Read Online The Cat, the Wife and the Weapon: A Cats in Trouble Mystery by Leann Sweeney - Free Book Online Page A

something stupid… or knocked myself stupid,” he said.
    “Quit beating yourself up.” I glanced at the dog. “You plan to feed your poor animal?”
    “Yeah, right.” He set both the dog and the food on the floor next to him.
    I peered over the raised breakfast bar. Yoshi was making short work of his food. Meanwhile Syrah now had his head in the backpack while Merlot supervised this exploration.
    Finn laughed. “I’ve never had a cat. But from what I’ve seen tonight, dogs need a boss, but cats are the bosses.”
    “You got that right.” I looked down at the dog. “Let me get him more water.”
    “Can Yoshi and I crash?” Finn picked up the empty dish and handed it to me. “I’m pretty tired even though the sandwiches and stuff made me feel better.” Finn’s pale cheeks did have a bit of color now. “And I didn’t thank you for helping me. Sorry. Thanks, Mrs. Hart.”
    “Call me Jillian. And no thanks needed. I have the feeling you’d do the same for me if our positions were reversed.” I smiled. “Now, come on. You deserve a real bed to sleep in rather than the backseat of my van.”
    First, I set Finn up in the bathroom with a fresh towel. After he’d showered, he put on the clean T-shirt and sweatpants I’d provided. He was thin enough to wear mine. Honestly, he looked more like a fifteen-year-old than an eighteen-year-old. I almost felt like tucking him in once he and Yoshi were settled in the guest room. Instead, I brought in Yoshi’s bowl of water, and a glass for Finn, too. After I wished them a good night’s rest, I closed the door.
    Now to hunt down Chablis. I found her in her favorite hiding place, under my bed. She didn’t seem anxious to come out. But with a few “I love you’s,” words she could never resist, she was soon in my arms.
    When I came back out into the hallway holding her, I saw Merlot and Syrah positioned outside the guest room. Syrah was pawing under the door and Merlot was sitting like a statue, observing this game. The two of them hoped to engage the dog in a little paw peekaboo, I was sure. For my three cats, a closed door is a challenge, and a fun one at that. They could always lighten my mood, and today, though it had been an awful day to say the least, they cracked me up. Kudos for cat behavior, I thought.
    I nuzzled Chablis as I walked into the living room, and again wondered why Tom hadn’t called yet. We left for the emergency clinic at dusk and now it was close to midnight. He was obviously concerned about Finn and would want an update, and yet I hadn’t heard from him. I could call his house, but a call might mean a conversation with Bob—which was the last thing I wanted right now.
    Unfortunately the very last thing I wanted was about to happen. I’d changed into flannel drawstring pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, not exactly dressed for company—but company arrived. The knock on the front door made my heart skip. Kara, Candace and Tom are back-door friends. So who could this be?
    I checked the peephole and almost moaned out loud when I saw the person standing on my front stoop.
    Lydia Monk. The craziest assistant coroner on the planet.

Eight
     
    I sighed heavily and unlocked the door. “Hey, Lydia,” I said with far more enthusiasm than I felt. “I was about to head off to bed, so—”
    “Let me in,” she said brusquely.
    No please , no may I , just Lydia being Lydia. Nor did she wait for me to step aside before brushing past me and marching on her high-heeled black boots into my living room. I noticed her bleached hair was held back by a large jeweled clip—plenty of rhinestones and a variety of brightly colored fake gems to be had, enough to decorate a tiara.
    She sat on my sofa, dropping her patent leather bag beside her. There seemed to be no dress code at the county coroner’s office, or perhaps the coroner himself was too afraid of this woman to address the issue of her gaudy wardrobe. What kind of assistant coroner wears skinny