Strangled in Cherry Hills Page 7
Understanding dawned. “You mean break up with you.”
He dragged his hand down his face. “Yes.”
The pressure in Kat’s chest eased. Now that she knew what his problem was, it would be a cinch to banish his concerns. “Andrew, I’m with you for you, not your house.”
He regarded her for a moment before saying, “Do you remember my uncle Don?”
Kat thought back to when she and Andrew had been kids in the Cherry Hills foster care system, but she couldn’t recall ever meeting one of Andrew’s uncles. “No.”
“He lived in Spokane,” Andrew said, his voice hollow. He turned to stare at something across the room. “We were in touch off and on back before you left town after high school.”
Tom ambled out of the kitchen. He sat down near the edge of the living room, running his tongue over his lips as he always did after a satisfying meal.
“When I moved into my first solo apartment, no roommates, we happened to be in one of those periods where we were in touch. Uncle Don came over to visit. He brought beer—to celebrate, he said.” Andrew paused, working his jaw. “I should have taken his keys right when he showed up at the door, but I was afraid to ask.”
Kat stilled, her fingers freezing on Matty’s back as a sick feeling developed in the pit of her stomach. She had a good idea what he was going to say before he voiced the words.
Andrew turned to stare out the window. “He crashed on his way home that night. He died upon impact.”
Kat felt her heart snap in two. “You can’t blame yourself for that.”
Andrew looked at her over his shoulder. “What if I told you Uncle Don blames me?”
Matty lifted her head, her green eyes opened wide. Tom, who had been licking one paw, stopped moving altogether. Andrew’s statement seemed to have shocked the felines as much as it had Kat.
Andrew took a deep breath. “I’ve dated a couple other girls over the years, and it seems whenever I invite them over, a week later we’ve broken up. It doesn’t matter where I live. It happened in my old apartments, and it happened after I bought the house I live in now.”
Kat’s throat constricted. “I’m not those girls, Andrew.”
“I know, but . . .” He lifted one shoulder. “I don’t really believe in ghosts and I realize this sounds ridiculous, but I can’t shake the sense that Uncle Don is still angry at me for letting him die, that he’s punishing me by chasing away anybody who gets too close.”
“You didn’t let him die,” Kat said. “He was an adult. He should have known better.”
“We were both adults. I could have stopped him.”
“Andrew.” Kat started stroking Matty again, using the rhythmic motion to steady herself. “Your uncle alone is responsible for what happened to him. And those other girls, they were fools to break up with you.”
Andrew’s cheek twisted. “I knew you wouldn’t get it. You’re a skeptic, same as me—most of the time.”
“Andrew,” she began before the sound of her cell phone cut through the air. She raised her voice to be heard above it. “I wouldn’t leave—”
“You should answer that,” Andrew interrupted.
Kat flapped her hand. “Whoever it is can leave a voicemail.”
“I need a drink.” He spun on his heel and stalked past Tom into the kitchen.
Kat, Matty, and Tom all watched him. Kat fingered the edge of the couch, torn between going after him and giving him some space.
Matty settled the matter for her. She leapt onto the coffee table and used her nose to nudge the phone closer.
Kat sighed as she snatched it up. “Hello?”
“Kat,” Imogene Little said, sounding almost breathless, “something urgent has come up.”
* * *
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
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.