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

coffeehouse were all occupied. The center tables seating four were almost all filled as well. Belle had added free Wi-Fi last month, and several people were working on their laptops. I spotted Candace and Morris in a far corner and, as I navigated between tables, I heard acoustic music playing softly, piped in through overhead speakers. Another new addition.
    Belle, a wise lady in her early seventies, always wanted her customers to feel comfortable. Sure, the coffee was the best I’d ever had. Plus, the refrigerated glass case filled with homemade pies, scones and cakes made the shop all the more popular—especially to someone like Morris. But music and technology could only improve a small business seemingly unaffected by the economic downturn. Yes, leave it to Belle to keep her shop thriving.
    Candace stood before I even reached their table, her expression showing her concern. “What’s wrong?”
    Morris said, “She looks right as rain to me, Candy. Or are you thinkin’ of becoming a psychic or somethin’? Oh yeah, I can see your shingle now. Candace Carson, Psychic Forensic Investigator.”
    “Shut up, Morris,” Candace said, her stare locked on my face.
    “Can we talk?” I said.
    “Oh boy.” Morris rolled his eyes. “When I hear the words can we talk I know there’s a passel of hassles headed our way.”
    “Sit.” Candace dragged a stool from an adjoining table.
    The squeal of the legs scraping on the floor made my already frazzled nerves light up even more. Candace and I both sat and she took my hand. “You’re as cold as a corpse. What has you so upset?”
    I took a deep breath and released the air slowly. “Might help me get this all straight in my head if I begin by telling you about my trip. I feel as if I have a jumble of computer wires for brains right now and I need to unwind them. Put everything in a straight line.”
    “What you need first is coffee.” Candace turned to Morris. “Get this woman some coffee, would you?”
    “Why, of course, boss girl. I’m thinkin’ I don’t want to hear this anyways.” Morris looked at me. “Your usual, Jillian?”
    I nodded and started fumbling in my pocket for the twenty I always keep in my jeans. “Guess I could use a latte.”
    But he waived off the cash and made his way to the counter. He sure must be anxious to get away from me, considering he’d offered to pay. Morris never paid.
    “Go on. Tell me.” Candace swiped at a wayward blond hair on her forehead. She rested her elbows on the table and supported her chin with both fists. She may be twenty years younger than me, but she is an old soul. Guess being a cop made her more mature than the average young adult.
    I quickly explained about Tom’s unreturned phone calls, his rush out of town, the sick cat and my concern about finding Bob Cochran in Tom’s house.
    When I was finished explaining, Candace said, “Did you call Tom’s mother and ask about this man who claims to be her son? Or ask if she knows where Tom is, for that matter?”
    “I wasn’t sure if that was wise,” I said. “Karen is well— unpredictable is the word that comes to mind.”
    “Nutcase, you mean,” Morris said, setting a steaming vanilla latte in front of me.
    “She’s no such thing, Morris Ebeling,” Candace said. “Free spirit, a little odd, but not crazy.”
    “Nutcase.” Morris reclaimed his seat. “Please tell me we don’t have to pay her a visit ’cause she’s gone and painted her house a funny shade of orange or set some life-size sculpture in her front yard that leaves nothin’ to the imagination.”
    “Nope. I think we’ll be making a call at Tom Stewart’s place.” Candace adjusted the two-way radio clipped to her forest green uniform shoulder. She then attached her cell phone to her belt. “Come on, Morris. Wrap the rest of your red velvet cake in a napkin and let’s move.”
    He didn’t budge. “This is our break, Candy. We get thirty minutes.”
    She placed both palms on the