• Пожаловаться

Лори Касс: Lending А Paw

Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «Лори Касс: Lending А Paw» весь текст электронной книги совершенно бесплатно (целиком полную версию). В некоторых случаях присутствует краткое содержание. год выпуска: 2013, категория: Детектив / на английском языке. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале. Библиотека «Либ Кат» — LibCat.ru создана для любителей полистать хорошую книжку и предлагает широкий выбор жанров:

любовные романы фантастика и фэнтези приключения детективы и триллеры эротика документальные научные юмористические анекдоты о бизнесе проза детские сказки о религиии новинки православные старинные про компьютеры программирование на английском домоводство поэзия

Выбрав категорию по душе Вы сможете найти действительно стоящие книги и насладиться погружением в мир воображения, прочувствовать переживания героев или узнать для себя что-то новое, совершить внутреннее открытие. Подробная информация для ознакомления по текущему запросу представлена ниже:

Лори Касс Lending А Paw

Lending А Paw: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «Lending А Paw»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.

With the help of her rescue cat, Eddie, librarian Minnie Hamilton is driving a bookmobile based in the resort town of Chilson, Michigan. But she’d better keep both hands on the wheel, because it’s going to be a bumpy ride… Eddie followed Minnie home one day, and now she can’t seem to shake the furry little shadow. But in spite of her efforts to contain her new pal, the tabby sneaks out and trails her all the way to the bookmobile on its maiden voyage. Before she knows it, her slinky stowaway becomes her cat co-pilot! Minnie and Eddie’s first day visiting readers around the county seems to pass without trouble—until Eddie darts outside at the last stop and leads her to the body of a local man who’s reached his final chapter. Initially, Minnie is ready to let the police handle this case, but Eddie seems to smell a rat. Together, they’ll work to find the killer—because a good librarian always knows when justice is overdue.

Лори Касс: другие книги автора


Кто написал Lending А Paw? Узнайте фамилию, как зовут автора книги и список всех его произведений по сериям.

Lending А Paw — читать онлайн бесплатно полную книгу (весь текст) целиком

Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «Lending А Paw», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

I took one step away from the bench.

The cat didn’t move.

I took another step.

He still didn’t move.

Good. He wouldn’t follow me home and beg to be fed and housed and cared for. Or was it only dogs that begged? Everything I knew about pets I’d learned from watching America’s Funniest Home Videos.

I walked down the hill, not dawdling, but not hurrying, either, because being chased out of the cemetery by a cat was ridiculous.

So I headed back toward the marina with a light heart, thinking about the coming summer. My walk took me through the outskirts of town with its clapboard cottages, past the brick post office, past the stucco city hall, and through downtown with half its shops still closed for winter.

Throughout my journey, the sun shone and people smiled. I smiled back, happy to be alive, happy to be me. Then white-haired Mr. Goodwin, a regular library patron, said, “Hello, Minnie. Who’s your little friend?” He pointed behind me.

I closed my eyes. “Don’t tell me it’s a cat.”

The elderly man chuckled. “Okay, I won’t. Hope you and your friend enjoy the rest of this fine day.” He and his dapper cane moved off.

I kept my eyes closed for a moment longer. Mr. Goodwin had a vivid imagination; he was always telling shaggy-dog stories that kept you riveted until the final pointless ending. Sure, that was it. Another story. Just a really, really short one.

“Mrr.”

I turned and there he was. The cat. Who looked remarkably proud of himself.

“Why did you follow me?” I asked, frowning. “And quit looking at me like that.”

“Um, Minnie?” Another library patron was standing on the sidewalk, holding one small child by the hand and an even smaller one on her hip. “Cats don’t like that tone of voice,” she said. “If you keep talking to him like that, he’s never going to answer.”

“He followed me, that’s all. He’s not mine.”

“Are you sure?” Laughing, she walked off.

I looked at the cat. He looked at me.

“You do have a home, don’t you?” I asked.

He walked straight to me and gave me my first-ever fuzzy head butt, right on the boniest part of my shin.

“Ow! That hurt!”

He butted me again. This time it was gentler, almost a caress. Then he was winding around my ankles in figure eights, around and around and around.

I sank into a crouch and patted his head. He turned his face away, making my fingers slide under his chin. “You like that, do you?” I scratched his chin with one hand and petted his long back with the other.

His purrs were loud and rattling and . . . and comforting.

“Well,” I said, “maybe you could stay with me until we find your real home.”

“Mrr.”

•   •   •

That day had been almost two months ago. I’d taken the cat to the town’s veterinarian until the boat was ready, and the vet confirmed that the cat was a male, that he weighed thirteen pounds, had ear mites, needed to be wormed, was roughly two years old, and hadn’t been reported as missing.

