Deirdre The Cat Lady Sleuth (Deirdre The Cat Lady Sleuth Cozy Mystery Book 1) Read online

  Deidre The Cat Lady Sleuth

  Nancy Davis

  ©2015 Nancy Davis

  Copyright © 2014

  No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known, hereinafter invented, without express written permission from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either products 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.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Thank you

  Your Gifts

  Chapter 1

  A glow of hot pink light appeared over the sea, heralding the beginning of the day. The water was calm that summer morning. The waves more kissed the rocky Maine shoreline than crashed against it.

  Deirdre stirred in her wooden sleigh bed. After years of getting up at the same time to go to the library she didn’t even need to set her alarm anymore. Her body automatically knew when it was time to get up. Dawn. Her favorite time of day. The day before her full of possibilities. And books. Many, many books.

  Her cats Joe and Flipper stirred at her feet. She felt Joe’s little light feet treading up her leg. Then he was sitting on her chest, his amber eyes glowing in the low light. She leaned up and kissed his fuzzy tabby head and scratched behind his ears. He immediately started purring and butting her head.

  “Come’on silly, let’s get you something to eat,” she said to the little cat, picking him up and swinging her legs out of bed. Flipper, a big black and white whale of a cat, hurled himself onto the floor and landed with a resounding thump.

  Her back creaked menacingly. Grimacing, she pressed on the tender area. Being 63 had so many advantages but her aching back wasn’t one of them. She was going to have to actually start doing yoga again. She’d been lazy lately but it was summer in Maine and the season was short. She’d rather be outside swimming, hiking or just sitting on her porch with a glass of wine and a paperback mystery.

  She slipped her feet into her sheepskin slippers and padded into the kitchen where she measured out the food. Flipper looked intently at her with his big yellow eyes. Mealtime was the time of day when he was most alert. Otherwise he was snoozing or warding off Joe’s playful advances.

  Deirdre put on the coffee pot and pulled on her usual jeans and plaid flannel shirt in her favorite color blue. Brushing her long silver hair, she slapped on a little make-up and checked her face in the mirror. Just because she looked like a grandma didn’t mean she had to dress like one. She checked her reflection in the mirror. Not so bad, she thought. No one’ll mistake me for thirty. But they won’t think I’m seventy either!

  She walked onto the porch with her cup of coffee and allowed herself her usual moment to watch the sunrise. The hot pink sun had just cleared the horizon and the ocean was awash with pinks, yellows and deep blues. She cozied into a wicker chair. She’d grown up in this house – it had been her mother’s family’s place. Been married for 30 years in this house. Watched her husband’s passing 10 years ago. Grown old in this house. It was her everything, this little gray clapboard cottage on the sea. So far it had withstood all the lashings and bashings of the sea and the harsh Maine winters. She hoped it would do so for some time to come.

  The cats purred and rubbed against her shins, reminding her that it was time to go. The three of them hopped into her little Dodge Rabbit. The cats went everywhere she did. She knew people thought she was a crazy cat lady. Let them! Crazy cat ladies had more fun, as far as she was concerned.

  She wound down her long gravel driveway and descended into the streets of downtown Green Harbor. The little wooden shops were just opening. The antique cast iron street lights still glowed faintly. It was a town that hadn’t lost its quaint charm, even with all the changes in the wider world. In fact, it wasn’t much different from when Deirdre was a little girl, which everyone knew was in the last Stone Age.

  She pulled up at the public library, a tiny little slate blue wooden house on a side street just off the main drag. No other cars were in the parking lot, as usual. She parked, let the cats out and unlocked the front door.

  Light flooded the little space with its rough wooden floorboards and beams. Bookshelves were stuffed into every corner imaginable, catalogued meticulously by Deirdre and her part-time assistant, Taylor. Cushy chairs and plants crowded by the tall windows. She sighed. Bliss. This was her safe haven, her life’s work, her everything. People kept telling her she should retire. But what the heck was better than coming here every day? They didn’t know what they were talking about.

  Deirdre’s thoughts were interrupted by an angry yowl followed by hissing. She dropped her purse on a table.

  “Hey boys, cut it out already. Be nice,” she said. Energetic Joe was always teasing poor Flipper, who was generally as slow as a two-ton truck chugging uphill.

  About to scold the pair, she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the two cats sitting quietly on the opposite side of a pair of shoes stuck on the end of two outstretched legs.

  Men’s shoes. Brown and black rubber moccasins that looked a heck of a lot like Doc Roy’s. Deirdre had just been over for dinner at Doc and Libby’s celebrated bed and breakfast the past weekend so she clearly remembered those shoes.

  She took a hesitant step forward. Maybe Doc had gotten drunk and somehow broken in?

