Lending a Paw: A Bookmobile Cat Mystery (Bookmobile Cat Mysteries) by Laurie Cass Read Free Book Online Page B

“You’re sure it’s Stan Larabee?”
    “Definitely.”
    He went back to his microphone. “Identification is confirmed. Cause of death is homicide, repeat, homicide.”
    The microphone popped and crackled. “Roger that, two eight seven.”
    Deputy Wolverson flipped his notebook shut and gave me a straight look. “Is there anything else we should know?”
    Homicide. Stan was murdered. I’d known that as soon as I’d seen that small, horrible hole, but hearing the word spoken out loud was doing disturbing things to all sorts of emotions. “I can’t think of anything,” I said. “Do you know . . .” No, stupid question. The deputy had only been there a few minutes. Of course he didn’t know who’d killed Stan.
    The deputy waited for me to finish my sentence. When I didn’t, he said, “The department’s detectives will be investigating the incident.” He tucked the notebook into one shirt pocket and pulled a business card from another. “But if you remember anything important before they contact you, here’s my name and phone number.”
    I reached for the card and saw that my fingers were trembling. I made a quick open-and-shut-and-open fist, then took the card. DEPUTY ASH WOLVERSON , it read. “Um, I really don’t have any idea what might or might not be important.”
    “Use your best judgment.”
    My fingers started quivering again. I sat on them. “Um, I’m sure you noticed that the back door on the house was broken open.” He nodded. For some reason I nodded back. “And that car across the parking lot is probably his.” Stan was a car collector. Every time I saw him driving, it seemed he was driving something different.
    He turned, noted the location of the car, then took some notes. “Anything else? No? Well, thanks for your help, and you have my card if you remember more.” He stood, opened the door, letting in the sound of pounding rain and the scent of wet earth, and left.
    “Stan,” I whispered. “Oh, Stan.”
    Eddie’s head popped out of the cabinet. He sniffed left, sniffed right, then jumped down and made his way over to me. He stood directly in front of my toes and looked up at me, yellow cat eyes intent on mine.
    I patted my thighs.
    He continued to stare at me.
    “Oh, fine.” I leaned forward, scooped him up, and deposited him on my lap. He clunked the point of my chin with the top of his head and started purring.
    “Murder,” I said quietly. “Stan was murdered. That’s so . . . wrong.”
    Eddie stomped around. Either he was working on a new dance step or he was trying to make my lap more comfortable for himself.
    “How could it be murder? And why?” But even as I asked the second question, I knew the answer. Stan was rich. Incredibly rich. You didn’t have to look very far to figure a motive for this one.
    “But why here?” Sure, Tonedagana County had more remote places than this; there was a state forest not far away. And the next township south of here didn’t have even a village inside its borders.
    Eddie found whatever it was that he wanted in a lap and flopped down.
    “Could Stan have been looking at the property, thinking about developing?”
    “Mrr.”
    I nodded and started scratching his ears. “You’re probably right. Developing anything out here would be nuts.” The closest expressway was more than an hour away. Even the closest two-lane state highway was half an hour away. Not exactly easy access.
    “Besides,” I said, “that day I picked up the check, he said he was done with developing. Time to spend money instead of making it.” He’d laughed as he’d said it, though. Where had his laughter come from?
    “Well.” I gave Eddie a squeeze and deposited him on the passenger’s seat. “It’s up to the police now. They’ll figure out who killed Stan and—”
    “Mrr!”
    “What do you mean, ‘mrr’? That’s what the police do. They figure out who the bad guys are and put them in jail.” While I’d never actually seen Eddie roll his