Mac on a Hot Tin Roof

by Melinda Metz

Genres: Animals; Romantic Comedy; Animal Cozy Mysteries

Synopsis

KITTENS CABOODLE

As a tabby cat with criminal tendencies, MacGyver is always a whisker away from trouble. But when he stumbles upon a litter of four motherless kittens, he really has his paws full. It's clear Mac has to take care of the cuddly little furballs, at least until he finds them each a human. That's not going to be easy though. Not when Mac's the prime suspect in a series of thefts at Storybook Court—and his loving but concerned owners, Jamie and David, have put him under house arrest. As if that could stop a clever cat like Mac . . .

HUMANS CANOODLE

With four hungry little mouths to feed—and two local detectives on his tail—MacGyver has his work clawed out for him. He's determined to sniff out the real thief. But when he gets a whiff of romance in the air, he can't resist a little matchmaking, too. One of the detectives seems awfully fond of the aspiring actress who moved into the neighborhood. And his partner looks like she could use a hug, too. With a little help from those adorable kittens, Mac is sure that love will save the day. Because when it comes to stealing hearts, this cat's out of the bag . . .

Release date: November 26, 2019

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 256

Sample

MacGyver stared at his person’s face. He could always tell when Jamie was faking sleep, and she wasn’t faking. He used to think she didn’t appreciate the necessity of frequent naps, but now she napped even more than he did. And that would be fine with him—if she didn’t nap when it was his breakfast time!

He leaned closer, so close his whiskers brushed against Jamie’s cheeks, then he opened his mouth as wide as he could and yowled. He reserved his yowls for true emergencies, and this was a true emergency. His stomach was empty!

Jamie made a grumpy sound, and her eyelids twitched, but she didn’t wake up. Mac gave her a tap on the nose with one paw, claws in. She brushed it away, but she still didn’t wake. He considered his options. He knew he could wake her up. A little scratch would do it. But Jamie was his person, and he wasn’t going to do that to her. Unless she started making this kind of disrespect a habit.

He leapt off the bed. There were lots of humans around who owed him a meal. Make that a meal a day for life! When he saw a human struggling to manage the basics of life, Mac stepped in. He felt it was his duty as a higher being. Now it was payback time.

Mac decided to pay a visit to Gib. When he’d first met Gib, he’d known the man was lonely. One whiff had told him that. It didn’t take long for Mac to figure out the person who should become Gib’s packmate. Now they were sharing a house. Yes, Gib had a debt to repay. Gib also always had sardines.

Diogee galumped into the room and started whining as he stared at Jamie, who was still sleeping. Mac could take a detour and knock over the treat jar so the dog could eat. And maybe he would, but later. Cats before dogs. He was getting his own belly filled before he took pity on the bonehead. He trotted to the bathroom, jumped up to the window ledge, and flicked the round window open. From there it was a smaller jump to the closest branch of the cedar, his personal staircase. He scampered down, then loped toward Gib’s, the slight breeze ruffling his fur and the dewy grass tickling his toes. He could almost feel those oily little fishies going down his throat.

Mac heard . . . something. He slowed down, one ear flicking back. The sound came again. A mew, so weak it was almost inaudible, but definitely a mew. He stopped. There was a kitten in trouble. And no one but Mac was going to take care of the situation. Sigh. The sardinesies would have to wait.

He took a few moments to calculate the direction the mews had come from, then broke into a run. As he got closer, he realized the mews weren’t all coming from the same kit. There could be two or even three.

O, holy Bast! Mac was hardly ever wrong, but this time he was. When he found the kittens under some scrubby bushes by the place where he could usually score a few bites of chicken, there were four babies, all tan-and-gold tabbies like Mac. Two of them began to mew louder when they saw him. One didn’t mew at all. It didn’t even open its eyes. The fourth stepped forward and arched its little back, its tail as bushy as a tiny tail could be. The kitten opened its mouth and hissed. Hissed at Mac, who had to outweigh her by eight pounds.

Ignoring the challenge the kitten was trying to give him, Mac breathed in deeply, using his tongue to flick air into his mouth, gathering information. The littlest kitten was alive, but extremely weak. The others were healthy, but they hadn’t eaten recently. The mother cat had been gone for several days. If she’d been able to come back, she would have.

