Miami Mice: The Detective Whiskers Cozy Mystery Series, #3

By Chris Abernathy

A cat who thinks he's a detective. Some amateur female sleuths. A fisherman hooks a dead body in the water.

A pair of stowaway mice find themselves stranded at Sheila Mason's cottage when the boat they are on sinks. They may be forced to go into the Whiskers Protection Program once it is discovered that the boat was carrying a shipment of illegal drugs. Can Detective Whiskers keep his witnesses safe and stop a dangerous cartel from destroying life in Paradise Cove?

Sheila and her friends in the Paradise Cove Murder Society are also busy investigating a suspicious stranger who showed up in town at the same time. Is he responsible for the body discovered on the beach?

If you love humorous cozy mysteries where pets take the lead and eccentric friends come together to solve crimes with just the right amount of suspense then the Detective Whiskers Cozy Mystery Series is exactly what you're looking for. Buy Miami Mice now and find out why the only thing better than a K-9 cop is a feline detective!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wright on the Mark LLC
• Release date: Jun 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227305633

Book preview

Preface

The dim light of a crescent moon reflected off the peacefully rolling waves of Paradise Cove. A slight ocean breeze could barely be heard rustling through sea oats in the dunes. Lights had long been turned off along the row of beach cottages. Footprints from the previous day had washed away and only thin trails leading to and from small crab holes disturbed the sugary white sand.

Had any of the residents or visitors in Paradise Cove been standing on the beach, admiring the scene, they likely would not have noticed the two tiny figures swimming toward shore. Gasping for air and struggling against even the gentlest waves, the two furry figures finally reached dry sand and rested, catching their breath. In the dark night they remained all but invisible and, as their breathing relaxed, they became so quiet again that they were initially unnoticed by a ghost crab who startled them by emerging from his hole between the two.

Rejuvenated and reminded of their precarious situation, the wet mice rushed into the shelter of the dunes and hid among the sea oats. Settling in without squeaking a word, they relaxed. Tiny eyelids fell over exhausted eyes and sleep was coming fast. The thumping of their heartbeats slowed and quieted, revealing the soft roar of the waves.

And another sound.

Rising and falling, the gentle rumble had a rhythm.

Nervously, the larger of the two mice rose from his sandy bed and crept up the surrounding dunes to explore. Peaking his beady eyes and grey fur over the top of a dune he could barely make out the almost unnoticeable outline of some figure two feet away. He climbed further up, onto the crest of the dune for a better look when suddenly the dark figure rolled over, settling into a patch of moonlight and revealing itself to be a cat. Startled, the mouse rushed to retreat, lost his footing, and rolled down the dune toward the cat. Tiny feet sprayed sand in every direction as he struggled to get traction. Eventually, he was able to reverse his slide and, just before rolling into the sleeping cat’s face, he took off back in the direction from where he had come. Waking his friend, the frightened mouse led the way to a cottage beyond the dunes, hoping for some shelter where they could recover and figure out how to get out of the mess they had found themselves in.

The cat, awakened from slumber by the feeling of sand spraying on his nose, yawned. Blinking his eyes, he looked up at the crescent moon. A disturbance in the water caught his ear, the monotonous lapping of waves interrupted by splashing. Not curious enough to leave the dunes and investigate, the cat peeked out between sea oats and caught the silhouette of a man rising to his feet at the water’s edge. The dark figure looked left, looked right, then took off running and stumbling toward a trail leading away from the beach.

The cat stood quietly watching then eventually retreated into the dunes.

The beach was calm again as if nothing at all had happened.

But something had happened. Something that put every cat, mouse, human and other resident of Paradise Cove in grave danger.

One

Brightly colored hibiscus and lantana blooms swayed gently in the pristine gardens of Paradise Cove. A cooling breeze blowing in from the beach softened the warmth of the late summer sun. Neighbors passed by slowly on golf carts, leaning out with smiles, waves, and cheerful greetings. This was the serenity that retirees wanted, and found, in the idyllic coastal town.

The young man waiting impatiently in his truck was anything but serene. Honk! He stuck his head out through the open driver-side window and yelled, drawing a disapproving look from Nosy Nancy across the street. He didn’t notice or care.

That’s enough lovey-dovey! Get in now or find another way back to Gainesville!

