Much Ado About Felines (Whales and Tails Mystery Book 4)

Much Ado About Felines

by

Kathi Daley

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 by Katherine Daley

Version 1.0

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

This book is dedicated to Randy Ladenheim-Gil for not only being the best editor in the world but for putting up with my wacky schedule and always coming through.

I also want to thank the very talented Jessica Fischer for the cover art.

I so appreciate Bruce Curran, who is always ready and willing to answer my cyber questions.

Special thanks to Joyce Aiken, Nancy Farris, Vivian Shane, Robin Coxon, Marie Rice, and Janel Flynn for their contribution of recipes.

And, of course, thanks to the readers and bloggers in my life who make doing what I do possible.

And finally I want to thank my sister Christy for always lending an ear and my husband Ken for allowing me time to write by taking care of everything else.

Come for the murder, stay for the romance.

Buy them on Amazon today
.

Zoe Donovan Cozy Mystery:

Halloween Hijinks

The Trouble With Turkeys

Christmas Crazy

Cupid’s Curse

Big Bunny Bump-off

Beach Blanket Barbie

Maui Madness

Derby Divas

Haunted Hamlet

Turkeys, Tuxes, and Tabbies

Christmas Cozy

Alaskan Alliance

Matrimony Meltdown

Soul Surrender

Heavenly Honeymoon

Hopscotch Homicide

Ghostly Graveyard –
October 2015

Santa Sleuth –
December 2015

Paradise Lake Cozy Mystery:

Pumpkins in Paradise

Snowmen in Paradise

Bikinis in Paradise

Christmas in Paradise

Puppies in Paradise

Halloween in Paradise –
August 2015

Whales and Tails Cozy Mystery:

Romeow and Juliet

The Mad Catter

Grimm’s Furry Tail

Much Ado About Felines

Legend of Tabby Hollow –
September 2015

Cat of Christmas Past –
November 2015

Seacliff High Mystery:

The Secret

The Curse

The Relic

The Conspiracy –
October 2015

Road to Christmas Romance:

Road to Christmas Past

I watched as the black and white cat strolled up to the ferry dock. As he had every Saturday since Tara and I had opened Coffee Cat Books, the cat jumped up onto the bench in the viewing area and waited for the eleven o’clock ferry from the mainland to arrive. And as he had every Saturday for the same six weeks, a tall, elderly man wearing a black suit, a white shirt, dark glasses, and a black hat, disembarked and walked up the ramp toward the main street of Pelican Bay.

Now, it isn’t at all odd for tourists to take the ferry from the mainland to Madrona Island. Every weekend hundreds of people travel to the touristy town on the south end of the island to enjoy the eclectic shops, fine dining, and island atmosphere. What is odd is that every Saturday for the past six weeks, the cat has jumped off the bench and followed that man, who then returns to the ferry for the trip east just three hours later.

I need to point out that my best friend and business partner Tara O’Brian and I only began noticing the man in the dark suit six weeks ago because that’s when we opened our store. For all we knew, the man could have been arriving on the island on the eleven o’clock ferry on Saturdays for months, or even years.

“Our mysterious stranger is back,” I said to Tara, who was preparing the coffee bar for the ferry passengers we knew would pile in for a beverage before heading into town.

“Is the cat there as well?”

“He is,” I verified as I stacked the last of the new paperbacks I’d been organizing in the display window. “It’s so odd the way the cat waits for the man and then follows him into town, even though I’ve never once seen him so much as acknowledge the presence of the animal.”

“It’s actually kind of creepy the way he looks directly ahead and never seems to notice anyone or anything around him. He didn’t even stop to look at the pod of whales that were in the harbor when the ferry docked last Saturday.”

Tara joined me at the window and we both watched the man walk past the shop.

“The way he walks with such purpose reminds me of a person who’s sleepwalking or in a trance,” I offered. “You know, he actually walks like a zombie. Maybe he
is
a zombie.”

“He’s not a zombie.”

“He’s really pale,” I pointed out.

“He’s not a zombie.”

“And those clothes. So dated.”

“Not a zombie.”

“If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck . . .” I argued.

“There are no such things as zombies. Still, I do wonder where he goes every Saturday.”

“I don’t know, but I have to admit to being curious. Maybe one of us should follow him,” I suggested. “From a distance of course, so as not to be conspicuous.”

“The problem is that eleven o’clock on Saturday is one of our busiest times,” Tara reminded me. “If one of us leaves to follow the man the one who stays will be swamped with the fifty people who are heading our way.”

