Cupcakes, Bats, and Scare-dy Cats (An Annie Graceland Cozy Mystery Book 6) Read online

  CUPCAKES, BATS, AND SCARE-DY CATS

  An Annie Graceland Cozy Mystery, #6

  PAMELA DUMOND

  Pamela DuMond

  Contents

  Cupcakes, Bats, and Scare-dy Cats

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Praise and Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Scare-dy Cat Recipes

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Pamela DuMond

  About the Author

  Cupcakes, Bats, and Scare-dy Cats

  (An Annie Graceland Cozy Mystery, #6)

  by

  Pamela DuMond

  Cupcakes, Bats, and Scaredy-Cats

  (An Annie Graceland Cozy Mystery, #6)

  Copyright © 2015 Pamela DuMond

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Art Design by Renee George

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any other means, without written permission of the author, except in the use of brief quotations used in articles or reviews. You can contact the author via her website. Pamela DuMond website .

  For my Fur Babies

  Chris (First dog. German Shepherd mix.)

  Spicy (First Kitten. Tabby.)

  Inky (First black Kitty.)

  Max (German Shepherd.)

  Tequila (Orange rescue Kitty.)

  Sam (Tabbycat rescue Kitty.)

  Napoleon (Mainecoon best friend Kitty.)

  Michelangelo (Crazy orange rescue Kitty.)

  Princess Sophie (Himalayan mix rescue Kitty.)

  Annie (Bernese Mountain Dog love of my life.)

  Joey (Aussie mix rescue Dog.)

  Gracie (Tabbycat rescue Kitty.)

  Theodore von Pumpernickle (Himalayan love of my life rescue Kitty.)

  Romeo (Bengal love of my life Kitty.)

  Lola (Black bundle of joy, funniest cat ever, rescue Kitty.)

  To the piglet - I’m sorry, I was too young, and I don’t remember your name.

  Same goes for the turtle.

  Praise and Description

  Praise for the Cupcakes books:

  “…it’s a wild a wacky whodunit…” Beth Hoffman (NYT Bestselling Author)

  “One part Ghost Whisperer, two parts Stephanie Plum, shake and stir and you have Annie Graceland!” Dakota Cassidy (USA Today Bestselling Author of the Accidentals series.)

  "A funny mystery... That's a double treat if you ask me!" Marcia Wallace/Actress/Emmy Winner - The Simpsons.

  "It doesn't get any funnier!!" Karen Rontowski - Ghost Hunter and Comedienne (Seen on The David Letterman Show.)

  Description:

  Annie Graceland has a pinch of psychic ability. It turns out her cat, Theodore, does too!

  Annie’s helping out her new neighbor by dog sitting. Her apartment complex has a “NO DOGS” rental policy, and the creepy manager, Anthony Spiggottini, accuses her of violating the lease and threatens to evict her.

  She’s out at a Halloween party with her handsome detective boyfriend, when Anthony busts into her place, and literally lets the dog and cat out. She’d gladly have killed him, but someone beats her to it.

  Now Annie’s searching for her beloved cat while dealing with Anthony’s ghost who refuses to accept that he’s dead. It’s a good thing she doesn’t know that Theodore, Mozart the dog, and Bloody Mary, (the spirit cat they conjured), are running loose on Venice streets, tracking down murder suspects.

  A hilarious, pet-friendly cozy mystery, Cupcakes, Bats, and Scare-dy Cats is told through the eyes of the cats, the dog, and Annie.

  Keep calm, carry on, and enjoy An Annie Graceland Cupcakes Mystery!

  Chapter 1

  Bloody Mary

  Annie

  “BLOODY MARY, Bloody Mary,” Julia and Grady chanted as they clutched a candle and peered into the skinny mirror hanging from the back of my front door. “Visit us, please. We’re awfully scary!”

  “That’s it!” I grabbed the two bottles of champagne from the coffee table and marched toward my kitchen. “I’m cutting you off.”

