Page 11 of A Whisker in the Night (Country Cottage Mysteries #29)

I t’s showtime indeed as four older women show up with enough paraphernalia to transform Leo and Emmie’s living room into a Zen paradise complete with four massage tables and the soothing sounds of ocean waves.

The women all look as if they could be our mothers with their short curly hair and sensible shoes, dressed in matching lavender scrubs that somehow make them look even more maternal. I spot a few “World’s Best Grandma” pins and at least three different cat-themed brooches between them. And they quickly assure us that they’re all licensed massage therapists so we don’t have a thing to worry about.

Honestly, my pregnant hormones are secretly relieved they’re not the young, gorgeous massage therapists I’d been irrationally dreading.

First thing is first, we get that DNA test out of the way. And once the spitting into a tube is through, one of the therapists claps us to attention.

“Strip down to your towels,” the lead therapist announces cheerfully. “It’s time to get naked.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Leo grins and earns an eye roll from Emmie in the process.

“Getting naked is what got us into this predicament,” I say, patting my belly and the women all laugh at that one.

“Hey, let’s keep it PG,” Jasper teases. We’ll get to the fun part later and do a reenactment of how we got into this predicament.

Leo chuckles and my face turns red as a beet.

We all disappear for a minute, and while Leo and Jasper strip down to the white fluffy towels provided, Emmie and I are gifted what amounts to short terrycloth tents just long enough to cover our chest and bottoms.

The men lie on their stomachs, but the therapist guides Emmie and me through a series of pregnancy-safe positions that make me feel like a beached whale attempting yoga.

“On your side now, ladies,” our therapist says cheerfully.

“If I roll over one more time”—Emmie groans—“I might just keep rolling right out the door.”

I sigh at the thought. “You and me both, sister.”

The treatments progress from Swedish lymphatic drainage (which feels like being patted down by angels) to hot stones placed strategically along our shoulders.

You humans and your odd relaxation rituals, Fish mewls with typical feline disdain. A proper sunbeam is all anyone needs.

The baby gives a playful flip as if agreeing with Fish’s assessment. I smile and adjust the heat setting on my foot bath, letting the warm water soothe my swollen ankles. The makeshift spa at Emmie’s cottage feels like a slice of heaven after the chaos at Westoff Farms.

Then comes the cupping, where they suction tiny cups to our flesh in hopes of extracting toxins, or maybe it’s bad vibes? Either way, Jasper swears it makes us look like we’ve been attacked by a bunch of octopuses.

“We’re going to have polka dots for days.” He chuckles.

“Now for the body scrubs,” one of the therapists announces. “Coffee grounds and brown sugar for the men and lavender and honey for our mamas-to-be.”

“Must the entire world deny us coffee?” Emmie teases as we continue to get the royal treatment.

“We’ll make up for it later,” I tell her. “I may not be able to boil water, but I can make a mean pot of decaf.”

The seaweed wrap is next, making us look like a bunch of spring rolls. I feel like I’m being prepared as someone’s dinner—and despite the fact I inhaled six slices of pizza, I’m suddenly craving Chinese.

Once that’s through, Emmie and I are moved to the sofa where we’re given foot massages, and our legs are rubbed down with lavender oil before the royal treatment is topped off with a heated foot bath.

Emmie moans with delight. “I think I just heard a heavenly choir.”

“I’ll be walking on a cloud for a week,” I add.

All five pets are lined up at the front of the living room watching with bated breath as to what’s about to happen next and most likely whether or not they’ll need to attack.

“So”—Emmie says as she splashes with her feet—“how did it go with Hammie Mae?”

I tell them about Verity’s employee contest—promising a Corvette to the top seller, only to deliver a Hot Wheels car instead.

“You’re kidding.” Emmie gasps.

“Nope.” I shake my head emphatically. “Though karma came calling when the employee sued and won enough to buy a whole fleet of real Corvettes.”

Both Leo and Jasper groan.

“Oh, it gets better,” I say. “For Hamish’s last birthday, Verity gave him one of her wisdom teeth dipped in gold.”

“WHAT?” Jasper and Leo shout in unison.

“Apparently, it’s the new hot thing.” I shrug in disbelief. “Too bad I threw mine out.”

“I have no idea where my wisdom teeth ended up,” Emmie says. “We are so behind the times.”

“Don't worry,” I assure her. “We’ll save all our children’s teeth and put our kids way ahead of the game.”

“Agree,” she says. “See? We’re already great mothers.”

Jasper chuckles. “I say focus more on chocolate and less on gold-dipped teeth. I have a feeling that fad might fade out by the time our children are of age to gift their molars to anyone.”

“Here’s hoping,” Leo says. “So what’s next in the investigation?”

Jasper sighs. “I’ve got some research to do come morning.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Leo tells him. “I was talking to the lead detective in charge.”

A robust laugh strums from me. “I knew I liked you.” I offer up a quick wink. “But speaking of detective work, I was thinking about taking Jellybean to Verity Westoff tomorrow,” I say and Jasper frowns my way.

“She’s on my list next, too,” he says. “Word is, she’ll be working a shift at that restaurant she owns down in Seaview—and they happen to allow pets on the patio. Lucky for us, the weather will be warm. Are you up for lunch?”

I suck in a quick breath of delight. “Are you asking me to join your investigation?”

Leo belts out a laugh. “More like he’s asking to join yours.” He reaches over and pats Jasper on the back. “You know what they say, buddy. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.”

“ Ooh , I want to join,” Emmie says. “I hear that place is really snazzy.”

“Sure,” Jasper says. “The more expectant mothers, the safer I’ll feel,” he teases before looking at Leo. “Are you in? We could double our weaponry if you join us.”

“I’m on patrol tomorrow. I’ll leave the heavy homicide lifting to the three of you—especially you, Bizzy.”

“Very funny,” I quip.

“He’s not teasing,” Emmie says. “Leo thinks you’re the best homicide detective in the country.”

Fish whips her tail back and forth. I’ve always liked you, Leo.

“Thank you,” he tells her.

Sherlock gives a soft woof. And I always like a visit to a snazzy restaurant .

The Celebration Grill is the best of the best. Jellybean lifts her whiskers with a touch of pride. They always provide fresh water for pets and the waitstaff has a pocket full of treats. It’s how they garner their biggest tips.

Treats! Treats! Treats! Sherlock sings and spins in a circle.

Oh, good grief . Fish sighs. Bizzy, I think he’s broken. How about we lock him in a cage for the safety of humanity?

I wrinkle my nose at her for even suggesting it.

Gatsby gives a sharp bark. I’d go, but I smell danger. I’m a lover, not a fighter.

Cinnamon sighs as she rolls her eyes. And this is why the vet has put you on a diet. You do realize they feed us the same food. Now we both have to suffer because you’ve essentially turned into a hairy couch potato .

I turn to Emmie. “It looks as if we’ll be treated to a fancy lunch tomorrow.”

“And maybe a killer,” she says just below a breath so Jellybean doesn’t hear.

And maybe a killer, indeed.

I look over at Jasper and he nods my way with a sober expression.

Someone out there killed Hamish Westoff.

Here’s hoping his widow has some insight as to why—or in the least a few incriminating thoughts that might just help land her behind bars.