Kitty Litter Killer Read Online Free PDF Page A

and draped them on an antique umbrella stand, and we followed her into a central main hallway. The mellow oak floors looked like refurbished antique wood. Two rooms extended from the hall; one looked like a music room complete with a grand piano. The other was a living room.
    Chris babbled, motioning with his arms that he wanted to get down. I jiggled him up and down.
    “This is Chris, and this is Sammie.” I pressed my free hand on Sammie’s head, trying to send a mental message to behave and be good. I needn’t have worried. Sammie beamed up at Hayley.
    “Thank you for the kitty,” she said.
    I couldn’t have scripted it better myself.
    “Oh, aren’t you just the sweetie. Your grandmother has already told me all about you. She just loves her grandchildren so much.” Hayley glanced at me. “Your in-laws have been over here to dinner recently. We’ve really hit it off.”
    I felt a twinge of guilt. Angelica wanted to see the kids more often. I just couldn’t stand her attitude toward me. But was I depriving my kids of something they really should have just because I didn’t want to deal with her? My mother was just as judgmental of me in her own way, yet our family spent a lot of time at her house.
    Hayley took Sammie’s hand. “Let’s go to the back where you can play with the kittens and decide which one you want.”
    She motioned for me to follow her.
    Two whitish-gray cats with dark-tipped ears, feet, and tails slipped from the living room and dashed in front of me. I noticed a third sitting on top of a bookshelf in the hallway, tail twitching as it watched me walk past. I began to feel like eyes were staring at me from the walls. All my good feelings about doing this for Sammie slipped away, and I wondered if I should have said no. Cats were sneaky. Cats were sly. Cats were. . .
    A horrid wail came from somewhere in the house. I skidded to a stop. It sounded like a baby with hormone issues.
    “What is that?” I asked.
    Hayley looked around at me then up and down the hall. “I think that was Mr. Chang Lee.”
    “Mr. Chang Lee?” I pictured a Chinese cook suffering an acute case of appendicitis.
    “Yes. My retired champion Siamese. He’s the first cat I ever bought. I guess he got out of his room. He’s an escape artist.”
    “Is he sick?”
    She stared at me with raised brows. “Sick?”
    “He sounds like he’s dying.”
    She laughed. “Heavens, no. That’s just the way Siamese cats talk.”
    My stomach clenched. “Do they all sound like that?”
    “To one degree or another. Some are more vocal than others.” She laughed again. “Listen, watch yourself. Mr. Lee doesn’t like most adults except me. He’s cool with kids, though, which is kind of weird.”
    Nervous, I glanced around. “What will he do?”
    “Sometimes he attacks people’s legs. He’s gotten my husband, Leighton, several times, but they’ve learned to avoid each other. I try to keep Mr. Lee locked up when strangers are here.”
    Sammie giggled. I wasn’t amused. While she chatted with Hayley, I was on the lookout for an attack cat. Then I glanced up at the cat on the bookshelf. Would it leap down on my head as I walked by? It opened its mouth and yowled.
    The noises of the cats rattled my brain. Strange for someone who easily tuned out the complaining of an almost-toddler. What if the kitten Sammie picked out was the most vocal of the litter?
    I felt something bump up against my leg. I jumped back and looked down into the bluest cat eyes I’d ever seen. The animal had materialized out of nowhere. It looked up at me, opened its mouth, and wailed.
    Hayley turned. “Ah, there he is. Mr. Lee.” She paused and stared speculatively at me. “Wow, Trish. You’re special. He likes you. I’ve never known that to happen before.” She leaned down and scratched his head. “Oh, my wittle kitty,” she murmured. “You mama’s baby boy, honey bunny?”
    I thought I might be sick. Mr. Lee purred.
    “Kitty’s messy