I’d run the obligatory ad in the paper and talked to the local animal shelter, but no one came to claim my little buddy. His name had been the inspiration of a bemused coworker. “Sounds like an Eddie kind of a cat,” Josh had said after I’d told the story.

“What kind is that?” Holly, another coworker, had asked.

“Just . . . Eddie.” Josh had shrugged. “You know what guys named Eddie are like.”

And just like that, my cat had a name, because I knew exactly what Josh meant. Guys named Eddie spoke their minds, didn’t waste time when they knew what they wanted, and were deeply loyal. They were the classic average good guys. At least that’s what the Eddies I’d known were like, and the name fit my new friend as if it were tattooed on his furry forehead.

I looked at him now. He was squirreled into the covers of my bed, and he still looked like an Eddie. And he still looked like he wanted me to stay home and nap with him all morning.

“Can’t do it. It’s the big day, remember?”

He half opened his eyes. “Mrr.”

It was an invitation that had, more than once, tempted me to whack the snooze button on the alarm clock. Not this time. I ignored him and headed to the shower. Half an hour later I was dried, clothed, breakfasted, and had done my best to make the bed around the sleeping Eddie.

I also kept a promise I’d made to my mother and left a note on a whiteboard I’d tacked up in the kitchen about where I was going and when I was going to return. Mom worried—a lot—and my vow to always leave a note of my whereabouts comforted her. How leaving a note for myself would help anything, I didn’t know, but she said it made her sleep easier.

So I scrawled a note and gathered up my backpack, but halfway out the door, I screeched to a halt. I’d forgotten to pack a lunch.

The panic of potential lateness seized me. I ran back inside, opened the tiny microwave that was now called the Eddie Safe, as it was one of the few places safe from the bread-loving Eddie, and pulled two pieces of bread from a loaf. In thirty seconds I’d slapped together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and shoved it into a plastic bag. I found an apple in the back of the small refrigerator, grabbed a half-empty bag of tortilla chips, filled a plastic bottle with water, and dropped it all into my backpack.

“See you tonight, Eddie!” I ran out of the house and walked across the boat’s deck, unlatched the railing door, hopped onto the marina’s dock, and started trotting up the hill to the library.

Never once had I been late for work. Never. I always arrived on time for appointments and I’d developed such a reputation for arriving at the stated hour to parties that my friends routinely sent me invitations with a different starting time. Now, with so much riding on what happened today, there I was, skimming the edge of lateness.

I hurried up the hill and away from the marina, practically running through the narrow side streets. The library, a handsome L-shaped brick building, sat on the far side of downtown. To my left, I knew the majestic Lake Michigan would be an inviting horizon of blue, and behind me the adjacent Janay Lake would be glittering in the sunshine, but I didn’t have time for my normal backward glances of appreciation.

“Morning, Minnie.” The owner of the bakery was putting out his sidewalk sign. OPEN. FREE SMELLS. “Say, did you know—”

“Talk to you later, Tom, okay?” I waved as I went past. “Running late today.”

After three blocks of antique stores, art galleries, clothing boutiques, and the occasional bookstore, fudge shop, and coffee shop, I reached the library. But instead of using my keys to let myself in the side door as per usual, I went around back. Then around the back of the back, past the employee parking and past the bins for cardboard recycling and trash. There, on the far side of the auxiliary parking lot, which was used only when famous authors came to speak, was the thing that was going to make or break my career.

The bookmobile.

Though it was inside a brand-new garage, I could almost see its wavy blue-painted graphics in the bright morning sun, its bright white letters emblazoned across its sides: CHILSON DISTRICT LIBRARY BOOKMOBILE. All fresh and spanking clean and waiting for me to . . . to what?

With a sudden and unwelcome rush, anxiety and dread darkened the shiny morning. Doubts assailed me from every direction. There was no way I’d be able to—

“Stop that.” I took a firmer grip on the straps of my backpack. Hearing the words out loud made me feel better, and since there wasn’t a soul around to hear, I kept going. “I haven’t been carsick in years. I’ve taught myself how to read maps and bought a GPS, and since the bookmobile was my idea, I’m the one to run it. I can do this. And I’ll do it right.”

Читать дальше

Шрифт:

Сбросить

Интервал:

Закладка:

Сделать

Похожие книги на «Lending А Paw»

Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «Lending А Paw» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё не прочитанные произведения.


Лори Касс: Tailing A Tabby
Tailing A Tabby
Лори Касс
Лори Касс: Borrowed Crime
Borrowed Crime
Лори Касс
Лори Касс: Wrong Side Of The Paw
Wrong Side Of The Paw
Лори Касс
Лори Касс: Cat With A Clue
Cat With A Clue
Лори Касс
Лори Касс: Booking The Crook
Booking The Crook
Лори Касс
Лори Касс: Gone With The Whisker
Gone With The Whisker
Лори Касс
Отзывы о книге «Lending А Paw»

Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «Lending А Paw» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.