Claws for suspicion, p.1
Claws for Suspicion, page 1
Praise for
Furbidden Fatality
“If you like cats, dogs, and entertaining mysteries, you’re going to love Furbidden Fatality.”
—Donna Andrews, New York Times bestselling author of The Falcon Always Wings Twice and The Gift of the Magpie
“Furbidden Fatality has everything a cozy mystery reader is looking for—a clever heroine, a puzzling mystery, and a collection of adorable animals. Deborah Blake writes with passion and charm. She’s a new mystery writer to watch.”
—Dorothy St. James, author of The Broken Spine
“Clever, engaging, and filled with lovable (and furry) sidekicks, Furbidden Fatality is an A+ debut in what is sure to be a must-read series by Deborah Blake.”
—National bestselling author Laura Bradford
“Furbidden Fatality has all the cute cat and dog cameos you’d want in a fun pet cozy. Animal sanctuary owner Kari Stuart teams up with a knowing kitty and several pet-loving friends to collar the culprit in this fast read.”
—Jennifer J. Chow, author of Mimi Lee Reads Between the Lines
Catskills Pet Rescue Mysteries
furbidden fatality
doggone deadly
claws for suspicion
BERKLEY PRIME CRIME
Published by Berkley
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
penguinrandomhouse.com
Copyright © 2022 by Deborah Blake
Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.
BERKLEY and the BERKLEY & B colophon are registered trademarks and BERKLEY PRIME CRIME is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.
Ebook ISBN: 9780593201558
First Edition: May 2022
Cover illustration by Anne Wertheim
Cover design by Vikki Chu
Book design by Gaelyn Galbreath, adapted for ebook by Estelle Malmed
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Cover
Praise for Furbidden Fatality
Catskills Pet Rescue Mysteries
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Acknowledgments
About the Author
To all the folks at Super Heroes in Ripped Jeans, the rescue that inspired the one in this story. These folks do amazing work without the benefit of anyone who won the lottery. Founder and real-life superhero Terra Butler started this incredible organization, and single-handedly saved tiny Diana when the kitten was horribly ill while I was fostering her. Then hardly laughed at me at all when I told her that Diana was going to be a foster fail and stay with me (apparently they both already knew that, even if I didn’t). My cat Harry Dresden was fostered by the lovely Kristin Kulow, and she was incredibly patient with me when I was adopting him in the midst of losing my treasured Magic and Mystic. And a special HUGE shout-out to board VP and teacher Lisa Meschutt, who fell in love with the first book in this series, gave copies to all the English teachers at the local middle school to see if they thought it was appropriate for that age, and then got a grant (big thanks to Lisa Manning!) so they could buy copies for every single fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth grade student, using the local independent bookstore to do so. It was one of the most rewarding moments in my entire career, and I can’t say how much it meant to me. If you want to support this organization, you can find them online at superheroesirj.org. Or support your own local shelters. They are all doing heroes’ work.
One
Kari Stuart gazed around her kingdom and smiled with satisfaction. Okay, it wasn’t really a kingdom, it was an animal shelter, and a small golden retriever puppy had just piddled in one corner of it, but still, it had come a long way from the run-down, nearly defunct rescue she had taken over a few months ago.
From her position behind her desk at the back of the room, Kari could see the usual low-keyed hum of activity you might expect on a relatively quiet Wednesday in early October. Over by the new top-of-the-line wood-framed cages against the wall, her friend and head volunteer, Sara, was showing a young couple some kittens, and trying to persuade them that two would be better than one. From the looks on their beaming faces as they cuddled a pair of little tiger-striped siblings, Kari suspected Sara had been her usual convincing self.
Of course, after more than forty years teaching English to ninth graders, the feisty seventy-two-year-old could get almost anyone to do what she suggested. Kari called Sara her secret weapon. Only the turquoise streak in Sara’s gray hair hinted that she might not be the mild-mannered retiree she appeared to be. She had been working at the shelter long before Kari bought it, under its previous owner Daisy, and had stubbornly refused to give up on either the place or their few remaining misfit animals.
Bryanna Jenkins, another dedicated volunteer (now a part-time employee when not attending vet technician classes at the two-year college in neighboring Perryville), was over in the corner cleaning up after the puppy she’d been handing over to its new owners.
Bryn had dealt with plenty of puddles in her time at the shelter, so she was completely unfazed by the mess, laughing and joking with the middle-aged man and his excited teen daughter as they finished filling out the final paperwork. Bryn’s dark hair was pulled back into many tiny braids, all of them tucked neatly under a rainbow colored bandana to keep them out of the way, and the bright red Serenity Sanctuary tee shirt she wore looked good with her light brown skin.
