Copy Cats by Mollie Hunt

Author:Mollie Hunt [Hunt, Mollie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery.Cozy, Pets.Cats
Goodreads: 29423737
Publisher: Mollie Hunt
Published: 2020-07-23T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Thirty percent of the average cat’s waking time is spent grooming.

After tea, Frannie and I went shopping, then to a movie, one of the new action hero flicks based on a comic book character. Lots of smash ’em, crash ’em, brilliant special effects in 3D. We both enjoyed it tremendously and laughed because the hero who was exciting all the young fans had come straight out of a comic Frannie and I had read as children. We won’t go into how long ago that was but suffice it to say, this hunky fellow in the red tights, if judged by years alone, would be a senior citizen by now.

It was six o’clock when I finally got home. After a hello to the kitties, I went straight to the TV to see if I could catch some news about the murder at FOF. As I stripped off coat, hat, scarf, gloves, and soggy shoes, I heard the announcement that they would be back with more on the murder after this brief message. I plopped down on the couch and muted the commercial. Four minutes later, I was still waiting for the furniture ads, insurance ads, fast food ads to end; no one in their right mind could call that brief!

Little had instantly claimed her spot on my lap. Violet was insisting it was dinner time, which it was. Solo, my shy white girl, poked her nose out from under the couch to agree with Violet. Tinkerbelle lay curled by the window, but one eye was wide open so as not to miss any important action. Big Red had got the jump on the others; I could hear him munching leftover kibble in the kitchen, not bothering to wait for more savory fare.

Harry wanted to go outside even though it was cold and I knew he wouldn’t like it. I ignored them all. They could wait a few minutes longer.

Then the phone rang.

Oh, brother, I said to myself. The news was back on, and I considered not answering, but after the fourth ring, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I heard my mother in my head saying, it might be something important; why, it might even be my mother, though she usually calls on my cell. Launching myself toward kitchen with a few colorful expletives, I grabbed the cordless receiver and stepped back into the doorway where I could at least see the TV.

“Yes?”

There was a pause on the line, and I figured it was one of those spam calls that the no-call registry was supposed to opt me out of. I was about to hang up when I heard a faint “Hello?” on the other end.

“Yes?” I repeated. “Who is this?”

“Lynley Cannon? This is Lenore Todd, your hospice patient?”

I ducked back into the kitchen, beyond the noise of the news. “Lenore! Yes, this is Lynley. I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize your voice on the telephone.”

“Oh, I understand completely. A woman alone can’t be too careful these days. And I really am sorry to bother you.

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