Блейз Клемент - The Cat Sitter's Nine Lives

Ethan stirred and looked up at me with squinted eyes. “Hey, babe. How’d it go?”

I whispered, “Fine. We found Cosmo. He’s gonna spend the night with us.”

He said, “Nice job,” and then ran his hand up and caressed the back of my head. I felt a jab of pain from the bump there and pulled away.

“Watch the hair! It took me half an hour to get it to look this gorgeous.”

He curled tighter around me and smiled sleepily as he laid his head in my lap. “Wow. You are such a girl.”

I gazed down at the ocean and watched the moonlight bounce and glitter on the waves as they rolled silently up on the beach. I should probably have been sleepy, too—my body felt like it had been hit by a runaway train, and the bump on the back of my head was pounding away as if it had its own pulse, but I didn’t feel the least bit tired. I was wide-awake.

“And also … we found out who murdered Mr. Hoskins.”

I looked down so I could watch Ethan’s reaction, but his eyes were closed and his lips were slightly parted. I could hear his breathing, slow and steady, and every once in a while his eyelids flickered slightly. Michael and Paco were still fast asleep; with their legs and arms all intertwined, it was impossible to tell whose was whose.

I whispered, a little louder now, “Yeah, it was Mr. Silverthorn.”

No one stirred.

“He found a naked drawing of Mrs. Silverthorn, and guess who the artist was?”

Michael snorted softly.

“That’s right, you guessed it. Mr. Hoskins. Silverthorn decided they’d had an affair, so he made some poisoned chocolates and told his footman he had to plant them or he’d turn him in for robbing banks.”

I took a bite of pie and glanced over at Paco. “Yep, his footman was Mr. Vladim, and Silverthorn planned on framing him for the murder, so he dressed up like an old lady and followed Vladim to the bookstore to make sure he did as he was told.”

Suddenly there was a quiet “thrrreeep!” and Ella Fitzgerald hopped up and gazed longingly into my eyes, purring like an electric razor.

“You heard me, an old lady! But Vladim didn’t do what he was told. Instead he crashed into a truck—that’s where I came in—so Silverthorn went to the bookstore and knocked Mr. Hoskins out and dressed up in his clothes and sold me that book and then dragged Mr. Hoskins into a crawl space and shot him and then snuck out the back door.”

I covered Ella’s ears for that last part and then looked around. “Am I going too fast?”

Ethan said, “Unhh.”

“Oh, and Mrs. Silverthorn’s maid is Vladim’s wife. She’s the other bank robber they’re looking for. Except I’m the only one that knows that. And I’m going over there in the morning to convince her to turn herself in. Either that or tell her to run away. I’m not sure I want to see her go to prison, but I know that would make me an accomplice to a felon. And I’ve been walking around all week with deadly chocolates in my bag.”

Ella yawned.

“Oh, and I almost forgot, Mr. Silverthorn shot me in the alley tonight.”

I took one last bite of pie and then raised my fork in the air with a flourish. “But he missed!”

I looked around. Nobody said a word. Ella stretched herself into her best scary-cat pose and then curled up in the nook of Ethan’s arm. The rest of them just lay there, snoring quietly.

And that was it. Nobody launched into a lecture about how I’m always getting myself in trouble and how I should be more careful, how I should’ve known better than to snoop around that bookstore late at night, how I should let the sheriff’s department do their job and mind my own business and blah blah blah …

I figured I could always fill them in on the details later … maybe. For now I just wanted to enjoy the moment, the gentle hush of the waves rolling in, the palm trees and pines swaying gently in the breeze, the night-blooming cereus twining overhead and filling the air with its sweet scent, and all my favorite men and furry beasts and Michael’s world-class key lime pie.

There was one last piece sitting on the pie plate all by its lonesome in the middle of the table. I stretched my arm out as far as I could, but it was too far away, and with Ethan’s head on my lap and Ella curled between us I knew if I got up I’d wake them all and spoil the moment. So instead I just sat there.

My gardening book was at the opposite end of the table, opened halfway and lying facedown at Michael’s spot. There was a scratch pad next to it where he had scribbled a couple of notes. Hopefully, with Silverthorn’s fingerprints on Mr. Hoskins’s buttons, McKenzie wouldn’t need the book as evidence. That way Michael could keep it.

As for the chapter on poisonous plants, I figured maybe I’d keep that for myself—it had definitely turned out to be a pretty good reference tool for solving a mystery—and you never know when something like that might come in handy.

ALSO BY BLAIZE AND JOHN CLEMENT

The Cat Sitter’s Cradle

ALSO BY BLAIZE CLEMENT

The Cat Sitter’s Pajamas

Cat Sitter Among the Pigeons

Raining Cat Sitters and Dogs

Cat Sitter on a Hot Tin Roof

Even Cat Sitters Get the Blues

Duplicity Dogged the Dachshund

Curiosity Killed the Cat Sitter

About the Authors

John Clement is the son of Blaize Clement (1932–2011), who originated the Dixie Hemingway mystery series and collaborated with her son on the plots and characters for forthcoming novels. Blaize is the author of Curiosity Killed the Cat Sitter, Duplicity Dogged the Dachshund, Even Cat Sitters Get the Blues, Cat Sitter on a Hot Tin Roof, Raining Cat Sitters and Dogs, Cat Sitter Among the Pigeons, and The Cat Sitter’s Pajamas . Visit their Web site at www.DixieHemingway.com.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

A THOMAS DUNNE BOOK FOR MINOTAUR BOOKS.

An imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group.

THE CAT SITTER’S NINE LIVES. Copyright © 2014 by Blaize and John Clement. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.thomasdunnebooks.com

www.minotaurbooks.com

Cover designed by David Baldeosingh Rotstein

eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.

The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

ISBN 978-1-250-00933-3 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-4668-4851-1 (e-book)

e-ISBN 9781466848511

First Edition: July 2014