Cat on the Edge

by Shirley Rousseau Murphy

(Joe Grey Cat Mystery Series, Book 1)

HarperPrism, 1996
(No hardcover edition)
Paperback: Avon, ISBN 0061056006
E-book: HarperCollins
Audiobook: Download, CD, and digital rental

Joe Grey is the only witness to a murder. But, escaping the killer, Joe becomes the hunted. He's alone and he's one scared tomcat--until he meets green-eyed Dulcie, a charmer with talents to match his own.

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Quotes from the reviews

"If you're looking for a fast-paced mystery that's all about cats, with a generous dollop of pure fantasy thrown in, Cat on the Edge is for you.... Murphy combines her obvious intense love for cats with an ability to write a real page-turner of a mystery story--and she has a great sense of humor. All her feline and human characters are well- crafted, and as the plot unfolds, you're kept guessing who-dun-it right to the end.... I'll give Cat on the Edge two thumbs (or paws) way up!" --Library Cat Newsletter, Autumn 1996

"Murphy provides intriguing possibilities and tantalizing glimpses into the mysterious world of cats.... This mystery will be difficult to put down.... A delicious romp through ancient cat lore, an excellent tale of cats and humans who may or may not be what they appear to be, and of murder, revenge, and jealousy, interlaced with fantasy. This is excellent reading.... Not to be missed!" --Armchair Detective, Winter 1997

Excerpt from the story

Gripping the cord in his teeth, [Joe Grey] lifted the receiver off the hook and laid it silently on the pale marble surface. The phone's push buttons were a cinch, once he figured out how to squinch his paw real small. Crouching with his ear to the receiver he listened to the phone ring....

On the twelfth ring, when Clyde answered, panic hit him. What was he going to say? He couldn't do this, this was insane. He didn't know what to say.

"Hello?" Clyde shouted again. "Who is this? Speak up!"

Joe couldn't speak, couldn't even croak, his throat was dry as feathers.

"Who is this? Clyde yelled. "Say something or hang up, it's too early for games!"

It's me," Joe said, swallowing. "It's Joe Grey."

He was certain that the minute he spoke, the pharmacist would hear him, but at the back of the store the old man didn't look up. He could hear Clyde breathing.

"It's me. It's Joe--it's really me. I thought I'd better tell you why I left, yesterday morning."

No response.

"I thought you'd want to know that I'm all right. I thought maybe you'd be worried, looking for me."

Clyde shouted so loud that Joe hissed and backed up, his ear ringing. "What kind of sick joke is this! Who the hell is this? What have you done to my cat!"

"I am your cat," Joe said softly. "It's me. It's Joe. The tomcat who put three permanent scars on Rube's nose and tore a patch out of Barney's muzzle that grew in black instead of brown. It's me, Bedtime Buddy. Rakish Ruckster," he said, repeating Clyde's stupid pet names. "Favorite Feline."

Through the receiver, he heard Clyde swallow. This was a blast. "Listen," Joe said, "do you remember yesterday morning when I was wiggling around under the covers, then I got down and I was sort of mumbling to myself? Do you remember what you said?"

Clyde's breathing was clearly audible.

"You said, 'For Christ's sake, Joe, stop it! It's too damned early to be horny!' Then you went back to sleep, and the window shades were getting light."

There was a very long silence. Joe watched the pharmacist. The old man had heard nothing. His gray hair caught the light as he bent over his work wiping up the counters. At the other end of the phone, Clyde seemed to revive himself. "How--how did you know ... Who the hell is this! How did you...? Then, after another very long silence Clyde said, "What--what is your favorite breakfast?"

"Cream and Wheaties with chopped liver," Joe said, grinning. "No one," he said, "no one could know that but me, buddy."

The silence threatened to stretch into Monday. Then Clyde said, "If it's really you, where the hell are you? I'll come get you."

Joe licked a bit of rat fur off his lip.

"Well, where? And why the hell did you leave! How come you can use the phone and you never told me? How come you can talk? How come you never told me you can talk?" There was another silence, then, "Christ. This can't be happening. And isn't this house good enough for you? Just because you can talk, you think you're some kind of celebrity?"

"I can't come home. Someone is following me."

Read a longer sample from inside the book

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