Black Cat Crossing Read online

  Black Cat Crossing

  A Collection of 11 Cozy Mysteries to Celebrate Halloween

  Molly Fitz

  Mila Riggs

  Emmie Lyn

  S.E. Babin

  Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  Stephanie Damore

  Michelle Francik

  Nyx Halliwell

  Izzy Wilder

  Lisa Siefert

  F.M. Storm

  © 2020, Sweet Promise Press

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Cover Designer: Molly Burton, Cozy Cover Creations

  Proofreader: Jasmine Jordan

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

  Sweet Promise Press

  PO Box 72

  Brighton, MI 48116

  Contents

  About this Boxed Set

  Black Cat Benefit

  Molly Fitz

  Secrets of the Black Cat

  Mila Riggs

  Black Cat Comes Back

  Emmie Lyn

  A Wash & Werewolf

  S.E. Babin

  A Haunted Offer

  Carolyn Ridden Aspenson

  Kitty Cat Caper

  Stephanie Damore

  Bewitching Henry

  Michelle Francik

  Poison Apple Potion

  Nyx Halliwell

  Magic and Mystery

  Izzy Wilder

  The Witch Wears Prada

  Lisa Siefert

  Blackjack Crossing

  F.M. Storm

  More from Sweet Promise Press

  About this Boxed Set

  Picture a chilly fall night spent curled up in your favorite armchair with a purring cat on your lap and a mug of steaming cider in your hand... Are you cozy?

  Good. Now imagine how much cozier you’ll feel when you add a book to the scene.

  BLACK CAT CROSSING offers the perfect finishing touch for all that autumnal bliss. This collection of 11 all-new, never-before-read cozy mysteries is thrilling without being terrifying—yup, it’s just what the witch doctor ordered.

  From talking pet detectives to strays harboring magical secrets, friendly ghosts in need of aid, vampires who don’t bite, and even poison apples intended for costumed princesses, come celebrate Halloween with ten sweet and delicious stories that will keep you up well past your bedtime.

  All of the stories in this collection are brand new and can be read on their own. They’re so much more fun for those who have read other books in the series, though!

  Note: While intended for a grown-up audience, these stories are clean and wholesome and okay to share with the younger readers in your life, too. Enjoy!

  Black Cat Benefit

  Molly Fitz

  About this Single

  Nan has volunteered to raise funds for the local animal shelter by throwing the most lavish—but also the most convoluted—charity event in Blueberry Bay history. The so-called “Black Cat Benefit” is one part adoption event, one part dinner party, and also one part silent auction, formal ball, and glammed-up race for the cause. Unfortunately, when a guest turns up dead partway through the night, nobody takes his murder seriously, assuming it’s yet another part of the planned festivities. Oops! Can Angie, Nan, Octo-Cat, and Paisley, along with a clowder of uninitiated black shelter cats, catch the killer and save the night from ruin?

  Where It Fits

  BLACK CAT BENEFIT can be read as a stand-alone, but chronologically it fits between LEGAL SEAGULL and PERSIAN PENALTY… Enjoy!

  Chapter One

  Hi, my name’s Angie Russo, and I can talk to animals. Yes, they understand me, and I understand them right back. But before you write me off as some crazy person, it’s important you understand that I never asked for this. In fact, it took me quite by shock… Um, literally.

  That’s right. My peculiar power first appeared when I got electrocuted by a crummy old coffee maker. It happened at the firm where I used to work as a paralegal, right in the middle of a private will reading. And when I awoke from that zap that knocked my unconscious, I found a striped cat sitting on my chest and making some pretty mean jokes at my expense.

  Of course he had no idea I could actually understand him. Once he figured that out, the crabby tabby recruited me to help solve the murder of his late owner. I soon took to calling him Octo-Cat, short for his full moniker of Octavius Maxwell etc. etc. Fulton etc. Seriously, the cat had almost eight names attached to him, and he only adds to them as the months go by.

  Fast forward more than a year… And we solved that first murder, all right, then many more crimes after that. In fact, the two of us now have our own private investigation firm, which my mom and Nan have dubbed Pet Whisperer P.I. They even had a sign made, much to my chagrin.

  I don’t want anyone to know my secret, so we pretend it’s just a marketing gimmick. Besides, it’s not like Octo-Cat can tell anyone on my behalf. We haven’t had very many paying clients since opening, but we still manage to stumble into fresh cases on a near monthly basis—from murder to embezzlement and everything in between, we find the bad guys of Blueberry Bay and make sure they don’t get away with their crimes.

  And as nice as it would be to get paid a bit more regularly for the services we provide, my cat’s trust fund covers all our expenses and then some, including the schmancy New England manor house we call home. The property belonged to Octo-Cat’s previous owner—yeah, the murdered one—and he wasn’t willing to give that glam life up to live in my low-budget rental, so he tricked me into being the one to make a change.

