A review of The Mystery of Nevermore (Snow & Winter Book 1) by C.S. Poe.

Disclaimer: All reviews and opinions by Mr. Pinkerton should be taken with an ounce of catnip.

Miss Butterwith has been reading aloud to me this wonderful mystery by C.S. Poe which starts off with an antique dealer, Sebastian Snow, finding a heart under his floor boards. He finds this very odd. I have to agree. Though I admit to burying a few tidbits now and then under the kitchen rug to save for later, putting them under the floorboards seems a bit ridiculous. I did have a catnip mouse end up under the refrigerator and I needed to call on Inspector Appleby to help retrieve it.

Miss Butterwith is trying to tell me that I have strayed from the point, but I think not, for just as I had Inspector Appleby, Sebastian Snow meets Detective Calvin Winter and together they must solve a mystery that seems to follow the books of some creepy fellow named Edgar Allan Poe. I will even admit there were parts in this story where I needed to cover my ears with my paws in fright.

One very interesting bit in this book is that Sebastian is colorblind. He can not see any color. Many people believe that cats are color blind, but this is not true. We can see some color but it is sacrificed for the ability to see better at night, for that is when we hunt. I am wondering if Sebastian would make a good night hunter. Or even a cat. Perhaps I shall send him some catnip.

Miss Butterwith informs me that I have strayed again and perhaps I should end it here so she can read to me some of my favorite parts of The Mystery of Nevermore....
....and as she reads in her soft voice I nod off into the fluttering blackness of ravens' wings. And through the misty fog of my dreams appears a cat. A ginger cat. With freckles.

Buy links: dsp publications amazon omnilit barnes and noble kobo

 

Mr. Pinkerton and the Dragon

 

           


The Meeting by Stanley Morrison

The above painting was the inspiration for my latest adventure. This was a chance to spread my wings, try new things, share kippers.

If you are interested in more artwork by Stanley Morrison click HERE.  And now....

 

Mr. Pinkerton and the Dragon



 

Mr. Pinkerton awoke to the sound of trumpets. He was supposed to be helping Lady Butterwith hang herbs, but it was so nice warm in the castle kitchens that he found himself dozing off.

“That’ll be High Sheriff Appleby and Sir Geoffrey returning,” said Lady Butterwith from the counter where she was busy tying together a bunch of rosemary to be dried. “Word came that they were bringing back a dragon,” she whispered with a conspiratorial smile, knowing Mr. Pinkerton’s fondness for the mighty beasts.

Mr. Pinkerton had actually been considering continuing his nap, but immediately perked up at the mention of a dragon. He thought of all the famous dragons in songs and stories, like Morgar the Mighty, and Senilmen the Swift, and Elred the Unlucky. Actually it was probably better not to think about Elred. The small village of Foulstink still hadn’t recovered. Mr. Pinkerton also seemed to recall that the village had not always gone by the name of Foulstink.

“Well go on with you, Mr. Pinkerton. Your tail is twitching and your wings are practically fluttering in your excitement to go see the dragon. Be assured I will be right behind you,” declared Lady Butterwith.

Mr. Pinkerton nearly turned his back to Lady Butterwith with indignant indifference to her comment about his fluttering wings! He had very good control over his wings, and if they were fluttering, he had meant them to. His tail, however very often had a mind of its own, and yes, it most likely was twitching. Mr. Pinkerton looked up at Lady Butterwith to let her see his disapproval, but the barely contained excitement in her eyes, and the way she was practically bouncing in place decided Mr. Pinkerton to let it pass. She was just as eager as he to see the dragon.

Mr. Pinkerton took off out of the kitchen at a full sprint with his wings tucked in tight. He veered down the short corridor leading to the great hall, entered the hall and spread his wings and pulled up his paws and took flight. Luckily the doors leading out to the courtyard were just opening so Mr. Pinkerton did not even need to slow down.