  “Party pooper!” Julia pulled off her I Dream of Jeannie hat and veil combo and tossed it at me. It sailed over my cat, narrowly missed his round, fuzzy head, and landed next to him on my couch. Theodore von Pumpernickle, my ginormous Himalayan-mix breed kitty blinked, but per usual remained calm and collected. The German Shepherd dog that lay on the floor, however, flinched and chewed on his paws.

  “Lighten up, Annie,” Grady said. “We’re just getting into the Halloween spirit. Return the bubbly, por favor.”

  Grady was nerdy, handsome, and usually dressed in J-Crew type garb, but tonight he wore a knee-length plaid pleated skirt and a red, curly-haired, mop top wig.

  “Fine, but you’re sharing a cab ride home.” I held the bottle out to him and he grabbed it. “I know that Julia’s Jeannie from the I Dream of Jeannie sitcom,” I walked into my adjacent closet of a kitchen. “But who are you? Mary Ellen O’Malley from St. Beatrice’s Elementary School?”

  “Top me off, Grady,” Julia said and extended her glass. “Do the accent and let Annie figure it out.”

  I stood on my tiptoes, pulled a tray of freshly frosted cupcakes from the top of my fridge, and transferred it to the counter top.

  “Aye, lassie, I dinna know what ye are talking about,” Grady said.

  “The dog’s a German Shepherd, not a Collie. His name is Mozart, not Lassie.” I plopped a few baked delicacies onto some plates and spotted a dollop of frosting on my finger. I wasn’t one to wantonly discard perfectly good food, especially not something I just whipped up from scratch, so I stuck my finger in my mouth and disposed of the evidence: fresh buttercream icing made with real vanilla. Yum!

  “I am Jamie Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser, Laird of Lallybroch in the Scottish Highlands,” Grady said. “I am the hunky hero in Outlander!”

  “You look like Raggedy Ann,” I said. “That’s a woolen skirt, not a kilt. I bet you got that at St. Vincent’s Catholic thrift store on Lincoln Boulevard.”

  “Aye, sassenach.” He poured himself another glass of champagne. “Do you have anything to nosh on?”

  “Lucky for you I just perfected my new recipe for Black Widow Spider cupcakes.” I made my way back into my studio’s living room/foyer/bedroom that doubled as my entertainment area, and held out the plates. “One bite and you will be paralyzed with delicio
usness.” They accepted my offerings as I plopped back on the couch and petted my cat with one hand and the neighbor’s dog with the other.

  “Gah, this might be your best cupcake ever!” Grady said. “What’s up with the pooch? I thought dogs weren’t allowed in your apartment complex.” A ‘spider leg’ made of a pirouette cookie covered in dark chocolate icing and coconut extended out of his mouth like a mini-walrus tusk.

  The Shepherd gazed hopefully at Grady.

  “What dog?” I asked. “I’m just pet-sitting Mozart while his human is out late tonight on a shoot.”

  “Seriously, Annie,” Julia said. “Your new apartment manager scores twelve out of ten on the creepy, misogynistic, control freak scale. I passed him on my way here a few weeks ago and said, ‘Hello.’ He told me to mind my business, stick to the walking steps, and avoid grinding my heels on the new drought-resistant pebbles.”

  “Who cares what Anthony Spiggottini thinks?” I asked.

  “You do,” Grady said. “Ever since Google moved into the neighborhood, rents have skyrocketed.”

  “They weren’t just heels,” Julia said. “They were Manolos. I agree with Grady. If John Fartier and Associates found a reason to kick you out of this place, they could slap a coat of paint on these walls and lease your hovel for a thousand more a month.”

  “Except for a few guys in suits sniffing around here the other day, the only strange person who stops by is Anthony. That’s only to collect the rent, leave threatening notices on our doors, and peek in a few windows. I know this place is tiny, but I like it. It feels like home. Unless I hit the lotto, or disaster strikes, I’m staying here for a long, long time.”

  “Ew,” Grady said. “Like seriously, you caught him peeking?”

  “Yup.” I scratched the dog’s ears.