The kittens wouldn’t survive on their own, even the sassy one hissing at Mac. Their tummies had to be a lot emptier than Mac’s. And no one was going to be around to teach them the basics—hunting, stealth, or making the big eyes humans couldn’t resist. He was going to have to take care of them. There was no choice.

First, he needed to get the babies into a safer place. He could smell other cats, cats who might be insecure enough to find a bunch of kits a threat to their territory. There were dogs, too. Diogee would probably drown the little ones with slobbery licks, but Diogee was a wimp. He’d seen Diogee run away from a Chihuahua. A Chihuahua. The bonehead could have swallowed it whole, except he was a wimp.

A car drove by, reminding Mac of another threat. He had to move fast. He picked Sassy up by the scruff of the neck, ignoring her puny growl. Where to take them? Moving as fast as he dared, he started toward home. He didn’t want to take the kittens there, though. Jamie wasn’t even capable of feeding him and the bonehead right now. Or cleaning his litter box. David had to do it. Mac really had to figure out what was wrong with her. She’d been smelling strange for months. Not sick. But not like herself. He’d deal with that later.

Right now, he needed a safe place, somewhere with no animals or humans. Not all humans were like Jamie and David and Mac’s friends. They had to be observed and thoroughly smelled before they could be trusted.

Sassy wriggled, trying to free herself. Mac ignored her, brain whirring as he moved through his neighborhood. Where, where, where? He caught a whiff of rotting cloth, cardboard boxes, wood, and mouse droppings. The kittens weren’t much bigger than mice, but once the squeakers smelled Mac in the area, they’d get themselves gone.

He veered toward the small building that was the source of the smells. It was about the size of the room where Jamie and David slept, but the roof was much higher. Mac had come across it on one of his nighttime jaunts. He took the wiggly kitten through the narrow tunnel he’d discovered when he’d first investigated the place. He deposited her on an old piece of carpet, then he returned to the others. None of the others wriggled as much as Sassy had. The last one hadn’t moved at all. But he was still alive. They all were. And Mac was there to make sure they stayed that way.

That meant food, and home was the easiest place to get enough. He knew where the pouches of tuna were. That would do to start. He wasn’t supposed to take food from the cupboards. Jamie would call him a bad cat—if she woke up long enough to notice—but that never bothered him.

Most of the time being a bad cat was fun. Right now, it was necessary, although it wouldn’t be for long. He’d teach the littles what they needed to know, then he’d match each of them up with a human. He knew lots of people, and he was excellent at matching. Those kittens were lucky it was MacGyver who’d heard their mews for help.

Serena slid the key into the lock, then paused. She was about to enter the place she would be living for the next year. She’d never stepped inside. She’d never even been to California. Not that Atlanta was a small town. But this was Hollywood. The Hollywood sign was right over there to prove it.

She turned her head and took a long look. “Breathe it in,” she whispered. It was this thing she’d done since she was about twelve, something her mother had taught her. Every day she tried to find at least one amazing thing. Then she’d say—or just think—“breathe it in.” It locked whatever she’d experienced in her mind, upped her appreciation of it. It had turned out to be really useful as an actress. Now she did it anytime she wanted to store the feelings and sensations of a moment, good or bad.

“Breathe it in,” she whispered again as she turned the key in the lock. She smiled as she swung open the door. A circular staircase dominated the large, round room, a dining room/kitchen combo. It spiraled up, up, up. Four floors up. “Breathe it—” she began, then stopped. There was too much to see and experience. She couldn’t break it into moments. She’d just have to let the experience envelop her and hope she remembered everything, everything, everything.

Instead of exploring the first floor, then moving on, she followed the impulse to run to the stairs. The second floor was smaller—just the way you’d expect it to be living in a lighthouse. She was going to live in a lighthouse! Well, not a working lighthouse, but a house designed to look like a lighthouse, complete with red-and-white candy-cane stripes outside and a widow’s walk around the cupola. All the houses in Storybook Court were unique. She hadn’t gotten a chance to look at all of them, but that was at the top of her list. Her favorites so far were the one that looked like it belonged in the Shire, round, with round windows and a round door, and a thatched roof, and the one that looked like a witch’s cottage with a peaked roof and windows, and a door knocker shaped like a spider with a center of faceted ruby glass.

