Page 27 of A Whisker in the Night

“Go on,” Jasper says kindly yet firmly. “Please, what were you going to say?”

Verity closes her eyes for a minute. “Hamish was dead set on getting Matilda to stop the presses on that tell-all she’s about to publish. He says it would have ruined him forever. And he didn’t care for the fact that she was going to profit off their dirty laundry either. He said he had a surefire way of getting her to stop the publication. Only he didn’t tell me what it was. Butwhatever he had over her—well, I think we all know how that ended.”

Emmie gasps as she looks my way.Is she insinuating that he blackmailed her?

Jasper nods my way as well.Blackmail.

Blackmail, indeed.

“That sounds so intense,” I say, keeping my voice even-keeled, like I’m not internally cataloging every single detail. “Tension like that can’t have been easy.”

“Well”—Verity says with a light laugh—“divorce is messy. And Matilda never made it easy. Neither did Hammie Mae.”That girl never appreciated him. Always questioning, always pushing. Just like her mother.

I think we’ve hit a nerve.

“That must’ve been hard for Hamish,” I say as innocently as I can. “Juggling all those strong personalities.”

Verity waves it off, still zipping that pendant across her necklace. “Oh, he managed. Hamish had a way of keeping everyone in line.”Until he didn’t.

I take a casual sip from my glass to hide the fact that my detective alarm bells are ringing so loud they could wake the baby—and not just the one I’m carrying.

Jasper leans in. “Sounds as if there was a lot going on in Hamish’s life.”

Verity’s fingers twitch against that rose pendant again. “Hamish was too trusting, honestly. He never believed anyone would actually hurt him.”Except maybe me.And she gives a meager laugh at that one because obviously, it was a joke.

A strangled silence fills the table as if we’ve officially hit our limit with small talk—or interrogations, but before I can press her some more, a server swoops in with our meals.

It’s like a page out of an elegant food magazine with each plate arranged like edible works of art. I hardly notice what’s infront of me because my brain is still spinning, trying to unravel Verity’s tangled thoughts. Although the Szechwan chicken lettuce wraps in front of me are begging to pull me out of my investigative trance.

Verity clears her throat, clearly ready to wrap this up. “Well, I do appreciate you bringing Jellybean by, and I thank you profusely for taking her in until I can get my life patched back up.”And find a shelter who takes four-footed flea bags.She frowns at the cat.Oh heck, I did love her, too, but just looking at the cute little thing reminds me of Hamish. There’s no way I could keep her, but I can’t say that to these nice folks.

I force a smile. “No problem,” I say lightly. “She’s been a wonderful addition to the family. I don’t mind holding onto her one bit.”

Even if it turns out that I’ll be holding onto her forever.

Verity nods, but her gaze is distant. “Good. Well, enjoy your meal. If you need anything at all, please let the staff know.”

She walks away and I waste no time leaning toward Jasper and Emmie. “She’s hiding something, but I didn’t pick up exactly what it might be.”

Jasper nods. “I think so, too. And I also think she’s throwing Matilda and Hammie Mae under the bus hard.”

“Maybe she’s trying to distract us?” Emmie says before diving right into the spring lamb on her plate—speaking of distracted.

“Could be,” I reply. “But I have a feeling we need to talk to Matilda. Like, yesterday.”

“You mean,Ineed to talk to Matilda,” Jasper says while pulling apart that perfectly bright red lobster sitting on his plate. “Like yesterday.”

You think that’s going to help?Jellybean pipes up, dripping with sarcasm like only a feline or afemalecan. Andshe’s a double threat because she’s both.Good luck. Hamish always said that Matilda is slipperier than a greased pig in a thunderstorm.

The baby kicks hard, almost as if they’re agreeing with Jellybean.

Great. Even my unborn child thinks we’re in for a wild ride.

I take a deep breath and steel myself for whatever comes next. Because one thing is crystal clear, Verity knows way more than she’s letting on. And Matilda? She might just have the missing piece I need to crack this case wide open.

I just have to know what Hamish Westoff had over his ex-wife that might have been dark enough for her to crack hisskullopen.

One thing is for sure—proverbial thunderstorm or not—I’m about to try my best to catch a greased pig.

---