Cats, Carats and Killers
(Urban Tails Pet Shop Mysteries)
Cozy Mystery 4th in Series
Setting – Connecticut
Publisher : Beyond the Page Publishing
(March 19, 2024)
Paperback : 182 pages
There may be honor among thieves, but a long-ago diamond heist might hold the secret to a man’s murder . . .
Pet shop owner Shell McMillan is thrilled to see everyone in Fox Hollow flocking to the local animal shelter’s fundraiser, where they can get their old keepsakes and collectibles appraised and maybe even sell them for a tidy sum. But the event has drawn some shady characters as well, including Pete Martin, who seems determined to get his hands on a beat-up old jewelry box at any cost. Then Martin is found murdered, and Shell has to go from fundraising to finding a killer.
It doesn’t take long for Shell to figure out that the jewelry box was concealing diamonds from a long-ago heist, and that Martin wasn’t the only one trying to get his hands on the stash. But to figure out who wanted him dead, she’ll have to uncover who was behind the original heist and who knows where the rest of the gems are hidden. It’s as dangerous a case as Shell has ever faced, and if she’s not careful, her search for the missing stones will leave her stone-cold dead . .
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CATS CARATS KILLERSI was halfway to the break tent when I saw Lois, walking swiftly toward the restroom area. I frowned. Had she left the tent unattended? I quickened my steps and was just about to walk inside the break tent when I halted. Was I imagining it, or did I hear voices? I crept closer and pressed my ear to the flap. Yes, indeed, there were voices-muffled-coming from inside. I peered through the small opening and saw a man in pressed jeans with neatly combed blonde hair standing beside the table in the far corner. A thin dark-haired woman, her back to me, was sliding the cardboard box out from underneath the table. The man bent over, pushed back the flaps and let out a little cry.
“Here it is!” he said triumphantly. “At last.”
As the man started to pull the jewel chest out of the box, I stepped into the tent and cleared my throat loudly. They whirled around, and I crossed my arms over my chest, fixed them both with a stare. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
Even though I was looking straight at the man, it was the woman who answered. “We’re doing nothing wrong,” she said in a clipped voice.
I switched my gaze to her. “Really? Because it looks to me like you’re trying to steal something here.”
“We’re doing nothing wrong,” she repeated. “We have a right to reclaim our property.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry? Your property?”
“Actually, it’s neither of ours,” the man said smoothly. He flashed me a smile best described as oily. Something about him set my antennae rising, but I couldn’t pinpoint just what it was. “My sister and I have spent quite a good deal of our valuable time tracking this down.”
The woman tossed her head so her dark hair spilled over one shoulder. “I don’t know why we have to explain ourselves,” she said indignantly. Her gaze raked me head to toe. “Who are you, anyway?”
I raised my chin and returned her stare. “I’m Shell McMillan. I run the Urban Tails, the local pet shop.”
“I see,” the woman said. “And that gives you what sort of authority here?”
“My mother and my friend Sue’s store is sponsoring this event for the shelter, so it definitely gives me more authority here than you,” I shot back. I gestured toward the box. “This item was brought in for appraisal. The woman bought it at an estate sale last week.”
“I know,” the woman snapped. “She beat me there by five lousy minutes. Then she turned me down flat, wouldn’t even listen…”
I stared at her. “You’re the person who offered two hundred fifty dollars for it?”
“Yeah. Most people would have jumped at that offer, but not that woman.” The brunette’s lips curled in a snarl. “All this could have been avoided.”
“All what could have been avoided? You barging in here and helping yourself to someone else’s property?”
“Well, after all, it’s not like we’re stealing it,” the woman rasped. “It…it belongs to our grandmother.”
I stared at her. “Excuse me?”
“She’s right.” The man put a hand on the woman’s arm, squeezed it lightly and then turned to me. “It’s all a misunderstanding,” he said smoothly. “The item was sold in error. It shouldn’t have been. We’ve been going crazy, trying to find this and get it back for Granny.”
That story smelled worse than a day old salmon. I walked over, bent down, and lifted up the box. I set it on the table and stood, one hand resting on its flaps. “How did your…granny happen to lose it?”
“She didn’t lose it, not exactly,” the man replied. “Her friend was going on a long trip, and needed something to take her jewelry in. She thought that chest would be perfect, so Granny, dear soul that she was, loaned it to her.”
“Yes.” The brunette bobbed her head up and down. “So while this woman was on her trip, Granny had a stroke, and had to go to the rehabilitation center.” She pulled a Kleenex out of the pocket of her dress, dabbed at the corners of her eye. “It was a while before she recovered, and what do you think she asked about first? This jewel chest. Of course, in the meantime her friend couldn’t locate her, and then she moved, and then…well, the woman died.”
I’d heard fishy stories from clients in the past, and this one reeked. “What was this woman’s name, the one your grandmother loaned the box to?”
The man and woman exchanged a look, and then the woman said in an indignant tone, “We only knew her as Mrs. Johansen. I don’t know her first name.”
“Yes, and once we learned of that estate sale my sister went there immediately to reclaim Granny’s property, but…it had already been sold.” The man’s teeth flashed in a quick smile. “So now that you know the details, surely you understand our position.”
