Death at Westminster (London Cozy Mysteries Book 1) by Rachel McLean & Millie Ravensworth

Author:Rachel McLean & Millie Ravensworth [McLean, Rachel & Ravensworth, Millie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ackroyd Publishing
Published: 2023-10-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Zaf was woken by someone tapping his arm.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

Zaf grunted. Where was he?

“Hey, I’m talking to you! What d’you think you’re doing?”

“Wait.” Zaf forced his eyes open. “Wait. I’m getting up.” He blinked. “Newton?”

Newton Crombie stood in the centre aisle of the top deck, hands on hips. “Of course it’s Newton! It’s my bus!”

Zaf pushed himself up. It wasn’t Newton’s bus, it was Chartwell and Crouch’s bus. But he didn’t think pointing that out would help.

“Have you drooled on that seat?” Newton snapped.

Zaf put a hand to his face. “I’ll clean the seat, mate, alright? Hang on and let me join the fully-awake club, yeah?”

Newton stood in a simmering silence while Zaf crowbarred himself up and tried to wipe any tell-tale dribble from his face.

“I understand why you’re upset, Newton.”

“Upset?”

“I’m sorry. I know the bus is your pride and joy. To be honest, the bus seats out in the garage were so comfy when I napped on them yesterday that I thought I’d try out the ones on the bus. I got here an hour ago and just fell asleep.”

“Liar!” shouted Newton. “I know you’ve spent the night here.”

“No, I—”

“I’ve got it all on camera.”

“What?”

“I should tell Paul Kensington.”

“No! Don’t do that. Look, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, but please don’t report me.”

Newton looked sceptical. Zaf knew the driver wasn’t a fan of the depot manager, but he was emotionally attached to the bus.

“Let me clean up and do any other polishing the old girl needs,” Zaf said. “I didn’t mean any harm.” He frowned. “How come the camera was pointing this way? You set it up for your cat monitoring experiment, not for the bus.”

Newton’s expression softened. “The camera got knocked. It’s a bit weird out there. I might need your help with the cat situation.”

“Help how?”

“If I don’t turn you in for sleeping on the bus, can you help me manage what’s going on out here?”

“Of course.” Zaf had no idea what Newton was talking about.

Newton stood aside for Zaf to get up and the two of them walked off the bus.

“Wow.” Zaf could see what Newton had meant by the cat situation.

“It’s been a little too successful,” Newton said.

“Wow,” Zaf repeated.

There had to be at least twenty of them. Maybe fifty. Tabbies. Gingers. A flat-faced long-haired white thing. More than a couple of sleek black things that had to have been panthers in their previous lives. Collared and uncollared, ragged and well-kept, the cats ranged from little more than kittens to a sprawling rug-like thing that Zaf felt was surely half-wildcat.

“I put some food out for my Gus,” said Newton.

“Gus?”

Newton pointed at the heavy-set tabby cat they’d spotted on camera. “Gus.”

“What was the stuff you put out for them?” asked Zaf. “Cat heroin?”

“I got a bag of sardines from the fish place on Marylebone High Street. They gave me a good price if I agreed to take everything they had left at closing time, so I did. It looked like the sort of stuff a cat might like.

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