High Sheriff Appleby and Sir Geoffrey had just ridden into the courtyard and were dismounting as Mr. Pinkerton flew out through the castle doors. It was just the two of them returning, and they were handing over their horses to the waiting grooms and…. no dragon.

Mr. Pinkerton landed in the courtyard  looking all around for a dragon. Maybe it was too large to fit through the castle gates and was forced to wait outside in the meadow. Maybe there was no dragon.

“Ah, Mr. Pinkerton,” called Sir Geoffrey. “Come to see the new addition? What do you think?”

Mr. Pinkerton looked closer at Sir Geoffrey. There was something perched on his shoulder and twined around his neck. Mr. Pinkerton stared in disbelief. That could not possibly be the dragon. But the closer Mr. Pinkerton looked, the more he realized that, yes, the thing did look like a dragon. Just a very, very, very small one.

“Welcome home, Sheriff Appleby. Welcome home, Sir Geoffrey,” called Lady Butterwith as she joined them in the courtyard. “And what a very fine fellow you have there, Sir Geoffrey.  What do you call him?”

“Thank you Lady Butterwith. I call him Scout,” answered Sir Geoffrey.

“Scout,” snorted Sheriff Appleby, but Mr. Pinkerton noticed the rather fond look of indulgence he cast over his shoulder at Sir Geoffrey.

 Mr. Pinkerton agreed with Sheriff Appleby. Scout was by no means a dignified name for a dragon; Even a very, very, very small one. He couldn’t believe he had just sprinted through the entire castle to see this dragon that turned out to be not much larger than the lizards Mr. Pinkerton hunted in the garden. He flicked his ear in annoyance, turned his back on the new arrivals, sat down tucking his wings in snug and stared pointedly up at the fluttering pennants on the north tower.

“Ah, bless, “said Lady Butterwith.  “Such a nice name for this wee handsome fellow!”

“You are all kindness, Lady Butterwith, “answered Sir Geoffrey.  “I was wondering if perchance the ever noble and handsome Mr. Pinkerton would do me the very great honor of showing Scout the castle.”

Mr. Pinkerton turned an ear toward Sir Geoffrey to acknowledge the flattery, which in all honesty was no more than the truth, but he refused to turn around.

“And I brought back kippers for you, Mr. Pinkerton,” added Sir Geoffrey.

Mr. Pinkerton turned around. Sir Geoffrey was grinning, looking much too smug as he pulled out a wrapped package from his belt pouch.

“You’ve been carrying that thing in your pouch all day?” asked Sheriff Appleby, incredulous.

“Well, yes. Anything for Mr. Pinkerton.” Sir Geoffrey lowered the package to the ground and started to unwrap it.

“Whoa! Pray have mercy and wait ‘til Lady Butterwith and I are away before you open that,” said Sheriff Appleby, suiting action to words as he backed toward the castle.

Sir Geoffrey laughed. “I’m sure Mr. Pinkerton will not object to the fragrance!”

Mr. Pinkerton could not agree more as he caught the scent of the lovely, warm fish. He padded over and waited for Sir Geoffrey to finish opening the package. Then he noticed Scout inching down Sir Geoffrey’s arm toward Mr. Pinkerton’s kippers. He froze, ears back, and glared at the little dragon, a low growl escaping his lips.

“Peace, Mr. Pinkerton! I brought enough for you both.” Sir Geoffrey handed a kipper first to Mr. Pinkerton, as he should, and then one to Scout. Mr. Pinkerton chewed on his kipper as he watched the dragon take his own piece with his forepaws and daintily begin eating.

Mr. Pinkerton finished first and immediately started licking his paws and grooming his face.

Scout, upon finishing, flew up to a nearby trough and dove in.   He popped back out, perched himself on the edge and shook, water droplets spraying Mr. Pinkerton and Sir Geoffrey.

Sir Geoffrey laughed again. “Why thank you, Scout! I needed a bath to wash off all this dirt from the road! Though I think I should probably head inside and do a more thorough job of it. I trust I can leave Scout in your capable paws, Mr. Pinkerton?”

