Coconut Milk Casualty (Claire's Candles Cozy Mystery Book 3) by Agatha Frost

Author:Agatha Frost [Frost, Agatha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pink Tree Publishing LTD
Published: 2020-08-29T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

“Pickles?” Claire called up the stairs, pushing past a trembling Damon. “I forgot my uncle had a cat.”

“C-cat?” Damon cried, scrambling up the stairs on her heels. “It sounded like Usain Bolt himself sprinted across that floor.”

“He’s a big cat.”

Pickles, a large ginger shorthair, backed away from Claire. His head recoiled as he hissed again, his eyes as wide as saucers. How many days had it been since his last meal? Rather than trying to appease the cat with words or affection, Claire searched the cupboards. She came across two tins of tuna first. She popped the lids off, and Pickles launched onto the counter to bury his face in one before she had a chance to dump them into a bowl.

“Poor thing must be starving,” she said, filling a dish with water. “Must be days since he’s eaten properly.” She set the water on the floor and dumped the second tin of tuna onto a saucer. After searching more cupboards, she found a box of biscuits and poured as many as would fit into another bowl. “Poor guy’s been forgotten about.”

Leaving Pickles to fill his boots, they went through to the sitting room at the front of the cottage with the rest of the beer. In contrast to the highly polished cellar, the rest of the house was decorated as simply as could be: white walls, a grey sofa with a matching armchair, a coffee table, and a small television on a stand in the corner. With no rugs, cushions, pictures, or even a mirror, it definitely missed what her mother would call ‘a woman’s touch.’

“Shame the power isn’t on,” Damon said, squatting to scan the DVDs on the shelf under the TV. “There’s some Doctor Who boxsets here. Didn’t know your uncle was a Whovian.”

“A what?” Ryan laughed, dropping onto the left side of the sofa in a sprawl.

“It’s a name for people who like Doctor Who,” Damon said in a quieter voice, his cheeks reddening. “It’s a bit silly, really, but it gets the job done.”

“Sounds cool.” Ryan ripped another beer can from the plastic ring and tossed it to Damon. “I think my mum used to have some of the VHS tapes when I was a kid.”

Damon sat in the armchair next to the window, and Claire took the right corner of the small, hard sofa. She had been trying to warm Damon up to the idea of hanging out with Ryan for a while, but Damon had insisted ‘guys like him’ – which she could only imagine meant guys with muscles – didn’t like men like him.

While the storm raged on over the next few hours, they talked about anything and everything. The laughter only grew as they emptied the small cans of warm lager. Much to Claire’s relief, Damon loosened up, warming to Ryan. Despite his slightly intimidating bulky exterior these days, Ryan was (and had always been) one of those guys with whom it was incredibly easy to get along and, more importantly, laugh with.

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