Read How to Moon a Cat Online

Authors: Rebecca M. Hale

How to Moon a Cat

Table of Contents
 
 
A Man of Many Guises . . .
And in that moment, I knew what he was after. I knew where my uncle had hidden the original Bear Flag.
“I’ve got to go,” I murmured under my breath.
I shuffled slowly backwards, my hand reaching behind my back for the door. My fingers closed in around the handle, and I pulled it toward me, anticipating the squeal of the hinges. There was a strangely satisfied smile on his face. He didn’t move to stop me.
I never saw the man crouched outside in the courtyard. There was a slight creak of wood as he stepped across the threshold.
Before I could turn around, a light
thunk
, expertly delivered, pounded against the back of my head. As the floor rushed up to meet me, everything went black.
Titles by Rebecca M. Hale
HOW TO WASH A CAT NINE LIVES LAST FOREVER HOW TO MOON A CAT
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
 
HOW TO MOON A CAT
 
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author
 
PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / July 2011
 
Copyright © 2011 by Rebecca Hale.
 
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
 
ISBN : 978-1-101-53810-4
 
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PRIME CRIME
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For the M’s: Morgan, Malcolm, and Miranda
Introduction
THE GLASSY BUBBLE
of a full moon bobbed merrily up the California coast, its shining image rippling across the evening tide. Carefree and giddy, the bewitching orb frolicked above the shoreline’s rocky outcroppings, skirted the east side of the Farallon Islands, and bounced softly through the looping lines of the Golden Gate Bridge.
Inside the bay, the moon’s glowing marble rolled along the outer edge of San Francisco’s waterfront, past a line of darkened and abandoned piers, until it reached a compact collection of apartment buildings fringing the financial district. The bulk of the glimmering mass hovered in place while a white shaft of light zoomed inland over the hard green surface of a tennis court to cut a twinkling path up through the empty streets of Jackson Square.
The beam stopped in the middle of a block of darkened storefronts and honed in on the red brick facade of an antique store. A spectral spotlight splashed across the front row of windowpanes, illuminating the green vase icon embedded into each section of glass. On a counter just inside the store, a cash register’s burnished brass detailing flickered in the passing light.
Slowly, the focus of the moonbeam panned up the side of the building toward the apartment located above the showroom. A slight spring breeze whispered through the night, fluttering the blinds hanging over the open window on the building’s third floor, allowing a single sliver of light to maneuver stealthily through the narrow opening in the slats.
Inside the room, the luminous finger skimmed across the wooden floorboards to the bed pushed up against the far wall. Leaping nimbly onto the pile of sheets and blankets, the beam kinked to tickle the bottom of a cat’s upturned foot, playfully tugging at the feathery white hairs that poked out between the plump pink padding of his toes.
Rupert’s front incisors moved up and down. Dreamily, he licked his lips, but the peaceful rhythm of his snores continued unabated.
The warmth of the mischievous ray sidled up to the furry mound of Rupert’s exposed belly and gave it a prodding poke—an action which elicited no more than a wheezing
snort
.
Momentarily stumped, the moon paused to reconsider its strategy. A more aggressive approach would be needed to wake
this
sleeping beast.
Narrowing to a pointed prick of light, the beam crept up to Rupert’s chest and tapped the moist cushion of his nose. Rupert raised a paw over his face, trying to block the glare of the tiny spotlight.
Noting the movement, the beam branched out into an illuminated hand and reached behind Rupert’s head to scratch the backside of his orange-tipped ears. As the corners of Rupert’s mouth stretched into an appreciative smile, the beam gently teased the crook of Rupert’s elbow until he dropped the shielding paw from his face. Sensing victory, the beam sneaked back up to the tightly shut juncture of Rupert’s furry eyelids and softly pried them open.
With a wide yawn, Rupert awoke and glanced around the room.
It was an hour or two past midnight, dark and quiet inside the apartment above the Green Vase showroom. The other two occupants of the bed were still fast asleep: a second cat, his sister Isabella, and a woman with long brown hair who, in his opinion, was hogging the covers.
Rupert smacked his lips as the wild call of the moon worked its magic on his feline imagination. A shimmering figure danced across the bedroom, beckoning him to follow it into the hallway. Rupert blinked his eyes, trying to clear his vision as the trickling stream of moonlight tangoed teasingly toward the door, a tempting lure no cat could ignore.
With a muffled
thump
, Rupert hopped off the bed and followed the sparkling shape through the doorway. As he stepped outside the bedroom, the edge of the wall snuffed out the intruding angle of the moon, temporarily releasing him from its hypnotic hold.
Rupert set loose another mouth-stretching yawn and looked sleepily back toward the warm spot in the covers he had just vacated. The line of his body curved as his shoulders rotated to reverse course. But before he could complete the turn, a faint glow appeared on the floor at his feet, recapturing his attention.
Intrigued once more, Rupert proceeded down a trail of glittering moon dust to the second floor. He paused at the threshold of the kitchen and stared curiously inside, his head tilted upward, the orange tip of his fluffy tail pointed at the ceiling. A tiny lick of light lassoed the furry white cuff of his neck and led him forward.
Rupert ambled toward the kitchen table, the toenails on his chunky feet clicking against the uneven floor tiles. A rumble gurgled up from somewhere inside his pudgy round stomach, an instinctive biological response to the growing proximity of his food bowl.
The moon waited until Rupert reached the middle of the room; then it withdrew its influence and sat back to watch the rest of its mischief unfold.
Puzzled, Rupert plopped down beside the table, his tail twitching in bewilderment. His head rotated back and forth as his dazed eyes scanned the dark shadows that sank in around him.

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