Serena took in a funky pot-bellied stove and cozy overstuffed chairs and sofas before she continued up the stairs. On the third floor she found the bedroom. She abandoned the staircase to test the bed—just the right amount of bounce—and run her fingers over the patchwork quilt that covered it, enjoying the feel of the different textures of the fabrics. Then she was up again, taking a quick peek at the bathroom and its claw-foot tub. “Breathe it in,” she told herself, because she had to.

As she returned to the staircase, she heard a low ohhhhh-waaaaah. Fog horn. No, doorbell that sounded like a fog horn, she realized as the sound came again. She hurried back down the stairs and opened the door. A fifty-ish woman with short black hair shot through with gray, bangs almost touching her eyebrows, stood there, a friendly smile on her elfin face.

“Ruby Shaffer?” Serena asked.

“But of course,” Ruby answered. “Here to welcome you and see if you have any questions on the requirements of the award.”

Serena stepped back to let her in. “I’m sure I will have, but I’ve gotta admit, my brain is pretty much at capacity right now. Many, many new things.”

“Understandable,” Ruby answered. “I don’t want to strain your brain. You know the basics—you get to live here rent free for a year. All you have to do is show that you’re pursuing creative goals. Acting in your case. Just keep track of auditions, classes, and whatnot, and we’ll go over everything once a month. Then I’ll send a report to the Mulcahys, who created the Lighthouse Foundation. There’s not too much else to know, and I’m only a few blocks away if you need me. Also, I have a phone, and you have the number.”

“I do.” Serena had spoken to Ruby several times since she’d received the notification that she was that year’s recipient of the Lighthouse Award. “Can I get you . . . a glass of tap water?” she asked. “Wait. I’m not sure I have a glass. Can I offer you the chance to stick your head under the tap and slurp up some water?”

Ruby laughed. “You have glasses. You have cups and saucers, too. Plates, sheets, towels, everything you need. The Mulcahys even had me stock the kitchen so you wouldn’t have to worry about going out for groceries. I should have told you that. Sorry.”

Serena nodded, then nodded again. “No, you did. I remember now. I’m just having a little trouble taking it all in. Did I say that already? It’s too much goodness.”

“Hey, that’s Hollywood—a very small percentage of the time, for a very small percentage of people,” Ruby answered. “And I’ll take some mint tea, which is in a pitcher in your fridge.”

“And my fridge is right over there.” Serena headed to the beach-blue retro fridge positioned between two sections of curved countertop. A big wooden table that had been painted a soft green in the same palette as the fridge dominated the room. Comfy-looking flowered chairs circled it. “I love the way the place is decorated, what I’ve seen so far anyway. I just got here a few minutes ago.”

“I thought you were getting here around noon.”

“Delays.” Serena surveyed the well-stocked fridge, then pulled out a Pyrex pitcher with a pattern of pink diamonds circling around and around. It fit perfectly with the table and fridge. Ruby grabbed a few glasses and pulled a Ziploc of fresh cookies out of her enormous bag and dumped them on to a plate. When they got settled at the table, Serena let out a “whew.”

“I feel you,” Ruby said. “I had a thirteen-hour meeting yesterday with the production team of a movie I’m doing set dressing for. Thirteen. Hours. Actually more, because I dreamed I was still in it last night, and it felt so real that it has to count.”

“Absolutely,” Serena agreed. “Dreams can really take it out of you sometimes. I’ve had a few where I’ve had a fight with someone and when I wake up, I’m still mad at them. I have to sort of talk myself down and remind myself that the person didn’t actually do any of the horrible things in real life.” She took a bite of one of the cookies, and a delightful mix of lime, coconut, and pineapple got her taste buds tingling. “So, you must know, since I am an actor, that I want to know all the details of the movie, especially if there’s a part for me. Did I wait an appropriate amount of time before I asked that? I did respond to the dream part of what you said first.”

“You’re fine. The movie’s, well, it’s kind of hard to describe. Try to picture a Wes Anderson-ish take on the Old Dark House tropes—secret passages, a killer at large, witty banter,” Ruby said. “All the principals have been cast, but I’ll keep an ear out.”

“That sounds amazing. And I’m not just sucking up.” She laughed. “Which I guess means I am partially sucking up. But also wanting to get to know you, and wanting to know more about movie making. I mostly did theater in Atlanta, and even that was years ago. I’ve been mostly teaching acting for the last almost four years, not acting myself.” She shook her head. “Four years. It feels like twenty, except for when it feels like about a month.”