  That’s when she saw the blood pooling by the moccasins.

  Chapter 2

  Her hands flew to her mouth. Oh no. She took a deep breath and peeked around the corner. Dead. Definitely dead.

  And definitely Doc Roy.

  And resting on his chest was a paperback, open spine-out.

  Oh heavens, poor Libby. This was too awful to imagine. She flew to her tiny office off to the side and taking a deep breath dialed the police, trying to steady her breath as it rang and rang.

  The sheriff finally picked up, his voice gruff and no-nonsense.

  “Sheriff Davis? It’s Deirdre. No I’m not jockeying for news, for heaven’s sakes. There’s a body in my library! Yes a body, Davis, as in a dead one. Did I check? Rob Davis, just get your guys and an ambulance here right now. This is serious. I’m not so old that I’m imagining murders.”

  She hung up with a bang. What an impossible man. Sure, she’d had her hand in many the crime. She was a voracious mystery reader and had a head for solving cases. The police didn’t always appreciate her help but she wasn’t looking to please them.

  The cats were hovering by her office door looking worried.

  “It’s okay boys, she said in a soothing voice. “Come in and take a nap.”

  The two cats padded across the floorboards and jumped up onto the windowsill. But instead of settling into their usual separate cat bed they squeezed into one, cuddled together into a tight furry ball. She stroked their silky fur fo
r a moment before going back into the main room.

  “I’m so sorry Doc,” she said quietly before sending a prayer upwards for him. Then she took out her smartphone, the one she’d finally learned how to use, and took a couple of snaps. The paperback was a romance, one that was regularly checked out by the local ladies. As far as she knew it was a steamy story of a passionate small-town love affair. The sort of thing that would greatly appeal to the women in Green Harbor.

  She opened her note app and began to tap in observations. There was no blood splatter so poor Doc had probably been murdered elsewhere and dragged to the library. The killer obviously wanted to make some sort of statement. But why?

  His shirt was bloodied, indicating he’d been shot or stabbed. Rigor mortis had already set in from the looks of it, so he’d been killed at least two or six hours ago.

  She heard the thump of Joe leaping from the windowsill and the whisper-quiet tread of his feet down the floor. He appeared, all bright eyed, his tail held high. He went right over to the body, looked at it from a moment and then nosed the corner of the book that protruded. Then, as if spooked by what he’d just done, he bounded off.

  Deirdre knew she shouldn’t touch the book. It was evidence. But paperback was open. To a specific page. That had to mean something. She put her sleeve over her fingers and gingerly lifted the corner of the book. Page 102. She noted this down as well.

  Sirens began to wail in the distance, quickly escalating until she could hear them right outside the library. Car doors slammed and there was a sharp knock on the door.

  Deirdre strode over and opened it up. Sheriff Davis walked through.

  “What a way to start the day,” he grumbled. “A murder? In Green Harbor? I’m used to the usual thefts, noise complaints and domestic brawls but this is something new.”

  “He’s back here.” Deirdre led him to the stacks where the body was sprawled.

  The Sheriff took off his hat and rubbed his bristly brown moustache. “Lord. It’s Doc Roy. Last person I’d expect to end up dead at the library.”

  “I didn’t really expect anyone to be dead at the library,” Deirdre cut in. “Obviously the killer is trying to send us some kind of message. But why I can’t figure out.”

  “Not you and your theories.” The sheriff shook his head.

  Deirdre crossed her arms. She hated being treated like a nosy little old lady.

  “Listen Rob, whoever did this is obviously smart. This isn’t just a hit and run. It was premeditated and carried out meticulously. And they didn’t only kill Doc but they laid out the body so it could be found. So they’re confident to boot.”

  “I agree with you and I’ll thank you to let me do my job now,” he said stiffly. He took out his camera and began snapping photos.

  Chapter 3

  Deirdre turned on her heel huffily and went out to get some air. The sun was fully up now and sending golden light all over the little town. She breathed in deeply, catching the slightest whiff of salty air.

  A little beat-up pick-up came roaring down the side road at top speed before skittering into the parking lot, kicking up dust. It stopped and a tiny little pixie came out with long brown hair wearing a hideous sweater. Her assistant Taylor.

  “Oh my God, what is going on?” she drawled, cracking her usual wad of gum.

  “I didn’t think you were working today.”

  “Naw, I’m not. But I heard the sirens and I was all like, the library is burning down…”

  “It’s fine,” Deirdre said flatly. Frankly, Taylor drove her crazy. She had no tact, was completely cynical and was terrible with customers. But she was an excellent cataloguer and kept the paperwork in order. Her mother had been a friend of Deirdre’s before she passed away from breast cancer several years before. The child had always been a troubled sort and Deirdre had taken her under her wing and hired her to help out at the library. She’d turned out well, even if sometimes Deirdre wanted to send her in for a lobotomy.