She and Kari hadn’t hit it off right away when Kari took over, but these days they mostly got along just fine. The younger woman was learning to trust Kari’s genuine desire to improve the shelter, and it didn’t hurt that Bryn got along so well with Kari’s best friend Suz, the local dog groomer.
The main room glowed in the sunlight that poured in from the large windows, showing off the gleaming new linoleum floors and the soft blue paint on the walls. The L-shaped oak desk at the front had comfortable ergonomic stools for the volunteers who greeted visitors, as well as neat stacks of applications and information sheets. On the corkboard behind the desk, there were pictures of that month’s featured dogs and cats, along with helpful descriptions like, “Gets along with other dogs and cats. Rides well in cars, but could use additional leash training,” along with the basics like age and breed. One adorable hound dog with innocent looking brown eyes had a note that said, “Very sweet. Will eat your shoes.”
Kari couldn’t help beaming with pride as she took it all in. She knew some people—most people, maybe—thought she was crazy when she used a large chunk of her unexpected lottery winnings to buy and refurbish the sanctuary. But they had desperately needed help, and she had needed to find a purpose in her life. So far at least, she had no regrets at all.
The pen she’d been using suddenly rolled across the desk and onto the floor with a sharp click, jarring Kari out of her reverie.
“Queenie,” she scolded. “How many times do I have to tell you that my pens are not your toys?”
The little black kitten perched on top of the pile of bills Kari had been attempting to pay ignored this reminder with the ease of long practice, yawning up at Kari and showing off a pink tongue and sharp white teeth. At seven months old, Queen Nefertiti, or Queenie as she was known, was small for her age, and likely to stay that way, according to Kari’s vet. Probably a combination of heredity and her rough start in life as a stray.
In fact, Queenie was directly responsible for Kari buying the sanctuary. When she’d rescued the kitten at about three months old, Kari had discovered to her dismay that all the local shelters were at capacity and beyond. So she’d bought the sanctuary, and ended up keeping the kitten. Or more accurately, the kitten had kept her.
Queenie more than made up for her diminutive size with her stubborn determination to get her own way, and a slightly uncanny ability to know everything that was going on. She insisted on going in to work with Kari every day, rather than staying in the farmhouse on the property with Kari’s other two cats, Westley and Robert, and her mixed-breed dog Fred. The kitten was as much a fixture around the sanctuary as Tripod, the friendly three-legged yellow tom cat who had been
“I need to get to that paperwork,” Kari said to Queenie, who seemed unimpressed by this fact. “Now stop throwing my pens on the floor.” Kari tucked her long brown hair behind one ear as she bent down to retrieve the writing implement. Naturally, the pen had rolled well underneath the desk, so she had to duck down and stretch her arm out to reach it.
As her fingertips touched the smooth barrel, she heard the brassy sound of the bell that signaled the front door opening, and footsteps approaching her desk.
A pleasant tenor voice said, “Hi honey, I’m home.”
Kari straightened up so fast she smashed her head against the bottom of the desk. For a moment she saw stars, and her eyes watered from the impact. She supposed it was too much to hope for that she had given herself a concussion and hallucinated hearing that familiar voice. Unfortunately, she didn’t think she could be that lucky.
Holding her head, she sat up slowly and looked across the expanse of paperwork and wood. A tall, attractive man with professionally cut dark brown hair, twinkling brown eyes, and broad smile stood there, holding a small bouquet of red roses.
He was impeccably dressed in a black suit that had clearly been chosen to show off his still slim and muscular body, and at forty, only a few silver hairs were visible amid the brown. No doubt women thought it made him look distinguished. That and a few tiny wrinkles around his eyes were the only thing about him that had changed since Kari had last seen him, in court when their divorce was finalized four years ago.
“Hello, Charlie,” she said in a calm voice. “Long time no see. You look good. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” She pointed at the front entrance with a finger she was pleased to see wasn’t trembling at all. Her stomach, on the other hand, was doing somersaults, as if it had suddenly been taken over by a conga line of drunken mice.
Across the room, Sara’s keen ears had clearly picked up on Kari’s unaccustomed rudeness and the former teacher raised one gray eyebrow in her direction. Kari just shook her head and focused on Charlie, who didn’t seem remotely put off by her less-than-enthusiastic welcome.
“Now is that any way to greet your long-lost husband?” Charlie asked cheerfully. “Look, I brought you roses.” He plopped them down on the desk, scattering the neat piles of paperwork in the process. “What a cute kitten, is it yours?” He reached out one hand to pet Queenie, who hissed at him.
Out of the corner of her eye, Kari could see Sara’s other eyebrow go up, since normally the kitten was friendly with everyone she met, whether human or furry.
