Wedding bells will soon be ringing in Whisker Jog, New Hampshire. But instead of church bells, they may be tinkling above the door of Bowker's Coffee Stop. Lara Caphart's best friend Sherry and her fiancé David want to tie the knot where they met—in her family's coffee shop. Lara is overjoyed for her friend, but as she feeds and grooms the kitties at the High Cliff Shelter for Cats in her aunt Fran's Folk Victorian, she can't help but wonder when her own beau, lawyer Gideon Halley, will stop hinting and make their union legal.
It doesn't help that Gideon's old flame, Megan Haskell, just showed up with a tearful yarn about being fired that smells fishier than a can of tuna. But Blue, the Ragdoll cat who only Lara can see, appears to be on Megan's side. Should she ignore her green-eyed monster of jealousy in favor of her blue-eyed spirit cat? When Megan's ex-boss is found dead, Lara has to retract her claws long enough to follow Blue's uncanny clues and clear her rival of a murder charge . . .
[For POD Only: Don’t Miss the Other Cat Lady Mysteries! Show cover: ESCAPE CLAWS / CLAWS OF DEATH / CLAWS FOR CELEBRATION / CLAWS OF ACTION]
Praise for Linda Reilly’s Mysteries
“I was kept guessing until the final chapter. . . . A perfect cozy mystery.” —Susan Furlong, author of the Georgia Peach Mysteries, on Escape Claws
“Engaging characters, the psychic cat Blue, and the extraordinary healing power of cats are a winning combination for this enjoyable, heart-warming novel.” —Kings River Life Magazine on Claws of Death
“I thoroughly enjoyed this puzzler of a mystery. Reilly cooks up a perfect recipe of murder and mayhem in this charming cozy.” —Jenn McKinlay, New York Times bestselling author of the Hat Shop Mysteries, on Fillet of Murder
“Smart, sassy, and a little bit scary. Everything a good cozy should be!” —Laura Childs, New York Times bestselling author of the Tea Shop Mysteries, on Fillet of Murder
Visit us at www.kensingtonbooks.com
Release date:
May 26, 2020
Publisher:
Lyrical Press
Print pages:
250
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“Okay, so get this,” Sherry Bowker said breathlessly. “I’m picturing red and white heart-shaped balloons hanging from the ceiling,” She waved her arms at strategic spots on the dropped ceiling of the coffee shop. “And cream-colored linen tablecloths on each table, with wrought-iron candle holders and cranberry glass holders in the center. We’ll use the counter for the food—oh God, wait till you see the spread Mom has planned! And—” She propped her hands on her hips and glared at Lara. “What are you grinning at, artist lady? Come on, I need your input here. You’re the one with the creative flair, not me.”
Lara Caphart couldn’t help herself. Giggling, she went over and gave her bestie a fierce hug. “Sher, I’m sorry—but I’m not laughing at you. I’m just thrilled at seeing you so excited. If you only knew how happy I am for you and David.”
Several months earlier, Sherry had gotten engaged to the man of her dreams, David Gregson. She’d met him a year and a half earlier, when he dropped into Bowker’s Coffee Stop one morning for breakfast. They’d both felt an instant attraction, but Sherry, who’d never been lucky in love, had tiptoed cautiously into the relationship. Fortunately, David was as patient as he was kind. One year after they met, he proposed.
“Sher,” Lara said. “It’s your wedding, not mine.” The words almost snagged in her throat. “If you want giant purple hearts with pink polka dots dangling from the ceiling, then I’ll paint them for you.”
Sherry made a face. “That sounds awful. Come on, you know what looks good. Help me out here, will ya?”
Lara looked around the coffee shop, a place that was like a second home to her. Since her move back to Whisker Jog, New Hampshire, over two years before, she’d come in here nearly every morning. Fresh-brewed coffee, one of Daisy Bowker’s yummy muffins, and a daily chat with Sherry was her favorite way to jump-start any day.
“Okay, then. Let’s get serious. The big heart-shaped balloons? Um, not a fan. We’ll save those for your tenth-anniversary celebration, okay?”
Sherry nodded. “Agreed.”
“I’d opt instead to put your cake on a square table in the far corner, with a cluster of miniature red and white balloons at each of the two back corners. On the far wall”—she pointed toward the rear of the coffee shop—“we can make a swag of red and white roses, interwoven with creamy lace.”
Tears filled Sherry’s eyes. “Oh God, Lara. This is really happening. It’s only three weeks away. Am I ready for it?”
“Of course you are,” Lara soothed. “You’re having a case of nerves, that’s all. It’s totally understandable. Be honest. When you look at David, what do you feel?”