Mr. Pinkerton glared at Sir Geoffrey as trough water dripped down his freshly groomed whiskers.

“Good!” said Sir Geoffrey cheerfully as he headed up the stairs. “Have fun. Try and stay out of trouble!”

Mr. Pinkerton looked at Scout.

Scout looked at Mr. Pinkerton.

“Meow,” said Mr. Pinkerton.

“Brrrrirrp,” answered Scout.

Mr. Pinkerton leapt into the air, spreading his wings and flew to an upper window of the castle which led into the study. This was Mr. Pinkerton’s favorite room with its many bright tapestries that he could hide behind, rows and rows of book shelves that he could perch upon, and many cozy chairs perfect for napping. He landed lightly on the sill and a second later Scout touched down next to him.

Mr. Pinkerton hopped over to the writing desk that sat near the window, knocking over a feather quill as he landed. The quill skittered a short distance before stopping just at the edge of the table. Mr. Pinkerton stuck out a paw and gently patted the feather over the edge. He watched as the feather fluttered to the floor.

“Brrrrirrp?” inquired Scout, who had come up beside Mr. Pinkerton and was also looking down at the fallen feather.

“Meow,” Mr. Pinkerton replied.

There was a thimble resting close to where Scout had landed and he reached out a tiny claw and tapped it. The thimble toppled and rolled over to Mr. Pinkerton who swatted it over the edge. It let out a hollow clink as it hit the floor and then rolled away under the table as Mr. Pinkerton and Scout watched in fascinated interest from above.

Mr. Pinkerton looked back up to Scout perched beside him. He looked into Scout’s swirling gold eyes and saw in them a glint of impish humor. Perhaps this miniature dragon was not that bad after all, thought Mr. Pinkerton as Scout swatted one of Lady Butterwith’s emerald hair pins towards him. Mr. Pinkerton finished the job with a tap that sent the pin over the edge.

“Brreow,” said Mr. Pinkerton as he gave Scout a gentle head butt and then rubbed all the way down the dragon’s soft, leathery body, dislodging a stack of correspondences. Mr. Pinkerton watched as the top-most scrolls slid over the edge as he ducked under Scout’s tail, which stroked down Mr. Pinkerton’s back to intertwine with his own tail.

“Pprrrrihr,” answered Scout.

As Mr. Pinkerton turned back around, he noticed a small ink well that had been previously hidden by the now toppled correspondences. He cast a look over his shoulder to Scout, who met his gaze with a mischievous twinkle. Mr. Pinkerton reached out a paw to the bottle and gave it a light tap. It moved barely a quarter its own width, scraping softly against the top of the table. He looked back up at Scout, who had moved along side of Mr. Pinkerton.

Scout was looking down at the small bottle, and then raised his eyes back up to Mr. Pinkerton, cocking his head in question.

“Purrrreow,” encouraged Mr. Pinkerton as the purr he could no longer contain erupted from his throat.  

Scout reached out a delicate claw and tipped the bottle over the edge.

The End

Artwork by Roxy

 

 

 

Here is one of my Adventures that features Inspector Appleby. I had originally posted this story on FB in 2015 using the prompts "bookstore" and "orphan kitten" and introduces Geoffrey who runs a bookstore and raises orphaned kittens. Pure genius.

 

Mr. Pinkerton and The Kit

 

 

         Mr. Pinkerton watched as Inspector Appleby huffed hurriedly up the garden path to the cottage of Miss Butterwith. Inspector Appleby had his jacket off, bundled in his arms, and from the bundle came a muffled and continuous mewing.  He shifted the bundle to one arm and knocked loudly on the door.

The door opened and Miss Butterwith poked out her head, heard the mewing and stepped out into the garden.

“Dear me Inspector Appleby, What have you in there?” exclaimed Miss Butterwith.

