Only Meowders in the Building: The Detective Whiskers Cozy Mystery Series, #6

By Chris Abernathy

Detective Whiskers is official! As the new Head of Security at the renovated Parrot Eyes Inn, Whiskers is responsible for keeping their guests safe. How will he respond when their surprise celebrity guest, a Hollywood MegaStar, gets shot at on the beach?

Bobby "The Face" Chase is at the Grand Reopening of the hotel to celebrate his first anniversary with his pop-star wife, Jazmine. Things get explosive when it's discovered that Bobby has history with a podcaster who is there to interview the Paradise Cove Murder Society.

Sheila has her hands full as hotel manager, Kojak falls in love, and Tarrie Ann reveals a secret from the past. There's a lot going on in Paradise Cove!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wright on the Mark LLC
• Release date: Jun 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227050663

Book preview

One

The lobby of the Parrot Eyes Inn was crowded and noisy. It had been crowded and noisy for months, but this was different. The power tools, construction workers, paint buckets, and drop cloths were gone — replaced by shiny surfaces and bright, smiling faces of the first guests in the fully renovated star attraction of Paradise Cove.

Many of the smiling faces stared in wonder at the rainbow of tropical fish swirling their way around the wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling aquarium behind the mahogany reception desk. None of them seemed to mind waiting as the professionally dressed receptionist worked efficiently and happily to get them checked in.

A young couple holding hands and wearing bride and groom T-shirts attempted to step into the elevator, not realizing that the family they saw was not standing inside the elevator as it appeared but were instead part of a video image displayed on the closed doors. As a ding sounded, the doors opened, revealing an empty space. The couple laughed at themselves, stepped inside, and pressed the button for the top floor where the Honeymoon Suite and the Sunset Suite were located. The doors closed, the video image now displaying a middle-aged couple dressed to the nines in a tuxedo and ball gown.

There it is!

A pair of older gentlemen had just entered the lobby. One pointed to the far wall where a large painting hung behind protective glass.

Van Church’s Summer. Back where it belongs after all this time.

Hung above all of the excited guests, vintage leather chairs, and the reception desk was a brilliant white chandelier of coral, sea shells, and other aquatic features, dangling from the ceiling and providing light for the spacious yet cozy room.

And below me, the cold, hard marble floor.

This was one design feature I did not approve of. Yes, it was beautiful to look at and easy to clean after sandy feet pass through. It was also hard on my bare cat paws. I didn’t want to think about what was in the decades-old carpet they had removed but at least it had been comfortable.

Thank goodness for my cat tower that Sheila, my human companion and the manager of the Parrot Eyes Inn, had placed beside the entrance. Custom designed and built by an Instagram-famous cat tower builder in California, it was created to look like a sand castle with its white sand-colored carpet. I padded across the drawbridge, wound my way up the spiral path, and emerged at the top of the spire. A narrow balcony curling around the spire provided a perfect vantage point for surveying all of the activity. The dark path inside was great for hiding out while eavesdropping on conversations. Or taking a nap, which was tempting at the moment, but I couldn’t.

I had to remember, I was here for a reason. I had a real job now.

Detective Whiskers, Head of Security.

That’s what it said on my office door across the room. At the bottom of the full-sized door was a smaller door, just the right size for me, which would open automatically whenever I approached it. The RFID chip Sheila had installed in my collar activated my office door - as well as the door she had installed for me at the entrance, and the elevator door. Inside the elevator, at eye level for a properly-sized cat, were sensors with the numbers 1, 2, and 3 on them. Whichever one I approached would activate the elevator and send me to the correct floor.

Sheila had insisted on these features during the renovation. Victor, the hotel’s new owner, had more money than he knew what to do with thanks to his long career writing best-selling novels, and he was easily convinced that having a cat as head of security would be a unique attraction for the hotel.

Sheila didn’t tell him that my title was more than a gimmick.

Only she knew just how much of a role I had played in solving the recent murders in Paradise Cove and she was the only human I communicated with. Which was still a work in progress. I was certain that she would never learn to understand what I said but she had eventually realized that I had something to say. I, of course, understood her words perfectly, and through gestures, I could, eventually, get my point across. Tapping her hand or foot with my paw meant I need to tell you something. Rubbing my head against her in an upward motion was yes and rubbing it sideways was no. If only every question could be answered with a yes or no. We were still trying to improve the system.