“I feel like I just hit the jackpot.”
Lara grinned. “Then remember that when you’re walking down the aisle, okay?”
“Aisle?” Daisy Bowker bleated as she came through the swinging door from the kitchen. She slipped an arm around her daughter’s shoulder. “I guess we can make an aisle, if we set up the tables just right.”
Too late, Lara realized her poor choice of words. She’d meant “walking down the aisle” in a figurative sense, not an actual one. To the dismay of David’s mother, Loretta Gregson, Sherry and David both agreed on tying the knot in the very place they’d met—the coffee shop. Loretta, a traditionalist, felt it would be unseemly for them to get married in any place other than a proper church. Several times she’d made vague noises about not attending, but David felt sure it was only that—noise. His mom would never miss his wedding, he assured Sherry. “Let her huff and puff if she wants to,” he’d told his bride-to-be, “but she won’t blow our wedding plans down.”
It made Lara admire David even more.
“Hey, I’ve gotta run,” Lara said, shrugging on her winter jacket. “Cats to feed, litter to scoop, and all that.”
“How’s Sienna doing?” Daisy asked.
Lara and her aunt Fran ran the High Cliff Shelter for Cats out of her aunt’s Folk Victorian home. Most recently they took in a sweet girl who was FIV positive. Their vet, Amy Glindell, assured them that the petite tortoiseshell cutie could lead a happy life without their fearing she could infect other cats. Having that knowledge was a huge relief, but educating potential adopters was a whole other matter.
“Actually, she’s doing great. We’re hopeful that she’ll be adopted in spite of her diagnosis. She’s one of the most lovable cats we’ve ever had.”
“Glad to hear that,” Daisy said. She frowned at Lara’s open collar. “Bundle up your jacket, Lara. It’s dropped about ten degrees since you got here.”
The quintessential mom, Lara thought, snapping her top button in place. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Sher, I forgot to ask you,” Lara said. “Did you decide on the wedding favors? Last I knew, you chose the foil-wrapped chocolate hearts in those cute lacy boxes.”
“I chose them, but I’m not wild about them. The little boxes are great—I love those. They’re, what do you call it, die-cut? Delicate, with lacy heart cutouts.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s the chocolate hearts I’m not wild about. Too boring, you know?”
Lara agreed, but kept that to herself. “I’ll try to come up with something a little more fun.”
“That would be awesome,” Sherry said, digging a ring of keys out of her pocket. “I’ll let you out.”
Lara hugged them both, then followed Sherry to the door. A face popped into view just as Sherry stuck the key in the lock. An attractive brunette with stunning blue eyes waved at her through the coffee shop’s glass door. Clad in an aquamarine wool coat and a knitted hat, she had a button nose that was red from the cold.
Sherry unlocked the door and smiled at the woman. “I’m sorry, but we close at four,” she said.
“I know. I saw your sign,” the woman acknowledged, rubbing her mittened hands together. “I’m only looking for directions. I’m trying to find a local attorney’s office. Gideon Halley? Do you know him?”
Lara swallowed. Gideon. Her Gideon.
“I do,” Lara said. “I can point you in the right direction. Do you have an appointment with him?” Not that it was any of her business.
The young woman wrinkled her nose. “Um, not exactly. I’m—well, I kind of want to surprise him.” She gave Lara a wide-eyed look that was intended to mean something. What, Lara wasn’t sure.
“Are you driving or walking?” Lara asked her.
“Driving. That’s my car right there.” She dipped her head toward a cherry-red Honda parked in front of the coffee shop.
Lara heard the door lock behind her. She peeked around the cardboard cupid taped to the glass door and waved goodbye to Sherry.
“Okay, then,” she said, turning back to the woman. “After you back out, head that way.” She pointed toward the traffic signal. “After you go through the light, go one more block. His office is in an older home on the right, painted dark green. You’ll see his sign on the front lawn. Can’t miss it.”
“Thanks! You’re a lifesaver. I can’t wait to see him again. Is there parking?”
“Yes, there’s parking on the side. Is he…an old friend?” Lara asked, her attempt at sounding casual coming out like a squeak.
A blush tinted the young woman’s creamy cheeks. “I guess you could call him that. We dated for a while, but it’s been a few years since I’ve seen him.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’m hoping he can help me. I’ve got, like, a legal problem. Thanks again for the directions!”
A few years? Lara and Gideon had been a couple for close to two years.
Lara stood there, shivering under a pitifully weak January sun. She watched the young woman jerk her Honda out of her parking space and head toward Gideon’s.