“You tell him, Queenie,” Kari said, standing up so she wouldn’t get a crick in her neck. At five foot six, she was still a lot shorter than Charlie’s six foot two, but at least she wasn’t at quite as much of a disadvantage. “And yes, she’s mine. You, on the other hand, are not, and I’d just as soon you stayed lost. So if you don’t mind, please take your flowers and get out. We don’t have anything to say to each other.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Charlie said, looking around. “Nice place you’ve got here,” he said, not sounding like he really meant it. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard from someone that you’d bought an animal shelter in this backwater town in the Catskills. What on earth possessed you?”
Kari tried to figure out who he could have heard the news from. She hadn’t stayed in touch with any of their mutual friends, who had mostly been his friends and business associates anyway. His mother had hated Kari from the first Thanksgiving dinner, and Kari hadn’t spoken to her since she’d left. Suz was about the only friend who had been around during their three short years of marriage, and she had despised Charlie from day one and begged Kari not to marry him. It definitely hadn’t been her.
Oh well, it didn’t matter how he’d found out. He was here now, and unless something drastic had changed in the ensuing four years, that meant he wanted something. The sooner she discovered what it was, the sooner she could say, “No,” and send him on his merry way.
“Believe it or not,” Kari said, “I wanted to do something meaningful with my life. Helping animals who would otherwise have fallen through the cracks seemed like a good way to do that. And Lakeview is hardly a backwater town. We have a thriving tourist trade, especially now during leaf peeper season.”
She picked up Queenie, who looked like she was considering attacking the roses. Kari would have been happy to let her, but not until after they’d been checked for thorns. Any gift from Charlie was likely to smell sweet and have hidden prickles. “Besides, the commute is short.”
Charlie shook his head, giving her the kind of indulgent look you might bestow on a cute but not very bright child. “You always did have a soft spot for critters, didn’t you?” he said with a chuckle. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to just adopt a few? I doubt there’s much money in the shelter business.”
Queenie gave a quiet growl and Kari did her best not to do the same. Charlie had never liked animals—he thought they were messy and smelled and took too much work. One of the many reoccurring arguments during their marriage was about whether or not to have pets.
Kari never did win that one. Practically the first thing she’d done once she’d finally settled into her own apartment was to go out and get a dog. Feline brothers Westley and Robert had followed not too much after.
“Nope,” she said. “No money in it at all. So if that’s what you’re here for, you might as well take your flowers and leave. In fact, no matter what you’re here for, I can assure you, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” She nodded in the direction of the puppy, who was now attempting to gnaw on his new owner’s sneakers. “Pun intended. I have no interest in anything you might have to say.”
“Oh, I think you’ll find you do,” Charlie said. He perched familiarly on the corner of her desk and smiled up at her. “I have kind of a surprise for you.”
Kari hated surprises. In her experience, they were very rarely of the pleasant variety.
“My birthday’s not until April,” she said. “And I’m not likely to celebrate our anniversary unless it is by burning you in effigy. So whatever it is, I don’t want it.”
“You may want to rethink that anniversary thing,” Charlie said, a hint of smugness in his smooth tone. “Because it turns out, we’re still married.”
Kari’s legs turned to jelly and she sank into her chair before they gave out on her. This had to be a bad joke, right?
“What the heck are you talking about, Charlie Smith?” she asked. “We stood in a courtroom together and a judge accepted the terms of the divorce. Which if you’ll recall, were mostly in your favor. There is no way we are still married.”
“The divorce wasn’t official until we both signed the paperwork and mailed it back in to the county clerk’s office,” Charlie said. “And apparently you never did that. I checked, and there is no record of our divorce being finalized and officially filed. We’re married, all right.”
Kari swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. Of course she had sent in the papers. Hadn’t she? It was four years ago, and once everything was done with, she’d tried to put it as far behind her as possible.
The kitten jumped out of her arms and nudged at a piece of paper, as if trying to make a point. Over the last few months, Kari had figured out not to ignore her hints.
“Charlie,” Kari said in a carefully neutral tone, “Why would you have checked on that, after all this time? Are you planning on getting remarried?” She had been his second wife, twenty-two to his thirty-three at the time, and he’d never been one to be without a woman. Or a few women.
He threw back his head and laughed, making everyone in the place turn around for a moment and stare. His laugh always seemed genuinely charming, just like the rest of him. “Not at the moment,” he said. “And it turns out that’s a good thing, since I’m already hitched to you.”
He straightened the crease on his perfectly pressed pants. “No, I decided to double check with my lawyer when I heard your good news. Just in case I was entitled to something. He was the one who found out the paperwork had never been properly filed.”
