Stabbed in Cherry Hills Page 6
Except there were no knives lying out in the open. She was always careful to keep them in the utensil drawer, where Matty and Tom couldn’t accidentally cut themselves during one of their counter strolls.
“What the—”
Professor Bluefield’s startled exclamation was followed by a noisy crash. Kat whipped around. Professor Bluefield was sprawled on the floor, both of his hands reaching for his right foot. Next to him, the high heels tottered as if they had recently been disturbed.
“He tripped me!” he shouted, wincing as he gripped his ankle.
Kat’s eyes veered toward Tom. The feline stood a couple feet away, his puffed-up tail cutting through the air. His eyes were huge as he stared at Professor Bluefield. It only took Kat a second to figure out that he must have performed one of his dash-and-stops in front of her old professor.
“It’s broken!” Professor Bluefield wailed. “That cat broke my foot.”
Kat’s brain kicked into gear. This might be her one and only chance to take control of the situation.
Bolstered by a pulse of adrenaline, Kat swiped one of her shoes off of the floor. Both Professor Bluefield and Tom flinched when she wielded it in front of her.
“What are you doing?” Professor Bluefield said, sitting up.
“Don’t move,” she told him.
He froze.
She backed into the kitchen, nudging Tom’s cat food dish with the toe of her sneaker as she made her way toward the utensil drawer. “Here, Tom.”
He trotted over, rubbing against her leg before sniffing inside the dish.
Now that Tom was out of Professor Bluefield’s reach, Kat could breathe easier. Without taking her eyes off of her hostage, she exchanged her high heel for a knife. She made sure Professor Bluefield saw it before she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and hit the speed dial.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Well, I hope your experience last night drove home why you shouldn’t be getting involved in homicide investigations,” Andrew said, flipping his notepad shut and tucking it back into his breast pocket. “When we’re hanging out at your apartment, I’d rather it not be for the purposes of taking your statement.”
Kat rested her head against the back of the sofa. “I didn’t even consider Professor Bluefield to be a suspect until he got that call from his wife.”
Andrew fingered the edge of the couch, not saying anything. She could tell from the energy buzzing around him that he was still recovering from her close call the day before.
She couldn’t blame him. She was still recovering herself.
“Do you have to go back to the station now?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Andrew didn’t sound any happier about that than Kat felt.
Kat pulled Matty into her lap and massaged the cat’s ears. “You can stay for another minute though, can’t you?”
“I suppose.” His lips thinned. “But don’t think me sitting here means I’m not still mad at you for putting yourself in danger.”
“You were the one who told me to email Professor Bluefield,” she reminded him.
He grimaced. “I guess neither one of us suspected him. But you could still do a better job of staying out of police business.”
Kat kept her mouth shut. She wasn’t about to make any promises she couldn’t keep. Ever since she had moved back to Cherry Hills, trouble seemed to have a way of finding her.
And, she had to admit, it certainly made life interesting.
Tom came out of the kitchen. He sat down on the carpet and licked one paw before swiping it over his face.
“He looks content,” Andrew commented.
“He’s been munching on treats,” Kat replied. “After those officers took Professor Bluefield away, I filled his bowl to the brim. I gave him so many I doubt he’ll be able to finish them all before the week is over.”
“After everything he did for you, I can’t say he doesn’t deserve it.”
“I’m lucky he’s such an attention hog that he’ll chase down anyone for a belly rub, even murderers.”
Kat’s cell phone rang. Andrew plucked it off of the coffee table and handed it to her.
She connected the call, not recognizing the local number that appeared on the caller ID. “Hello?”
“Hello,” a female voice said. “I’m looking for Katherine Harper.”
“That’s me.”
“This is Maura O’Malley from DataRightly. We understand you were interested in the programmer analyst position.”
“I was,” Kat concurred, scratching Matty’s ribs.
“Are you still interested?”
Kat sat up a little straighter. Was Maura O’Malley offering her the job? After humiliating herself during her interview with Leo, she figured she had blown her chance.
“From the notes Leo made before his unfortunate incident, I gather he felt you were the most qualified candidate,” Maura continued.
Kat’s hand slipped off of Matty. “Really?”
Matty stared at Kat’s unmoving hand, her tail twitching as though she were silently lamenting the lack of good help at her beck and call.
“If you’re still interested, I’d like to meet with you myself to discuss our expectations,” Maura said.
“Oh.” Kat gathered herself together. She was supposed to be doing her best to make a good impression, and that meant coming up with responses that were more than one or two words long. “Okay. I mean, yes. I’m definitely still interested, Ms. O’Malley.”
