Софи Райан - Telling Tails

PRAISE FOR THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING SECOND CHANCE CAT MYSTERIES

“A surefire winner.”

—Miranda James, New York Times bestselling author

“An affirmation of friendship as well as a tantalizing whodunit, The Whole Cat and Caboodle marks a promising start to a series sure to appeal to anyone who loves a combination of felonies and felines.”

— Richmond Times-Dispatch

“Ryan kicks off the new Second Chance Cat Mystery series with a lot of excitement. Her small Maine town is filled with unique characters . . . This tale is enjoyable from beginning to end; readers will look forward to more.”

— RT Book Reviews

“Cozy readers will enjoy the new Second Chance Cat series.”

—Gumshoe Review

“If you enjoy a cozy mystery featuring a lovable protagonist with a bevy of staunch friends, a shop you’d love to explore, plenty of suspects, and a super smart cat, you’ll love The Whole Cat and Caboodle .”

—MyShelf.com

“Enjoyable . . . Remember, everyone has a secret, even the cat.”

—Kings River Life Magazine

“I am absolutely crazy about this series . . . The cast of characters is phenomenal . . . I loved every minute of this book.”

—Melissa’s Mochas, Mysteries & Meows

Titles by Sofie Ryan

The Whole Cat and Caboodle

Buy a Whisker

A Whisker of Trouble

Telling Tails

BERKLEY PRIME CRIME

Published by Berkley

An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

Copyright © 2017 by Darlene Ryan

Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

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

Ebook ISBN: 9781101991213

First Edition: January 2017

Cover art by Mary Ann Lasher

Cover design 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.

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Acknowledgments

Getting from an idea to a finished book takes the efforts of more than just me.

Thank you to my editor, Jessica Wade. Your hard work makes every book better. Thank you as well to Kim Lionetti and the staff at Bookends Literary Agency. You make my working life so much easier.

Thanks to Jesse for the information about foghorns and to Judy for explaining how a registrar’s office works. Any errors are mine, not theirs.

And thank you to Patrick and Lauren who never complain when I’m talking to imaginary people.

Contents

Praise for the Second Chance Cat Mysteries

Titles by Sofie Ryan

Title Page

Copyright

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

About the Author

Chapter 1

The last thing Rose Jackson saw before she was coldcocked with a plastic sailboat fender was the body of Jeff Cameron being dragged across his kitchen floor. At least that was what she was telling everyone from her bed at Northeastern Medical Center.

Earlier that Wednesday evening, Elvis and I had been settled in the big chair in front of the bedroom TV. We’d watched part one of the Gotta Dance reunion special, and when the credits had begun to scroll across the screen, I’d intended to get up, but before I knew it I was caught up in the campy drama of Restless Days , the popular new nighttime soap that was turning out to be the hit of the summer television season. Elvis was sprawled across my lap and I didn’t want to move him. At least that’s what I told myself.

I tucked my feet up underneath me and reached for the big bowl of popcorn covered in Parmesan cheese that I’d made just before Gotta Dance began. It was empty.

I glanced down at the floor to see if any had spilled. No. “I guess we ate it all,” I said to Elvis.

The cat lifted his head, looked at me through narrowed green eyes and made a soft murp.

I made a face at him. “Okay, I ate it all.”

Satisfied that had been cleared up, he dropped his head on my lap again.

Elvis was the only one with whom I could share my secret addiction to Gotta Dance . Since he was a small black cat with a scar across his nose and not the King of Rock and Roll, he wasn’t likely to say anything about how caught up I was in the must-see-TV celebrity dance show. Because I had two left feet myself, I knew if my brother Liam found out he’d laugh himself silly, not to mention wheedle that video of me doing the bird dance in middle school from Mom.

“Part two will be on in an hour and a half,” I said, setting the empty popcorn bowl on the footstool. I reached over the side of the chair and picked up the small dish of cat crackers I’d brought in for Elvis. There were three left. The cat, it seemed, had paced himself a little better than I had.

I arranged the star-shaped treats in a row on my leg. He glanced at them, then looked at the TV, where the spinning mirror ball now filled the screen again in a promo for part two of the Gotta Dance reunion special. Finally, he focused his green eyes on me with a seemingly—to me—quizzical expression on his furry black face.

“Matt Lauer, Kevin Sorbo, Lee Child, Christian Kane and the cute guy with the beard from that cooking show Rose made us watch,” I said, ticking off the names of the show’s second-half participants on the fingers of my left hand.

Elvis cocked his head to one side as though he was trying to decide which celebrity he was going to root for. After a moment he made a soft “mrrr” sound as though he’d made up his mind. I picked up a cracker and held it out to him. He took it from me, wrinkling his whiskers in a thank-you.

My phone rang then. I glanced at the screen. It was Liz. Elizabeth Emmerson Kiley French was one of my grandmother’s closest friends, and since Gram had been gone on what seemed like a never-ending honeymoon, Liz had been keeping an eye on me. Among other things, that meant she asked pointed questions about my mostly nonexistent love life and showed up with takeout when she thought I wasn’t eating properly.

“Hi, Liz,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Rose is in the hospital,” she said flatly. Liz wasn’t the type of person to beat around the bush.

“What happened?” I asked, sitting upright in the chair. Elvis rolled over and turned to watch my face, as if somehow he sensed something was wrong. My stomach lurched as though I’d just swung way out over deep water on a rope swing and let go. Rose—who was also close friends with my grandmother—was like family to me. The thought of anything happening to her was something I didn’t want to even consider.

“She’s all right,” Liz said, and I pictured her gesturing with one perfectly manicured hand. “Someone hit her over the head and knocked her out. I think that hard noggin of hers is what saved her.”