“Don’t worry. I’d hurry,” I assured Tara.

“Cait,” Tara warned.

“Oh, okay. I’ll stay.”

The next thirty minutes were busy as passengers from the mainland filed in to order hot beverages. Tara’s idea of including a coffee bar as part of the bookstore was a good one. I’m certain we wouldn’t have half the business we do if folks from the ferry didn’t wander into the shop in search of a latte and leave with a bagful of books and novelty items as well.

Tara set the drinks she had been making in front of me so I could ring them up. “One black coffee, one soy pumpkin latte, one chai tea with milk, and three cranberry muffins,” I called out the order for two of our regulars, twin sisters Karla and Kayla Evington.

Karla and Kayla had grown up living in a two-story house a few doors down from the one where I grew up in the fishing village of Harthaven, the oldest settlement on Madrona Island.

“Thanks, Cait,” Kayla said as she handed me a twenty-dollar bill. “This is my boyfriend, Kyle.”

Kyle, Kayla, and Karla?
Oh, no, that’s not confusing.

“Kyle, this is Caitlin Hart. Her mom lives just down the street from my mom,” Kayla introduced me to a tall, dark-haired boy who appeared to be about her age. “Cait was in high school when Karla and I were in grade school, so she used to babysit for us.”

“I’m happy to meet you,” I said.

“Your store is dope.”

“Thank you.” I smiled at the teenage boy with bangs in his eyes and shorts that sagged halfway down his butt.

“How is the new apartment working out?” I asked Kayla.

Karla and Kayla had graduated high school the previous spring and recently moved into an apartment not far from the bookstore.

“It’s the bomb.” Kayla grinned. “And the rental company changed their mind and decided to allow us to adopt the girls if we were willing to put down an additional deposit.”

Karla and Kayla had their hearts set on adopting sisters, Sugar and Spice. The sisters had started off as feral kittens, but my Aunt Maggie had rescued them when they were very young and had been housing them in Harthaven Cat Sanctuary ever since. After several months of socialization with other cats and people, we’d decided they were ready for forever homes.

“And are you able to swing the deposit?” I asked.

“We are.” Kayla grinned. “When can we pick them up?”

“I’ll be here until five and Aunt Maggie is working at the Bait and Stitch today, but I could meet you at the cat sanctuary as soon as I get off if you’d like.”

“We’d like,” Karla chimed in as she picked up her pink to-go cup.

“Okay, I’ll see you out at Whale Watch Point at about five fifteen. I’m glad it worked out for you to have the kittens.”

The girls bounced away to drink their beverages and visit with the cats we were featuring that day. Coffee Cat Books is a unique endeavor Tara and I came up with one winter night as we sat in the oceanfront cabin I live in and dreamed about the
what ifs
in life. What if money was no object? What if talent wasn’t a limitation? What if we could do anything we imagined we could do?

The enterprise became a reality the previous summer, when we were able to purchase the old fish cannery located on the wharf where the ferry currently docks. Tara and I had always dreamed of opening a bookstore with a coffee bar, but after Aunt Maggie founded the sanctuary, we came up with the idea of incorporating a cat lounge, where visitors to our shop could visit with animals that were currently available for adoption while reading the book they’d just purchased and sipping one of Tara’s famous lattes.

We really did have the ultimate location. Right on the harbor, the bookstore was surrounded on three sides by beautiful blue water that complemented the green hillsides of neighboring islands in the distance. During the warmer summer months, the orcas that lived in the area came into the harbor to entertain customers who were lucky enough to be sitting on the wharf when they came by.

Although the whales were obviously a big draw, the store was designed to possess year-round appeal. While patrons could sit outdoors at the tables we’d provided during the summer, during the winter they could curl up on comfy sofas to read near the large stone fireplace that dominated one wall.

So far our plan to provide an enticing setting had worked, and we’ve been busier than we’d ever imagined. From my perspective, this is both a positive and a negative. I’m thrilled that we’ve been able to not only meet our financial obligations but also put some money away for the winter, but both Tara and I have been working a lot more hours than either of us will be able to maintain in the long run.

“Excuse me, miss.” A tall, thin woman with a beaklike nose stopped me as I headed toward the cash register. ” I was told the local newspaper had reopened. Do you have any copies of the most recent issue?”

“Actually, we sold out shortly after we opened this morning. The weekend issue has been selling faster than anyone can keep it in stock, but you might be able to pick up a copy at the newspaper office, which isn’t too far a walk from here.”

“What’s so special about the weekend issue?” the woman asked.

