Cat Bearing Gifts

by Shirley Rousseau Murphy

(Joe Grey Cat Mystery Series, Book 18)

Morrow (a HarperCollins imprint), 2012
Hardcover: ISBN 0061806943
Paperback: Avon, ISBN 0061807249
E-book: HarperCollins
Large print: Harperluxe, 0062201409
Audiobook: Download and digital rental (CD no longer available)

A car crash, a missing treasure, a dead thief, and a suspicious blond divorcee have feline P.I. Joe Grey and his four-legged cohorts clawing for justice in this lively entry in the beloved, award-winning mystery series by Shirley Rousseau Murphy. As in Molena Point Joe Grey and his tabby lady Dulcie stumble on a murder almost before it occurs, yellow tomcat Misto has visions of a life long past and their other feline friends Kit and Pan are suddenly at odds over a mysterious dream. Past and present collide in a tangle with present-day murders that draws in their human friends and ends with promises of amazing journeys yet to come.

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Quotes from the reviews

"Talking cat fans will welcome Murphy’s exciting 18th mystery [Cat Bearing Gifts] featuring feline Joe Grey, in which Joe’s tortoiseshell friend, Kit, plays a lead role. . . . Anyone unfamiliar with this cozy series will be quickly drawn in by the complete believability of Murphy’s crime-solving felines and their helpful human companions." --Publisher's Weekly, October 1, 2012.

"Despite their gift of gab, Murphy's sleuths continue to be decidedly feline in her 18th saga of Molena Point." --Kirkus Reviews, October 15, 2012.

"A captivating mystery that encapsulates the bond between cats and owner, just as many of us share with our own." --Judge's comment on choosing Cat Bearing Gifts for the 2013 World's Best Cat Litter-ary Award.

Excerpt from the story

It was growing dark when Lucinda and Pedric Greenlaw and their tortoiseshell cat left their favorite seafood restaurant north of Santa Cruz. Lucinda had carried Kit to their table hidden in her canvas tote, the smug and purring tortie curled up inside anticipating lobster and scallops slipped to her during their leisurely meal. . . .

They’d departed San Francisco in late afternoon, Pedric driving, the setting sun in their eyes as it sank into the sea, its reflections glancing off the dark stone cliff that soon rose on their left, towering black above them. The Lincoln took the precipitous curves with a calm and steady assurance that eased Lucinda’s thoughts of the hundred-foot drop below them into a cold and churning sea. In the seat behind the thin, older couple, tortoiseshell Kit sprawled across a mountain of packages, her fluffy tail twitching as she looked far down at the boiling waves, and then looked up at the dark, wooded hills rising above the cliff against the orange-streaked sky. The trip home, for Kit, was bittersweet. . . .

Part of her little cat self hadn't wanted to leave San Francisco, yet part of her longed to be home, to be back in her own village with her feline pals and her human friends, to sleep at night high in her own tree house among her soft cushions with the stars bright around her and the sea wind riffling the branches of her oak tree. Most of all, she longed to be home with her true love.

It had been a stormy romance since the big red tomcat showed up in Molena Point nearly seven months earlier, when he and Kit had first discovered one another, on the cold, windy shore. . . . Almost at once, she was smitten. Oh, my, how Pan did purr for her, and how nicely he hunted with her, letting her take the lead, often easing back and letting her make the kill--but yet how bold he was when they argued, decisive and macho and completely enchanting. Even as much as she'd loved San Francisco, she felt lost and small when she was parted from him. Why can't I be in two places at once, why can't I be at home with Pan and Joe Grey and Dulcie and Misto and our human friends, and have all the pleasures of San Francisco, too, all together in the same place? Why do you have to choose one instead of the other?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Now, as night drew down, fog began to gather out over the sea, fingering in toward the cliff as if soon it would swallow the road, too. As they rounded the next curve, Kit could see, far below, the lights of a few cars winding on down the mountain--but when she looked back, headlights were coming down on them fast, truck lights higher and wider then any car, racing down the narrow road, then a second set of lights flashed past that heavy vehicle, growing huge in their rearview mirror, then the big truck gained on the pickup again, accelerating at downhill speed, the two vehicles moving too fast, coming right at them, their lights blazing in through the back window, blinding her. The truck swerved into the oncoming lane, passing the pickup, its lights illuminating the rocky cliff--then everything happened at once. The truck and pickup both tried to crowd past them on the left-hand lane, forcing them too near the edge. The truck skidded and swung around, forcing the pickup against the cliff, their lights careering up the jagged stone. At the same instant the cliff seemed to explode. Pedric fought the wheel as an avalanche of dirt surged down at them. Kit didn't understand what was happening. Behind them great rocks came leaping down onto the truck and a skyful of flying stones skidded across their windshield. She thought the whole mountain was coming down, boulders bouncing off the pickup, too, and on down toward the sea. Pedric crashed through somehow, leaving the two vehicles behind them. The stones thundering against metal nearly deafened her, a roar that she knew was the last sound she'd ever hear in this life.

And then all was still, only the sound of the last pebbles falling, bouncing across their windshield and across their dented hood.

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