I noticed he mentioned me, not us. “Don’t call me that, Pussy,” I snapped. I folded my arms over my chest, ignoring the way my body responded to his slow grin. “I suppose you’re full of ingenious suggestions, right?”
He shrugged and met my gaze, full lips curved upward and hazel eyes fixed on my face. “Dot and Bianca had plenty to say earlier, they might be able to lead you in the right direction.”
“You think it was worth paying attention to?” The dark-haired man asked, brushing a stray dark lock out of his piercing blue stare. His expression darkened. “I suppose it did end badly between Aggy and him, not exactly an amicable parting of ways.”
The redhead leaned his weight against the door frame. “Sucks, doesn’t it? He was the best. Remember that mackerel fried in butter and garlic he used to make us? And he cleaned up the store so nicely.”
“Frankie,” I exclaimed, suddenly catching up with the men’s shared train of thought. “Agatha’s old assistant. Bianca had mentioned that he was bad mouthing Agatha all over town since she’d fired him, but that doesn’t make him a murder suspect.” I met the men’s stares. “Does it?”
The men glanced at each other and then back at me, their expressions grim. Fluffy was first to speak, his fingers digging into his inked biceps. “He said some pretty heavy things last time he was here.”
Agatha’s mouth fell open as her expression turned sour. “Poppycock,” she snorted. “That flaming little turd loved me like a mother, and don’t you think anything else. Frankie adored me. I was his muse.”
I raised my eyes to the ceiling and took a deep breath. It was pointless trying to include the delusional delight in my investigation; she was about the furthest thing possible from a credible witness. I smiled as politely as I could manage. “You should go back to whatever ghostly things you were doing before we disturbed you, Agatha. We don’t need to bother you anymore. Thanks for your time.” When she huffed and finally left the room, I turned my attention back to the guys. “Right, we need to get to work. Fluffy, Pus—" I screwed my face up. “Okay, I’m going to need new names for you three. I can’t keep using cat names on you. Especially not yours.” I wrinkled my nose as I stared at the blond man.
Pussy grinned at me and shrugged. “I don’t know, I kind of like it. I don’t remember my past life, but I suspect I always got a lot of—”
“I get it,” I barked, flapping my hands in front of my face. “Well, there’s no way I’m calling you that in public. Agatha?” I called her name loudly through the walls.
The grumpy-looking ghost returned to the room, her arms raised in surrender. “Make up your mind, for freak’s sake. Do you want me here or not? I’ve got things to do, places to be.”
I ignored her rant and smiled, jerking a thumb in the men’s direction. “What were their human names, do you remember?”
Agatha thought for a long moment and then, to my relief, her expression brightened. “Yes, actually, I do.”
“Well, what were they?” I prompted. The three men seemed far less concerned to know their real names than I was, for some reason. But under no circumstance was I going to call them those ridiculous pet names in front of other people. It was hard enough saying it in private, let alone having someone else witness me use the P word to address a grown man.
“I’ll tell you, dearie,” she cackled and her eyes filled with the sly glint of mischief. “But I’ll only tell you if you promise to solve my murder.”
I sighed. “Fine. I promise I’ll try to help solve your murder.”
Agatha wagged her finger in front of my face, frowning. “That’s not good enough. I need you to promise that you’ll do it, not just try.”
“I can’t promise that, no one can promise that,” I said.
Agatha shrugged and turned to leave us alone once again. “Then I can’t help you,” she called as she walked through the far wall.
Groaning loudly, I surrendered. “Fine, I promise. Now, give me their goddamn names.”
“Ask them,” she said. I raised my eyebrows and glared at her, but the old witch merely cackled. “Just ask the big lumps, they know their own names.”
My mouth hung open as a turned back to the men, glaring. They all wore expressions of amusement, and the dark-haired man gave a nonchalant shrug. “What? Maybe I prefer Fluffy to my human name.”
“Maybe you’d prefer me to kick your butt than helping me figure out who the hell murdered your owner, and why you had an owner in the first place?” I said.
To my surprise, Fluffy raised one dark eyebrow and lowered his voice to a barely audible grumble. “I can think of worse things than getting my ass spanked by a beautiful girl.”
Heat flooded my cheeks as he held me in his blue gaze and I whirled to the other side of the room, focusing my attention on the sweet redhead. “This is nonsense. Just tell me the names, Muffin, or I’m going to pack my bags and walk out that door without leaving behind as much as a pinch of catnip. Capiche?’
Muffin stared down at me with clear green eyes, amusement coloring his perfect features. “You do know going back to Portland won’t stop you being a murder suspect, right?” I growled under my breath and he raised his hands with a grin. “Okay, okay, fine. I’ll tell you my name.”
“But,” Pussy interrupted, his hazel eyes glinting. “You’ve got to earn it. Figure out the first step in your quest to find Agatha’s murderer, and we’ll tell you our names as a reward for coming up with a plan. Capiche?” He spoke the last word in a mocking tone.
I narrowed my eyes at the blond man. “You’re making me earn the right to know the names of the cat people who live in my apartment?”
“Think of it as motivational,” he countered.
“You know what, maybe I’ll just keep calling you Pussy. Or Mr. Motivator,” I grumbled. “You should be in corporate management, jackass. If you weren’t an old lady’s cat, that is.” Something flickered behind his hazel eyes and Pussy stared down at his hands with his brows knitted together, the rare look of gravity on his face transforming his features into something sharper. I relented. “Okay, fine. The first step in the investigation is that I’ll go and talk to Frankie and ask him some questions. I have Tracy’s business card from the funeral. I can just visit the office and see if he knows anything. Does that plan meet your exacting standards, boss?”
The blond man’s lips regained their usual curve as he stepped toward me. “It’s a bit suspicious, don’t you think? You can’t want to just walk in for no reason. We’ve all seen the TV shows, you have to be stealthy when you approach him. You need a reason to see him, so your presence doesn’t make him suspicious.” He grazed his bottom lip with his teeth and ran his gaze over the pink frilly robe that barely covered my torso. “And, unfortunately, he’s immune to your charms.”
“Well,” I said, boldly returning his heated stare and extending it to include the other two men. “Lucky for me, I have three pieces of man candy who can distract him for me. So let’s get down to the store and find you three something nice to wear.” I smirked. “Something nice and tight that Frankie would approve of. I spotted some leather pants earlier...”
“Absolutely not.” The blond man’s face was a mask of indignant horror.
Blue eyes glared at me from under dark brows as Fluffy joined the protest. “Like hell you’ll catch me in a pair of leather pants.”
The red-haired man shifted awkwardly and I released a snort of laughter. “Okay, fine. I’ll think of another plan.” I crossed my arms and smiled sweetly. “If you tell me your proper names.”
The red-haired man’s mouth curved into a relieved grin as he raised a hand to his chest. “I’m Finlay, but you can call me Finn.”
He nodded to the tattooed man who was still glowering in response to the leather pants threat. I honestly didn’t know what his problem was. From what I’d seen in the bathroom earlier, he’d look mouth-wateringly good in tight pants. I blushed at my own thoughts and focused on his deep voice. “I’m Tom.”
I smiled. Finn and Tom, the names suited them. Turning my attention to the blond man, I waited for him to share his human name.