A weird feeling tugged at her insides, forming a tiny knot. She knew exactly what it was.
Jealousy.
* * * *
It was approaching dusk by the time Lara got home. The sky was pewter, blotted with clouds.
“You look half frozen,” Aunt Fran said, closing the door behind Lara. “Want some tea? We can try one of those gourmet brands Jerry gave me for Christmas.” Jerry Whitley was Whisker Jog’s chief of police. He and Aunt Fran were good friends—very good friends.
“Tea sounds good,” Lara said. She shed her jacket and scarf and hung them in the hall closet. Sitting on Lara’s usual chair in the kitchen was their newest arrival—Sienna. A darling tortoiseshell with a white chest and forepaws, she loved to be held and cuddled.
Sienna’s initial diagnosis of “FIV positive” worried Lara at first. She knew that the condition could not be transmitted to humans, but what about other cats? After doing some online research and talking to their vet, Lara felt confident that Sienna would be a safe addition to the shelter. Finding her the perfect home might be more of a challenge, but as long as she remained at High Cliff she would be cared for and loved.
“Hey there, are you in my seat again?” Lara lifted the cat and held her close, smiling at the loud purr coming from such a small kitty.
Lara sat with Sienna snugged in her lap. Aunt Fran held up two mugs. “Cranberry or organic peppermint?”
“Peppermint,” Lara said.
Aunt Fran prepared their mugs and set them down on the table, then sat down opposite her niece. “I can tell by your expression something’s bothering you.”
“Good gravy,” Lara said with a groan, “am I that transparent?” She took a sip of her peppermint tea, which smelled and tasted heavenly.
“Only to those who know you as well as I do. Nothing’s gone awry with the wedding plans, I hope.”
“No, it’s not that.” Lara absently rubbed the handle of her mug. “Aunt Fran, before I moved back here, do you remember if Gideon was dating anyone?”
“Dating? As in, did he have a girlfriend?”
“Yes, exactly.”
Aunt Fran looked away, thinking. “I can’t answer that question with any certainty, Lara. Before you got here, I hadn’t been getting around very well, as you know. I was even having my groceries delivered.”
“I remember,” Lara said quietly.
How could she ever forget how frail her aunt had looked on that fateful October day over two years before? Lara had rented a car in Boston and driven to her aunt’s home. They hadn’t seen each other in sixteen years, and Lara didn’t have a clue what to expect. All she knew was what she’d learned from Sherry—that her aunt was failing and in dire need of help.
It wasn’t until Lara made the decision to move in with her that Aunt Fran got the surgeries she needed. Two knee replacements later, her aunt was walking like a woman ten years younger, and completely pain-free.
“You must be asking that for a reason,” Aunt Fran said, concern evident in her voice.
Lara sighed. “A woman stopped by the coffee shop today as I was leaving, asking for directions. She was looking for Gideon’s office.” She sipped her peppermint tea, her mind filled with visions of Gideon with another woman—a very attractive woman, at that.
“And?”
“I asked her if Gideon was an old friend, and she said they’d dated for a while, but that she hadn’t seen him in a few years. She wanted to surprise him.” The words tasted sour in her throat.
Aunt Fran patted the black, long-haired cat who’d crawled into her lap and settled there like a furry pillow. Dolce was one of her three original cats, Munster and Twinkles being the other two. “Lara, surely you didn’t think Gideon had never dated, as you put it, before you moved back here. The main thing is, he loves you now and you love him. That’s the only thing that should matter.”
“I know,” she said with a groan. “I know you’re right, but now that I’ve seen this woman, I can’t stop picturing them together.”
“I take it she was pretty, for lack of a better descriptor.”
“Quite attractive,” Lara acknowledged.
“I’m sure Gideon will tell you all about it when you talk to him later. Any plans for this evening?”
On Fridays, Gideon and Lara often ate dinner out, and occasionally saw a movie. The weather tonight was not only frigid, but also the roads were supposed to be icing over. Driving anywhere would be dicey.
“If we do, we won’t go far. Probably just to the Irish Stew. How about you?”
Aunt Fran smiled. More and more, she reminded Lara of the actress Audrey Hepburn in her later years. “Jerry and I both decided we had plenty of things to catch up on at home, so we’re going it alone tonight.”
Lara raised her eyebrows. “I noticed that you’ve been using your new laptop quite a bit these days. Projects for school?”
Aunt Fran’s deteriorating knees had initially forced her to give up her teaching job, but when the school year started last fall, she returned as a substitute teacher.
“A few,” her aunt said, a rosy blush tinting her cheeks. “I love subbing the classes with younger kids. I talk to them about ways to show respect for animals, and they really get excited by the discussion. Many of them ask about ways they can help.”
