Read Collared For Murder for Free Online Page A

now, though, and the single mom had had to pare down her life in a multitude of ways, from moving into a smaller house to limiting herself to one really good camera for her assignments.
    “How have you been, Ama?”
    “As well as can be expected,” she said with a half smile. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that Jordan has started calling Packer ‘his’ dog.” We both laughed. Ama’s toddler son often played with Packer when the pooch and I ran into the Olmsteads in Dakota Park. Packer was great with children, and Ama had often expressed gratitude that Jordan would grow up loving dogs instead of fearing them.
    “Are you thinking about getting him his own?”
    “Someday. When he’s old enough to walk it and scoop its poop. Right now I have my hands full, and I’m happy for him to simply have the occasional playdate with Packer.”
    “Well, anytime you want some canine companionship, you know my number. Packer has boundless energy, so he’s always game for a romp in the park.”
    “Thanks for that.” She swept her hand in an all-encompassing gesture. “This is quite the show, isn’t it?”
    “I had no idea,” I confided. “I figured it would be big and good for business, but I had no idea just how big it would be.”
    She grinned at me. “Want a little free promo? I can get a picture of you and Rena at your booth.”
    “Oh my gosh! Would you?”
    One of the lessons I had learned during my months as an entrepreneur was that one never turned down the chance for free publicity.
    “Rena,” I called. “Ama wants to get a shot of us in front of our booth.”
    “Ooh! Fun!” Rena replied, scrambling around from the back of the table. “Here—let me get your bangs straightened.” To my horror, she licked a finger and used it to sweep a swath of hair from my face.
    “Rena!”
    “Oh, chill out,” she muttered.
    Ama was laughing so hard she was bent at thewaist and wiping her eyes. “You two should take this show on the road,” she said when she came up for air.
    I held up a kitty capelet while Rena pretended to take a bite out of a salmon cracker, and Ama snapped our picture.
    “I need to scoot off to take some pictures of the cats and guests. But it was great seeing the two of you.”
    “Same here, Ama.”
    “Where’s Pris?” I asked Rena as Ama made her way out through the crowd. I could see all her worker bees buzzing around the spa station in the corner of the ballroom, but I couldn’t spot Pris in the midst of the fray. I felt a stab of irritation. We’d made an arrangement to share each other’s cards with the cat owners, and if someone bought a service from Pris and an item from me, they got ten percent off both purchases. I had my cards ready to go, but Pris still hadn’t brought hers over.
    “I don’t know,” Rena replied. “I saw her when I first got here this morning, but it’s such a zoo in here I can barely keep track of myself.”
    Tension in the ballroom continued to mount as we all waited for an announcement that the day’s activities were beginning. But I didn’t see anyone in charge. I expected to see Pamela Rawlins, her brown Burmese, Tonga, draped around her neck. She was technically the organizer of the event. I scanned the room, lookingfor signs of her sin-black topknot moving through the crowd, but nothing.
    Neither Marsha nor Phillip Denford had made an appearance yet, and Marigold Aames—who seemed to be the driving force of the Denford operation—was MIA, too. The only Denford in sight was Peter, and he stood off to the side, in an empty judging circle, sipping a cup of coffee.
    I frowned. My sixth sense told me something was up.
    I reached beneath our table to grab a box of outfits, thinking I might find a wardrobe change for Jinx for later in the day. As I picked it up, I thought I heard a rustling sound coming from inside. I set the box on the table and cautiously lifted a corner open. In a wink, something small and furry wiggled out from the confines of