  Taylor was still staring at her with slack-jawed fascination. “Did someone die?”

  “Yes and it’s terrible. It was my friend Doc Roy. You know, who owns the B&B…”

  “Oh. My. God.” Taylor spit out her gum. “Of course I know who that is. Everyone knows who that is. His hotel has been written up in every travel magazine ever. He’s, like, kind of famous.”

  Deirdre pressed two fingers between her eyebrows. “Tay, I need to try to call Doc’s wife. Can we talk about this later?”

  The pixie sighed heavily. “I guess.”

  The sheriff said he’d be a while, so Deirdre called the cats out from their nest, locked the front door and hopped back into her cramped Rabbit, furry duo in tow. She piloted the little car through the downtown streets and their Victorian wooden shops. There was the salt taffy and sweets store, coffee spot, hardware store, insurance office and credit union. People strolled up and down the wide brick sidewalk. On the weekend it’d be three times as busy. With its small town charm and ocean view, Green Harbor was a popular weekend destination.

  Driving away from downtown, Deirdre climbed the hills around the sea proper. The wind had picked up and the waves were lashing harder against the shore, sending up white sprays. Houses were replaced by thickets of tall pine.

  Eventually she rounded the bend and came upon a stunning pure white Victorian manor perched in the side of the rocky cliff. It was three stories and had a huge wrap-around porch on the ground floor. There was a turret on one side and dormer windows on the top. It was a breathtaking hotel, known throughout Maine and beyond for its warm hospitality, private location and elegant but comfortable rooms.

  Roy and Libby were originally from Portland and they’d bought and fixed up the old place with their money. Since they weren’t local it had taken a while for people to warm to them. But Deirdre had been a semi-frequent visitor for dinners and she counted Libby as a friend, even if she found her a bit guarded. Roy she’d never gotten to know as well.

  Deirdre sat in the parking lot outside the house for a moment. Maybe it wasn’t her place to be there but she remembered when her husband Bob had a heart attack all those years ago she’d needed all the support she could get. As if sensing her distress, Flipper climbed into her lap. She stroked the soft black and white fur and buried her nose into the soft head.

  “Good boy,” she cooed. “Oh goodness Flipper, you’re getting heavier by the day. People are going to think I feed you chocolate bars instead of kitty food.”

  She hauled the massive cat out of the car and with Joe close behind her, she went to the side door and knocked. No one answered but she realized the door was slightly ajar.

  Joe, a champion door opener, immediately hooked his agile paw in, opened it up and disappeared before Deirdre could even process what he was doing.

  “Joe!” she called. “This isn’t your house.”

  No answer. Not even a meow.

  Chapter 4

  Sighing, Deirdre went in, taking her shoes off at the mat. She padded down the hall and into the main common area. It was a lovely space with cushy cream furniture, wainscoting, green floral wallpaper and a dramatic view of the ocean. Guests were scattered here and there, reading from paperbacks or the newspaper.

  “Has anyone seen Libby?”

  They all shook their heads slowly.

  “I saw her dash out an hour ago or so,” said one woman, popping her head in from the deck.

  “How about a tabby cat?”

  The people exchanged perplexed looks. “Uh no,” said the same lady.

  That’s when she remembered that she was still holding Flipper. Once again she was the crazy cat lady. He looked up at her and meowed sweetly. Deirdre thanked the guests and hauled her big whale of a cat to the back of the inn, clucking her tongue softly.

  “Joe! Joe you rascal. Now’s not the time to play hide and seek.”

  She reached the end of the hall and noticed Libby’s office door was open. Flipper immediately sprang out of her arms and wedged himself t
hrough the crack in the door, struggling awkwardly as he tried to fit his bulk through.

  “Darn cats,” Deirdre mumbled as she slipped in after him.

  The office was perfectly organized and decorated. It was a testament to Libby’s incredible skill. There was a green-leaf patterned window seat crowded with cushions by the large picture window. A farmhouse table served as the desk. The walls were covered with ivy-patterned wallpaper and overtop, many framed awards from various travel websites and hospitality organizations.

  And there was one cat: a small gray tabby sitting on top of a file folder on the desk. He looked at Deirdre with his big golden eyes, as if it was perfectly normal for him to be there. Flipper was sitting on the floor below him, evaluating carefully his chances of making it up onto the desk without sliding back.

  “Joe!” she scolded. She walked up to him but he didn’t move. Taking hold of a corner of the file folder, she jiggled it gently, trying to get him to leap down. He began pawing at the folder, looking up at her impatiently.