The Cat of Amontillado: A Cozy Mystery (The Psychic Cat Mysteries Book 1) by SM Reine

Author:SM Reine [Reine, SM]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Red Iris Books
Published: 2019-04-01T04:00:00+00:00

6

Sheriff Gwyn

Disappointingly, Sinead had not left the knitting circle early to concoct a cure. She’d promised Gwyn that she would research the Ring of Bau. I could only hope her search would yield results before my mummies crossed the juncture into Haven again.

I spent the night sleeping curled at the foot of Gwyn’s bed. Every time she woke, she tried to move me back to the couch, but I returned the instant she closed her eyes again. I was used to sleeping between my mummies. I wasn’t good at being alone. The hours had passed too slowly.

For breakfast, we had eggs.

“I eat mostly eggs,” Gwyn said, putting a plate in front of me. “The chickens make more than I can even give away.”

I lapped at them. They were fine. “Do zombies eat?”

“Sure,” she said.

“Do you digest?”

“Not really,” she said. “I don’t need the fuel. I’m kept running by magic.” She tapped the tiny bird skull inside her necklace again.

“Do you excrete the food in a manner similar to its appearance after chewing?”

“Pretty much. It’s kinda drier by then, since my body soaks up the fluids. That’s what helps move it along. Plus a tall glass of Metamucil.” She sat across from me with eggs and something orange to drink.

“That’s fascinating,” I said.

“I’m fascinated by what your brain does and doesn’t know.” She swirled the orange drink, took a sip. “Wonder if we could get the Ring of Bau out the other end. Feed you a bunch of fiber.”

I imagined trying to produce the ring in my litter box. Or worse: a human toilet, of which there were few in the Haven. A very unpleasant thought.

Our investigation began after breakfast. We started with the winery that supplied the wine cellar.

The winery was run by Rebecca Manzanilla, a sylph who had retired from the Summer Court. It only made sense for one of the faerie folk to produce the alcohol enjoyed in Haven. Lushes comprised the entire breed. They found sex and drink irresistible, according to Gwyn.

"It's a good thing we've only got one sidhe in this neck of Haven, let me tell you," Gwyn muttered on our way up the driveway. "I don't know about you, but I only need so many sex parties at my retirement home."

I blinked at her slowly, then looked away.

“How did the vampire die?” I asked. We had agreed that I should accompany Gwyn on the murder investigation—I was curious, and Gwyn didn’t trust me home alone—but she had refused to let me examine the body. Instead, Penny had shaken her keychain at me. I had been too distracted by the jingle to listen in on the town healer’s analysis.

“Starvation,” Gwyn said. “If there’s a body left after a vampire dies, it’s gotta be starvation. There’s a lotta different kind of vampires, but most of them crumble into ash if they die in any violent way.”

I considered this information as we continued our approach to the winery. The distance through the grapevines would not have been long as the laser pointer flies, but the path was twistier than knotted string.

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