Page 33 of Hell's Kitten

“Iknewit!” she shrieks, causing several people to look our way. The little tabby kitten appears from nowhere and scales my leg so he can perch on my shoulder like my miniature bodyguard. Unfortunately, nothing is going to deter Leah from her questioning.

I shrug. “Yeah,” I say before sidestepping her to serve a customer.

We have one of the other guys behind the counter with us, so no one is getting neglected. And for some unknown reason, it’sstrangely quiet in here today. We had a few canceled bookings, and walk-ins are about half what they usually are. I’m hoping it’s just a weird glitch. Business naturally ebbs and flows, after all.

But Leah is frighteningly good at multitasking. She can brew coffee and interrogate all at the same time.

“That’s not ‘details,’ Benjamin,” she scoffs. “Is it serious? Are you going to put a little collar and bell on him?”

I roll my eyes but honestly, I’m bursting with so much happiness I actually feel like telling her just a little. I lean closer and give her a meaningful look. “He’s mine,” I say simply.

She genuinely swoons.

“Oh. My.God.I knew it. This is amazing!”

“Excuse me?”

I look up expecting to see someone impatiently waiting to be served. Instead, I’m met with a pale face, piercing blue eyes, and long black hair. The woman’s slender hands are loosely clasped in front of her chest, her nails as black as the corset and blouse she’s wearing. Atop her head is a delicate, dark blue flower crown. Rather than looking hurried or annoyed, she’s studying me curiously.

“Hi,” I say, glancing at Leah. Her mouth is slightly hanging open, though, and she’s frozen in her tracks. I get the feeling that I’m going to have to handle this particular customer by myself. “Can I help you?”

The dark-haired woman narrows her eyes at the tabby on my shoulder before looking around the rest of the café. “Where’s the new one?”

“New…what?”

“Cat,” she elaborates. “A black one.”

I shake my head. “We haven’t had any new cats join us for a while, I’m afraid.” My heart skips a beat. I’d know if there had been any black cats because I’d have already started worryinghow I was going to take onanotherone if they got left here for too long like the others.

She frowns and looks back at me. “The tea leaves were very clear,” she says.

I blink. “Um…sorry?” I offer her.

She opens her mouth as if to speak. But then her eyes widen, suddenly turning her head toward the door. “Blessed be,” she mutters. “Stand your ground.”

Before I can respond, she sweeps away in a flurry of layered black skirts that rustle and boots that must have reinforced heels to tap on the tiles like they do. She whirls into an empty seat that just happened to be available at a nearby table. We never have empty seats. That’s kind of our thing.

I go to open my mouth and ask her what she’s talking about when the bell above the door tinkles, and three people come striding in. Their appearance finally seems to snap Leah out of her trance as she jumps to attention. “Oh what fresh hell is this,” she mutters, dashing to my side.

Leading the party is the prim and proper blonde woman with crimson nails who came in the other day. Today, she’s wearing a skintight light blue pencil dress with a little white jacket and more clippy-cloppy heels. Her smile is bright, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, which are homing in on me as she approaches.

Behind her is a weasel-like man with a thin mustache and greasy hair parted in the middle, wearing a beige jacket and clutching a digital camera with a big flash like you might see in the hands of a member of the paparazzi.

Bringing up the rear is a very pissed-off-looking Sheriff Chancey, hands on her hips, ignoring everyone in the café who has paused in what they’re doing to watch this mini-parade. She’s also only got eyes for me.

“I’m so sorry about this, Nim,” she begins to say. But Blondie has stopped in front of me. She opens up the clasp to herpurse, thrusting her hand inside, her red nails flashing as she withdraws an envelope.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Decker,” she says with a cheeriness that I don’t buy for a second. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Mrs. Durham and this is my associate, Mr. Humphrey, from the County Office of Environmental Health. I’m afraid there have been some complaints.”

“Complaints?” I repeat, bewildered.

“Hang on,” Leah pipes up. “Mrs. Durham? As in the mayor’s wife?”

When it becomes clear that I’m not going to take the stupid bit of paper, Mrs. Durham places it smoothly down on the counter, her cold smile not faltering. “I am merely here as a concerned member of the public,” she tells Leah, her words dripping with fake sincerity.

“So it’s you who complained,” I say through gritted teeth, crossing my arms and scowling at her. She was annoying when she came in here before, but I didn’t think she was actually anything to worry about.

She gives me a dainty shrug, pressing her hands together. “Complaints were made. That’s all I can say.”

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