  And just like he has a way of adding to his lengthy name, he only gets more spoiled as time goes by, too. He has his own iPad, only drinks Evian, and pretty much does whatever he wants whenever he wants. Still, I love the guy and wouldn’t trade him for the world.

  We also live with Nan, my eccentric grandmother who happens to be a former Broadway actress, one who refuses to put her glory days behind her. Last summer, she adopted a sweet little tri-color Chihuahua from the local animal shelter and named the tiny dear Paisley. We had a rough go at first, but now Octo-Cat and Paisley are good friends—probably because it’s quite easy for him to boss around a dog that’s less than half his size.

  Just further proof of his diva catittude.

  Back when Paisley first landed in our lives, she helped us uncover a big embezzlement scheme at the shelter from which she was rescued. The animals are in great hands with the new director, but the shelter has had trouble recovering from that scandal. Fewer people are willing to donate or to adopt even though the leadership has changed hands.

  Enter my grandmother.

  Her tender heart breaks for each and every one of those animals without a home, and if it weren’t for me putting my foot down, we’d no doubt end up adopting every last one ourselves. Of course, I’ve ag
reed to help her support the shelter however we can, which includes a monthly donation in Paisley’s name.

  But that’s not always enough, and I get it.

  Now that Nan is on Facebook, she spends a lot of time in pet lover groups and recently saw a video that said black pets are the least likely to get adopted. And you know what that means…

  Being that the furry love of her life, Paisley, is mostly black in color, this little factoid especially touched her heart and spurred her to action.

  That’s why tonight we’ll be hosting a gigantic charity event to help the shelter, and it’s going to be right here in our New England manor house. It started out as an adoption event for all the black cats and dogs in residence, but the more we plan, the more gets added to it. So tonight’s event is now also a fundraiser, both a formal auction and a silent auction, dinner party, ball, and even a 5k black-tie race for the cause.

  Nan lives by the philosophy that if it’s worth doing, then it’s worth overdoing. She also loves to say, “Go big. That’s it. There’s no option to go home.”

  So here we are, throwing a big overdone event to help the shelter out of a tight spot. It’s been a ton of work, but if even one animal finds itself a new home tonight, then all that hard work will have been worth it.

  I’d cross my fingers for luck, but I need them to put the finishing touches on tonight’s event. So wish me luck, and I’ll get back to work!

  * * *

  “What are you wearing?” Nan shrieked when I appeared at the top of the grand stairway having spent the last hour prepping and preening to make sure I fit the black cat/black tie theme for the evening perfectly.

  I glanced down at my knee-length, off-the-shoulder black satin dress with white polkadots and did a little spin. I’d grabbed this particular gem at my favorite thrift shop and loved how fabulously 80s it was.

  Nan, however, did not. She marched right up the stairs, grabbed me by the wrist, and dragged me into her room. “This is not a costume party, dear. It’s a formal event!”

  Great. Next she was going to tell me she didn’t like the teased side pony I’d spent a solid twenty minutes perfecting.

  Sure enough, she looked me over from head to toe and frowned again. “And what’s with your hair? Why do you like the 80s so much, anyway? You weren’t even born until the very last month of that wretched decade. Here. Wear this instead.”

  She thrust a hanger at me, but I refused to take it.

  “Nan, I’m nowhere near as tiny as you. There is no way that’s going to fit.”

  “It’s stretchy,” she said, pulling at the fabric in demonstration. “So it’ll be a little tight, but at least it will fit the theme.”

  “Fine,” I said accepting the slinky dress and the elbow-length white satin gloves she also tossed my way.

  I groaned and tromped out of there to change. It was easier to just do it her way, even though I definitely didn’t love the idea of wearing a skintight dress all evening. How would I dance or compete in the 5k race… or even breathe?

  “You look like something I barfed up,” Octo-Cat informed me as he traipsed down the hall with his tail held high.

  “Hush, you,” I spat. I’d already heard it from Nan and didn’t need to take it from him, too. “There is nothing wrong with my style choices.”

  He snickered. “Your style choices, that’s why you look so unfortunate. Suuuuure.”

  I reached the top of the stairs to my third-floor tower bedroom and closed the door right in my smug tabby’s face. I’d had enough of his criticism already. It wasn’t just that he didn’t like my outfit. He didn’t like our idea for the event at all, especially the fact that the shelter animals would be brought on location to meet prospective new families.

  “This is a one-cat household,” he’d shouted when he found this last bit out. “It’s bad enough you brought in the yap rat. Don’t make me kick you out for good.”

  At being called a yap rat, Nan’s sweet Chihuahua Paisley whimpered and went to lick her wounds under the couch—a space she could fit beneath but Octo-Cat couldn’t.

  I hated when he took his frustrations out on her, but she would be okay. Paisley was, after all, an eternal optimist and the kindest creature alive. She’d forgive him before he ever forgave me.