“The contradictory nature of time,” Ruby commented. She used her finger to draw an infinity sign in the condensation on the side of her glass.

Serena liked her. She was one of those people. All you had to do was talk to them for a few minutes and you already felt a bond. “What made you decide to go back to acting?” Ruby asked.

“It’s not exactly like I decided to step away from it,” Serena explained. “I picked up a job teaching to pay for some little extras—like rent.”

Ruby snorted. “Been there.”

“It turned out I really liked it, and I got good evaluations,” Serena continued, “and I got asked to take on more classes, and then—poof—four years later.”

“So, you just came across the Lighthouse Award info somewhere and decided you wanted to get back to acting again?” Ruby added to the artwork on the side of her glass.

“No. I did a thorough search of all the grants I might qualify for and applied to them all,” Serena answered. “One day after class, I overheard two of my students talking. About me.” Ruby raised her eyebrows. “About how even though they liked my class, maybe they should study with a working actor. They went on about how I had to be almost thirty, and I obviously wasn’t going to make it as an actor or I would have already. And maybe they shouldn’t take classes from someone who obviously didn’t have what it takes.”

“Ouch.” Ruby ran her palm down the side of her glass, wiping it clean.

“Yeah. Especially because they were right. Without even realizing it, I’d given up on my dream of being an actor. I’d kept on accepting more teaching work, and it ended up being full time, and I stopped auditioning, and . . .”

“Poof. Four years later,” Ruby said, echoing what Serena had said earlier.

“Exactly. So, I decided to do what I advised my students to do. Get out there. Don’t give up. Every audition is like buying a lottery ticket, and you can’t win unless you buy a ticket.”

“And here you are. You beat out a lot of applicants, I’m sure you realize that.”

“I’m still in a state of shock. A year rent free and a stipend for expenses? Who ever gets that? Nobody. Except here I am.” Serena took a few seconds for a silent “Breathe it in.” “And all I have to do is do exactly what I want to do—work at becoming a full-time actor.”

“Not becoming a star?” Ruby asked.

“Well, sure, that would be great. But we both know that’s very rare, and there’s a lot of luck involved. If I can make a living doing what I love, that’s a beautiful thing. I don’t need to be famous.”

Ruby nodded. “Good to hear. There’ve been years where I had to do a lot of handing out tissues to weeping women who were devastated when they didn’t become an overnight sensation.”

“Why are only women eligible for the award? Not that I’m complaining.”

“The Mulcahys had a daughter who wanted to be a director. She died in a car accident shortly after she came out here to take her shot,” Ruby answered. “Her parents set up the award in her honor, and it was their call. Maybe they wanted to balance the scales a little. You know the stats on male directors versus female.”

“And the salary inequity in pretty much every field.” Serena chose a second cookie, a chocolate one. The last one had been delicious, but it hadn’t been chocolate, and, really, nothing could be as good as chocolate. “Hey, we got totally off the subject of you. I said I wanted to get to know you better, and then I just talked and talked and talked some more.”

Ruby glanced at the yellow kitchen clock, complete with thermometer and timer. “There’s a community meeting over in the courtyard in a few. Want to come with me? We can talk more on the way.”

Serena stood up. “Absolutely. After all, for this whole year, I’m a part of the community.” She actually lived here now! In Hollywood. In Storybook Court, which had to be the most adorable neighborhood in the city. And she was getting paid to go after her dreams. She couldn’t stop a grin from spreading across her face, a grin so wide it made her cheeks ache. How did she get to be so damn lucky?

“How did I get so damn unlucky?” Erik muttered. He slashed an annoyed glance at his partner.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Kait asked. “All I said was that at least you already know Storybook Court, and a bunch of the people, so our job will be easier.” The city had decided to try having beat cops again, at least on a small scale, something they’d given up about eight years ago. The Court was part of Erik and Kait’s territory. They were going to hold a community meeting to introduce themselves and give some basic safety tips.

“I don’t give a crap about that. We could go into any neighborhood and make it work.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Kait said quickly. “I was just trying to show that there was a bright side.”

“I don’t give a crap about the bright side.”

