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

Ryan. But she still goes by Beaumont half the time.” He shakes his head as if the thought didn’t sit well with him. “She’s never taken to marriage. Nice husband, though. Skip’s a good guy. They’ve got two girls in middle school, good kids. They might escape the terrible teens.”
Tilly plucks a cherry out of a bowl in front of her. “My girl’s sixteen and I sure as heck didn’t escape ’em.”
Oliver gives a husky gurgle of a laugh her way. “That’s because the fruit most likely didn’t fall far from the tree.”
I’d better move this along. Oliver is working overtime to score a home run. Little does he know he doesn’t have to hit one out of the park. With Tilly, he can pretty much walk the bases.
She swoons his way. “It’s like you know me.”
“I’d sure like to get to know you.” He spins his barstool her way, and I spin him right back around by way of his beefy arm and, my God, it’s the girth of a telephone pole.
“Shep is really torn up about losing Craig.” I shrug and he gives a solemn nod.
“I’m right there with him.”
“For the life of him, Shep can’t imagine who’d want to do something like this. Shep really painted Craig to be a great guy.”
“Great guy?” Oliver leans back, his chest bucking with a silent laugh. “I guess so. But then, Shep wasn’t around that much these past few years.”
“So I take it you were close. Outside of being partners with you, did Craig do anything else for work?”
“Oh yeah. He was a partner in Eatie Some Ziti, a restaurant over in Sterling Lake. Kadie works there.” He glances to the ceiling, and I’m getting the feeling he and Kadie are on the outs, which makes sense according to the vision.
The two of them are clearly trying to hide something—that is, if it was her in the vision. But what are they trying to hide? The fact they killed Craig Walker?
Hey? If so, I bet that tube of SMACK lipstick belonged to her. It’s a long shot, but that’s all I’ve got right now.
“Eatie Some Ziti?” I lean toward Tilly. “Ooh, that sounds Italian. What I wouldn’t do for some decent Italian food right about now.” I look to Oliver. “There was no better cook than my Nana Rose. She’d be awfully disappointed to see me slinging hash browns and hamburgers when there’s real food to be made.”
“Wait a minute.” Tilly slams her hand down between us. “Why don’t you give Nana Rose a call and have her give you some of her recipes? The Manor Café has zero style, flair, or flavor, and I’m betting a few traditional Italian meals could really spice the joint up.”
“Calling Nana Rose would require some supernatural finagling. She passed away a few years back. But I’ll see what I can do on the recipe front.” There might not be a way I can contact my poor sweet Nana, but I don’t see why I couldn’t swipe a few recipes from a cookbook or two.
Oliver gives a lusty side-eye over to Tilly, and I figure I have less than two minutes to wrap this up.
“Shep thinks someone who knew Craig did it.” I nod as if it were obvious. “He doesn’t think it’s random, that’s for sure. Did Craig have any enemies that you know of? Was there anyone angry with him? Anyone holding a grudge?”
Oliver leans back and gives a vacant gaze to the mirrored wall in front of him.
“Craig had a way of sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. Not just with me, with other people, too.”
“Like who?”
He glances past me. “All the wrong people.”
And just like that, I’m positive Oliver knows something. He either pulled the trigger or can point a finger at whoever did just that.
His face brightens as he looks at something behind me and he stands with a laugh caught in his throat.
“Son of a gun, we’re two for two.”
I turn in time to see a pair of pale blue eyes that stun me into submission—not an easy thing to do by a mile.
“Sheppy.” Tilly bounces with a laugh. “Here to keep tabs on the little woman?”
Shepherd Wexler looks drop-dead gorgeous in a flannel and jeans. His dark hair is slicked back, and his face is peppered in dark fuzz that only multiplies his comeliness. About six different women are fanning themselves in his wake, and I think I heard a woman propose from my right.
“Keeping tabs on this one is proving darn near impossible.” He looks my way. “Why aren’t I surprised to see you here first?”
My lips part a moment. “Because you’re notoriously late to date night.”
He glowers my way. “All right, Sweet Cheeks. Bottoms up. I’ve got other plans for us this evening.”
I take a sip out of Tilly’s whiskey and push it away. Liquor coupled with my gift is a no-go. It not only amplifies the visions. It gives them a haunted appeal, so I choose to abstain from the hard stuff, and the not so hard stuff, too.
“Why wait?” I hop off my stool and wrap an arm around his waist. “Where are we off to, Honey Bunch?”
Shep doesn’t bother to shed a smile. “I think I’ll keep it a surprise.”
“Keeping the mystery alive. I like that.”
We say goodnight to Oliver, while Tilly opts to hang around, much to my chagrin.
And I’m off to an undisclosed location with Shepherd Wexler, my very ornery fiancé.
I glance back at Oliver Kincaid and catch him gliding his arm around Tilly’s waist.
That man is hiding something.
One way or another, I’m going to shake it out of him.
And soon enough, I’ll be shaking down Kadie while I eatie some ziti.

Chapter 6
There are a lot of things I’d like to do with Shepherd Wexler. Telling him the truth is not one of those things. Heck, it isn’t even on the short list. And before I’m painted a monster in this scenario, the God’s honest truth is,