Cozy Mystery New Release! CLAWS OUT by Cate Conte ~ Includes an Excerpt!

CHAPTER ONE

“Hey, Maddie! Get your butt outside!”

Adele Barrows’ raspy, pack-a-day voice rang out through our cat cafe, JJ’s House of Purrs, turning the heads of all the patrons currently being entertained by our adorable furry residents.

I held back the cringe when I turned to look at my shelter manager, who’d just busted in the front door and was tapping her foot impatiently.

“Can you give me a few minutes? I’m helping this potential adopter.” I kept my voice sweet but raised my eyebrows at her, trying to convey that this woman in front of me might want two of our cats—and since I was expecting another shipment of kitties arriving any minute now, we needed the space.

“Nope. Now.” Adele marched over to me and took my arm, ignoring my protests. Luckily Grandpa Leo stepped in, waving me away with a grin. He knew there was no putting Adele off when she wanted something. Although I thought I saw him wink at her as she led me away, making me want to stop and question them both. But once she had a grip on me it was all over.

Resigned, I followed her outside to the driveway. “What on earth couldn’t wait for five—” I stopped mid-sentence, my mouth dropping open. Parked directly in front of the driveway blocking half the street was the largest food truck I’d ever seen. At least I thought it was a food truck. It looked like one, although it could use some sprucing up. Right now, it looked more like something a lowbrow kidnapper might use to lure his victims. The logo of whatever food establishment it belonged to was mostly scraped off. The dull gray body signaled a need for a paint job. The window where food was theoretically passed through had a tarp over it—and so didn’t appear to be in shape to sell food at the moment.

I glanced at Adele. She was grinning ear to ear, waiting for my reaction.

“What is that?” I managed finally.

Her smile turned into a grimace. “What does it look like?” she grumbled, then yelled, “Harry! Come out!”

The driver’s door flung open and Harry Timmins, Adele’s boyfriend and one of our volunteers, jumped out of the back of the truck like he was doing a demo on a game show, arms flung wide to encompass the prize.

“What do you think?” he called out. “She’s a beauty, right?”

I surveyed the thing in front of me again, confused about what I was looking at—and why. I wasn’t sure beauty was the right word—monstrosity was more what came to mind—but I didn’t know how to tell him that. Either way, I didn’t want to keep shouting across the driveway.

I hurried over to him, Adele hot on my tail. “I suppose, depending on what you’re going for. But Harry, what is this thing? And why is it here? Our visitors are going to be scared!”

He turned to Adele. “You didn’t tell her yet?”

“I was waiting for you!” she said, exasperated. “You said you wanted to do a big reveal!”

“Yes, but she needs to know what she’s looking at,” he argued back.

I sighed. “Guys. Can someone please tell me what’s going on, because I have people inside the cafe.”

“Right. Sorry.” Harry refocused and put his game show host face back on. “Welcome to your new mobile cat cafe!”

I blinked, my eyes roving from his face to Adele’s then over the giant truck in front of me, then back to him. “My … what now?”

“Your new mobile cat cafe and food truck! What do you think?”

“I … I think…” I desperately tried to find some words, but mostly I couldn’t think. I must have missed some memo because I wasn’t sure when or even why I would have expressed interest in a food truck or a mobile cat cafe. We lived on a small island, for heaven’s sake. And while I’m sure I could visit the other towns that made up the island with our cats, it didn’t seem like a profitable long-term strategy. Not to mention, we had a real, brick-and-mortar cafe with all kinds of yummy food, both healthy and a little less so, built into our garage as part of the cat cafe. It seemed like it would be difficult to take what my business partner and master chef Ethan Birdsong had built and put it on wheels.

“I’m not sure I understand,” I finally said. “But more important, it’s blocking our street. We have people registered all afternoon and there’s not going to be enough parking. And it looks … kind of dirty, no? Our food is a little more high-end.” I was trying to be polite and not offend Harry, but failing miserably from the look on Adele’s face.

He, on the other hand, didn’t seem fazed. “I’ve been wanting to invest in the cat cafe. I love volunteering there, and I love seeing it expand, and of course I want to support my love.” He grinned at Adele, who rolled her eyes, but I could see a small smile playing over her lips at his words. They were cute. Especially since Adele didn’t like most people and she was clearly smitten with Harry.

“I just wasn’t sure how to do it,” Harry went on. “And then this opportunity came up and I had to grab it. I think it’s perfect! Your grandfather thought so too.”

“Grandpa? He knew about this?” No wonder he’d looked like the cat who’d eaten the canary a few minutes ago.

“I floated the idea,” Harry admitted. “Wanted to make sure it had legs.”

“Legs,” I repeated, my mind racing to catch up.

“Legs,” Harry said with a nod. “Look, you’re an entrepreneur. I figured this would be right in your wheelhouse. It’s an expansion of what you’re doing now, it opens you up to getting off the island every now and then and getting your message out to more people. And it gives Ethan more opportunity to cook for people! Look, I know it needs rehabbing. I’ve already got someone lined up to do it. But I couldn’t wait to show it to you. You’ve been saying you want to level up, right?”

I had to admit, he knew where to hit me. I had one of those unapologetically business-oriented brains and was always looking for the next right opportunity. When I’d met Ethan out in California and we successfully partnered to open our juice shop in San Francisco, I’d gotten bit by the entrepreneurial bug. I fell in love with being my own boss and spreading healthy foods and drinks in the community. The cat cafe had been an unexpected pivot when I’d decided to move home, but was a way to do a different kind of good in a place I cared about. Luckily Ethan had joined me, and though we still owned the juice shop from afar, we were committed to the cat cafe, animal rescue, and making a different kind of name for ourselves. And Ethan had even fallen in love with island life.

It helped that he was marrying my sister Val in a month. But he’d found his own path, turning the coffee shop part of our cafe into a foodie wonderland, making everything from decadent breakfast muffins to to-go vegan salads. And his coffee was to die for, which had been one of the reasons I’d gravitated toward him in the first place more than a decade ago. I’d even heard rumors that Bean, the coffee shop downtown, had been talking about how to up their marketing game to stay competitive with us. Which was funny, because our marketing was more about the cats than the actual coffee, but once people found us, the coffee—and the food—spoke for itself.

All that to say a food truck had never crossed my mind. But, there was one literally standing in front of me. That had to mean something, right? And taking our cats and our food off-island—that might be a strategy to think about.

“It could be interesting,” I admitted. “What do we have to do to get it up and running?”

Harry’s grin split his face from ear to ear. Adele high-fived him. “I’ve got a list, and a guy,” he told me. “Not to worry, we’ll take care of all of it. Especially because we’re on the clock.”

I frowned. “What do you mean, on the clock?”

“Well, that’s the other thing,” Harry said. “I got you a spot at the Provincetown Cat Lit Festival.”

I blinked. “Come again?”

“The Cat Lit Festival,” Adele said slowly—and huffily—as if she were talking to a particularly stupid person. “The one you’ve been saying since you moved back that you wanted to go to, remember?”

I desperately wanted to pull out my phone and google what I suspected was true. I’d been hearing about this festival since I returned home—cat news tended to get to me through lots of channels—but had been too busy to make it there. The event was run by a romance author who also had a foundation that helped rescues around Cape Cod. It happened once a year. Like, right now. “I do, but—how? Also, isn’t the festival next weekend? And when you say got me a spot…”