Kait sighed. “Stanford did a study on how improving kids’ attitudes toward a subject actually made their brains—”

“I don’t—” Erik interrupted.

“Give a crabcake about the studies,” Kait finished for him.

“Crabcake was not the word I had in mind.”

She ignored him. “I’m not spending every day absorbing your negativity. I need my brain working at top capacity for the detective’s exam. And so, by the way, do you.”

Erik only grunted in reply as he squeezed the patrol car into the one empty space on Gower Avenue. As he got out, he saw a rat’s bright black eyes staring down at him from the palm tree. He almost pointed it out to Kait, who hated any animal that didn’t have hair on its tail, but refrained. It’s not like it was her fault they’d been assigned here. “Let’s get this over with.”

“That’s the spirit.” Kait slapped him on the shoulder. At least she hadn’t brought up Tulip. At least she hadn’t tried to point out it had been three years, and according to some study—Kait could cite a study for every situation—he should be over Tulip by now.

Anyway, he was over her. He just didn’t feel like thinking about her, and being here was going to make it hard not to think about her.

“We’ve got a decent size crowd going,” Kait commented as they entered the courtyard. If she kept trying to show him the bright side, he was going change his mind and show her the rat.

He paused and scanned the group gathered around the fountain and saw some familiar faces. Al and Marie. David and a very pregnant Jamie. Those two had gotten together around the time he and Tulip—Erik didn’t let himself finish the thought. There was Ruby standing next to a woman he didn’t know. The woman’s hair was a pale red, and it was tousled like she’d just walked off the beach. Her pale green dress had thin straps that showed off her shoulders, but was loose and flow-y, going almost down to her feet. She’d knotted it on one side, a little below the knee, so he got a glimpse of leg, a glimpse that left him wanting to see more. If only the dress were a little thinner. . . .

“Don’t even,” Kait warned.

“Don’t even what?”

“Don’t even look at the women who live in the Court as possibilities for one of your three-date specials,” Kait said. She made air quotes around the word “date.” “Stick to counterpart. com. Don’t defecate where you masticate.”

Erik let out a bark of laughter. “You are such a priss. And I was just looking at who’s here, not searching for a spot to . . . defecate.”

“I’m a cop. I am good at reading people, and I’m especially good at reading you. You were sizing up the one with the red hair,” Kait shot back. “Now, let’s do this.” She walked over to the fountain and jumped up on the wide lip. Erik joined her. He didn’t let his gaze drift back to the redhead, although he wouldn’t have minded a longer look.

“Welcome, folks!” Kait called out. “I’m Officer Tyson. Kait. And this is my partner, Officer Ross.”

“Erik. Good to see some familiar faces.” He waved to the group, and noticed Marie giving him an approving nod. He made a mental note to stop by for an iced tea and a chat. Marie knew almost everything that went on at the Court, and what she didn’t know, she could easily find out. He hoped when he was in his eighties, he’d be as sharp as she was.

“We’ve done some reorganizing down at the station, and we’re going to try getting more beat cops out in the neighborhoods around here. Erik and I—we’re yours.”

“That means you’ll be seeing a lot of us,” Erik jumped in. “We want to get to know all of you, and we want to hear any concerns that you’re having about safety in your neighborhood. Anytime we’re around, feel free to come up and talk to us.”

“We’ll give you our cards, too, so you can call or email,” Kait added. “Anybody have any questions?”

“What’s the point?” a man asked. He looked familiar, but Erik didn’t remember his name. “There’s no crime in Storybook Court. Not if you don’t count when MacGyver was stealing everyone’s underpants.”

“Is this MacGyver someone we need to keep an eye on?” Kait asked softly.

“MacGyver’s a cat. I’ll explain later,” Erik answered under his breath, then raised his voice. “Even though Storybook Court can feel like its own little town, it’s part of a big city, and there’s crime in every big city. We don’t want to scare you. We just want you to keep an eye out for each other, and to tell us if there’s anything in the neighborhood that’s bothering you.”

“It bothers me that Ed Yoder weeds while wearing a bathing suit!” someone yelled, and everyone laughed.

“Sorry. We aren’t the fashion police,” Erik answered, getting some laughs himself.

Kait got them back on track. “Today, we want to give you a couple tips about staying safe.”

“Say I’m a door-to-door salesman, and. . .