The Cat, the Wife and the Weapon: A Cats in Trouble Mystery Read Online Free

Anthony, appeared and waved to Martha. “We’re gonna need your carrier, Miss Martha. And your help, I’m thinkin’.”
    Martha planted her needle in her quilt square, folded her work and put it into her bag. Carrier in one hand and purse in the other, she walked toward Anthony. As she passed me, she said, “You need to get you some rest, Jillian. Your trip looks like it’s taken a toll.”
    I forced a smile, then clasped my shaking hands. The adrenaline that had pumped through me after finding Dashiell was wearing off. I was left trembling as well as wishing I had a giant box of Tums.
    Doc Jensen smiled when he came out into the waiting area a few minutes later. He gestured me into a cold, immaculate exam room that smelled of disinfectant and alcohol. Dashiell wasn’t sitting on the stainless table. Despite the vet’s relaxed expression, that could mean the poor boy was still in trouble.
    Nodding reassuringly, Doc Jensen said, “You got to him in time, but his blood sugar remains low. He needs to stay with us overnight. Can you get Tom on the phone and see if that’s okay?”
    How I wished I could get him on the phone. “Um, Tom’s out of pocket so I’ll be making the decisions. Do whatever Dashiell needs. That’s what Tom would want.”
    “Will do. You go home and have a glass of wine, Jillian—‘cause it sure looks like you could use one. Say hi to your three amigos for me, pet them and relax. Stroking a cat gets your blood pressure down, you know. We’ll take fine care of Dashiell.”
    He turned and left through the door leading to the back of the clinic while I went in the opposite direction and into the waiting area. I passed Glenda, who waved good-bye.
    Once I’d climbed into my van, I thought, What next?
    But the answer came immediately.
    Find Tom. Find Tom. Find Tom.

Three
     
    Before I left the vet’s parking lot, I took my phone from my purse, hoping Tom had left me a message. No such luck. I sighed heavily, staring at the screen. I touched the app for my cat cam. Watching my cats’ antics or just seeing them nap in the slivers of sun that striped the living room in the late afternoon always soothed me.
    Maybe because there was no sun today, my fur friends weren’t lounging in their usual spots. I switched to the kitchen feed and the bedroom feed, but they were nowhere in sight. Perhaps they’d decided hiding from the woman who might come home and cram them back into those carriers was a good idea. That’s what I’d do. Hide.
    I put my phone away and started for home, but as I turned onto Main Street I saw a Mercy PD patrol car parked in front of the best coffee shop on the planet—Belle’s Beans, with its green awning. Every shop on Main Street had exactly the same awning. Tradition and continuity were important parts of this small Southern town.
    I knew who drove that particular squad car thanks to the dent in the right front fender—my best friend, Deputy Candace Carson, and her partner, Deputy Morris Ebeling. I’d meant to call Candace about Bob Cochran’s presence in Tom’s house, but had forgotten all about him until I saw the police car. What the heck was brother Bob up to? How had he gotten inside the house? Was the man even who he said he was?
    What a relief my brain seemed to be functioning logically again—asking the important questions. I pulled into a parking spot near the coffee shop and hurried over to Belle’s Beans. Candace would want the same answers I did.
    Today’s barista, or the “Belle of the Day” as owner Belle Lowry always said, greeted me with, “Hey there, Jillian. Vanilla low-fat latte?” She wore a BELLE name tag, but then, every barista who worked here sported one while on duty. Her real name was Beth.
    “Nothing right now, thanks.” My gaze swept the crowded café. The quiet conversations and the familiarity of the place would have been comforting on any other day. Not now, though. The high glossy wood tables for two lining the periphery of the