Read Catnapped! (A Matchmaker Mystery Book 3) for Free Online

of red wine with dinner nightly.
    “Thank you.” He gave a little bow and then reached into his car, pulling out a bottle and a computer case.
    “This way.” She led him up the staircase and through the door. Only once he was in the foyer, did she punch in the security code alarm.
    She paused a moment after doing so, staring at him. Now that she could see him better under the light, she noted that he cleaned up just as well as she remembered. Hair combed, silver framed glasses perched on his nose, and wearing a navy turtleneck that cloaked his sinewy physique, he looked more like the computer nerd Mauricio claimed he was.
    “Something wrong?”
    She shook her head. “Just thinking. They’re this way.”
    “They?”
    She led the way toward the kitchen. “Mrs. M. and Roscoe. When I told Brady I couldn’t cover her twenty-four-seven, he brought in Roscoe as my relief.”
    “But I’m not here for Mrs. Michelman, right?”
    “Nope. You’re here for the cat.”
    “Actually,” he said, dropping his voice to a whisper, “I’m here for you.”
    Despite the fact his simple declaration made her feel like a shy teenage girl, she managed to call out, “He’s here,” without her voice quavering.
    Roscoe, stirring something in a pot that probably cost more than a cop’s weekly salary, waved.
    Mrs. Michelman slipped off the stool she’d been sitting on at the breakfast bar and eyed Pete distrustfully. “Are you really a friend of Brady’s?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Then tell me, is he a Yankees or Mets fan?”
    Pete shook his head. “Neither.”
    “No? You’re saying he’s not a baseball fan?”
    “No, Mrs. Michelman. I’m saying, despite repeated interventions by his concerned friends and family members, Brady Stewart is…” He looked around as though to make sure no one else would hear. “A Red Sox fan.”
    She smiled her approval. “Call me Mildred, young man. And what do you go by?”
    “Peter Hanlon. But I prefer Pete.”
    “Ahhh, that will be easy for me to remember. My first husband had a brother named Pete.” She turned and pointed to the night’s chef. “And this is Roscoe.”
    “Hey,” Roscoe murmured.
    Pete was unable to disguise his surprise as he stared at the big man working at the stove. “Roscoe Underwood? The Roscoe Underwood?”
    Roscoe nodded curtly, suddenly tense, and unwilling to be drawn into the conversation.
    Alyssa looked from one man to the other, bewildered.
    “Should we know who Roscoe is?” Mildred asked, echoing Alyssa’s unspoken thought.
    “Only one of the best players to ever take the field,” Pete gushed. “I’m such a fan.”
    “No kidding,” Alyssa muttered.
    Mildred stared speculatively at the athlete in her kitchen. “What field did you take Mr. Underwood?
    Pete answered for him. “The football field. He was the best until…” He trailed off as though he suddenly remembered the rest of his story and thought better of it.
    “Until what?” Mildred asked.
    Uncomfortable seconds ticked by in silence.
    “Injury,” Alyssa supplied, not knowing whether or not it was a lie, but wanting to do something to save Roscoe from talking about something he obviously didn’t want to talk about with the nosy older woman. She glared at Pete, silently blaming him for putting her in this position.
    He nodded once, quick and almost imperceptible, taking responsibility for his wrongdoing, before he said, “I brought wine.” He brandished the bottle. “I’m not sure it’ll go with whatever smells so good.”
    “Classic beef stroganoff,” Mildred enthused, football forgotten. “I hope you’re hungry, Mr. Hanlon.”
    “Pete, like your former brother-in-law,” he corrected with easy charm, bringing a smile to Mildred’s face. “And I’m starved.”
    “It’ll be a little while,” Roscoe announced, relaxed now that the attention wasn’t on him.
    “Then let’s get to work.” Pete lifted his computer bag into the air. “Where would you like me to set