Police Acatdemy: The Detective Whiskers Cozy Mystery Series, #7

By Chris Abernathy

When the newest resident of Paradise Cove loses his head — literally — it starts off a chain of seemingly unrelated events, endangering the lives of Sheila and her friends. Figuring it all out will be a big challenge even for Detective Whiskers. It's a good thing he has help from an eager new protege.

Meanwhile, Sheila finally sees what's been right before her eyes ever since she moved to Paradise Cove — and she's not quite sure what to do about it. Can she find the courage to welcome one more big change in her already exciting new life?

Police Acatdemy features all of Whiskers old friends and introduces a couple of new animals. It's got surprises, plot twists, adventure, plenty of laughs and just a hint of romance.

The Detective Whiskers Cat Cozy Mystery Series is full of funny and clean stories about starting over, rediscovering yourself, and enjoying lots of laughs, belly rubs, and margaritas along the way. The quirky characters (humans and animals) and small town charm create the perfect balance of exciting, heartwarming, and relaxing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wright on the Mark LLC
• Release date: Jun 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227868879

Book preview

One

Nosy Nancy broke the news, bursting into the lobby of the Parrot Eyes Inn, desperate to share her gossip before anyone else could beat her to it.

They’ve discovered a body! She spouted out the headline with what little air remained in her lungs, then bent over dramatically, hands on her knees, dangerously close to hyperventilating. When she had enough oxygen — and a large enough crowd — she continued. Half a mile from town on the side of the road next to the swamp. Nancy swooned and then collapsed in one of the comfortable armchairs in the center of the lobby. A handful of curious onlookers, including Sheila’s friend Becky who had risen from the same chair when Nancy made her dramatic entrance, stood around her wondering what to do.

Sheila nudged her way deliberately to the reception desk and lifted the phone. I’ll call the police.

Nancy waved her left arm dismissively. "No need. Officer Reid should be on the scene by now. Chief Anderson won’t be far behind. He was on beach duty." She used her fingers to create air quotation marks.

Half a mile from town was definitely outside the jurisdiction of the hotel’s Head of Security but I’d finished my rounds and wanted to see this for myself. I hopped down from my cat tower and padded quickly to the hotel exit. As I approached, the tiny transmitter Sheila had sewn into my collar activated my special door beside the human-sized doors and I walked into the drop-off area of the parking lot.

An SUV with Texas license plates was parked in front and a woman wearing a T-shirt that said I know how to load more than a washer and dryer was directing her husband as he attempted to balance the last of her bags on top of a luggage cart. Two more full carts were nearby. Glancing left, I spotted Chief Anderson’s official police department golf cart speeding up the street. Just in time, as long as he didn’t run the stop sign. I ducked between the woman’s cowgirl boots, under the truck, and up to the street corner, then hopped on the back of the golf cart as the chief slowed down barely enough to look both ways.

The GCE was still my preferred mode of transportation. My friend Zappa introduced me to the Golf Cart Express right after Sheila and I arrived in Paradise Cove. Everybody here drove golf carts around town and they never had any golf clubs in the back so there was always room for a cat to sneak on board for a ride.

A strong sea breeze whistled around the cart’s windshield and across the chief’s body, leaving a scented trail of Panama Jack tanning lotion as we zig-zagged through town. Chief Anderson set his left hand on the steering wheel while trying to find the empty sleeve of a flowery shirt with his right hand. It took him two blocks to succeed. By the time we reached the crime scene he had buttoned the shirt up and my claws were embedded deep into the rubber on the floor of the cart. I pulled them out, one claw at a time, and hopped down, relieved to be on solid ground again.

Officer Reid’s truck was parked sideways with blue lights flashing and surrounded by orange cones, blocking traffic from driving past in either direction. He stared at his boss, wondering if he should point out the misaligned buttons on the Hawaiian-style shirt that made the chief look like a village idiot.

Chief Anderson ran out of patience quickly. Well, don’t just stand there looking like an idiot. Catch me up to speed. What happened here?

