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

Maybe she’s sick of the old man? Skip is twenty years her senior.”
“I’m sure they’re fine.” I don’t mind adding my two cents at all. Men always think women are so eager to cheat, when in my experience it’s been the other way around. In fact, I’d bet good money Skip is skipping out on poor Kadie. “Shep, how about a drink?”
I’d rather find a bottle of strychnine than listen to the three of them gossip like a bunch of seventh graders.
Shep and I take off, and thankfully there’s no sign of Hilary or her shifty bestie.
“How did I do?” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck, and we begin to sway to the music. His heady cologne hits me in the exact place God intended it to and, for a moment, I’d like to pretend this arrangement between the two of us is genuine.
His lips twitch shy of a smile. “You’re doing great. You can tone it down if you want.” His hands hesitate around my hips and I help land them there before resuming the hip swaying.
“You can’t scale back at a time like this. If Hawkeye Hilary sees that you’re afraid to touch me, she’ll sense a crack in the engagement armor.” I’m about to suggest a peck on the cheek to add to our legitimacy—and to satiate my own cravings—when a loud bang goes off.
The odd thing is, the bodies in the room don’t seem to notice or care.
“That wasn’t the music,” I say. “Believe me when I say I’ve been privy to hearing a gunshot or two.”
Shep inches back with a hint of intrigue in his eyes.
“I’m going to have you tell me exactly what you’ve been privy to, but not now.” He pulls back, his right hand drifting to his waist as if to feel for his own weapon. “Stay here, Bowie. I’ll be right back.”
“Not on your life.” I trot ahead of him in the direction the sound was coming from and lead us down a dimly lit hall. I’m about to pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight when I trip and land over something soft and warm.
“Oh my God.” I do my best to scramble off this warm pile of jelly as Shep helps me to my feet. And then I see it for what it is. “It’s a body,” I pant as I note the dark stain of blood pooling from his chest.
It’s not just any body—it’s Craig Walker.
And by the looks of it, this will be his last high school reunion.
Craig Walker is dead.

Chapter 3
“He’s gone,” Shep confirms after checking his pulse.
“I’ll call the police,” I say, reaching for my phone.
“No, don’t do that.”
“Okay then, I’ll scream.”
“Don’t do that for sure.” Shep stands and glances over my shoulder. “I’ll call it in. Would you do me a favor? See if you can find Lloyd out there. He’s the bald guy with muscles.” Shep steps past me and begins shouting commands into his phone.
“Bald guy with muscles,” I whisper, giving one quick glance down the hall and something gold and shiny catches my eye about ten feet away from the poor guy on the floor. I quickly cast my flashlight over it, noting it’s a tube of lipstick, gold case, the expensive kind you buy at the mall for close to fifty bucks a pop—a brand called SMACK. I should know. I used to have a dozen, if not a hundred, of those tubes rolling around at home when I lived in another state, another town, and another tax bracket entirely.
The door at the end of the hall sits slightly ajar and I can see a seam of light coming from the other side. Judging by the balmy fresh air blowing this way, I’m guessing it leads outside.
I step out of the hall of horrors and into the ballroom. That primal urge to howl as loud as humanly possible is still very much alive within me.
“Hey?” a female voice calls out before me, and I turn to find Hilary gawking at my dress in horror. “Did you spill wine on yourself?” She leans in to better inspect it. “I’m not an expert, but I’d say that was blood. You didn’t kill Shep, did you?” she teases, but her lips quiver as if she meant it on some level.
“Actually.” I lift a finger just as her eyes drift past me, and Hilary Campbell does all the screaming for me.
Before I know it, everybody in this hot and sweaty ballroom has congregated around the entry to the hallway and is craning their necks for a glimpse of the poor man.
Whispers of who it might be float around the vicinity. From the corner of my eye, I spot James Palmer, the dark-haired deputy, coming into the room, and on his heels is Kadie. She looks just as surprised as he does by the sheer number of bodies congregating in my direction.
I’m about to head over when I spot Lloyd, the bald muscle man, making a beeline over. His suit jacket has been abandoned, his gun holster is exposed, and he has his weapon drawn.
“All right, back up,” he barks as James joins him in the gun-wielding department.
“Shep is back there,” I pant at the two of them as they pass me. And soon, the hallway is flooded with emergency medical workers and others from the sheriff’s department.
Shep comes over and takes a look around at his old friends.
“I’m going to have to ask everyone to step back,” he shouts. “There’s been a homicide.”
A round of gasps and screams fills the room.
He holds up a hand. “Nobody leaves the building. Make yourselves comfortable. A deputy will come around to get your information.”
Hilary slithers up to Shep, tugging at a blonde lock. “This reminds me of those shut-in parties we used to have. Boys and girls, you and me?” She inches her way closer to him. “A few rounds of hard liquor and—”
“And”—I gently push her away as I curl