“The cover story is about the body that was found in Roxi Pettigrew’s burial site.”

The woman frowned. “There were two bodies in one grave?”

“No, just one.”

“Which one?” the woman asked.

“Roxi Pettigrew.”

The woman’s brow furrowed. “So Roxi Pettigrew’s body was found in Roxi Pettigrew’s burial site?”

“Yes.”

“And this is front-page news?”

“It is when as of eight days ago Roxi was very much alive,” I answered.

The woman was clearly confused.

“Roxi’s husband, Jimmy, passed three months ago as a result of an automobile accident. She buried him in the Madrona Island Cemetery and purchased the plot next to his for her own eventual demise so they could spend eternity side by side. Five days ago her best friend, Stacy, reported that Roxi seemed to be missing; she’d missed church on Sunday and failed to show up for work on Monday. Stacy went by Roxi’s apartment and it appeared her friend hadn’t been there for a couple of days. Three days later, on Thursday evening, the lawn service that tends to the cemetery on a weekly basis noticed that the sod covering Roxi’s gravesite appeared to have been disturbed. Yesterday they removed the sod and dug up the grave and Roxi was found buried inside. The story was reported in this morning’s newspaper and, like I said, the issue has been flying off the racks ever since.”

“So how did Roxi end up in her grave?” The woman was intrigued.

“That’s the thing: No one knows who killed her or how she got there. All we know for certain is that Roxi showed up for her shift as a waitress at the Driftwood Café on Thursday, September tenth, and attended the weekly meeting of the Mystery Lovers Book Club that evening. The owner of the Driftwood Café confirmed that Roxi worked Monday through Thursday and wasn’t expected to work over the weekend. Stacy confirmed that the mail that was delivered to Roxi on Friday, the eleventh, was picked up, opened, and sitting on her kitchen table, so she assumes Roxi was home on Friday morning. The weekend edition of the
Madrona Island News
was delivered on Saturday morning but was never picked up from her doormat, so we’re assuming something happened to her between the time the mail was picked up on Friday and the newspaper was delivered on Saturday. It’s possible whatever happened to Roxi happened at some point after Saturday, though, because Stacy didn’t know what Roxi planned to do on Saturday. Given the fact that she’s been going out a lot, it’s possible she had a date on Friday night and decided to stay over. She really wasn’t due to be anywhere until church services on Sunday.”

“Wow, it looks like you have quite a mystery on your hands.”

“Unfortunately, we’ve had a rash of mysteries on the island as of late. You can find the weekend issue of the paper online if you’re interested in following the story.” I handed the woman a flyer that gave the Web site’s address.

“Thank you. I’ll look it up. I find myself very much interested to see how this whole thing turns out.”

“Yeah, me too,” I agreed.

After the woman walked away I decided to start unpacking the inventory that had come over on the morning ferry. In addition to the pink mugs with the Coffee Cat Books logo Tara and I had designed to use in the coffee shop and to sell in the bookstore, there were bookmarks, reading lights, and Coffee Cat Books T-shirts. There was also the weekly delivery of paperbacks to check in and set out.

There are tasks associated with owning a bookstore that I enjoy, like digging through the shipments we receive, and there are others that I don’t, like the endless dusting required to keep our space clean and appealing. Tara handled most of the
real
work that was required of us as business owners. Not only did she take responsibility for ordering and controlling the inventory but she handled all the bookkeeping, as well as the daily task of baking the pastries we sell. I did want to be a contributing partner, so I tried to pitch in with dusting shelves, waiting tables, stocking inventory, and washing coffee mugs as often as I could.

“Where do you want these book bags?” I asked her.

“Why don’t you arrange one of each design in the display window and then hang the rest on the rack near the coffee mugs?”

I grabbed an assortment of the colorful totes and headed toward the front window.

The wharf was littered with people enjoying the sunshine and mild temperature. One of the things I liked best about spending time in the bookstore was the festive atmosphere that accompanied our everyday life. There’s something about the sounds and smells that accompany life on the ocean that can’t be duplicated anywhere else.

Although, as with most things in life, with the beautiful comes the annoying. I cringed as a seagull swooped down and tried to steal one of Tara’s muffins right out of a young girl’s hand. We’d posted signs warning people not to feed the birds, but more often than not visitors to the island ignored the signs, and the birds had grown accustomed to regular snacks of the human variety.

“The lady in the red sweatshirt is interested in adopting Cleo,” Tara informed me as I finished displaying the book bags and began tagging the shipment of T-shirts.