“Anything else you’re doing on your laptop?” Lara teased. “I caught you a few times putting it away when I walked into the room.”
For a long moment, her aunt was silent. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling you. I’m…well, I’m trying my hand at writing a book.”
“A book?” Lara’s eyes widened. “Aunt Fran, I think that’s great. What kind of book?”
“It’s a novel, about a young woman torn apart by the sudden loss of her husband. I know I never bring it up, Lara, but those few months I was married to Brian were probably the best ones of my life. His death shook me to the core. I didn’t know if I’d ever recover.”
Sometimes Lara forgot about her aunt’s brief marriage. Aunt Fran never talked about Brian Clarkson, and she didn’t display any photos of him, not even in her bedroom.
They’d eloped when Aunt Fran was a junior at UNH, working toward her teaching degree. Brian had already earned his master’s and was teaching middle school in a town near the campus. He’d been killed by a snowplow while helping a stranded motorist, shattering Aunt Fran’s short-lived joy.
“I never really dealt with the grief after Brian’s death,” her aunt went on. “My no-nonsense mother had never approved of our getting married while I was still in school, and I had no one to mourn with me. Not properly, anyway. I suppressed my grief so that I could finish getting my degree.”
Lara blinked back tears. “How is it coming along? The novel, I mean.”
“Actually, it’s coming along decently. I’ve signed up for an online writing class, too.” Aunt Fran smiled. “I know I’ve got a long way to go before I let anyone read a word of it,” she added. “But the sheer act of putting words on paper, so to speak, has helped me tremendously.”
“I hope you’ll let me read it someday.”
“No worries there. You’re the first person I’ll show it to, but only after it’s polished.” Aunt Fran’s smile faded, and her expression grew pensive. “I’ve felt for a long time now, Lara, that everything happens for a reason. Writing this novel has helped me to see that.”
Clutching Sienna to her chest, Lara went over and hugged her aunt. When she looked across the Formica table, she saw that a fluffy Ragdoll cat had claimed her seat. Her turquoise eyes half-closed, Blue rested her furry chin on the table.
“I think someone else agrees with you,” Lara said, nodding toward her chair.
“Blue?” Aunt Fran said with a smile.
Again, Lara nodded.
Aunt Fran, Gideon, and their shelter assistant, Kayla, were the only ones who knew about Lara’s spiritual guardian—the cat only Lara could see. Once a living, breathing feline, she’d passed on the day Lara was born—nearly thirty years earlier.
As a child, Lara had been only vaguely aware of a blue-eyed cat who materialized whenever she felt sad or troubled. But as Lara grew older, she decided that the kitty she’d named Blue had simply been an imaginary friend. Since Lara’s return to Whisker Jog, Blue had been there when she needed her most, intervening when Lara’s life was at risk.
She thought about her aunt’s statement. Everything happens for a reason.
Did it apply to Gideon’s former girlfriend showing up, unannounced, on his doorstep?
Lara didn’t know, but she intended to find out.
Chapter 2
“That shepherd’s pie was unreal,” Gideon said, after swallowing his last bite. He dabbed his napkin to his lips. “Did you like yours, honey?”
“It was delicious,” Lara agreed. “Best version of that dish I’ve ever had.”
The classic “cottage pie,” as it was known, had been prepared using beef tenderloin, prosciutto, and pearl onions, and topped with a port wine sauce. The chef at the Irish Stew had outdone herself. The new entrée outshone even her legendary beef stew. In spite of that, Lara hadn’t really tasted it much. Her mind was stuck on Gideon’s visitor. She couldn’t get her out of her head.
“You seem quiet,” Gideon said. He reached over and took Lara’s free hand. “You okay?”
Lara smiled and squeezed his hand. “I’m fine. A little distracted, I guess.”
“Is it because of Megan?” he asked, shifting on his chair.
Lara thought for a moment. “I guess it just took me by surprise, Gideon. You’ve never talked about old girlfriends before, except to say you had a few brief relationships that fizzled.”
“As did you,” Gideon pointed out.
It was during the ride to the Irish Stew that Lara had questioned Gideon about the mystery woman. He’d explained who Megan was, and how they met. His relationship with her had never gone past the friendship stage. A few lunches and dinners together had pretty much been the extent of it. While Gideon’s tone had sounded casual, Lara sensed that he’d felt uneasy talking about it.
“I know.” Lara shrugged. “Your relationship with Megan just seems so…recent, I guess. It seems weird that you never mentioned it.”
