Free A Sensitive Kind of Murder (A Kate Jasper Mystery) by Jaqueline Girdner Page A

maybe kick it? I wouldn’t want to maim her, at least not terribly. Wayne seemed to be going through the same ethical struggle, unmoving but for his gaze, which was directed down toward the blue shoe.
    And then my eye caught a glimpse of something through the gap at the top of the doorway—a flash of fur. Yes! Black and white fur.
    C. C. dove and stuck her claws into the young woman’s shoulder. The woman screamed, and her foot disappeared from our doorway. I pushed the door shut quickly. C. C. could make her way back in through the cat door. I just hoped none of the reporters were small enough to use it.
    Even with the door closed, we could hear the frenzy C. C.’s attack had caused.
    “Was that a bobcat?” someone clamored.
    “I thought it was a wolf,” came another voice.
    Our inquisitor was now the inquisitee. Her wounds would heal, I told myself as I heard the flap of the cat door. Our hero had returned.
    To reward C. C. or not to reward C. C? That was the question. What she had done was bad—very bad. But she had certainly picked a good victim.
    I stooped down to pet my perfect little cat without even thinking. C. C. had remained to see the audience reaction this time. She knew she was a hero. She purred as I pet her, then slowly blinked her eyes before running off down the hallway to celebrate, her talents recognized at long last.
    Once C. C. was gone, I turned to Wayne.
    “Why did those guys think—” I began.
    He put his finger across his lips. Was it possible that the reporters were still listening? We retreated to the bedroom just in case. Even in there, we sat on the floor and whispered.
    “How did Steve Summers’ death become Laura Summers’ assassination attempt?” I hissed.
    “She’s more interesting,” Wayne hissed back. “Makes a better story.”
    “If the reporters are on us like this, what are they doing to Laura?” I asked a minute later.
    Wayne was silent, his brows lowering. “Probably has employees to field reporter questions,” he finally answered. “But still…”
    I reached out and grabbed his hand. How could Laura bear to lose her husband? If he was anything like Wayne…I couldn’t even complete the thought.
    Instead, I bent toward Wayne and pressed my lips against his. Wasn’t that where we’d been before? And sure enough, the phone rang.
    I took the call on the extension in our bedroom.
    “Um, this is Mike Russo, you know?” the voice on the extension informed me.
    “Yeah?” I said tentatively.
    “Um, my dad is like, really upset,” he whispered. “And, um, I wanted you to know that I saw you guys at the store,” Mike speeded up. “Dad said I should tell you. I was just shopping. I shop for my dad lots of times when he’s busy.”
    “All right,” I assured him, preparing to hang up. But it wasn’t that easy.
    “And…I thought maybe you could cheer my dad up,” Mike suggested diffidently. “You know, you or Wayne, maybe?”
    I took that to mean that Mike really wanted Wayne to talk to his father. I put my hand over the receiver. “You wanna talk to Carl Russo?” I asked my sweetie.
    Wayne sighed but nodded.
    “Mike, get your father,” I ordered as Wayne reached for the phone.
    When Wayne took the phone, I could hear the buzz of Carl Russo’s voice on the other end.
    “Don’t worry,” Wayne said when he got a word in ten minutes later. By then he was lying on top of the mattress on the floor that served as our bed, and he was lying backward to accommodate the short phone cord. I lay down beside him.
    Another ten minutes later, he said, “Yeah, someone is talking about the group, but—”
    “Mike’ll be fine,” he pressed on after a minute. His interrupt speed was getting better, at least.
    Then he said, “uh-huh,” a few more times and, “don’t worry, he’ll be fine,” and then he hung up.
    Less than a breath later, the doorbell and the phone both rang simultaneously. Wayne and I looked at each other with instant agreement in our