A Claw-some Affair (MEOW FOR MURDER Book 3)

fair that Shep isn’t interested in playing a game of Frisbee with me.
“I see business is brisk.” He sheds a brief smile our way. “Opal must be happy.”
Tilly leans his way. “Opal is sleeping off a hangover.”
Regina scoffs. “Ten bucks says she’s dead and this one did it.” She hitches her thumb my way as Shep takes a seat right here at the bar. “Did you know she’s a witch?”
Shep’s eyes widen my way a moment before he nods to Tilly and me.
“Morning, ladies.” He frowns at Regina. “No name calling.”
“I’m not kidding.” Regina continues her baseless campaign against me.
Okay, so it may not be that baseless, but it doesn’t make it true either.
Regina plops down in the seat next to Shep. “Did you know she gave Tilly a vision that she would land on her back in the carnal sense with Jackson Mortimer?”
I suck in a quick breath.
“A vision board,” I blurt it out so loud, half the room looks my way. “I gave Tilly a vision board.”
Tilly snarls my way. “A lousy one at that. It turns out, Jackson was interested in landing Bowie here on her back, but he had to settle for Regina instead.”
My lips invert to keep from laughing.
“What?” Shep’s jaw tenses as he studies me a moment, and a part of me is afraid he’ll see right through me and straight into my otherworldly abilities.
It’s not that I don’t trust Shep with my inadvertent supernatural talent—although, some might contest the use of the word talent, and by some I mean me. I just don’t think he’s the type of person who would respond well to the idea. I’m not sure why I was so quick to share it with Opal and Tilly when I arrived in Starry Falls, but in a way I’m glad I did. It gave me a sense of kinship with them, and after unmooring myself from everything and everyone I knew, I think I needed it.
When I was of age—seven to be exact—Nana Rose explained to me that the strange ability we shared was something she called transmundane. Apparently, there are many supernatural talents that fall under the umbrella of transmundane, such as reading minds, seeing the dead, and other cool and slightly off-putting things that I don’t even want to think about. Nana Rose and I happen to fall under the umbrella of something called sibylline—meaning we can catch a sneak peek of what’s to come.
“Anyway,” I say, sliding a plate full of blueberry muffins toward Shep. “How’s the investigation going? Did the coroner’s report come back yet? Was Madeline Swanson poisoned?”
“Asks the killer,” Regina snickers.
“No report as of yet,” Shep says directly to me, choosing to ignore the gnat among us. “What smells so good?” He lifts his brows my way and my stomach bisects with heat as if it were a flirtatious maneuver on his part.
“Lasagna, if I play my cards right.” I shoot Regina a look. “My recipe cards, for the record.”
“Please,” Regina snorts. “She’s got something cooking, Shep, and it’s a bubbling cauldron. I wouldn’t be so quick to trust this one. I think she’s cast a spell on you. I’ve wondered for months what she’s been doing in Starry Falls, and I think I just figured it out. She’s auditioning for a familiar—as in a kitty sidekick for her witchy deeds. I’d better tell Opal to keep an eye on the cats.”
“I’ve already taken one.” I pop a bite of an apple mini muffin into my mouth before dropping a few of those onto Shep’s plate, too. Nana Rose always did say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Here’s hoping the apple mini muffins are a good start, and if all goes well, I’ll be finishing off my coital spell with Nana Rose’s three-cheese lasagna.
Tilly’s mouth rounds out with delight as she pours Shep a cup of coffee.
“Which cat did you swipe, Bowie?” she asks.
“Pixie,” I say. “And technically, Shep swiped her.”
“Aw,” Tilly coos. “Some girls want diamonds, but all Bowie wanted was a kitten. You’ve got her for life now, Shep.” She offers him a wink before bumping her hip to mine, and I bump right back like a lower torso version of a high-five.
“Pixie?” Regina winces as she riffles through the feline Rolodex in her mind. “The gray and white tabby who went pink last month?”
“That’s the one,” Shep says. “She wandered over to the cabin and I fed her.”
I nod. “And the rest is cat-napping history. I’m not giving her back either. She keeps my head warm when I sleep, and slaps me with her tail just before the sun comes up. I prefer a tail swat to my alarm. Besides, we’re bonding over things.”
“Like what?” Regina deadpans as if it were hard to believe.
“Like our hair.” It’s true. Pixie was at the wrong place at the wrong time last month when an unruly toddler dumped a frosty pink drink over her, and now she’s more or less a punk rock diva who has rocked my world for the last two weeks. My own fuchsia infusion was more or less a fizzle. Since my hair is jet-black, it doesn’t take too well with color. And anyway, the box of hair color my Uncle Vinnie gave me as a parting gift was more effective as a bottle of Cherry Coke.
My Uncle Vinnie just so happens to be the mastermind of my great escape from Hastings while I try to evade both the feds and the mob after what turned out to be a rather boneheaded greedy move by my ex, Johnny Rizzo.
Johnny belonged to the Moretti crime family. He was essentially a peon who thought it was a good idea to steal from the mob’s already dirty money.
Our setup involved a donut shop, a car wash, and some serious money mismanagement on both our parts. But come to find out, it was my love of designer handbags and penchant for driving pricey cars that sent the feds sniffing