“Call me Maura, please. We’re a casual office.”
“Okay, Maura.” Kat started stroking Matty again, this time with more vigor. “When would you like to meet?”
“I have an hour free at two o’clock this afternoon. Does that work for you?”
Kat looked at the clock. “That’s perfect. I’ll be there.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to meeting you, Katherine.”
“Kat,” Kat corrected her.
“See you at two, Kat.”
Kat disconnected in a daze, letting the phone drop to her side. She fell back against the couch, still struggling to process what had just happened.
“Who was that?” Andrew asked.
“Somebody from DataRightly. She wants to meet with me at two to discuss the programming job. Can you believe it?”
“Well, yeah. They obviously know you’re more than qualified and would work your butt off for them.”
“I haven’t gotten the job yet,” she reminded him.
Andrew draped his arm around her shoulders. “You will.”
She eyed him. “You sound awfully confident.”
“I know you, Kat.” He kissed her forehead. “Great things are in your future.”
She smiled. At that moment, she could believe it.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
Thank you for visiting Cherry Hills, home of Kat, Matty, and Tom! If you enjoyed their story, please consider leaving a book review on your favorite online retailer and/or review site. Also join my readers’ group so you’ll be one of the first to know when their next adventure is published.
Please keep reading for an excerpt from Book Nine of the Cozy Cat Caper Mystery series, Thanksgiving in Cherry Hills. Thank you!
THANKSGIVING IN CHERRY HILLS
“Tell me again what that’s supposed to be,” Andrew Milhone said, eyeing the mixing bowl on Katherine Harper’s kitchen counter with puckered lips.
“Tofu pumpkin pie.” Kat lifted up a lumpy spoonful. An orange chunk fell back into the bowl with a splat. “It doesn’t look very appetizing, does it?”
“Nope,” Andrew agreed. “Did you follow the recipe?”
“Of course.”
Matty, Kat’s yellow-and-brown tortoiseshell, jumped onto the far side of the counter. The feline took a tiny step toward them, sniffing cautiously as she approached.
“Matty doesn’t seem impressed either,” Andrew said.
“It’s vegan. Matty wouldn’t be impressed with any type of pie except the chicke
n pot variety.”
Kat reached over to shoo Matty away when the cat crept within two feet of the bowl. But Matty apparently didn’t plan to get any closer. Upon spotting what her human was up to, her whiskers twitched and she darted back the way she’d come. Kat heard the thud of an eight-pound feline hitting the floor.
Andrew chuckled. “I have a feeling tomorrow’s Thanksgiving guests will have the same reaction.”
Kat set the spoon down and planted her hands on her hips. “You realize I invited you over to help. If you intend to spend the morning criticizing, you’re welcome to go on back to your house.”
Andrew held up his hands. “Hey, I’m at your service. Just tell me what you need me to do.”
She picked up the bowl and thrust it at him. “Mix this until it’s smooth and creamy.”
He brushed his sandy hair out of his eyes before taking the bowl from her. “Given what I have to work with, that might take days.”
“You have exactly twenty-nine and a half hours. Imogene says dinner starts promptly at two o’clock tomorrow.”
Andrew placed the bowl back on the counter. Without another word of protest, he grabbed the spoon and started stirring.
A loud meow cut through the air. Kat looked down at where Tom, her brown-and-black cat, was peering up at them. He licked his lips, his tail swishing across the linoleum. Their mere presence in the kitchen had clearly given him hope that they might soon be opening a can of wet food.
“Dream on, Tom,” Kat said, crouching down to rub his ears. “You have dry food if you’re hungry.”
“Yeah, careful what you ask for, Tommy boy,” Andrew chimed in. “Kat might give you some of this pumpkin stuff. Then you’ll be begging for your kibble back.”
“You just keep mixing,” Kat retorted, ducking her head to hide her smile.
Tom rolled over onto his back, evidently deciding he was okay with settling for some belly rubs in lieu of more food. Kat obliged.
Although Kat had never been particularly fond of Thanksgiving, this year she was looking forward to it. Having grown up in foster care without a real family of her own around, she had always felt like an outsider intruding on other people’s festivities. She had been an extra place setting put out at the last minute, someone added as an afterthought. But Imogene Little’s dinner would be attended by a mishmash of people from Cherry Hills, Washington, most of whom weren’t related to one another. Plus, she thought, glancing up at Andrew and feeling that little flutter in her stomach that always materialized when she was reminded of their romance, this year she had someone to go with.
