Till the Cat Lady Sings (Bought-the-Farm Mystery 4) by Ellen Riggs

Author:Ellen Riggs [Riggs, Ellen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781989303597
Published: 2020-08-18T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

I was dreaming about handblown glass figurines dancing in green meadows under a rainbow when something woke me. More specifically, two things woke me. One was staring at me with an eerie blue eye in the square of dim light from the window. The other was sitting on my chest with two paws pressing my windpipe with just a slight hint of 10 claws.

“Percy, are you trying to choke me? And Keats, if he is, why are you just sitting there?”

The cat backed up a little and kneaded my rib cage, purring. He was well satisfied with his efforts to drag me from pleasant dreams at two a.m. By the looks of things, Keats felt the same way. I’d seen that expression before plenty of times.

“Nope. Uh-uh,” I told him. “I promised Jilly I wouldn’t take any middle-of-the-night joyrides alone and she needs her beauty sleep to be ready for the guests tomorrow.”

Keats put his muzzle on the side of the bed and whined.

“I know it seems vitally important in this moment, but it can wait till daylight. I’m trying to be more sensible, Keats. You should help me, not lead me into temptation.”

Now he mumbled something that sounded very persuasive. He was making a good case for whatever it was he thought we needed to be doing at two a.m. What I heard in my head was, “Have I ever led you wrong before?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It depends on your definition of wrong, I guess. You’ve led me to some interesting clues, no doubt about that. But sometimes things get a little hairy, wouldn’t you agree?”

If the dog had shoulders, they’d shrug. He added a mumble that I took as a taunt.

“Don’t you mock me just because I’m showing a little self-restraint. I was a very sensible person before you came along.”

I let my head drop back on the pillow and thought about my life before Keats. My stomach roiled a little, and it wasn’t just from the rich dinner with the Binghams. There were no green meadows and dancing figurines back in Boston. The days of unrelenting drudgery were broken only by moments of sheer misery as I fired people and destroyed their lives. In the evening, I’d drown my sorrows and loneliness in mindless TV. It was a good thing I hadn’t inherited my absentee father’s propensity for booze.

Keats waited for me to come to the right decision on my own, but patience wasn’t Percy’s strong suit. The cat flexed all 10 claws at once and I sat up abruptly. It felt as if I’d been electrocuted. “Hey, that hurt!”

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and dumped the cat to the floor as I stood. He landed with a soft thump and an indignant meow.

“Better than you deserve,” I said, pulling my overalls right over my pajamas and then slipping my arms into a fleece hoodie.

I followed the pair downstairs, with Keats in the lead and Percy close behind. Their tails were up in apparent celebration of their victory.

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