A Novel Death: a Danger Cove Bookshop Mystery (Danger Cove Mysteries Book 10) by Elizabeth Ashby, Ellie Ashe
Authors: Elizabeth Ashby, Ellie Ashe
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almost smiled, then returned his attention to the fur, and my attention was drawn to a box that was squeaking in a corner. I peered over to where the high-pitched squealing was coming from, then hopped off the stool and went to investigate. The box contained a half-dozen kittens. They were so little that they looked like furry jelly beans with legs. Their blue eyes blinked up at me, and their little mouths opened in protest.
"Oh, kittens!" I said, surprised at how cute they were. Of course, I knew kittens were cute. I mean, I've been on the internet. But I hadn't ever been so close to some myself.
"Yeah, found them this morning on the front steps," Dr. Whitaker said.
"Someone just tossed them away?" I was disgusted and outraged that someone would leave six defenseless babies in a parking lot.
"It happens a lot. I'll take them over to the Second Chance Animal Rescue later," he said.
"It's so sad," I said.
"You're welcome to take one home, if you're interested. Or take two—they're small."
"I can't. I'm allergic to cats," I said.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Cats are great pets."
I sighed. I'd always wanted a cat growing up, but my mother's protective streak extended to keeping me away from anything that made me sneeze. We'd gone several rounds on the issue, with me promising that I didn't mind sneezing that much and her insisting that it just wasn't healthy for me to be around cats. Being the parent, she'd won that battle.
"Don't worry," Dr. Whitaker said. "They're cute. They'll find homes."
He tucked the fur back into the bag and handed it back to me. Then he walked over to the box and picked up one of the mewling kittens. He grabbed a tiny bottle from the counter and then coaxed the little black kitten to take the milk from it. Within a few seconds, the mewling had stopped, and the baby was happily sucking away at the bottle.
"Your suspect is a buff-colored, long-haired domestic cat," Dr. Whitaker said. This time the hint of a smile did reach his eyes. "Does that help you?"
I frowned. "No. Don't you have, I don't know, a database of buff-colored, long-haired domestic cats who live locally?"
Dr. Whitaker shook his head. "No. No database. I have filing cabinets."
"Can you look through your filing cabinets and find all the matching cats in Danger Cove?" I honestly had no idea how this worked, but that seemed like a good place to start.
"I could, but I won't."
"Why not? Are there privacy issues? I mean, they're cats," I said.
"I have several patients who fit this description. It's not an uncommon type of cat. But I'm not sharing their addresses with you. I don't want you barging in on them. And they won't be able to tell you anything anyway."
"Why not?"
"Because they're cats."
"I meant the owners," I said. He wasn't taking me seriously, and as much fun as it was watching him play with the cute kittens, I was starting to get a little insulted.
"I'm fairly new to Danger Cove, and I'd like to not alienate my patients or their owners, if you don't mind," he said.
"How about this—if I find out where the, uh, jacket was, can you tell me if that location hosts a buff-colored, long-haired domestic cat?"
Dr. Whitaker tilted his head and studied me. Then he gave me a slow nod. "Maybe."
"I'll take that as a yes," I said, tucking the bag back into my purse. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Whitaker."
"Call me Adam," he said.
For some reason, that made my stomach a little jumpy.
"I'll see you soon, Adam."
"You will?"
"Oh yes." I was going to find out where that jacket had been, and I would be back to see him as soon as I could.
"Then good luck on your investigation," he said, and then he actually smiled, and the warm expression lit up his face, softening it and making him so gorgeous that my stomach did a cartwheel.
Yikes.
CHAPTER SIX
What was on Cal's jacket wasn't getting me anywhere closer to figuring out where the author had been prior to the book signing. But maybe what was in his jacket would help. Since I didn't see
"Oh, kittens!" I said, surprised at how cute they were. Of course, I knew kittens were cute. I mean, I've been on the internet. But I hadn't ever been so close to some myself.
"Yeah, found them this morning on the front steps," Dr. Whitaker said.
"Someone just tossed them away?" I was disgusted and outraged that someone would leave six defenseless babies in a parking lot.
"It happens a lot. I'll take them over to the Second Chance Animal Rescue later," he said.
"It's so sad," I said.
"You're welcome to take one home, if you're interested. Or take two—they're small."
"I can't. I'm allergic to cats," I said.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Cats are great pets."
I sighed. I'd always wanted a cat growing up, but my mother's protective streak extended to keeping me away from anything that made me sneeze. We'd gone several rounds on the issue, with me promising that I didn't mind sneezing that much and her insisting that it just wasn't healthy for me to be around cats. Being the parent, she'd won that battle.
"Don't worry," Dr. Whitaker said. "They're cute. They'll find homes."
He tucked the fur back into the bag and handed it back to me. Then he walked over to the box and picked up one of the mewling kittens. He grabbed a tiny bottle from the counter and then coaxed the little black kitten to take the milk from it. Within a few seconds, the mewling had stopped, and the baby was happily sucking away at the bottle.
"Your suspect is a buff-colored, long-haired domestic cat," Dr. Whitaker said. This time the hint of a smile did reach his eyes. "Does that help you?"
I frowned. "No. Don't you have, I don't know, a database of buff-colored, long-haired domestic cats who live locally?"
Dr. Whitaker shook his head. "No. No database. I have filing cabinets."
"Can you look through your filing cabinets and find all the matching cats in Danger Cove?" I honestly had no idea how this worked, but that seemed like a good place to start.
"I could, but I won't."
"Why not? Are there privacy issues? I mean, they're cats," I said.
"I have several patients who fit this description. It's not an uncommon type of cat. But I'm not sharing their addresses with you. I don't want you barging in on them. And they won't be able to tell you anything anyway."
"Why not?"
"Because they're cats."
"I meant the owners," I said. He wasn't taking me seriously, and as much fun as it was watching him play with the cute kittens, I was starting to get a little insulted.
"I'm fairly new to Danger Cove, and I'd like to not alienate my patients or their owners, if you don't mind," he said.
"How about this—if I find out where the, uh, jacket was, can you tell me if that location hosts a buff-colored, long-haired domestic cat?"
Dr. Whitaker tilted his head and studied me. Then he gave me a slow nod. "Maybe."
"I'll take that as a yes," I said, tucking the bag back into my purse. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Whitaker."
"Call me Adam," he said.
For some reason, that made my stomach a little jumpy.
"I'll see you soon, Adam."
"You will?"
"Oh yes." I was going to find out where that jacket had been, and I would be back to see him as soon as I could.
"Then good luck on your investigation," he said, and then he actually smiled, and the warm expression lit up his face, softening it and making him so gorgeous that my stomach did a cartwheel.
Yikes.
CHAPTER SIX
What was on Cal's jacket wasn't getting me anywhere closer to figuring out where the author had been prior to the book signing. But maybe what was in his jacket would help. Since I didn't see
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