Book 4 in the 9 Lives Cozy Mystery Series

Vancouver, British Colombia, Canada–When a Prominent Canadian Politician Dies Mysteriously, Stormy the Cat and Christy Jamieson Discover the Cause in Let Sleeping Cats Lie, a cozy mystery by Louise Clark

When prominent Canadian politician, Fred Jarvis, dies mysteriously, Detective Patterson solicits the help of Christy Jamieson to investigate the family and friends of the deceased. The police suspect a politically motivated murder, but Christy soon finds reason to disagree.

Now working at odds with the police, Christy must rely on Stormy the Cat to discover the truth or risk seeing the man she loves convicted unjustly of murder.

“These cat themed mysteries will prove to be enduringly popular . . . unreservedly recommended . . .” – Midwest Book Review

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EXCERPT

“I expect to see a substantial portion of the funds returned to the Jamieson Trust by the end of summer.”

Christy stared at the broad, beaming face of Harry Endicott. To say she was blindsided by his announcement was putting it mildly. She thought the Jamieson fortune was gone forever.

She drew a deep breath, reminded herself this was good news, and summoned her Jamieson princess persona to steady herself. “Thank you, Mr. Endicott. I’ll be in touch.”

As she left the office, Detective Patterson, who had also attended the meeting, said, “Mrs. Jamieson, you’ve heard about the murder of Fredrick Jarvis, the provincial cabinet minister?”

Christy nodded. “It was the topic of a discussion at a recent social gathering I was at.” A fancy way to describe one of the Armstrongs’ back yard barbecues, but she was still in her Jamieson princess persona. Fancy was the norm not the exception.

“Fredrick Jarvis was a national political figure,” Patterson said. “I’m part of a taskforce drawn from national and local police forces. We’re looking at his political life, at the people who have protested his policies, his competitors in the current leadership campaign, anyone with international connections.”

Christy stared at Patterson. She thought of the barbecue and heard again Roy’s voice reminiscing about the protests he’d participated in while Jarvis was minister of the environment and his still firm view that the man was dead wrong in his policies. She thought about Jarvis’s long lost daughter, Tamara Ahern, held captive by radicals, and so newly returned to Canada.

And Quinn, a journalist who had spent years in war zones, interviewing friends and foes as well, and Tamara’s former, and possibly current, lover.

The cold of stark fear washed over her. “Everyone?”

Patterson nodded. “The taskforce will put anyone they are investigating under a spotlight. The glare will be intense. Every flaw revealed. Every weakness exposed.”

Christy studied Patterson’s expression. If she read the woman right, Patterson was telling her that Roy and Quinn were in danger.

Patterson returned her gaze with a steady one of her own. “However, I don’t believe Mr. Jarvis was killed by an international terrorist or a political enemy. I think he was killed for one of the usual reasons—money, revenge, jealousy, fear. Someone in his private life who has a motive to kill him.”

“If you believe Jarvis was killed for personal reasons, why don’t you investigate that angle?” And leave Roy and Quinn out of it.

“I’m a lone voice. I don’t have the time or manpower. As I said, the focus of the taskforce is on his political life and I am part of it. Everyone involved is working flat out to sift through a mound of data. I had to get special permission to come to the meeting this afternoon.”

Christy frowned. Harry Endicott kept meticulous records, which he would turn over to the police once he was done. He’d also write a detailed report for their use. It wasn’t necessary for Patterson attend this meeting. There had to be another reason she had made a point to be here today. “Did you come to warn me Quinn might be under investigation?”

Patterson didn’t immediately reply. Christy had the sense that she was wrestling with herself. Finally she said, “Mr. Jarvis moved in the kind of social circles the Jamiesons play in. I’m sure you, or your aunt, know his wife and children. You might even be on a first name basis with them.”

“His daughter was on one of the committees I belonged to before Frank died, but—” Realization dawned. “You want me to investigate Fred Jarvis’ family?”

“Ears, eyes, and feet, Mrs. Jamieson. You can go where I cannot.”

“Detective, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Patterson’s gaze was steady on hers, but she didn’t respond. She stayed silent and let Christy stew about spotlights, consequences, and danger to those she loved.

“All right,” Christy said at last, reluctantly. “I’ll do it.”