Read more
Zusatztext Praise for the National Bestselling Nick and Nora Mysteries “Nick and Nora are a winning team.”—Rebecca Hale! New York Times bestselling author “Nick and Nora are the purrfect sleuthy duo!”—Victoria Laurie! New York Times bestselling author “A clever debut featuring a wild and furry sleuthing duo…a big ‘paws-up’ for Meow If It’s Murder! ...a fast-paced cozy mystery spiced with a dash of romance and topped with a big slice of ‘cat-itude.’”—Ali Brandon! New York Times bestselling author “Claws for Alarm is clever! imaginative! and entertaining as a kitten stalking a make-believe mouse...As a die-hard fan of cats and cozies! I’m putting T. C. LoTempio’s Nick and Nora Mysteries at the top of my Must-Read list.”—Wendy Corsi Staub! New York Times bestselling author Informationen zum Autor T.C. LoTempio Klappentext Nick and Nora aren't just pussyfooting around this time as they deal with a missing person's case and murder. While catering a gala for the Cruz Museum! Nora Charles agrees to look into the disappearance of director Violet Crenshaw's niece! a case previously undertaken by her frisky feline friend Nick's former owner! a private eye whose whereabouts are also currently unknown. As Nora and her curious cat Nick pull at the string of clues! they begin to unravel a twisted tale of coded messages! theft! false identities! murder! and international espionage. Nora dares to hope that the labyrinth of leads will not only help them locate the missing young woman! but also solve the disappearance of the detective. That's if Nora can stay alive long enough to find him... INCLUDES DELICIOUS SANDWICH RECIPES One "I declare, Nora, with food like this, the museum's annual gala can't help but be a success." I smiled politely at the speaker as I rose to refill my mother's good bone-china bowl with tortilla chips. Nandalea Webb, the Cruz Museum's curator, was a no-nonsense type of gal and as feisty as the Australian meaning of her given name, fire, implied. She waved a red-lacquered hand in the air, leaned forward in her chair, and reached for one of the deviled eggs on the tray in the middle of the table. She took a bite and batted lashes heavy with several coats of mascara. "Heaven," she murmured, dabbing at her salmon-pink-tinted lips with the edge of a napkin. "I can't tell you how much the committee appreciates your stepping in to cater this year's fund-raiser on such short notice." "My pleasure," I assured her, reaching for a chip myself. "Not only would my mother have encouraged me, I consider it an honor. Anyway, I've catered events on less notice. Take Mac Davies's retirement from the Cruz detective squad, for example. I had about twelve hours' notice for that." "True, dear, but that wasn't of the magnitude this is." Nan's teeth flashed in her version of a smile. "This will be a real challenge for you." "Well, we Charles women always love a challenge. Plus, I can definitely use the extra income." I set the newly refilled bowl of chips in front of her. She took one, plunked it in my spinach dip (actually I can't claim credit; the recipe is my Aunt Prudence's), and popped it into her mouth. "My mother was always a staunch supporter of the museum. I know she would be proud." "Indeed she would be." I turned my attention to the other speaker. Violet Crenshaw was a lifelong resident of our little town of Cruz, California, with all the old money that usually implied. A senior member of the museum's board of directors-probably the most senior, at age seventy-one-she was extremely well preserved. Slight of frame, her clothes fit her like a runway model. Today she had on a dress of lightweight, fire-engine red wool that screamed "expensive designer." It was definitely a dress I'd have ki...