Freddy slowly peeled himself away from Susi’s embrace and walked to the passenger side door. His bags were already piled in the truck bed. He turned and looked back at Susi, drawing another loud Hoooooonk! from the truck and another stern glance from Nancy. As soon as Freddy sat down and started to close the door, the tires squealed. His college roommate had lost all patience with the lovebirds.

Susi stood on the front porch of Sunset Cottage and waved at the disappearing vehicle.

Sheila and I had stepped back inside to give them whatever amount of privacy was possible with an impatient driver and a nosy Home Owners Association president watching their goodbyes. The two of them had been inseparable for the summer. Would it turn out to be just a summer fling or something more serious? Only time would tell.

Either way, Sheila and I were getting our peace and quiet back.

I padded across the living room, leaped onto the arm of the recliner then up to the shelf behind it where my hand-made pillow sat with Detective Whiskers stitched on the side. A cat nap was in order. There had been far too few of those with Freddy staying in the guest room. And far too much loud music. Video games. Wet swimsuits thrown across the backs of chairs.

Susi stood in the open front door with slumped shoulders. In a monotone voice, she asked Sheila Mind if I do the cleaning tomorrow? I just don’t feel like it today.

That’s fine, Sheila answered. See you tomorrow. She walked to the door and closed it behind Susi. As the door closed, Sheila leaned against it and took a deep breath. Finally, Whiskers. It’s just you and me again! Her voice sounded tired. Hosting your college-aged grandson all summer will wear you out. But I heard something else in her voice, too. Sadness. She was going to miss Freddy’s youthful presence.

Not me. He’s a good kid, don’t get me wrong, and I was happy to see him come visit. But that was when he was only staying a few days. Before he got a summer job bartending at the Parrot Eyes Inn and decided to stay all summer. Before he met Susi, our house cleaner, and started pouring on the body spray like he was on a one-man mission to destroy the ozone layer. Was I going to miss him? Only if my aim was off.

I’m sure Roddy was sad to see Freddy go. Roddy, the mouse that lives in one of our walls, had been living it up. He and I had an arrangement. As long as he stayed quietly out of sight he was welcome to eat any food that fell on the floor. If Sheila became aware of his presence that would change. She loves animals — she just doesn’t consider mice to be animals. They’re in a whole different classification along with snakes and cockroaches. It’s weird, but that’s humans for you. Don’t get me started.

Anyway, as I was saying, I allowed Roddy to stick around as long as he was out of sight and stayed away from any food that was packaged or on the floor. Young Freddy dropped so much food that Roddy was in danger of not fitting back into his crack in the wall. He’d put on at least half an ounce! If mice wore pants he’d have popped the button off the front of his.

Do you hear that, Whiskers? Sheila asked, reaching out to straighten the cushions on the sofa.

Hear what? I meowed, even though I knew she never understood what I was saying.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing, she answered as if she actually did understand this once. No thumping music, no yelling at the computer screen because his avatar got killed in a game battle, no banging doors when he comes home late. Sheila paused and looked to make sure her cushions were perfectly arranged. Her voice changed. Softened. No pots and pans banging together as he tries to cook dinner for me. I really thought he could at least make macaroni and cheese from a box, she laughed.

Sheila sat down, careful not to disturb the cushions. She sighed and stared out the French doors at the beach. With nobody talking, we could hear the gentle roar of the waves even with the doors and windows closed. Sunset Cottage sat just off the beach behind a row of sand dunes. We sat quietly for a long while, relishing the peace and quiet. I put my head down and took the best cat nap I’d had in ages.

The sound of Sheila vacuuming woke me up. She had always kept a tidy home and, even though Susi would be coming tomorrow to do a proper cleaning, Sheila was anxious to get things back in order. I glanced around at the evidence still visible from Freddy’s visit. A pair of flip flops he left behind for when I come back to visit, the wrapper from the Pop-Tart he had for breakfast, a potato chip bag that had fallen under the edge of the sofa.

The potato chip bag put me on alert. Not that it was there — that was no surprise. What got my attention and made my black and white hair stand up was the hole in the bottom of the bag. It had been chewed open! Roddy knew better than this. If Sheila saw it she would know there was a mouse in the house and I wouldn’t get any Fancy Feast until I took care of the problem.

The vacuum swept over the rug in the center of the room, toward the front of the sofa. Sheila would discover the chewed bag in just