I, uh… Let me show you, Officer Reid stammered, choosing to ignore the buttons. He lifted one end of a blanket he had apparently put down to give the deceased some privacy. The end of a fishing rod extended out from under the blanket.

I won’t describe the body except to say that it belonged to a man who had lost his head. I don’t mean that figuratively, although I believed that to also be true. Kojak, the town’s K-9 officer and a good friend of mine, was sniffing some butcher paper in the grass nearby. About ten yards from the headless body, another golf cart was parked on the shoulder of the road. The floorboard of the cart was cluttered with several items including a roll of duct tape, a long rope, and a large, open pill bottle. Moving closer, I could read the label. Some non-prescription sleeping pills. A large unmarked cardboard box sat on the back seat with the top flaps folded over each other.

Officer Reid showed all of this to Chief Anderson and presented his theory.

I think the poor sucker swallowed some sleeping pills, then crawled into the street … The six foot two inches tall officer got down on his hands and knees, reenacting the scene. … and somebody drove by, knocking his head off. He jerked his head to the side and fell over into the grass, rolling across the butcher paper Kojak was sniffing.

Some children laughed and pointed from one of the cars waiting to drive past.

Chief Anderson closed his eyes. I’m not a lip reader but I’m pretty sure he was silently counting to ten. He took a deep breath after counting and questioned his officer. So where’s the head now?

Depends on how fast they were going. They coulda knocked it halfway to town, or deep into the swamp, or maybe it’s stuck in the front grill of their car. Should I start checking vehicles in town?

I don’t think that’s necessary. I suspect somebody would let us know if a car drove through Paradise Cove with a head stuck in the grill.

Officer Reid nodded slowly and pushed himself up from the ground.

Naw, I’m afraid we may be dealin’ with something a lot more serious than a hit ’n run. Sleeping pills, rope, duct tape… He lowered his voice and spoke cautiously. Somebody brought this fella out here with very bad intentions. The perp probably got spooked by a passing car and took off. Hopefully in that direction. He pointed away from town.

Kojak’s ears perked up and his tail stopped wagging. He bounded over to me as his handler and the chief went to move the orange cones further away, forcing a line of waiting cars to back up.

Did you hear that Whiskers? We might have a serious criminal in town!

I shook my head slowly. I don’t think so.

You think he’s gone already? Kojak looked in the direction the chief had pointed.

I think our culprit is out there taking a nice nap. I nodded toward the swamp.

Kojak cocked his head, confused.

Here’s what happened, I told him. This poor fool bit off more than he could chew and ran into somebody who could chew more than him.

Kojak’s head was almost at a ninety-degree angle now.

What we have here is a classic example of the infamous Florida Man. Always making the state look bad by getting themselves or somebody else killed in the most ridiculous ways. Our victim was alligator hunting. What did you smell on that butcher paper?

Kojak’s head popped up straight and drool came out of his mouth. Pork chop. Whiskers, it smelled so good. I know I’m not supposed to lick the evidence but if they do DNA testing on that paper it’ll point straight at me. I couldn’t help myself.

I shook my head and held a stern look on my face until he turned to look at Officer Reid who probably hadn’t even noticed the paper.

Anyway, I said, regaining my focus, that pole wasn’t for catching fish, It was to lure a gator out of the swamp. He stuffed the pork chops with sleeping pills, lined them up about five feet from one another beside the road, cast one into the murky water on his fishing line, and started reeling it in when he saw the gator coming.

Kojak held his head straight up again. That’s crazy!

Like I said. Florida Man. The problem is, alligators are a lot faster than most people think. On land, they can run over ten miles an hour. And they don’t chew their food, they just swallow it whole. I think that gator liked his pork chops and gobbled them down in a hurry. His speed surprised the man, who took off running and slipped on one of the pork chops, falling face down into another one. The gator caught up with him and took his head off to get the last pork chop. By now that gator will be fast asleep in the swamp and probably won’t wake up until next week.

Kojak