A Thrift Shop Murder (Cats, Ghosts and Avocado Toast #1)

She smiled at me and waved me away, and I pretty much crawled up the stairs into the bedroom and fell back semi-unconscious into the bed, not bothering to even get out of my clothes. The three cats joined me and sat on the side of the bed, looking up at me. I turned my head on the pillow, gazing down at them. “You want me to turn you all back?” My voice was ragged, exhaustion filling me as my eyes slowly closed.

“No, I think you need some extra special cat comfort tonight,” Finn said.

“You mind if we curl up at your feet?” Tom asked, his voice soft.

My lips tugged up into a smile, as I snuggled into the comforter, pulling it tightly around me and patting the top of it for the three cats to jump up. “Stay on top of the comforters, okay? No surprise male nakedness.”

I felt the three of them jump up on the bed and snuggle in around me. Just as I sunk into a deep, dreamless drunken sleep with the three strange house cats cuddled at my feet, I remembered something. My lips were almost too heavy to move them. “I never even got my Sex on the Beach.”

Whatever reply Pussy gave was too muffled by the comforter to reach my ears, but the other two cats convulsed into fits of laughter, their warm bodies vibrating against my side like massage balls and lulling me into a deep, peaceful sleep.





Chapter Twenty-Three





I yawned and stretched, my body aching. Early morning light flooded through the window onto my bed and warmed my skin. My hangover was tremendous and my head pounded in a fascinatingly painful rhythm against my pillow. I rolled over, but found myself stuck. My comforters were pinned down. Inching onto my side, I slowly opened my eyes and nearly let out a scream.

Snuggled beside me were three rather large, rather unnervingly sexy naked men. “Out,” I demanded, nudging them with my feet. “This wasn’t our agreement. Out, all of you.”

“What?” Finn yawned as he stretched. He looked around and had the grace to blush when he caught sight of the tangle of naked bodies sprawled over my legs. “Shit, sorry. I must have touched off you in my sleep. Totally accidental, I swear.”

Pussy opened his eyes lazily and stretched his long, toned body with a grin. “Speak for yourself, Muffin.” I lifted my knee in an attempt to knock him off the bed, but he merely rolled onto his stomach so that his bare buttocks were facing the ceiling and his morning glory was pressed into the comforter beside my leg. I shot him a dirty look and wriggled away, fighting the temptation to land a smack on his naked butt. It would be satisfying to hear my palm slap down on those firm globes, but I was pretty certain I’d get more than I bargained for if I started that nonsense. Pussy’s eyes were on my face and his lips curved as if he could read my mind. He ran a hand through his messy blond hair. “Don’t be so grouchy, Pricetag. Unless you’re still upset about not getting that Sex on the—”

Tom shouldered Pussy clear off the bed with a single jerk of his tattooed body, and Pussy stared up at us from the floor with an indignant scowl and an impressive full-frontal display. I threw my hands up to cover my eyes. “Guys! You’re killing me. I’ll keep my eyes closed, just cover yourselves up and go, please.” I opened my fingers a crack as the floorboards creaked, closing them again tightly when Tom glanced in my direction. A low rumble of laughter filled my ears. Damn it, caught red-handed. Before Tom could tell the others about my peeping tendencies, the sound of loud knocking echoed through the house.

“What the?” I squeezed my eyes shut as my temples throbbed. “Is that in my head or is somebody really banging on our door?” The sound came again, and all three men looked around confused. Okay, so it wasn’t just me.

“Who the hell is that?” Tom scowled in the direction the noise was coming from.

“Are you guys expecting someone?” I asked, sitting up and tugging on the comforter to cover my bare chest. When had I taken my damn clothes off? I looked around the room and saw my clothes strewn across the floor. I must’ve gotten hot and peeled them off while I was in a drunken coma. I groaned and felt my blush deepen, wondering if the guys had witnessed the event.

“Of course we’re not expecting anyone,” Pussy sneered. “We’re cats, remember?”

I slithered off the bed, trying my best to conceal my dignity. “You are people now, not cats, okay?” Tom and Finn had covered themselves with towels from my press, but Pussy was still butt naked, holding one of my shirts over his crotch. I stared at him pointedly. “Now, go put some proper clothes on and let me get dressed in privacy, please.”

The three men left the room, Pussy’s bare ass a sight to behold in the morning sun.

Knock knock knock.

“Can someone get the door?” I yelled as I tugged my clothes onto my uncoordinated body. I stumbled around, still feeling the effects of the alcohol from the night before. I heard a few thumps and loud swearing coming from downstairs. I started toward the hallway. “Guys? What the hell is going on?”

Thunder sounded on the stairs as all three men ran back to the bedroom, only half dressed. “Price, something happened.”

I grabbed hold of the door handle. “What are you talking about?”

Finn took a step forward with his hands outstretched like I was a wild animal that might bolt. “Don’t panic, okay?” I glared at him, silent. “It’s probably a big misunderstanding, but it looks like media is here.” He paused. “On our doorstep.”

“What?” It was too early for games. “Who the hell is Media?”

“Not Media,” Tom growled. “The media. Someone called the media. The press. Newspapers, television. There are about forty journalists standing outside with cameras and microphones.”

I hated alcohol; I was going to vomit. “Why are they here? Is this about Agatha?” Another thought hit my brain and I felt the blood drain from my face. “Oh, my God, they saw you turn into cats. They’re going to try and take you away. Oh, my God.”

Finn wrapped his arms around me as my shaky legs began to buckle and pulled me onto his lap on the bed. “Take it easy, we’re not going anywhere, Price. I swear.” He brushed a tangled lock of dark hair off my cheek, his green eyes dark. “They’re not here for us.”

“No,” Pussy agreed. His arms were crossed as he leaned back casually against the wall; only the tightness of his jaw and the straight line of his mouth gave away his worry. “From what I could hear through the door, they’re here to investigate the girl who’s suspected of murdering Agatha Bentley.”

“What? That’s insane. It’s not fair,” I insisted. “What would have brought them here? I’m not even an official suspect. I haven’t even been brought to the station for questioning yet.”

“Someone must’ve said something or leaked a rumor to one of the agencies.” Tom’s voice was like sandpaper and his hands were curled into fists. “This is a damn dirty investigation, when I figure out who’s trying to set you up…”

I slid off Finn’s lap and brushed Tom’s shoulder with my fingers. “Take it easy, Fluffy. We don’t need you up for murder charges too, all right?” Tom’s body relaxed under my touch and I gave him a half-smile. “Who’d be our resident grumpy bastard if you got locked up?” His teeth were strikingly white against his olive skin as he flashed me a grin. I bit my lip, turning back to the others. “Okay, no more time for dicking around, we need to figure out who the fudge is trying to cover their dirt by flinging it at me.”

Finn nodded, fumbling in Agatha’s bedside locker and retrieving a notepad and pen. “Okay, who’s our number one suspect? It has to be somebody with a reason to murder Agatha and then means or the influence to cover it up.”

“Right.” I sat down on the bed beside him and crushed my hands between my knees. “Frankie has a motive; Agatha crushed his dream and threw him out on the street. And it wasn’t the first time his life had been ripped apart. That stuff takes its toll on a person.” I stared at my feet, trying to gather my thoughts. “And he has a direct line to the chief of police in the city.”

“What?” Pussy asked, cocking an eyebrow. “The vet’s assistant has influence over the chief of police?”

“Apparently so,” I said. “Bianca D’Arcy told me yesterday that her dating agency had paired them up and apparently the chief is head over heels crazy about Frankie.”

N.M. Howell, L.C. Hibbett's books