Inspector Appleby pulled up a fold of his jacket and Mr. Pinkerton caught sight of small bit of ginger fluff.

“We found it,” started Inspector Appleby and then stopped to catch his breath. “Sorry, ran all the way here. We found it during a bust. Cleared the house and then we heard this little guy putting up an awful racket. Knew you’d know what to do. Had that litter in your shed last spring. So, ran all the way here….already said that, didn’t I?”

“Oh, bless,” said Miss Butterwith. “Just a couple of weeks old, I should say.  Geoffrey will know. And he has a couple about this age. This little one should fit right in.”

“Geoffrey?” asked Inspector Appleby.

“Yes, Geoffrey,’ answered Miss Butterwith. “ He runs the bookstore down the lane here, off Magnolia, right before the High Street”

“Ah, yes, Geoffrey.” said Inspector Appleby. “Ran into him the other day. Or more like, he ran into me. And my morning coffee

Miss Butterwith laughed. “Yes, Geoffrey can be a bit distracted sometimes. But he is very good with the kittens.”

“Humph,” said Inspector Appleby. “Although I do believe that this was the first time I ever saw his eyes,” continued Inspector Appleby thoughtfully. “Palest green I’ve ever seen. ..Um, I mean they were memorable…. Um, that is to say…” Inspector Appleby trailed off, looking a bit lost in Mr. Pinkerton’s opinion. The kitten, which had fallen silent during this discussion, started mewing again and Inspector Appleby looked down, startled, as if he had forgotten he was holding it.

“Meow,” said Mr. Pinkerton, deciding it was time to take matters into his own paws. He started down the garden path, looking back when he reached the gate to make sure Inspector Appleby was following.

“Ah, Mr. Pinkerton has the right of it,” said Miss Butterwith. “Go on now, Inspector. Get the little kit seen to. Mr. Pinkerton will lead the way.”

Mr. Pinkerton took off down the lane, looking back now and then to make sure Inspector Appleby was following.

“That’s right little Kit,” Mr. Pinkerton heard Inspector Appleby reassure the kitten. “Mr. Pinkerton won’t lead us wrong.” The kit must have believed these words, because by the time they reached the end of the lane, it had fallen quiet.

A customer was just leaving Ye Olde Bookstore as Mr. Pinkerton reached the store, so he took advantage of the open door to slip inside to the tinkling of the bell and hurried down the side aisle to the register where Geoffrey was straightening a pile of books.

“Ah, Mr. Pinkerton,” greeted Geoffrey. “Perfect timing. I was just getting ready to feed Benny and Jet.”

The bell over the front door tinkled again as Inspector Appleby finally arrived at the bookstore.

“Geoffrey,” called out Inspector Appleby.

Geoffrey knocked over the pile of books, startling a yowl out of Mr. Pinkerton, and stammered a barely audible “Inspector” as he started straightening the books again.

“Miss Butterwith and Mr. Pinkerton here say you’re the man I need. I mean for little Kit, here,” added Inspector Appleby, uncovering the kitten when Geoffrey nearly knocked over the pile of books, again.  Mr. Pinkerton began to wonder perhaps if Geoffrey had spent the morning sniffing catnip, but his eyes were clear and bright as he noticed the ginger kitten in Inspector Appleby’s jacket.

“Oh, well look at you,” said Geoffrey, reaching out to take the kitten. “Kit, did you say? Well hello Kit.” This sounded much more like the Geoffrey that Mr. Pinkerton knew: confident and sure, not the clumsy puppy of a moment before. Maybe Geoffrey was just more comfortable with cats. Mr. Pinkerton could not fault him that. “You’re hungry,” said Geoffrey as the kit tried to suckle the end his finger. He then brought out a bowl of warm water with a small bottle standing upright in it. “As I was telling Mr. Pinkerton,” Geoffrey said to Inspector Appleby, “I was just getting ready to feed my two. But we can feed you first, Kit.” He then presented the nipple to the kitten who latched on hungrily and began to nurse.

