Read Online How to Catch a Cat by Rebecca M. Hale - Free Book Online
Authors: Rebecca M. Hale
Ads: Link
bay.
Water lapped against the hull, and a breeze rustled the sails. A row of candles illuminated the place settings.
Captain Ayala presided at the head of the table. Humphretto took his appointed chair at the opposite end. The rest of the seats filled in with hungry passengers and crew members.
The gathered eaters let out appreciative sighs as Oscar and his niece carried up the last trays of food. The chef allowed himself a rare beam of pride as he placed the fried chicken in front of the captain’s plate.
Petey the parrot was the only one who disapproved of the meal’s main ingredient. With a loud squawk, he fluttered off Ayala’s shoulder and swooped up to the top of the main mast.
—
WHEN THE LAST steaming dish had been delivered, the niece slid into her chair. She glanced beneath the table, checking for her feline companions.
Rupert and Isabella sat on the floor at her feet, eagerly waiting for their person to hand down special saucers filled with their cat-sized portions of the meal. Squirming, Rupert smacked his lips.
Father Monty stood from his seat at the table’s middle and prepared to bless the meal. As he raised his hands, the sleeves of his robe slipped down. The candlelight flickered on the gold hilts of the jumping frog cuff links pinned into the shirt he wore underneath as he began a ritual incantation—and then stopped.
He pointed at an empty seat on the table’s opposite side.
“Are we missing someone?”
Humphretto held up his index finger, counting the gathered heads.
“One of the crew,” he said, frowning as he tried to remember the name. “Alberto, I think.”
Ayala shrugged. “Let’s eat.”
Monty gestured for patience. “I’ll check down below to see if he’s coming.”
—
THE NIECE WATCHED the priest disappear down the stairs, her brow furrowed with concern. Her uncle’s meal was going to get cold if they waited much longer.
Three quick footsteps echoed up from the lower level—followed by a gasp of disbelief.
The subsequent high-pitched scream was unlike any the niece had ever heard uttered from the throat of a man.
Afraid the captain’s parrot had met an untimely end, she peeked under the table and confirmed that both cats were still at her feet and visibly hungry. Glancing up, she spied the green-feathered bird perched on the mast above the deck.
Thank goodness, it’s not the parrot, she couldn’t help thinking.
It was a death of both more and less significance.
The scrub hand missing for dinner had met a gruesome and untimely end.
• • •
DEATH WAS NOT uncommon aboard the vessels of the Spanish fleet. All manner of sickness besieged the brave mariners. Mysterious illnesses were often contracted in the faraway lands to which they visited. Pirate attacks felled other unfortunate souls with either cannon fire or bayonets. Occasional mutinies resulted in ship-wide carnage.
But none of the passengers and crew of the
San Carlos
had ever experienced a death quite like this.
A secretive stabbing was somewhat unique.
The murder weapon used in the crime drew even more interest.
There in the pool of blood surrounding the victim lay a curved knitting needle whose tip end had been fitted with a sharp attacking blade.
Modern-Day San Francisco
Six Months Prior to the America’s Cup Regatta
Chapter 17
THE INTERIM MAYOR
IT WAS THE beginning of March, just six weeks into interim mayor Montgomery Carmichael’s shortened term at San Francisco’s City Hall.
He had been appointed to fill a vacancy created when the elected mayor was promoted to the office of the state’s lieutenant governor.
The mayoral selection process had been controversial—if not downright puzzling. Mr. Carmichael’s name had been proposed, seemingly out of nowhere, several hours into a lengthy board of supervisors meeting dedicated to filling the opening. Despite the complete lack of consensus on all of the candidates that had previously been considered, Monty’s
Water lapped against the hull, and a breeze rustled the sails. A row of candles illuminated the place settings.
Captain Ayala presided at the head of the table. Humphretto took his appointed chair at the opposite end. The rest of the seats filled in with hungry passengers and crew members.
The gathered eaters let out appreciative sighs as Oscar and his niece carried up the last trays of food. The chef allowed himself a rare beam of pride as he placed the fried chicken in front of the captain’s plate.
Petey the parrot was the only one who disapproved of the meal’s main ingredient. With a loud squawk, he fluttered off Ayala’s shoulder and swooped up to the top of the main mast.
—
WHEN THE LAST steaming dish had been delivered, the niece slid into her chair. She glanced beneath the table, checking for her feline companions.
Rupert and Isabella sat on the floor at her feet, eagerly waiting for their person to hand down special saucers filled with their cat-sized portions of the meal. Squirming, Rupert smacked his lips.
Father Monty stood from his seat at the table’s middle and prepared to bless the meal. As he raised his hands, the sleeves of his robe slipped down. The candlelight flickered on the gold hilts of the jumping frog cuff links pinned into the shirt he wore underneath as he began a ritual incantation—and then stopped.
He pointed at an empty seat on the table’s opposite side.
“Are we missing someone?”
Humphretto held up his index finger, counting the gathered heads.
“One of the crew,” he said, frowning as he tried to remember the name. “Alberto, I think.”
Ayala shrugged. “Let’s eat.”
Monty gestured for patience. “I’ll check down below to see if he’s coming.”
—
THE NIECE WATCHED the priest disappear down the stairs, her brow furrowed with concern. Her uncle’s meal was going to get cold if they waited much longer.
Three quick footsteps echoed up from the lower level—followed by a gasp of disbelief.
The subsequent high-pitched scream was unlike any the niece had ever heard uttered from the throat of a man.
Afraid the captain’s parrot had met an untimely end, she peeked under the table and confirmed that both cats were still at her feet and visibly hungry. Glancing up, she spied the green-feathered bird perched on the mast above the deck.
Thank goodness, it’s not the parrot, she couldn’t help thinking.
It was a death of both more and less significance.
The scrub hand missing for dinner had met a gruesome and untimely end.
• • •
DEATH WAS NOT uncommon aboard the vessels of the Spanish fleet. All manner of sickness besieged the brave mariners. Mysterious illnesses were often contracted in the faraway lands to which they visited. Pirate attacks felled other unfortunate souls with either cannon fire or bayonets. Occasional mutinies resulted in ship-wide carnage.
But none of the passengers and crew of the
San Carlos
had ever experienced a death quite like this.
A secretive stabbing was somewhat unique.
The murder weapon used in the crime drew even more interest.
There in the pool of blood surrounding the victim lay a curved knitting needle whose tip end had been fitted with a sharp attacking blade.
Modern-Day San Francisco
Six Months Prior to the America’s Cup Regatta
Chapter 17
THE INTERIM MAYOR
IT WAS THE beginning of March, just six weeks into interim mayor Montgomery Carmichael’s shortened term at San Francisco’s City Hall.
He had been appointed to fill a vacancy created when the elected mayor was promoted to the office of the state’s lieutenant governor.
The mayoral selection process had been controversial—if not downright puzzling. Mr. Carmichael’s name had been proposed, seemingly out of nowhere, several hours into a lengthy board of supervisors meeting dedicated to filling the opening. Despite the complete lack of consensus on all of the candidates that had previously been considered, Monty’s
Similar Books
