Copycat Killing: A Magical Cats Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page B

every lurch of the car.
    At the bottom Derek turned to me. “Where are we headed?” he asked.
    “Mountain Road,” I said. “On the left-hand side, not that far from the top.” I gave him the number.
    He frowned. “Little white farmhouse?”
    I nodded. “That’s it.”
    We drove the rest of the way in silence. He pulled into the driveway and before I could tell him not to, he wasout of the police car and around opening the passenger door for me.
    “Thank you,” I said, smiling up at him.
    “You’re welcome,” he said with a dip of his head. I was at the back steps before I heard the car pull onto the street again. It was a safe bet that Marcus had told him to make sure I made it safely to the door.
    I pulled off my muddy boots in the porch and unlocked the kitchen door. As if they had some kind of cat radar, Hercules and Owen both appeared in the living room doorway.
    “It’s not as bad as it looks,” I said.
    They exchanged glances, almost as though they were engaging in some kind of telepathic communication. Then Herc came across the floor to me. I pulled out a kitchen chair and dropped into it, biting off a groan when my right hip made contact with the seat. The little black-and-white cat sat in front of me, eyes narrowed, and looked me up and down.
    “The bank behind the carriage house let go,” I said, feeling a little foolish explaining myself to a cat. “I’m fine. Marcus called the paramedics, not that I needed them.” I pulled my muddy sweatshirt over my head and dropped it on the floor.
    Hercules recoiled and took a couple of steps backward. He sniffed the shirt, and then he sniffed at me, his face twisting in distaste at the odor.
    “Yes, I know I don’t smell very good,” I said. “Kind of the same way someone did after they got into Rebecca’s compost pile.” I shot a quick glance at Owen.
    Hercules came closer again. He stood on his back legs, put a paw on my knee and gently nudged my re-bandaged hand. “It’s just a little cut,” I said, reachingdown to stroke his fur with my other hand. “I actually did that down at the store with Maggie.”
    At the sound of Maggie’s name, Owen bounded over to me. “Maggie’s fine,” I reassured him. He had a major kitty crush on her. “So am I, so you can stop worrying.” Sarcasm was wasted on Owen—he was already poking my sweatshirt with a paw.
    Hercules suddenly dropped back onto all four feet, looked at the refrigerator door—where I’d stuck the Wisteria Hill feeding schedule—then turned back to me, tipping his head to one side and meowing quizzically. He might have been asking if we had any sardines in the fridge. Or it was possible he was asking if Marcus was okay. Improbable, but not impossible, since Hercules and Owen weren’t exactly ordinary house cats.
    “Yes, Marcus is fine too, and in case you were asking about sardines and not everyone’s favorite detective, no, there aren’t any open.”
    The answer seemed to satisfy him. He turned to watch his brother still poking at my hoodie. I knew Herc had no intention of touching it. Not only did he dislike having wet paws, he didn’t like having dirty ones either. Owen had found the little purple thingie I’d picked up out at Wisteria Hill. He gave it a swipe with one paw and it slid over the floor like a curling rock, ending up at my feet.
    I bent to pick the thing up before Owen sent it underneath the refrigerator. I still had no idea what it was. A wig for some kind of tiny forest sprite, perhaps? It wasn’t the oddest thing to be discarded out at the old estate. I knew that Harry Taylor and his younger brother, Larry, had found a full-sized, claw-foot bathtub out there in the woods. Being practical guys, they’d loaded it in the back of Larry’s truck and it had eventuallyended up in Larry’s bathroom—with the approval of Everett Henderson, of course.
    My entire right side ached and I guessed I was probably turning into a giant bruise all over that part of my