Cat Spitting Mad

by Shirley Rousseau Murphy Narrated by Susan Boyce

Overview

While Joe Grey has played tricks on Max Harper, Molena Point's head lawman, he's never had anything but respect for the dedicated sheriff. Now Harper's in trouble, suspected of murdering two friends, and the only witness, a young girl named Dillon, has disappeared. Both Dulcie and Joe know Harper is innocent, and Joe is hissing to prove it-and find Dillon. Their sleuthing, however, is hampered by something soft and small-their new “ward,” a vivacious kitten whose curiosity could get them all killed. With backs up and claws bared, Dulcie and a spitting mad Joe must use all their cleverness and amazing talents not only to find a killer, save a little girl, and clear their friend's name-but keep their secret safe, too.

Editorial Reviews

bn.com

Feline sleuths Joe Grey and Dulcie dig in their claws to snag the killer who is framing police chief Max Harper for a horrendous double murder.

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly

Debonair detective Joe Grey lives and sleuths along northern California's rugged coast, in the quaint--but dangerous--village of Molena Point. In this sixth of Murphy's books named for Joe, passions rise and two women exsanguinate on a mountain riding trail, their throats slashed, while their mounts run free in an ecstasy of fear. Dashing, silver-haired Joe has enough trouble just getting along with his housemate, crusty car mechanic Clyde Damen. But add bloody murder and the kidnapping of a terrified teenager, and Joe gets cat spitting mad! When Clyde's best friend, police chief Max Harper, is named top suspect and suspended from his job, Joe goes ballistic. Aided by his friends Dulcie and Kit, Joe stalks the killer in the dark niches of the crumbling Pamillon Estate--site of a potentially profitable land venture--where a wild cougar also lurks. Up the coast in San Francisco, gorgeous Kate Osborne has cause to worry when a murderer escapes from prison and comes after her. In addition to humans, someone is killing the cats of San Francisco. Speaking of cats: fans of Joe Grey recognize that he (and Dulcie and Kit) are felines themselves, though capable of communicating with select humans. Cat lovers will cuddle right up to Joe and his pals, but the story has plenty of murder and mayhem for those who like to take their detective fiction straight up. (Jan. 8) FYI: This series has won the Cat Writers Association Muse medallion for three consecutive years. Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.

Library Journal

Feline "sleuths" Joe Grey and Dulcie come to the rescue of Max Harper, the chief of police in Molena Point, CA, who is being framed for a gruesome double murder and the kidnap of a little girl. A special treat for those cat mystery fans. Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.

School Library Journal

Adult/High School-Cats Joe, Dulcie, and Kit understand, speak, and read English, and they are veteran sleuths in Molena Point, CA. Someone has framed the chief of police for the murder of two friends and the probable kidnapping of the child who was riding with them. Furthermore, someone is killing cats in San Francisco. The main characters are excellent spies, gaining clues by hiding under desks, eavesdropping when they are supposed to be asleep, and carefully moving evidence to trap a villain. Although many characters and motives are related to earlier books in the series, it is not necessary to have read them to enjoy this mysterious flight of fancy.-Claudia Moore, W. T. Woodson High School, Fairfax, VA Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.

This Joe Grey mystery features Murphy's cat pair who can read, speak, and solve crimes. Here Joe can't keep his paws off his owner's latest case: murder which points to Harper himself. Joe knows his owner is innocent, but has to prove it in Cat Spitting Mad, an intriguing murder mystery approach.

Product Details

BN ID:	2940169836189
Publisher:	Blackstone Audio, Inc.
Publication date:	02/01/2013
Series:	Joe Grey Mysteries , #6
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

It was the tortoiseshell kit who found the bodies, blundering onto the murder scene as she barged into every disaster, all four paws reaching for trouble. She was prowling high up the hills in the pine forest when she heard the screams and came running, frightened and curious -- and was nearly trampled by the killer's horse as the rider raced away. Churning hooves sent rocks flying. The kit ran from him, tumbling and dodging.

But when the rider had vanished into the gray foggy woods, the curious kit returned to the path, grimacing at the smell of blood.

Two women lay sprawled across the bridle trail. Both were blond, both wore pants and boots. Neither moved. Their throats had been slashed; their blood was soaking into the earth. Backing away, the kit looked and looked, her terror cold and complete, her heart pounding.

She spun and ran again, a small black-and-brown streak bursting away alone through the darkening evening, scared nearly out of her fur.

