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

Agatha reached out and touched the jeweled barrette she slid into my hair the night before. “To quote a very annoying girl I once knew, ‘Nope, nope, nopety-nope’.”

“You’re the worst boss I’ve ever had, I just want you to know that,” I said. Agatha mimicked me, repeating the words in a whiny, high-pitched voice. I stuck my tongue out at her and she made a farting noise. I let out an exasperated laugh and she turned back to her newspaper clippings. “How are you doing, Aggy? Really? It must have been hard to hear those things.”

“I’d forgotten my mother’s face, you know. Until tonight, listening to them tell my story. I never forgot that voice, but her face…” Her words were so unexpected that I froze. She didn’t lift her eyes from the desk. “Bianca was right, you know, when she said I had a lot of unfinished business.” Her smile was the very mockery of happiness; sorrow carved in flesh. “I thought when I found out how I’d died, that everything else would come flooding back, but that’s not how it works, is it?” She met my eye for the first time. “I’m going to have to resolve all of my unfinished business, one sorry tale at a time. And I’m not going to like every memory that returns.”

I pressed my hands to my lips and stared back at her. One-hundred-and-thirty-nine year’s worth of mistakes and agonies and joys. “We’ll take it one bridge at a time, Agatha, but we’ll get there. You’ve got the world’s best assistant and the world’s most handsome familiars in your corner.” I glanced at the box again and took a deep breath. “You brought all of us here for some reason, Agatha. We just have to figure out what it is.”

Agatha rolled her eyes as the sound of claws tapping on the floorboard outside the door grew louder. She waved her hand. “Go on, shoo, out you go to your little hussy harem.”

“They’re not my harem,” I insisted, slinking across the floor.

“Whatever, hipster hussy,” the ghost retorted. As I opened the door something flew over my shoulder, barely missing my nose, and landed on the floor between the cats.

Pussy was the first to recognize what it was and he purred up at me with a feline leer. “It’s your lucky day, Pricetag. Extra-large and ribbed for her pleasure.” Agatha cackled softly on the other side of the door and Pussy’s smug grin widened. “See, I always told you I was her favorite.”

“Great, Pussy. You stay with ghost granny, while the rest of us of chill out on the couch, okay, little pussy-wussy?” I crooned. Pussy was the first to make it to the living room. I collapsed on the couch, and I stroked each cat in turn. I grinned at the pile of blankets waiting on the floor. Finn passed them out so that everyone was covered without a single screech from my mouth. And so what if I was a little bit disappointed not to catch a single glimpse of a buttock or anything more interesting, I was only human.

Tom settled himself on my left, and Pussy and Finn slouched down to my right. I swiveled so that I was lying across them, my head in Tom’s lap, my thighs over Finn’s, and my feet resting just on Pussy’s hip. I closed my eyes as Tom began to stroke my hair from my forehead, recounting every detail of the night since I’d last seen them. I felt Tom tense when I repeated Bianca’s words. “That old bitch.” I tried to headbutt his stomach and he grinned. “What? She is an old bitch. You were right not to tell her about Agatha or us. We haven’t seen the last of that sly dog.” He flicked my nose gently. “By the way, if you want to nuzzle me with your head, you should aim a bit lower next time.”

Before I could respond to Tom, or bite him, Pussy drawled, “Yeah, if you’re taking suggestions, I’ve got an itch you could probably scratch with those delightful little feet. Just move them a little to the right…”

I swung myself back into a seated position, ignoring Tom and Pussy’s protests, and looked at Finn. My sweet ginger muffin, at least I could trust him not to lower the tone. He raised his hands in the air. “Hey, don’t look me, I don’t have any demands.” I smiled and leaned back into the sofa, resting my head on his shoulder. “Although, I do remember you suggesting something about Sex on the—”

My back-handed slap left the imprint of my fingers on his abdomen and I gave the three of them a warning glare. “If anyone says anything about rubbing him better, I’m going to shove Agatha’s broomstick up their ass.”

Pussy pressed his lips together and stared at the floor like he was going to explode. I couldn’t suppress my grin. “Say it. Whatever smart remark you have about broomstick violation, just say it.”

“Kinky.” He spat the word out and released a breath, his whole body relaxing visibly.

I shook my head and patted him on the knee. “If we ever find a way to stop you from randomly turning into a cat, I’m sending you for therapy for that.”

Finn lifted one eyebrow and put on a deep voice. “When dirty talk, goes bad.”

Tom smirked and reached for the remote control. “Hey, maybe it’s on right now.”

The television screen in the corner shuddered into life. And a wide smile spread across my face as I closed my eyes and settled deep into the couch. I was content, for the first time in a long time. Between the whole mess with dickhead back in Portland, and the murder investigation, I had to admit I was starting to think my life would never be normal again. Not that lying on a couch with three naked cat men shifter things was normal, but I would take what I could get.

“Can we get you anything?” Tom asked, turning slightly to face me as he rested his tattooed arm on the couch behind my neck. “Wine? Coffee? Tea? Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m fine. I have everything I need right here.” I smiled sleepily at him and turned to look at the other two. “I’m not going to get all emotional on you, but I want to say thanks. For taking care of the cops so I could escape, and knowing I’d forget my keys, and not telling me I snore. And not licking me. Because cat’s tongues are really weird. Like tiny pink bits of sandpaper.” The three men exchanged a look and I held my hands up. “No, I mean it. Thank you, Tom, and Finn, and—” I stopped short. “Okay, seriously. You’re going to have to tell me your real freaking name, because I can’t keep referring to you by that…word.”

Pussy grinned, leaning back and closing his eyes. “Poor little Pricetag. I guess that’s just one more mystery you’ll have to save for another day.”

I groaned, rolling my eyes. Yeah, the mysteries were really piling up in Salem.

Accepting defeat for now, I closed my eyes and gently fell into a deep, peaceful sleep, surrounded by the presence of the three comforting strong men who had proven themselves to care more for me than anyone else in my life ever had.

It was a strange life; not the one I expected to have. But it was mine. And I would hold onto it with all the power in my being.

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