Victor may have been a little too excited about my role at the hotel. On his most recent visit, flying in after a stay in London, he had presented me with a full policeman’s uniform which he asked his favorite Savile Row tailor to create for me. I rubbed half the fur off of my face - in a sideways motion - letting Sheila know that I would not be wearing it. I’m not that kind of cat. And besides, uniforms are for street cops, not detectives. My tuxedo-like black and white fur is perfectly suitable, along with the badge on my collar.

The front door opened beside me and a sharply-dressed woman stepped inside. I thought at first it was Sheila’s friend Becky, one of the members of her Paradise Cove Murder Society. The stiletto heels clicked like Becky’s on the marble floor and her business suit could have come straight out of Becky’s closet but with a closer look, I could see that this woman was much younger than Becky. She carried a large, hard plastic case. Not a suitcase like the other guests had. This looked like it held sensitive equipment of some kind. She glanced admiringly around the lobby, looked up at the chandelier, and then focused her attention on the reception desk where Sheila was assisting the head front desk clerk, Jeanette.

Sheila?

That’s me! Sheila turned to the woman and gave her a welcoming smile. Are you checking in?

I will be, but I’m here for the interview. The podcast.

Sheila had told me that a podcaster was coming for an interview. The case probably contained her microphones and other recording equipment.

Oh, Amarilys. Of course. It’s so nice to finally meet you. I need to help get these guests taken care of, then there’s the judging of the sand sculpture competition. We can do the interview right after that. Would you like to get set up in my office?

Sheila motioned to a closed door past the reception desk and led Amarilys to it while pulling a set of keys from her pocket.

I felt a breeze on my fur as the front door swung open again. A young blonde man wearing blue jeans and a polo shirt with a backpack slung over his shoulder rushed in and headed straight for the reception desk. Realizing there was a line, he frowned, glanced at his watch, looked around for other options, then reluctantly took his place at the back.

Amarilys, waiting for Sheila to unlock the office door, looked around the lobby again and spotted the young man. Her eyes widened suddenly before she turned her face away. As soon as Sheila opened the door, Amarilys stepped inside, out of view from myself or the new guest.

Good thing I hadn’t taken that nap. As Head of Security, I needed to find out why the newcomer’s appearance had caused such a reaction from the person who was now inside Sheila’s office. I couldn’t observe them both so I had to choose who to investigate first but that choice was made for me as Sheila closed the door behind them. I wasn’t comfortable with the woman and Sheila being alone together but at least I knew who she was and where she was. And Sheila could take care of herself. She’d come a long way since we arrived in Paradise Cove just one year before.

The young man was a mystery. And he looked nervous. Anxious. He checked his watch again, the second time in less than a minute.

I was just about to leave my perch and get closer to the stranger when a hand reached over from beside me.

Hello, kitty kitty. Mind if I pet you?

The sing-songy voice came from one of the older men who had entered together. His friend was still admiring the painting and, hearing his partner’s voice, he turned to look.

Careful, the friend warned in a playful tone. That’s no ordinary kitty. That’s the head of security. The man pointed to the nameplate on my office door.

The first man’s arm retracted. My apologies, office… err, detective. He corrected himself in a sweet yet patronizing tone. I wouldn’t want to interfere with your work. Some shady characters in here, it looks like.

I resisted the temptation to hiss at him. Sheila had warned me that, although she considered my job to be essential for the hotel, others wouldn’t understand and it was important to be courteous to all guests. Offering a polite meow, I made my way down the spiral path, back across the drawbridge, between the ankles of a family on their way to the elevator, and over to where the young man was checking his watch for a third time.

Barely noticeable in the noise of the crowded room, I heard a vibrating sound. I doubt any human would have heard it but the young man felt the vibration and pulled a phone from his pocket. He breathed a sigh of frustration as he read the notification on his screen. I tried to read it but the phone was angled up and my eyes were six inches from the floor. Following the man’s gaze through the glass doors to the entrance, I saw a car arriving. The car continued moving forward, revealing more and more of itself until it became obvious that it was no ordinary car. As soon as it stopped, the driver hopped out, ran around the front, and opened the doors of the stretch limousine.

A gradually rising chorus of gasps went up as the guests waiting in line saw who stepped out.

Bobby Chase!

A female guest swooned and fell into her husband’s arms as she said the name.

And Jazmine, the husband whispered