Gideon folded his napkin on the table. “Lara, I’ve never lied to you before, and I’m sure as heck not going to start now. I met Megan Haskell at the Registry of Deeds in Concord, well over a year before you came back to Whisker Jog. I was working on a nightmare of a title search, so I had to spend several days there. She worked as a paralegal for a Concord law firm and was doing research for a civil litigation case. We chatted a little every day, and then one day decided to have lunch at the Chinese restaurant across the street.”
Lara swallowed. Did she really want to hear this?
“We lived about an hour away from each other, so any dates we had were few. My schedule didn’t exactly leave me a lot of time to trek back and forth to Concord. After a few months, we sort of, you know, just drifted away from each other. It wasn’t even a breakup because there was nothing to break up from. It turned out that we didn’t have that much in common.”
Lara got it. She really did. But why hadn’t Gideon ever mentioned Megan before? Even in passing, her name had never come up.
“So now she lives in Bakewell, because she got laid off from the law firm.”
Gideon blew out a quiet breath. “That’s right. She has an aunt and uncle there, so she moved in with them—just until she can afford her own place.”
Bakewell was only a few towns away from Whisker Jog. A bit too close for comfort, in Lara’s opinion. She wondered when Megan had moved there.
“And now she wants you to represent her?”
“She does. For obvious reasons, I can’t discuss her issue.”
Lara tied her knitted scarf around her neck. “So, are you?” she said, a bit more sharply than she intended.
“Am I what? Going to represent her?”
Their server came by just then to collect their empty plates. “You guys want coffee?” she asked.
“None for me,” Lara said.
Gideon frowned, and Lara knew what he was thinking. They always had coffee after dinner.
“Just the bill,” Gideon said. “Thanks.”
After the server strode off, he said to Lara, “To answer your question, I’m not sure yet. I’m thinking of referring it out. I know a few people who’d be more than qualified to handle it.”
Lara tugged on her jacket and looked over at Gideon, a sight that always made her heartbeat quicken. They’d been seeing each other for almost two years now. Their relationship had become so comfortable that somehow, it’d gotten stalled.
There was a time when Lara thought Gideon wanted to become engaged. Although she knew she loved him, she’d also known then that she wasn’t ready. The shelter had just gotten off to a start, and Aunt Fran was still depending on her to keep it running. Lara also had her art projects—she was a watercolor artist by profession—and had clients to answer to.
Excuses, excuses, she chided herself. None of that would have prevented her from getting married. It was the permanency of marriage itself that had held her back. She hadn’t been sure she was ready to take that final step.
Gideon had clearly sensed her hesitation. Since then, he was careful never to utter the “m” word—marriage. But enough time had passed now. He should know.
She was ready to make that commitment.
“You’re staying at my place tonight, right?” Gideon asked her, once they were inside his car. He flicked on the ignition to warm up the engine.
Normally, Friday nights at Gideon’s were a given. It was their private time, the one night a week they could count on being together. A night Lara looked forward to all week.
“Maybe I’d better go home tonight,” Lara said, regretting the words even as she said them.
He reached over and tucked a strand of her copper-colored hair into her collar. “Are you sure? Orca and Pearl will miss you. They haven’t seen you since last week.”
Lara smiled at him in the darkness. He’d adopted the sibling cats from the shelter the prior summer, and the two kitties adored him. “I know. I’ll miss them, too. But maybe it’s better if I head home tonight. It’s been a long day.”
Without another word, Gideon drove her home. She’d upset him, she knew, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself. What was that saying? Cutting off her nose to spite her face?
In her heart, Lara knew she was overreacting. She was punishing the man she loved for reasons she couldn’t explain, even to herself. But she couldn’t help wondering why he’d never mentioned Megan before now. In fact, if Lara hadn’t told him that she’d directed the woman to his office, would he have brought her up at all?
That was the question, in her mind.
Then again, did she really want to know the answer?
Chapter 3
The wind howled like a zombie on Saturday morning, bringing along temperatures that struggled to climb into the teens. It was a perfect morning to stay inside and work on one of her art projects.
Saturday was an adoption day, so first she needed to be sure that the “meet-and-greet” room, formerly Aunt Fran’s back porch, was spiffed up and ready for potential visitors. After a light breakfast, she brushed all the cats, then set a cat-themed runner over the table in the meet-and-greet room. She dusted and vacuumed, eliminating as much cat hair as possible. Finally, she wiped down the windows with glass cleaner until they sparkled.
While she had the vacuum out, she ran it over the floor in the reading room they’d tacked on to the shelter the summer before. Every Sunday, the shelter hel. . .
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