  Still, it was just one night. One night that could change a lot of lives for the better.

  My spoiled cat would get over it.

  Eventually…

  Chapter Two

  And then the shelter volunteers arrived with a truck full of mewling cats kept in collapsible metal crates. I counted eleven in all—two human volunteers and nine black cats up for adoption at tonight’s gala.

  “Take them upstairs, second bedroom to the right,” I told the college-aged volunteers—a pretty blonde girl and tough-looking guy with sand-colored hair—with a smile.

  “But the second bedroom on the right is mine,” Octo-Cat pointed out with a perturbed growl. I hadn’t even seen him sitting to the side of the staircase and staring daggers at first the volunteers and then me. “Surely you meant for them to go somewhere else.”

  “Nope.” I popped my lips on the P, hoping it would make me sound casual and unbothered. When really, the truth was I knew I’d be paying for this one for months to come, and I was also just a bit terrified to find out how Octo-Cat would repay me for this particular upset. Never matter. I could suck it up to save some animals—and so could he.

  “B-b-but…” he stuttered as his tail thumped on the hardwood floor.

  “Cat got your tongue?” I quipped before hurrying on my way to work on the next item I needed to check off my lengthy list.

  Octo-Cat flew into a rage, shouting a string of kitty curse words as he darted up the stairs. I hoped he wasn’t on his way to make trouble for the shelter volunteers, but I didn’t have time to supervise just then. There was still too much left to do, and the event started in less than an hour. Yikes!

  “Where do you want this?” asked Brock “Cal” Calhoun, the local handyman and my former crush. His muscles strained as he gripped onto the largest piece of our formal dining room table—something I never could have dreamed of moving on my own.

  I paused as I surveyed the quickly emptying room. “Can you move all the furniture we don’t need for the gala into the garage, please?”

  “You got it, boss.” He winked at me, and heat flooded my cheeks. Yes, I was hopelessly in love with Charles, but that didn’t change the fact that Cal was nice to look at—and possibly flirting with me.

  I watched him exit, then spun around and ran straight into a thick wall of chest clad in an elegant tux.

  “Whoa there,” Charles said as he wrapped his arms around me and pressed a kiss to my hairline. “Sorry I’m a few minutes late. Had a client meeting run over. How’s everything going so far? How can I help?”

  I fell into his hug, trying to allow myself a quick moment of relaxation. My heart still thrummed wildly, though. It seemed taking care of all these last-minute details had sent my body into fight or flight mode.

  I’d been so busy running around that I hadn’t even realized Charles had turned up late. Did that mean I had even less time than I thought? Ugh.

  For his part, Charles had agreed to serve as our chief auctioneer. Nobody could state a case like he did in the Blueberry Bay court rooms, so I was counting on him to also be fantastic at getting great prices for not-so-great items. Charity, and all that. Nan had also asked a few friends to help drive up the prices on the silent auctions, which I hoped wouldn’t backfire on us in the end.

  “Angie, is everything all right?” he asked, studying me closely. He’d always been able to read me just like a book. There was no hiding anything from Charles.

  “Everything’s fine.” I gave him a quick kiss hello and pulled away. “Just lots to do.”

  “Then put me to work. Does Cal need help moving the furniture?” He cracked his knuckles in an adorable display of manliness.

  “Not while you’re weari
ng that,” I said with a chuckle. “You look very handsome, by the way.”

  “And you look gorgeous, but not much like the Angie I know.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me back to him. “What’s with these gloves? Fancy, but definitely not you.”

  “Nan,” I muttered under my breath, and he broke out laughing.

  “That’ll do it.” He took my hand and kissed each of the gloved fingertips. “When this is all over, I’ll take you out for a nice dinner to celebrate, and you can wear the outfit you were planning to wear tonight. Deal?”

  I nodded and flashed him a grateful smile. “Thank you. I may need a week or two to recover, but that would be lovely.”

  “Okay. Enough yammering. How can I help?” He released me from his arms and stepped back. That made it easier to think. Otherwise, I could lose myself in those strong arms of his.

  “Can you check that everything’s ready for the 5k? I think the start and finish line banner still needs to be hung up. Nan went overboard of course, and it wound up at least three times bigger than it ever needed to be. You may need to find someone to help secure one end while you work on the other.”

  Charles gave me his cheesiest grin along with an enthusiastic thumbs up. “I’m on it!”

  Okay, so he was taking care of that. The volunteers upstairs had the adoptable pets under control. That left… The DJ. Debbie the DJ. I’d found her when she replied to an online job listing I’d posted asking for a volunteer to aid in a charity event. Since she was the only one who ever bothered to reply, she was the one who got the job, sight unseen and DJing unheard. I know this wasn’t a paid gig, but shouldn’t she have been here by now?