This was late Saturday afternoon. The kit had vanished from Dulcie's house on the previous Wednesday, her fluffy tortoiseshell pantaloons waggling as she slid under the plastic flap of Dulcie's cat door and trotted away through the garden beneath a light rain, escaping for what the two older cats thought would be a little ramble of a few hours before supper. Dulcie and Joe, curled up by the fire, hadn't bothered to follow her -- they were tired of chasing after the kit.

"She'll have to take care of herself," Dulcie said, rolling over to gaze into the fire. But as the sky darkened not only with evening but with rain, Dulcie glanced worriedly toward the kitchen and her catdoor.

Wilma, Dulcie's human housemate, passing through the room, looked down at the cats, frowning, her silver hair bright in the lamplight. "She'll be all right. It isn't raining hard."

"Not yet, it isn't," Dulcie said dourly. "It's going to pour. I can smell it." A human could never sort out such subleties as a change in the scent of the rain. She loved Wilma, but one had to make allowances.

"She won't go up into the hills tonight," Wilma said. "Not with a roast in the oven. Not that little glutton."

"Growing kitten," Joe Grey said, rolling onto his back. "Tom between insatiable wanderlust and insatiable appetite." But he, too, glanced toward the cat door.

In the firelight, Joe's sleek gray coat gleamed like polished pewter. His white nose and chest and paws shone brighter than the porcelain coffee cup Wilma was carrying to the kitchen. His yellow eyes remained fixed on the cat door.

Wilma sat down on the couch beside them, stroking Dulcie. "You two never want to admit that you worry about her. I could go look for her -- circle a few blocks before dinner."

Dulcie shrugged. "You want to crawl under bushes and run the rooftops?"

"Not really." Wilma tucked a strand of her long white hair into her coral barrette. "She'll be back any minute," she said doubtfully.

"Too bad if she misses supper," Dulcie said crossly. "The roast lamb smells lovely."

Wilma stroked Dulcie's tabby ears, the two exchanging a look of perfect understanding.

Ever since Joe and Dulcie discovered they could speak the human language, read the morning paper, and converse with their respective housemates, Dulcie and Wilma had had a far easier relationship than did Joe Grey and his bachelor human. Joe and Clyde were always at odds. Two stubborn males in one household. All that testosterone, Dulcie thought, translated into hardheaded opinions and hot tempers.

The advent of the two cats' sudden metamorphosis from ordinary cats (well, almost-they had after all always been unusually good-looking and bright, she thought smugly) into speaking, sentient felines had disrupted all their lives, cats and humans. Joe's relationship with Clyde, which had already been filled with goodhumored conflict, had become maddening and stressful for Clyde. Their arguments were so fierce they made her laugh -- a rollingover, helpless cat laugh. Were all bachelors so stubborn?

And speak of the devil, here came Clyde barging in through the back door dripping wet, no umbrella, wiping his feet on the throw rug, then pulling off his shoes. His dark, cropped hair was dripping, his windbreaker soaking. Dropping his jacket in the laundry, he came on through to the fire, turning to warm his backside. He had a hole in his left sock. Violent red socks, Dulcie saw, smiling. Clyde was never one for subleties. As Wilma went to get him a drink, Clyde sprawled in the easy chair, scowling.

"What's with you?" Joe gave him a penetrating, yellow-eyed gaze. "You look like you could chew fenders."

Clyde snorted. "The rumormongers. Having a field day."

"About Max Harper?"

Clyde nodded. The gossip about his good friend, Molena Point's chief of police, had left Clyde decidedly bad-tempered. The talk, in fact seemed to affect Clyde more than it did Harper. To imply, as some villagers were doing, that Harper was having an affair with one of the three women he rode with -- or maybe with all three -- was beyond ridiculous. Twenty-two-year-old Ruthie Marner was a looker, all right, as was Ruthie's mother. And Crystal Ryder was not only a looker but definitely on the make.

But Harper rode with them for reasons that had nothing to do with lust or romance. The cats couldn't remember the villagers -- most of whom loved and respected Harper -- ever before spreading or even tolerating such gossip.

Clyde accepted his glass from Wilma, swallowing half the whiskey-and-water in an angry gulp. "A bunch of damned troublemakers."

"Agreed," Wilma said, sitting down on the end of the velvet couch nearest the fire. "But the gossip has to die. Nothing to keep it going."

Clyde glanced around the room. "Where's the..."

Cat Spitting Mad. Copyright © by Shirley Murphy. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

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