  Theodore turned away and stared morosely at the wall. I’m not sure he was all that thrilled wearing his Halloween costume: a cute FBI T-shirt with a clipped-on tag emblazoned with “FBI. Agent Cat Mulder.” I grabbed him and snuggled him close to my face. “Grady,” I said. “Take our Halloween picture.”

  He pulled out his phone and snapped a pic.

  “Tag me on Facebook.”

  “Done,” he said.

  I unsnapped Teddy’s outfit and let him go au naturel. He wandered away and stared at a spot on the floor. My cat had a tendency to react strongly to any negative influences that threatened our tiny apartment. He’d glower at the Sunday best-dressed Jehovah’s Witness ladies through the front window when they knocked on our door uninvited. He clicked his teeth ferociously at the birds that flew past the window and landed on the one tree planted in the middle of our V-shaped yard. He hissed, but bolted whenever we experienced a small earthquake. Right now, I suspected that Theodore had spotted a bug, or was just super irritated that I dressed him up.

  “Just be on alert. I don’t trust that guy,” Julia said. “His hair is too slick. He’s got enough petroleum-based product in that ’do to rival the Exxon spill in Alaska. My grandmother always said, ‘Oily hair, oily heart.’ What’s the scoop with the new neighbor?”

  “He works on a TV show at the Fox lot and he has a dog,” I said.

  “He’s an actor?” Julia asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Marital status?” Julia asked.

  “Two for two,” I said.

  “Does he wear a ring?”

  “It didn’t register,” I said. “Besides, I wasn’t looking for a ring. I have a boyfriend.” I was dating Detective Raphael Campillio, he of the black hair, chocolate eyes, and the ripped muscles a girl could get lost in for days.

  “Is your boyfriend going trick or treating with us on Halloween?” Grady asked.

  “Perhaps I’ll be doing the treating.” I waggled my eyebrows. “Raphael hasn’t decided. He said he never gets dressed up for Halloween.”

  “He could go as a hot cop,” Grady said.

  “He is a hot cop,” I said.

  “Be a pal and look at the dog’s tags,” Julia said.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Some people put their names on their dog’s tags,” she said. “For example, ‘In case of emergency call Tisha and Dan at blah blah number.’”

  I leaned down, reached for Mozart’s collar, and swiveled it toward me. Warm, sweet and sour dog breath wafted into my face and the pooch thumped his tail on the hardwood floor. “It says, ‘Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart,’” I said. “‘If lost please return to the Chicago Cubs’ dugout.’ Huh, guess the dog’s a Cubbies’ fan.”

  “His owner sounds single to me,” Julia said.

  Bloody Mary Cocktail

  by

  Mary (The Spirit Cat)

  INGREDIENTS:

  1 teaspoon sea salt

  1 cup ice cubes (use the filtered water – cleaner and healthier for you.)

  1 (1.5 fluid ounce) jigger of vodka (Use the good stuff for a better tasting drink.)

  ¾ cup spicy tomato-vegetable juice cocktail (example, V-8, or the low salt version of V-8.)

  2 dashes of Worcestershire sauce

  Salt and pepper to taste (Cut back on the salt if you have heart issues.)

  1 stalk celery (Up this to two stalks to get in a serving of your daily vegetables.)

  2 stuffed green olives (I personally hate olives, so I skip this, but it’s up to you.)

  DIRECTIONS:

  USE tall glasses and salt the rims. An easy way to do this is to pour salt onto a small plate. Moisten the rim of the glass with a damp towel, and press into the salt. Place the ice cubes in the glass.

  Fill a cocktail mixer full of ice. Combine the vodka, vegetable juice, Worcestershire sauce, hot pepper concoction, with a dash of salt and the pepper. Shake this thoroughly and strain into the glass. To finish, Garnish the Bloody Marys with celery stalks and olives (if you insist on being an olive-lover), stuck onto toothpicks.

  Enjoy responsibly!

