Book 5 in the 9 Lives Cozy Mystery Series

When a murder involves Detective Patterson’s family, Christy jumps in to help, even though she’s supposed to be on a camping vacation. The motive appears to be tied to the installation of a new fish farm in the area, but when Christy and her friends investigate they discover the roots of the crime are buried deep within the victim’s past.

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

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EXCERPT

“Offshore fish farms are lethal to other marine life.” The environmentalist pitched his voice to a conversational level, but his eyes flashed with outrage.

“Progressive Salmon Farms has pioneered eco-friendly open water salmon pens. Our site here in Loyal Scotsman’s Bay is perfect for our new technologies and takes into account all of the environmental concerns that surround older fish farms.”

Stormy the Cat wiggled his shoulders free of Christy’s tote bag. I don’t care if it’s raining. This reminds me of the time Gerry Fisher insisted I go to the official opening of the new Jamieson Ice Cream factory when I was sixteen. Stupid speeches and a ribbon cutting. Boring! I’m out of here.

“Prove it!” the environmentalist said.

The PSF representative reddened. “If you read our literature—”

“Your literature is full of falsehoods!”

The small audience, bored by the sales pitch, perked up at the possibility of a battle, but Stormy wasn’t interested. Nor was Noelle. As the cat stepped daintily out of the tote Christy had lowered, Noelle tugged on her sleeve. “I want to go too, Mom.”

Christy nodded. “Okay. Keep an eye on Noelle, Frank.” She was whispering, though she didn’t have to. Voices were raised as the arguments heated up.

Sure.Tail high, Stormy trotted away. Noelle skipped along beside him. Their destination was a Plexiglas tank the size of a swimming pool, a mock up of the projected fish farm. and designed to show PSF’s environmentally friendly features. Noelle and the cat paused before it, apparently fascinated by the juvenile salmon swimming lazily in their small ecosystem.

Christy was contemplating ways of leaving this charged and very political meeting without causing too much of a stir when there was a splash and the sound of a body hitting water. She heard Noelle scream, “Daddy!”

Christy whirled about. In the Plexiglas tank the juvenile salmon were now swimming in an agitated way, while Noelle was charging up the stairs to the wooden walkway that encircled the tank, a mock up of the floating docks that would be the visible evidence of the real thing. Before Christy could even begin to move, Noelle arrived at the walkway, tore across it, and leapt into the water. Inside the tank the salmon swam about even more frantically than before.

Christy headed for the door at a run, but Quinn got there first. Sledge followed him out and as Christy burst from the doorway, she saw that Quinn was at the stairs. He took them two at a time, reached the top and was across the walkway in one stride. He dove into the tank and swam for Noelle.

Sledge followed closely behind Quinn and with a whoop, he too jumped into the tank.

At the base of the staircase, Christy glanced back. The PSF rep had followed her out and he looked ready to kill.

His face was red as he shouted, “Stop this immediately. You’re traumatizing my fish!” Christy ignored him and ran up the stairs.

As she reached the walkway Quinn surfaced with Noelle in his arms. He swam over to Christy and together they maneuvered Noelle out of the water. She wiggled, trying to get back in. “Mommy, Stormy is still underwater. He’ll drown! We have to help him!”

At that moment Sledge surfaced. He held the cat high, one hand under his shoulders, the other at his back end. Stormy’s fur was plastered to his body, his eyes were wide and a little manic, and in his mouth was one of the juvenile salmon. It flipped its head and tail, frantically seeking escape, but Stormy’s jaws held it fast.

Noelle leapt to her feet, then hopped ecstatically up and down, clapping her hands. “Stormy! You’re safe. And you caught a fish. Good for you!”

Quinn made a snorting sound that could have been a disguised laugh and hauled himself out of the water. Sledge shifted the cat so he could paddle over to the walkway. He deposited Stormy beside Noelle, then pulled himself out and sat beside Quinn.

As soon as the cat was on the walkway, Noelle dove for him. She snatched him up into a tight hug. The salmon flicked its body one last desperate time and Stormy lost his grip. The fish flew over the side of the tank, onto the ground.

Twisting out of Noelle’s grasp, Stormy raced to across the walkway, then leapt off the edge to the ground below. He landed almost on top of the fish, mere inches away from the feet of the outraged PSF rep. Snatching up the tail of the fish, he bolted, the salmon’s body bouncing along behind him. He headed for the makeshift parking lot where he took refuge under Christy’s van.

“If looks could kill,” Quinn murmured in Christy’s ear.

She glanced at the PSF rep. He was staring at the van, fury in every tense muscle in his body. From his expression, it was clear he had murder on his mind.