Cat Scratch Cleaver (Country Cottage Mysteries Book 8) by Addison Moore & Bellamy Bloom

Author:Addison Moore & Bellamy Bloom [Moore, Addison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hollis Thatcher Press, LTD.
Published: 2020-05-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Later that night Jasper and I drove back to the inn and took a walk along the cove with Sherlock and Fish. It was dark, but we did our best to try to trace Heather Kent’s last moments as she walked from the café to the rocky crags at the other end of the cove.

I told Jasper all about the freaky supernatural stuff that Bates filled me in on. And Jasper told me that Camila filled him in on the fact Jane had just given Peter Olsen his divorce papers less than twenty-four hours ago.

It seems she caught Peter trying to get friendly with Camila herself, and Jane served those walking papers with a smile.

Figures.

Camila doesn’t mind bragging about her time on the casting couch to Jasper, most likely because she’s trying to spin him into a jealous tizzy—although Jasper assured me he couldn’t care less.

I try to brush all thoughts of Camila and those moves she was putting on my fiancé last night out of my mind.

It’s the very next morning, and the sun is already searing a hole through the roof of the inn as the heat gives the air conditioner a run for its money.

Fish and Sherlock are in top form, greeting every guest that steps into the lobby with a wag of the tail and a cheerful little hop.

Fish jumps up onto the counter in one gravity-defying move.

Why so glum? I haven’t seen you this grumpy since Camila tried to turn you into a pushpin for the government.

It’s true.

A while back, Camila tried to shove me in the direction of some government paranormal investigation agency and it was a big supernatural mess.

“Funny you should ask,” I whisper. “I was just thinking about the wicked witch.”

Jane Olsen strides through the doors, wrapped in a blue and white striped beach towel, her red bathing suit peeking out from underneath. She has a beach bag slung over her shoulder and a strip of zinc oxide slashed on the bridge of her nose.

“Good morning,” I say, trying my best to sound chipper.

“Good morning to you.” She laughs as Sherlock trots her way and she gives him a gentle pat. “You have the friendliest pets here. I never want to leave.”

“I’m actually surprised”—I catch myself before it’s too late—“you haven’t hit the beach already.”

She tucks a stray hair behind her ear and gives a playful frown my way.

“Nice save, Bizzy, but I’m guessing you heard about the divorce papers.” She gives a nonchalant shrug. “It was bound to happen. But I’m not leaving the set. I don’t believe in giving Peter peace with his hussies. Besides, I’m financially vested in this film, too, you know.” She sinks a wide-brimmed sunhat onto the top of her head. “I’ll be on the sand if anyone comes looking for me.” She gives a two-fingered wave as she disappears in the direction of the café.

Sherlock bounds from side to side and gives a cheerful bark. Let’s follow that woman, Bizzy. She’s headed toward bacon land.

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