A Dreadful Meow-ment (MEOW FOR MURDER Book 2)

stand me.”
“Oh, it’s a ploy.” Opal is right back to winking. “Of course, he can stand you. Why else would he ask you to be his wife?” She drawls the word out and adds about ten syllables.
“Oh, that news.” I make a face. I’m about to debunk it when I realize how far and fast that news had to travel. “Where on earth did you hear that?”
“Why from Shepherd, of course.”
My mouth falls open as Tilly swats me on the arm.
“I thought we were going to be besties”—she takes a moment to growl at me—“and now you’ve up and ruined it by holding out some seriously vital information. Had you chosen to confide in me, I would have gladly shoved Matilda into a tote bag and delivered her to your door as an early wedding present.”
“Shepherd told you?” I’m too stunned by Opal’s words to play along with Tilly’s rant. Although, I do like the loyalty she’s bringing to the bestie table. It’s not just anyone who would consider partaking in a cat-napping for you.
“Yes, Shepherd.” Opal looks mildly miffed as she strokes Matilda’s back, making that beautiful creature purr like a jet engine. “He’s outside right now speaking with Regina and some other woman I’ve never seen before.” She leans in. “Just between us ladies, I have a sneaking suspicion both Regina and this mystery woman are interested in snagging your man right from under your nose. I think suggestive lingerie is called for at times like this. If you want to swipe a couple of bills from the register to make this happen, I promise to look the other way.”
I frown over at her. “I’ll take you up on that,” I say as she squints out a smile and makes Matilda wave to us with her paw as she turns to leave. “Opal, wait. Tilly and I came up with an idea for a mother-daughter tea party right out in the garden. I think it’ll be a huge moneymaker. We can charge twenty-five dollars a plate, cater all the food ourselves on the cheap, and we’ll do a raffle and everything. We can tell them all proceeds will go directly to the cat sanctuary.”
Tilly tips her chin up. “What cat sanctuary?”
“This one.” I knock into her with my elbow. “And we’ll pocket all the money. You feed the cats and pay their vet bills. So it’s not a lie.”
“Brilliant.” Opal moans as she gives my cheek a squeeze. “Brilliant, I tell you. Where has your masterful mind been all my life, Bowie Binx?”
“Hey?” Tilly waves a dishrag in Opal’s direction. “I thought I was the brains of this disorganization. Besides, Bowie’s idea is okay if you like those tea party kinds of things, but that’s what we have Stich Witchery for. Besides, I say we kick this mother-daughter stuff up a notch where modern mothers such as myself will truly want to participate and not spend the afternoon trying to figure out how to have one of the many cats, shedding their dander in my petit fours, claw my eyes out.”
I avert my gaze. “Well, when you put it like that. Let’s hear what you got.”
“I’m thinking a mother-daughter dance. I mean, why do dads always get to have all the fun on the dance floor while the women who pushed those drama queens through their loins have to sit outside in a glorified litter box? I say we turn the ballroom into a disco, invite all the cute boys in town, and voila. Let the good times rock and roll.” She shakes her chest and makes the girls bounce in the event we didn’t get the memo on exactly which good times would be rolling.
Tilly gives an aggressive nod to Opal. “What do you say? Are you Team Tilly or Team Binx?”
“Team both of you.” Opal buries a kiss on Matilda’s furry forehead. “We’ll go with option B and hold a dance in the ballroom. But we’ll serve dinner first, and, of course, the cats can come and go as they please. That way we get the money we need for our sorely underfunded sanitarium.” She gives me a wink. “Shep really found a jewel in you.” She takes off to greet the customers just as Regina storms in.
Tilly leans in. “Did Opal just say sanitarium?”
I nod. “Sounds about right.” A mental health facility sounds exactly like what the doctor ordered right about now.
The queen bee herself stomps her way over.
Regina Valentine is the reason I’m standing where I am today. If she hadn’t partaken in a knock-down, drag-out fight with the kitchen staff all those months ago I’d be sleeping on the front lawn of Mortimer Manor alongside that army of cute little kitties.
Regina bounces up to the counter with her long chestnut hair, her dark knowing eyes, and those brown lips that look as if she dipped them in cinnamon.
“I can’t believe what you just did.” She hisses the words at me with such venom you’d think I had tested out my kidnapping skills on her firstborn.
Tilly sighs with boredom. “Ignore her, Bowie. Regina here has tried to tie down Shep twelve ways till Sunday. She’s just jealous because you beat her to it.”
“Tried?” Regina’s left eyebrow fishhooks into her forehead. “Oh, I’ve succeeded more than once and usually twice on Sunday.” She takes a satisfied breath as she looks my way. “In other words, I’ve taken your betrothed out for a test drive or two.”
“How’d he do?” I bounce on the balls of my feet and watch as her face turns every hue of crimson. I knew girls like Regina Valentine back in Jersey. Heck, Jersey invented girls like Regina Valentine. I can play her games any day of the week and outsmart, outwit, and outlast her in every one of them.
Her entire countenance morphs with rage—mostly underlying, but I can practically see the steam emanating out of her ears.
“He did well.” She leans in. “He’s an expert at handling a woman’s body, as