Even if he was currently doing an obscene amount of grumbling.
“The lumps aren’t coming out,” he said.
“Mix harder,” Kat suggested.
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” He paused. “How come you don’t buy a pie at the store?”
“This is tofu pumpkin. Every store-bought pie I looked at contained either eggs or milk or both.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Imogene’s event is all vegan.”
Andrew looked down at her, a grin forcing his dimples out. “I can’t wait to see how Chief Kenny reacts when Imogene starts serving dinner. He thinks the four food groups are beef, poultry, pork, and bacon.”
“One vegan meal won’t kill him.”
“You wouldn’t think that if you’d heard him complaining down at the police station all week.”
“He could have told Imogene he wasn’t coming.”
“After he admitted he didn’t have any plans?” Andrew snorted. “He’d never hear the end of it.”
Tom hugged Kat’s palm to his chest, giving the finger closest to his mouth a light nip. She withdrew her hand from his grasp and plucked a strip of cellophane out of the garbage to dangle in front of him. When Tom started biting, it was a sure sign his claws would soon be making an appearance too.
But before Tom could take more than two swipes at his new toy, a piercing shriek echoed throughout the kitchen.
Kat sprang off the floor just before the mixing bowl clattered two inches from where she was standing. Orange-and-white globules sprayed all over the linoleum and across the front of the cabinets. Tom scrambled to his feet and streaked out of the kitchen. Matty stayed close to his heels, the feline morphing into a golden blur as she sprinted after her brother.
“It’s the smoke detector,” Andrew shouted over the alarm.
Kat sucked in a breath. “My crust!”
She lunged for the oven and flicked it off. Smoke billowed around the door. She yanked it open, releasing a black cloud that filled her lungs and made her cough.
And, somewhere inside, was the pie crust she had worked so hard on earlier.
“We need to air this place out,” Andrew said. He opened the window above the sink before moving into the living room.
Kat grabbed a dishtowel off the counter and waved it below the smoke detector affixed to the ceiling, hoping it would shut itself off before she inconvenienced anyone else in the building. The only other person who rented an apartment on the third floor was spending this week with relatives, so there was a chance she could contain the disturbance to her own unit.
Thankfully, the alarm quieted down ten seconds later. Kat collapsed against the counter, relishing the silence.
Andrew strolled over to join her. “Sorry about dropping the bowl. The alarm startled me.”
“It’s okay.” She didn’t think the pie filling could have been saved even if it wasn’t currently sticking to every surface in her kitchen. If it were possible, the disgusting mixture actually looked as if it had more lumps in it than earlier.
Andrew reached over and tucked a lock of Kat’s brown hair behind her ear. “You’re not getting discouraged, are you?”
“How can I not?” She flapped her arm at the mess surrounding them. “This tofu pumpkin concoction looks like something one of the cats hacked up. And that pie crust that’s now ruined took me forty minutes to pound into submission.”
“What was it doing in the oven anyway?”
“The recipe says to cook it for ten minutes before filling it.”
“Huh.”
“Obviously, I forgot all about it.” She pressed the dishtowel she was still holding into Andrew’s hand. “Help me clean this up, will you?”
Andrew took the towel, but before either of them could start wiping anything down a scream ricocheted throughout the apartment.
Kat’s stomach lurched, and her eyes automatically moved toward Andrew’s.
“It came from outside,” he said.
He bent over the sink to look out the kitchen window. Kat started to do the same, but he spun around before she could see what was going on, nearly knocking her off her feet.
“There’s a woman in the alley,” he said, barreling toward the front door. “She might be hurt.”
Kat didn’t have time to ask any questions. She flew out of the apartment after him.
* * *
Click here to find the book at your favorite online retailer.
Books in the Cozy Cat Caper Mystery series:
Book 1: Murder in Cherry Hills
Book 2: Framed in Cherry Hills
Book 3: Poisoned in Cherry Hills
Book 4: Vanished in Cherry Hills
Book 5: Shot in Cherry Hills
Book 6: Strangled in Cherry Hills
Book 7: Halloween in Cherry Hills
Book 8: Stabbed in Cherry Hills
Book 9: Thanksgiving in Cherry Hills
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Paige Sleuth is a pseudonym for mystery author Marla Bradeen. She plots murder during the day and fights for mattress space with her two rescue cats at night. When not attending to her cats’ demands, she writes. She loves to hear from readers, and welcomes emails at paige.sleuth@yahoo.com.