Copycat Killing: A Magical Cats Mystery Read Online Free PDF

investigating people I cared about—and the first time we met, me—didn’t seem to be a good enough reason.
    I wasn’t a police officer. I wasn’t even a lawyer. I was a librarian. I knew about books, grant proposals and the Dewey decimal system. The thing was, because of my parents’ acting careers, I’d seen a lot of subterfuge and I was pretty good at spotting a liar. Plus I had Hercules and Owen who had the ability to stick their furry noses—literally—into places they probably had no business being. Of course, I couldn’t share that with Marcus, or anyone else for that matter.
    I tried to imagine his reaction if I told him that my cats’ talents went beyond being able to hear a can of tuna being opened from a hundred feet away; that Hercules had the ability to walk through walls and Owen could disappear whenever it suited him, which was generally at the worst possible time for me. How could I explain it to anyone else when I didn’t even understand it all myself? At best, I’d end up somewhere having my head examined, at worst the cats would.
    Ric was just putting a gauze bandage on my foreheadwhen Officer Derek Craig came around the side of the carriage house. I’d met the young policeman for the first time the previous summer when I found conductor Gregor Easton’s body at the Stratton Theater. He’d been at the library several times in the past couple of months, checking out books on the law and law school. I wondered if he was thinking about a career change.
    “Is Ms. Paulson okay to go home?” he asked the paramedics.
    Ric nodded. “We’re done.” He turned his attention to me. His partner was already packing their things.
    “I know,” I said, before he could start giving me his list of warnings. “I should see my family doctor. And if my head starts to hurt, or if I have problems with my vision or breathing, I should go to the emergency room right away.”
    “Or if you feel nauseated or start vomiting,” he added. “In fact, you should make an appointment with your own doctor as soon as possible to get checked out. Just to be on the safe side.”
    “I will,” I said. “Thank you.” I leaned around Ric to thank the other paramedic as well. Then I turned to Derek. “I’m okay. And my truck’s right there. I can get home.”
    He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Ma’am, Detective Gordon told me to drive you home. He also said I should use handcuffs if I had to. Do I have to?”
    I didn’t want to leave my truck behind. On the other hand, Marcus wasn’t above having those handcuffs put on me.
    I shook my head. “No you don’t have to. But do you have something to cover the seat?” There was mud onmy boots, clumped on my clothes, even some still in my hair.
    “Not a problem,” he said with a smile. “A little dirt won’t hurt anything. There’s been worse in that car.”
    I got to my feet and brushed what dirt I could off my jeans and hooded sweatshirt. I looked around for Marcus. He was at the far end of the field, bent down, clearly studying the bones that had been unearthed by the hill collapse. He turned and straightened up then, almost as if he could feel my eyes on him. I lifted a hand to let him know I was all right and I was going—more or less willingly—with Derek. He raised a hand in return.
    I limped my way slowly over to the police cruiser. My ankle felt a little better now that it was wrapped with a support bandage. Derek hovered beside me and I had the sense that he could and would toss me over his shoulder and carry me the rest of the way if I stumbled. I scraped what mud I could off my boots before I got in the car. He reached across me and fastened the seat belt. I wasn’t sure if he thought I was too banged up to do it myself, or that I might bolt for my truck when his back was turned.
    We crept down the rutted driveway, bouncing over every bump. I knew I had to have a lot of bruises I couldn’t see and I felt every one of them with