Миранда Джеймс - Six Cats A Slayin'

Berkley Prime Crime titles by Miranda James

Cat in the Stacks Mysteries

MURDER PAST DUE

CLASSIFIED AS MURDER

FILE M FOR MURDER

OUT OF CIRCULATION

THE SILENCE OF THE LIBRARY

ARSENIC AND OLD BOOKS

NO CATS ALLOWED

TWELVE ANGRY LIBRARIANS

CLAWS FOR CONCERN

SIX CATS A SLAYIN’

Southern Ladies Mysteries

BLESS HER DEAD LITTLE HEART

DEAD WITH THE WIND

DIGGING UP THE DIRT

FIXING TO DIE

BERKLEY PRIME CRIME

Published by Berkley

An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

Copyright © 2018 by Dean James

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BERKLEY and the BERKLEY & B colophon are registered trademarks and BERKLEY PRIME CRIME is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: James, Miranda, author.

Title: Six cats a slayin’ / Miranda James.

Description: First edition. | New York: Berkley Prime Crime, October 2018. |

Series: Cat in the stacks mystery; 10

Identifiers: LCCN 2018023377 | ISBN 9780451491091 (hardback) | ISBN 9780451491107 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Murder—Investigation—Fiction. | Librarians—Fiction. | Cats—Fiction. | BISAC: FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Traditional British. | GSAFD: Mystery fiction.

Classification: LCC PS3610.A43 S59 2018 | DDC 813/.6—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018023377

First Edition: October 2018

Cover art by Dan Craig

Cover design by Lesley Worrell and Katie Anderson

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

Version_1

This book is dedicated with great love and thanks to Martha Farrington, my second mother. Her love and support have made a huge difference in my life, and I am grateful that I walked into Murder By The Book so many years ago and found a home.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

First, as always, thanks to my amazing editor, Michelle Vega, and the team at Berkley who do so much for me: Jennifer Monroe, Tara O’Connor, and Elisha Katz. Rock on, ladies!

Thanks also to my agent, the inimitable Nancy Yost, and her team: Sarah E. Younger, Natanya Wheeler, and Amy Rosenbaum. My career couldn’t be in better hands. Y’all rock on, too!

Without the wonderful friends in my life who support me on a daily basis, I wouldn’t get very far doing anything. So many of them to thank: Julie Herman, Patricia Orr, Terry Farmer, John Kwiatkowski, Carolyn Haines, Don Herrington, Sally Woods, McKenna Jordan, Brenda Jordan, Megan Bladen-Blinkoff, Sandy Wallesch, my fellow Femmes Fatales, and my sisters in the Cozy Mystery Share a Palooza on Facebook: you’re all a privilege to know.

Finally, a special thanks, as always, to the readers who have taken Charlie and Diesel to their hearts so fervently. My appreciation for your enthusiasm and support is tremendous. Every book I write, I write for you.

CONTENTS

Berkley Prime Crime titles by Miranda James

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-three

Chapter Thirty-four

Chapter Thirty-five

Chapter Thirty-six

About the Author

ONE

I opened the envelope and read the enclosed invitation. After the import of it had sunk in, I balled up the stiff card and threw it across the kitchen. I muttered a curse to myself.

Diesel, my Maine Coon cat, saw this action as an invitation to play. He darted after the wadded-up card and started batting it around the floor. I watched, my mind busy trying to come up with polite ways to say not on your life to the issuer of the invitation.

“What’s Mr. Cat playing with?”

The voice of Azalea Berry, my housekeeper, broke into my thoughts. I looked up to see her, hands on hips, staring at the large cat playing soccer across the room.

“An invitation,” I said.

“Who’s inviting the cat somewhere?”

Azalea’s deadpan expression at first had me thinking she was serious. Then I saw the twinkle in her eyes.

“I wish it was for Diesel.” I couldn’t quite keep the sour note out of my voice. “It’s addressed to me, unfortunately.”

Spatula in hand, Azalea turned back to the stove. “Eggs’ll be ready in a minute. Who’s it from?”

“The new neighbor,” I replied. “The one who bought old Mr. Hardy’s house.”

“Oh, her .” Azalea’s tone indicated that she didn’t care for Geraldine Albritton any more than I did. “What kind of invite is it?”

“She’s having a Christmas party. According to the invitation, it’s a Neighborhood Meet-and-Greet . And it’s next week.”

“She’s not giving people much notice. What if they all made other plans for that night?” Azalea set a plate of scrambled eggs, country ham, and biscuits in front of me. Diesel saw that I now had food, and he left off batting his new toy around. He came up to my chair, placed a large paw atop my thigh, and emitted a sad chirp. Starvation was imminent.

“More than likely she’s thinking the curiosity value will bring them. I don’t know how many neighbors have dropped by to welcome her to the neighborhood so far, but you can bet there will be more than a few people who haven’t who’ll be wanting to see the inside of that house.”

Azalea snorted. “People are always wanting to find out about their neighbors.”

“True.” I put my attention to the food on my plate and let my mind contemplate the looming situation. Azalea refilled my coffee cup before she left the kitchen for the laundry room.

I believed I knew my neighbors well enough to predict that most of them would not react kindly to the overtures of a pushy newcomer. Based on my limited acquaintance with Geraldine— call me Gerry— Albritton, I felt pretty sure that, unless she toned herself down, many of my neighbors wouldn’t want to have much to do with her. Southerners have always prided themselves on their hospitality, but by the same turn, they weren’t always ready to welcome strangers to the inner circle. Gerry Albritton might not find people in this neighborhood as ready to embrace her as she probably expected.

Though I desperately wanted to forget every second of our first meeting, I couldn’t suppress it. The memory of it hung around, refusing to be banished. I recalled it as I ate my breakfast.