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

pulled into a bun and her pale eyes narrowed in over me while she glowers as if I were the perpetrator in question.
“Detective Grimsley.” I offer a nod her way.
“Nora.” Shep sighs at his former fiancée as he quickly gives a rundown on all that’s happened.
“Give me the glass.” She pulls a plastic bag out of her pocket and takes it. “I’ll have forensics go over this.” She looks my way. “I would appreciate it if you left the sleuthing to those of us who are qualified to do so.” She shoots Shep the stink eye. “Let’s speak to this Kiera woman and see if we can open and close this case in one night.”
They start to take off and Shep backtracks, piercing me with those day-glow eyes.
“Bowie”—he whispers my name like a secret, with a twinge of disappointment in his tone—“do us both a favor. Stay away from this case.”
Nora nods. “What he said.”
They take off and I all but roll my eyes at the two of them.
Why in the world would I want to involve myself in another murder investigation?
I spot a man with a slight bald spot, a white feathered mask in his hand, and I recognize him from earlier this evening. He’s the one that grabbed Madeline by the elbow and had a few heated words with her before she took off.
Without putting too much thought into it, my feet sail me in his direction.
He’s handsome, dark hair for the most part, has broad shoulders and what appears to be a genuine air of concern about him.
“It’s a horrible thing,” I say as I come upon him.
He turns to look at Madeline lying there and blows out a heavy breath.
“You can say that again.”
“I’m Bowie Binx. I run the Manor Café. Did you know her?” I refrain from referring to the poor girl as the deceased.
“Yes, actually, I knew her well. Parker Goldman.” He nods. “Madeline and I were working on a project together. I guess I won’t have to worry about that anymore.”
“Project?” I lean in. “As in her philanthropy?”
He gives a little laugh as if the philanthropy was a joke.
“No, not that. This was something else entirely.” He shifts his gaze to the girl on the floor and a cold smile curls on his lips. “But that’s all in the past now.”
The man in the red suit lets out a horrible moan as he falls to his knees before Madeline’s body and the entire room quiets to a hush.
“Who’s that?” I whisper to Parker as we witness a rather theatrical performance. And believe me, if I didn’t see him twirling his bling by the door while watching things play out with an air of indifference, I wouldn’t be so quick to judge.
Back in Hastings, the mob-rich territory in New Jersey where I’m from, I’ve seen my fair share of funeral theatrics—and, the man in red is right up there with the best of them.
Parker’s chest bucks with a dry laugh as if he, too, found the drama amusing.
“That’s Lucas. He is, was, Madeline’s boyfriend. I guess this is his moment in the limelight.” He winks my way. “Sometimes you gotta make it look good for the sheriff’s department.” He takes off, leaving me with his cryptic words.
For the sheriff’s department?
My God, this is all a show. I look back at Lucas who continues to howl like a werewolf in front of a full moon.
I have to find Shep.
No sooner do I take off than I bump into a body.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice strums as Jackson Mortimer takes both of my hands and kisses them in turn. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, I just”—a thought comes to me—“Jackson, do think someone could have done this to your friend on purpose?”
That flirtatious demeanor of his shifts on a dime as he shoots a sour look to the crowd around Madeline Swanson’s body.
“I suppose nothing is impossible. Maddie had a way about her. Some might say she had a nasty disposition.” He sharpens his gaze over my eyes. “But don’t fret. These things have a way of working out in the end, as all things do.” He rubs the inside of my left hand with his thumb and I quickly pull it away as if removing it from the flames.
Just as I’m about to rebuff his touchy-feely efforts, the room begins to swirl and that old, familiar, warm, fuzzy feeling takes over and a vision forms in my mind.
The night sky hangs above, peppered with stars as I see Lucas holding Kiera by the arms.
“Nobody needs to know,” he riots as he gives her a slight rattle.
“Nobody tells me what to do,” she snips. “I should have done this the very first night and saved myself the trouble.”
The room blinks back to life in a dizzying roar and Jackson Mortimer is no longer holding my hands. Shep Wexler is.
“Bowie?” Shep’s voice is loud and sharp.
“Yes?” I straighten in an instant and take in the worry on his face.
“Was Jackson hurting you? I practically had to chase him away.”
“No.” The word comes out less than a whisper as my mind drifts back to that strange vision.
“Bowie, what keeps happening to you? Are you all right? Are you prone to seizures?”
“What? No!” Oh dear God, he’s going to demand I get my head examined.
“I’m sorry, I think you need to see a doctor, or maybe this is a psychiatric issue. But I’ve seen you zoned out and unresponsive one too many times for me not to step in to help. I’m worried about you.”
My heart drums at the thought of Shep worrying about me, stepping in to help me.
My breathing grows erratic.
“I don’t need your help, Shep. I’ll stay out of your investigation if you stay away from my problems.”
I bolt out of the ballroom and straight out of the manor under a star-filled night.
It’s bad enough Shep knows one dark secret of mine. I have no intention of adding something supernatural to the mix.
It looks as if