Literature, Larceny and Litterboxes: A Paranormal Cozy Mystery (Library Cat Magical Mysteries Book 2) by Skye Sullivan

Author:Skye Sullivan [Sullivan, Skye]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-07-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Sophie had been so pleased to stay up with the adults and talk about the murder investigation that it was like pulling a tooth to get her in a pair of pajamas and off to bed. After she retired to her room (with many grumbles) I sent Kong outside to prowl the town. In actuality, I just wanted him to do his business out of doors. He’d said nothing about it yet, but I could tell that the Jibbleson Sisters’ Mega Perfect-o Feline Excretion Mineral Media 9000 was not up to par.

Fintan stayed for another half hour while we talked about things that didn’t involve murder or death or arsenic. He left at about ten and I was ready for bed myself. It had been a long day, and I was full and sleepy from the cream sauce, half a loaf of soft French bread and the bottle of discount wine. Fintan must have been full and sleepy too, because as he got up to leave, we parted ways with a lukewarm kiss on the cheek.

I was slightly disappointed at such a chaste goodbye until I twisted the deadbolt, turned around and saw Sophie peeking into the living room.

“Go to sleep,” I said.

“I just needed a glass of water,” she said with faux innocence dripping off every word.

“Teenagers,” I said. “How do my sisters do it?” It must have been like Hortensia’s analogy of the frog boiling in the pot. One day they’re running around playing with toys and talking to imaginary friends, then the next thing you know, they’re sneaking around trying to spy on you.

“Mom says cuteness is our survival mechanism,” Sophie said.

“Maybe,” I said. “But I missed out on most of your cute years, so I’m more immune than she is. Go to sleep.”

She turned around down the hallway and went back into her room. Without the glass of water she allegedly so desperately needed.

I tidied up the living room and kitchen, taking the wine glasses to the sink and putting the empty bottle in the recycling box. I was about to get into my own pajamas when there was a knock at the door. It was past ten thirty by now. Who would come to the door right now without calling first? Had Fintan left something behind?

Or was I getting too close to discovering the killer’s secret?

I crept to the front door, the pendant at my neck quickly losing heat. It was like a little ice cube hanging from the chain. The tips of my fingers crackled with electricity.

I lifted myself up so that I could look out of the peephole, but before I could line up my eyeball with the little glass lens, the door burst open with a rush of hot, arid air.

I staggered back and tripped over the coffee table. I was about to go sprawling onto my butt—and probably slip a vertebral disc in the bargain—when an invisible force lifted me up and steadied me on my feet.

“Hortensia?”

“Did you think it was Santa Claus?” she asked.

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