Lock, Stock, and Feral

location to expand his business.”
“Romero from Wichita,” I say. “What kind of business?” I ask, cocking my head with suspicion.
“Software something or other. We’re still getting to know one another, so I’m not prying too deep. We met on that app that’s all the rage for people over fifty, Dating Not Waiting. It’s completely safe, so you don’t have to worry about me.”
Georgie’s phone chirps and she all but tosses Fish in the air as she yanks it out of her pocket.
“Ah-ha!” She fiddles with the screen a moment. “I’ve got another one!”
“Another what?” my mother asks and I’m glad she did because I was almost afraid to go there.
Georgie makes a face her way. “You’re not the only one with another shtick going. I’ve got me another gig, too. I signed onto Rent-a-Grandma. This is my second booking this week. The first one was some old kook who wanted to watch Fun Flix and chill.”
I gasp at the thought. “Georgie! That man was a pervert.”
“Well, for a pervert, he sure missed his mark. After one solid minute, he fell asleep. The movie wasn’t so bad, though.”
A cool breeze whistles our way just as my best friend, Emmie, waltzes in along with her fiancé, Leo Granger, and they each just so happen to be holding a platter of—green cookies?
“Why are they green?” Mom makes a face, but Georgie takes one for the team and shoves a green disc into her mouth.
“Because they’re delicious!” Georgie moans as she scoops up a few more for herself.
“Thank you,” Emmie says. “They’re pistachio pudding delights. Although they do sort of look like green chocolate chip cookies, I can assure you they can hold their own in the yummy department.”
Both Emmie and I share the same long dark hair, denim blue eyes, and we even share the same formal moniker—Elizabeth. But since we’ve been friends forever, we’ve both gone by the nicknames our families have gifted us—Emmie and Bizzy.
“Take one, Biz.” Emmie stops shy of shoving her platter my way. “Hey? Who’s that woman Jasper is arguing with?”
“Arguing?” I quickly turn in his direction, and sure enough, Jasper and Hadley have drifted a bit and seem to be going at it while Camila snickers on the sidelines. And just past them, the woman who bumped into me earlier in the evening with the long silver hair seems to be having a heated conversation with Patterson, the looker, along with another gentleman, a lanky man in a maroon sweater.
Odd. The hostile nature of their conversation almost acts as an echo to the one Jasper seems to be having.
What in the world could have Jasper in such a rage?
A hard groan comes from Leo. Oh no. Not her.
I gasp as I turn to Leo. “What do you mean not her?”
Leo Granger is the one person I know who actually shares my mindreading abilities. He’s telesensual as well. He happens to be engaged to Emmie, and because of this, Emmie is apprised of our well-guarded secret. Leo is Jasper’s best friend—the very best friend that Camila cheated on Jasper with. That pretty much put a damper on Leo and Jasper’s friendship until about a year ago when they made up. But now things are great between them, and not only do they work together at the Seaview Sheriff’s Department where Leo is a deputy, but they’re paired up with a couple of lifelong besties.
“Never mind, Bizzy,” Leo mutters as he takes off in their direction, and before I can follow, Devan Abner gives a sharp whistle and asks that everyone take their seats.
Every person in the room scrambles to do just that, and I end up with Jasper on one side of me and Georgie on the other.
Sherlock trots over and settles on the floor between Jasper and me. Don’t tell Emmie, but I don’t think her cookies look very delicious. She should try adding some bacon to them next time.
Fish hisses in his direction, Humans don’t like bacon in their cookies, you ninny.
Surprisingly, sometimes they do.
Macy tiptoes this way and bumps Jasper over a seat, promptly taking his place.
“Here, take this,” she whispers, shoving the tiny orange ball of fluff my way. “If anyone asks, his name is Clyde and I adopted him from a nearby shelter last week.”
“And where did Clyde really come from?” I ask. The last time we were about to get to that part of the conversation, Patterson Higgins and his well-fitted suit interrupted.
“I found him cowering behind a pot outside of the inn.”
“Aww,” I coo at the sweet thing. “He must be a stray.”
What’s a stray? the tiny cutie mewls while shivering with fear in my arms, and judging by the higher pitch to its inner voice, I’m betting Clyde is a girl. Our inner voices almost always mimic what our vocal cords produce.
Apparently, you are, Fish mewls right back.
I don’t know how the animals seem to understand one another, but they always do.
This is Bizzy, the one holding you, Fish yowls her way. And she can hear your thoughts and understand you. Once we’re away from the other bipeds, she’ll be happy to speak with you further. For now, you’ll have to wait until we’re through here. They’ll be discussing a murder. And if I’m right, we’ll be treated to one as well. Bizzy is delinquent one, rather hostile, homicide. It’s sort of a hobby of hers to stumble upon the dead.
A body hunter! Clyde twitches her whiskers my way as if the thought delighted her.
My mouth falls open as I give both of the cats a look. I shake my head, trying to brush the thought of a murder out of my mind for now.
I pick the tiny orange thing up and do a quick inspection, and sure enough, I’m right.
“He’s a she,” I say to my sister. “And I can take her from here.”
“No way,” Macy whispers through the side of her mouth. “As soon as we’re ready to mingle again, Clyde is mine. She’s my ticket to the