  Chapter 2

  The Canine Debacle

  Theodore (The Cat)

  I CANNOT BELIEVE that my person, Annie Graceland, dressed me up in a people outfit, let alone allowed a canine as big and smelly as this ‘Mozart’ character into our living space. It’s bad enough that I have to tolerate her human friends.

  The female pal, known as Julia, wears bright colors on her face, smells of fake flowers mixed with embalming fluid (don’t press me for the story—it was a long time ago), and acts like she owns my place.

  She arrives at my home whenever she wants, sits wherever she pleases, and frequently ransacks the refrigerator all the while ignoring my pleas to give me a little snack even though I am clearly famished. She lounges on my couch without asking my permission and does not even have the manners to encourage me to share it with her. When she gets up from my resting area, I find my cushions are lumpy, indented, and I am forced to use manual labor, vigorously treading them to restore their less-than-cushy status.

  Annie’s other friend, the male, Grady, is more tolerable, less stinky, and pets me on occasion. He finds it endearing if I purr, and spends extra time scratching my chin and the sides of my face; therefore I do this frequently.

  But back to the dog.

  This whole canine debacle started about a month ago when a new male person moved in a few units down from our quiet abode. Our morning yoga, calisthenics, wet cat food, and coffee routine was interrupted by the harsh sounds of a mid-sized truck that backed up and beeped so loudly, I feared another microwave had moved into our neighborhood.

  I stood guard at our screen door and observed as three men scurried as fast as mice moving boxes and furniture from the truck inside the apartment unit down the way. After several hours, one man sat on the front stoop, one on the ground, and a third leaned against a tree as they drank from cans. Then they jumped inside their obnoxious gas-guzzler, drove off, and I thought, well that’s the end of that nonsense. But it was only the beginning.

  A smaller truck pulled up and the driver parked curbside. A man around Annie’s age hopped o
ut, made his way to the passenger side, opened it and said, “Come on, Mozart. It’s a sorry mess inside the new place, but we’re home.”

  A German Shepherd mix dog the size of Toledo (Spain, not Ohio) jumped out, raced off, and lifted his leg on the only tree on our property. I sniffed the air and cringed, not from fear, but the realization I’d smell a hint of dog pee for however long this beast stayed here. Hopefully it was only a brief visit.

  I comforted myself with the mantra, ‘This too shall pass,’ but I must have released a few tiny meows because Annie asked me what was wrong, and then gave me a little nip on my scratchy pad. I rolled on the rug recovering from the stress of the morning when there was a ‘Tap-Tap-Tap’ on our screen door, and the strange man introduced himself. Annie spoke with him briefly, then exited our apartment, and firmly closed the mesh-covered prison barrier in my face so I could not accompany her. She bent down, shook the dog’s paw, and I blinked in confusion. Unfortunately, this was not simply a bad dream.

  The next thing I knew, the debacle, otherwise known as the dog-sitting thing, transpired. Cody, our new neighbor, prevailed upon Annie to let the beast stay in our apartment while he stayed out all night, at his ‘job.’ Right. It was only supposed to be one time, but then it happened again, apparently because the dog suffered anxiety from their recent move.

  I was not pleased.

  I tried to explain to my human that our home was a ‘No Dogs Allowed’ residence and that Hair Product Boss Man would find out and get upset. But my plaintive meows fell on deaf ears, and only earned me a flustered, “How can you be hungry again, I just fed you!” comment.

  Now I deal with Mozart’s frequent violation of my private space and hope for the day that things can return to normal. I pretend to nap peacefully in the sunny spot on the floor, but the wheels spin in my mind as I percolate on the obvious. Things have changed and not for the better.

  I hate to imagine what might happen next.

  Chapter 3

  No Dogs Allowed

  Mozart (The Dog)

  CODY and I drove in the car across the country for a week. I got to see the flatlands of Nebraska; they were super flat. We visited the Rocky Mountain foothills, but I saw no extra feet, and was disappointed. The Grand Canyon was super great! I didn’t understand the fuss about the Painted Desert.