Free The Cat, the Wife and the Weapon: A Cats in Trouble Mystery by Leann Sweeney

police station, you know far more than I do. Why is he still there after all this time?”
    “I’m not at liberty to say.” She leaned forward and pointed a scarlet-tipped finger at me. “I’m an investigator on this case. Goes with the job description. You need to start talking, lady.”
    Oh, jeez, now she was resorting to her tough-guy routine. What a kaleidoscope of personalities Lydia Monk possessed. “What do you want me to talk about?” Chablis, now curled in my lap, lifted her head in surprise at my tone, and Syrah bounded from his spot in the foyer and came to a stop in front of Lydia. He slowly sat and gazed up at her with slitted golden eyes.
    She recoiled. “You know how I feel about your animals . Get that thing away from me.”
    “Please tell me what you know about Tom,” I said, making no move to rescue Lydia from my cat’s presence. It’s not like he would ever hurt her.
    “I suppose your stepdaughter will be printing it in the paper tomorrow, so you’ll find out anyway. Tom has information about the dead man. But all I’ve been able to learn is the victim was his ex-partner. Now, remove this cat. I know he bites.”
    She’d actually drawn her knees up and, fearing her spiked heels might hurt Syrah, I called, “Here, buddy.” I patted the arm of my chair.
    He complied, but not before rubbing his body on the sofa to leave his scent and let Lydia know who owned this place.
    Once Syrah was sitting next to me, Lydia said, “You’ve admitted to being present when Candace called Tom to the scene. Tell me what you know and maybe Tom will be allowed to go home. You could start with how he got those cuts and bruises and why his ex-partner was driving the Prius.”
    “The only thing I can tell you is what you already know. The man was Tom’s former partner on some police force a long time ago.” I hoped she wouldn’t get back to the cuts and bruises. I didn’t want to answer that particular question since I had no idea what information Tom had shared. He was the one who should be telling the story about what Nolan Roth did to him, not me.
    “You are being intentionally difficult, Jillian Hart. Tom wouldn’t tell me anything at the scene, and I’m beginning to think you’re probably the reason why. Have you ever met this Nolan Roth person?”
    “No. Never,” I said.
    “Really? I’m not sure I believe you, but time will tell. It always does when it comes to crime. As for Tom, I suppose he has his reasons to keep quiet.” She smiled at me—a forced smile, in my opinion. “What you don’t seem to understand is that sometimes he needs help to understand what’s best for him. That’s not you, by the way. We both know who he really cares about.”
    I barely restrained myself from rolling my eyes. I certainly didn’t feel as if I had to say anything more. I most certainly didn’t have to tell her about the kid sleeping in my guest room. “I’m sorry, Lydia, but I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”
    Lydia’s features softened. “You’re being stubborn, probably because you believe in your heart you have a chance with Tom. You don’t, but that’s beside the point. Let me reassure you that if you’re worried I’m gonna run to Candace and give up information, you should know me better. I’ll help Tom any way I can, but you could help, too.”
    This new tactic reminded me of a caramel apple—all sticky-sweet on the outside and sour on the inside. Did she believe I’d fall for this? I said, “Lydia, I know next to nothing about Nolan Roth and nothing at all about the accident.”
    “Not an accident. Murder, remember?” She raised her eyebrows expectantly.
    “Why do they think this man was murdered? All I heard about was a car accident.”
    “ Think he was murdered? I, the assistant coroner in this county, do my job well. A bullet hole in the skull with the absence of a weapon at the scene tells me this is murder. But here’s the thing—and I told your BFF Candace this,