Toffee Apple Torment (Claire's Candles Cozy Mystery Book 6) by Agatha Frost

Author:Agatha Frost [Frost, Agatha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pink Tree Publishing LTD
Published: 2022-09-29T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

While her mother tried to interest Mrs Beaton in sorting the plastic boxes, Claire went to the kitchen to make her a brew. It looked like Mrs Beaton had tried herself at some point. Milk filled a mug about the amount you’d put in a cup of tea. A teabag lay ripped next to it, the contents sprinkled on the counter. The kettle was in the sink amongst empty tins of cat food.

“Some of their collars have phone numbers, and I couldn’t find any two that were the same.” Damon popped his head through the serving window, holding an amiable black cat. “I don’t think these are hers. Not originally, at least.”

“She’s always had cats.”

“But this many?”

Claire had never been able to count Mrs Beaton’s cats, but Damon was right. It had never been this excessive. Most had hidden in the garden while they’d cleaned the house, but they’d since reclaimed their territory, and with the mess gone, it was easy to see just how many there were. She looked down at the abandoned tea-making attempt, and her chest tightened.

“I ... I don’t know!” Mrs Beaton cried from the living room. “Leave me alone.”

“C’mon, Mrs Beaton. Keep or throw?”

“I ... I don’t want to do this.”

“I’m only trying to help you—”

“Mother?” Claire called as she creaked open the door. “How about we leave this for another night? I don’t think this is something we can organise and clean our way out of. How about we have Mrs Beaton over for dinner? She could join us for our game night.”

“Is that a priority, with everything that’s going on right now?”

“Because of everything,” she said in a quieter voice. “Let her have the night off from all this. She’s been through a lot this past week. She might like the company.”

Mrs Beaton came happily when Claire helped her out of her chair. She put on her coat and shoes, now easily accessible in the cleared hallway, and tottered off without waiting for them.

“Didn’t have to go looking far to find this.” Damon hurried down the garden path after Claire, phone in his hand. “What was that cat who scratched you called?”

“Trevor.” Showing off the scabbed-over slash on her hand, she added, “We’re bonded for life now.”

“This him?”

Damon turned his phone to her. Claire’s heart sank. The ginger cat she’d fallen down a tunnel for stared at her from the centre of a missing poster.

“He’s been missing for two months.” He swiped through several posts on his phone, showing many homemade posters with cats of every size and colour. “They’re still looking for him, and there are tons more. I think she’s been taking people’s cats.”

“We’ll deal with it,” she replied, hurrying to catch up with Mrs Beaton. “They’ve stuck around for a reason.”

In her parents’ house, her father and Granny Greta had already poured their first splash of whisky by the time they joined them at the dining table. After frozen lasagne with improvised garlic bread – of which Mrs Beaton ate an incredible amount – they took a vote for Scrabble or draughts.

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