. Given the nature of her questions, it was clear that Kat was probing around to see how I was doing with things. She understood that I had counted Naomi as one of my friends. I was able to keep it together as I spoke to Katrina, mostly since Mom had assured me that Naomi’s death hadn’t been prolonged or painful.

I finally got to sleep, even though I could almost feel Jonas weeping next to me. It was the strangest thing.

The next morning, Red showed up at my door with a basket of baked goods from Susan. Word had spread quickly that someone I’d cared for had died, and I was grateful for my friends’ concern. I accepted an awkward half-hug from Red, then retreated into my house.

After pouring myself a mug of black coffee, I pulled a cream-filled tart from the basket and took a brief moment to savor the first bite. But I couldn’t sit around lollygagging. I needed to make some adjustments to my work schedule.

I located the phone number for my upcoming client and left a message that I’d likely be out of town next week, so I wouldn’t be able to house-sit her Pomeranian. I suggested she call Chrissy Rogers, a reliable pet-sitting friend from Manhattan. I hoped Chrissy wouldn’t steal my business here in Greenwich, but there was little chance of that, since she refused to sit exotic animals, which had quickly become my forte. Dogs and cats weren’t the norm for me—more like turtles and goats and snakes.

I pulled up Jonas’s name on my phone contacts and considered calling him, but I figured he’d be swamped with things to do. I was glad he had hired farm help who could continue chopping corn in his absence.

My phone started vibrating, and I glanced at th. . .