“I’m not sure I do,” I said. “That chest was bought in good faith and left to be appraised. Even if I wanted to, I have no authority to turn it over to you.”
“A mere detail,” the man said, waving his hand in the air. “I’m sure we can reach an understanding. We’re quite willing to reimburse your patron for the box, and tack a tidy profit on besides.”
“That may well be, but I don’t believe she wishes to sell…at least not until she finds out the appraised value.”
“Which, I’m sure, will be nowhere near what we can offer her for it,” the man said, reaching into his breast pocket. He withdrew a fat billfold, opened it, and plucked out three bills. “Three hundred dollars. Cash.”
He held them out to me, but I made no move to take them. I looked him right in the eye and said “I should tell you that I’ve already been offered four hundred for this box today by someone else.”
“Four hundred!” The man and woman exchanged a look. “By who?” the man finally asked.
“There was another man here earlier,” I said. “His mother has been looking for a similar jewel box and he offered four hundred for it. I turned him down as well.” I fixed them both with a stare. “You can see why I’m a bit skeptical of your story.”
Another look passed between the man and woman and then the man said smoothly, “Of course. This other man is probably our cousin. His mother has always coveted that jewel box, and this is just the sort of underhanded, sneaky trick he would pull to try and get it. You were right to refuse him. We’re telling you the truth.” He plucked two more bills from his wallet. “I’ll give you five hundred. Cash.” He waved the bills in the air. “You can’t beat that.”
“You’re missing the point, as did the earlier gentleman,” I said, my temper rising. “This isn’t an auction, and this box isn’t mine to negotiate with. I happen to know that the owner wants to get Mr. Antoine’s appraisal before she’ll do anything. So I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. If you’ll leave your name and number, I’ll be glad to relay your message to the proper people.”
“I think you’re the one missing the point.” The blonde man took a step closer to me. With his set jaw and brows drawn together, he looked quite menacing. “This box wasn’t supposed to be sold. It was a mistake. My grandmother is the owner of this box. Technically, I don’t have to offer you a dime for it.”
“I beg to differ.”
We all turned to see my mother standing there. “Another country heard from,” the woman cried. “Now who are you?”
My mother leveled the two of them with her best Lady Macbeth stare. “I am Clarissa McMillan, and I am one of the sponsors of this event.” She moved forward, her gaze riveted on the two intruders. “I couldn’t help overhearing your little discussion with my daughter. Suffice it to say that unless you can come up with some sort of proof that your grandmother did indeed own that box and it was in Mrs. Johanson’s wrongful possession, I’m afraid you’re out of luck. Unless, of course, our patron does decide to accept your cash offer, or that of the other gentleman, which would be entirely up to her.” My mother slitted her eyes and raised her chin as she added, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave, now…or I will call the police and have you arrested for attempted theft.”
The brunette raised her chin and said haughtily, “You wouldn’t dare.”
My mother’s chin went up as well. She removed her cell phone from the pocket of her Armani jacket and waved it in the air. “Try me.”
My mother and the woman stared at each other for what seemed an eternity before the brunette finally looked away. “Fine, fine,” she barked, plucking at the man’s arm as she did so. “Let’s get out of here.”
The man looked at me and snarled, “You want proof of ownership? We’ll be glad to provide it.” He looked over at the jewel box, then back at us. “Trust me. This isn’t over.”
“It is for now,” my mother said, an edge to her tone. “Do not come back here unless you have concrete proof of ownership.”
With a final black look at us the two exited the tent. Once they’d gone, I let out my breath in a giant whoosh. “Wow, Mother,” I said. “You were great!”
My mother blew at the tips of her fingers. “Naturally, darling, I’ve had years of practice. I just channeled my inner Lady Macbeth.”
I frowned. “Their story sounded like a load of bullcrap to me. Aside from knowing the deceased’s name was Johansen, I doubt anything else they said was true.”
My mother wrinkled her nose. “Frankly, I didn’t like their looks, especially the man.”
“I agree. There was just something about him. I can’t describe it, it’s just a feeling. The woman was a piece of work too. I wouldn’t trust either one of them.”
“Well, hopefully we’ve seen the last of them,” she said. “Although it wouldn’t surprise me if they came back with some sort of bill of sale for that jewel box.”
“Me either,” I agreed. “Considering what’s happened, I don’t want to leave this jewel box here.”
“I don’t think that’s wise.” My mother snapped her fingers. “Antoine’s line wasn’t too long when I left. Come on.
Let’s take it to him right now.”
T. C. LoTempio is the award-winning, national bestselling author of the Nick and Nora mystery series. Her cat, Rocco, provides the inspiration for the character of Nick the cat. She also writes the Urban Tails Pet Shop Mystery Series, as well as the Cat Rescue series and the Tiffany Austin Food Blogger series. Check out her and Rocco’s blog, http://www.catsbooksmorecats.blogspot.com, and visit her website, http://www.tclotempio.net, for more information.
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This sounds like a good series. I think I have one of the author’s books, but haven’t read it yet. I like the cover for this one!
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I love this genre and most colorful cover!
Thank you for sharing it.
Great cover and excerpt. I’d love to read more.
I liked the excerpt.