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“Thank you,” I said. “I wish you well, too. What are you going to do now?”
“I’m going to pull out of the Red Herring contract and take my book elsewhere. I didn’t work on that manuscript for ten years to have someone rewrite it for me. I want to see my own words between the pages. Otherwise, it’s a hollow achievement. Good luck with everything, Mina. I might not have liked your book, but even I can concede you’re one hell of a detective.”
I beamed.Oh, Charlie, you havenoidea.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE
“I’m sad to see her go.” Morrie’s voice was heaped with sorrow as we watched (well, they watched, I listened) a tow truck crunch down the driveway, carting away the mangled wreckage of Jonathan’s range rover and Morrie’s little Leaf to their final resting place.
“I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” Heathcliff. “Electric cars and criminal masterminds from the 1800s don’t mix.”
“That’s a matter of opinion. James Moriarty has had his first taste of the freedom of being behind the wheel, and he’s never giving it up.” He grinned. “When we get back to Argleton, I’m going for my pilot’s license.”
“You willnot. You’ll die, and then who will buy the expensive French wine?”
“Don’t be such a sourpuss worrypants. I’ll befine.” Morrie waved a hand dismissively at the sky. “Look at that huge expanse of blue. There’s way less to crash into up there. Come then, we’d better not be late for the bus.”
“Yes.” I hoisted my bag a little higher on my shoulder. “Let’s get back to Nevermore. I want to see if Grimalkin’s okay.”
* * *
We arrived back in Argleton four hours later, tired and grumpy and smelling of the salted peanuts Morrie brought along for a snack and accidentally spilled in my Vivienne Westwood purse. (Not that I’m bitter or anything. Not at all.)
“It’s got smaller,” Quoth said as we stared up at the shop.
“Agreed. It’s positively cramped.” Morrie turned to Heathcliff. “Why don’t we live in a castle with a moat and a spa again?”
Heathcliff made a face. “At least it’s still in one piece. That Bree is not so terrible. As long as her oaf of a centurion didn’t put any sword holes in the walls.”
“You’re one to talk,” I smiled, thinking of Heathcliff’s sword quivering in the library wall.
The door flung open. “Mina, you’re back!” Bree ran down the steps and threw her arms around me, then picked up my suitcase and started dragging it inside. “I have a surprise for you.”
“I spoke too soon,” Heathcliff muttered as he followed us into the shop.
“Is Grimalkin okay?” I asked. “I’ve been worried about her. I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your texts. Things at Meddleworth got a little murder-y.”
“That’s cool, and yeah, she’s fine. But…come on!”
Intrigued, I directed Oscar to follow Bree through the shop to our apartment on the second floor. Bree had tidied up a little and stoked the fire, filling the room with warmth.
“That cat better not be sitting on my chair,” Heathcliff grumbled as he staggered toward his favorite seat.
Bree blocked him with her body. “Just have a look before you sit down.”
I ducked around Heathcliff and leaned over the arm of the chair. There, wrapped in a cozy blanket and smirking like the Queen of Sheba herself, was Grimalkin.
But she wasn’t alone.
Six tiny, furry kittens wriggled beside her, fighting for milk.
“Omigoooooods…” I cooed as I reached out to stroke one on the cheek. “When did this happen?”
“Late last night,” Bree said, kneeling beside me and patting Grimalkin’s head. “When I took her to the vet, she said that Grimalkin wasn’t sick. Or obese. She was pregnant. So I made her a nice warm bed and she did a splendid job. A real trooper.”
I laughed. “I can’t believe we didn’t notice she was pregnant.”
“I guess it never occurred to us,” Quoth said, sitting on the rug. One of the kittens rolled off the edge of the chair and Quoth caught it in his hands, bringing the tiny, black ball of fluff to his cheek and nuzzling it.