“Look at him go,” said Inspector Appleby excitedly. “Mightn’t I try?” he asked after a minute, sounding nervous, almost shy.

“Sure thing, Inspector,” said Geoffrey as he handed over the kitten and the bottle to Inspector Appleby. “No. Keep him upright”, he told Inspector Appleby when he tried to turn the kitten over on to its back. “Yes, there you go. Much better.”

“Look at the way his little ears wiggle,” said Inspector Appleby in wonder. He looked up at Geoffrey and grinned, and Geoffrey grinned back.

After a few minutes, the little kit stopped suckling and pulled away from the bottle. Now it was Mr. Pinkerton’s turn to take over with the kitten. He stepped forward, and leaned in over the kitten to begin grooming.

“No, no Mr. Pinkerton,’ started Inspector Appleby as he pushed Mr. Pinkerton away.

“It’ alright,” interrupted Geoffrey, “Mr. Pinkerton is just going to clean little Kit. It’s one job I don’t need to do when he’s around. See, kittens rely on mum cat to clean and stimulate them to do their business. Typically I use a bit of cotton wool and some warm water, but like I said, when Mr. Pinkerton is here, I leave him to it. Makes him feel important,” whispered Geoffrey to Inspector Appleby, maybe so he thought Mr. Pinkerton couldn’t hear him.

Important, thought Mr. Pinkerton, as he set out to do a very thorough job to show Inspector Appleby exactly what was involved and how important he was. He cleaned the kit’s face, down its back and tail, and then rolled him over to clean his underparts which got him an indignant mew from the kit. Mr. Pinkerton looked up to make sure Inspector Appleby was paying attention and….he was not. Inspector Appleby was looking at Geoffrey. And Geoffrey was looking at Inspector Appleby.

“Meow,” said Mr. Pinkerton, in a rather indignant voice. No wonder humans were so difficult to train, they were so easily distracted.

Inspector Appleby cleared his throat while Geoffrey turned a blazing shade of red and looked down at the kitten. “Beg pardon, Mr. Pinkerton,” mumbled Inspector Appleby at the same time Geoffrey said, a little too brightly, “All done there Mr. Pinkerton?”

A buzzing sounded from Inspector Appleby’s pocket “Bloody hell,” he muttered as and he pulled out his phone. “I need to get back to work.” He gathered up his jacket and then held out his hand. “Thank you, Geoffrey”

“Oh, yes, you’re welcome,” said Geoffrey, sounding surprised as he shook Inspector Appleby’s hand.

“Oh, and Geoffrey,” asked Inspector Appleby as he started down the aisle. “Do you think I could stop by and help you feed little Kit?”

“Uh, yes, Inspector, of course, absolutely,” said Geoffrey, sounding even more surprised.

“One more thing Geoffrey,” said Inspector Appleby as he reached the door.

‘Yes, Inspector?”

“Call me Andrew,” said Inspector Appleby.

“Uh, ok,” said Geoffrey, sounding nervous, unsure.

But Inspector Appleby did not leave; he stood by the door, waiting.

 “Andrew,” said Geoffrey finally, slowly, as if testing the sound of it. He nodded his head, and then said again, louder, firmer “Andrew.’

Inspector Appleby beamed a smile so bright that Mr. Pinkerton would have thought he was just offered fresh cream. And that smile did not fade as he turned and stepped out through the door to the sound of the tinkling bell.

“Brreow,” asked Mr. Pinkerton, lightly stepping around the now sleeping Kit to rub up against Geoffrey who was just standing there staring at the closed door.

                Geoffrey laughed, a bright and sunny sound. “Absolutely, Mr. Pinkerton,” he agreed, wearing a silly grin on his face as he reached out a hand to scratch the side of Mr. Pinkerton’s head. “Today is a very good day.”

And as Mr. Pinkerton leaned into that hand, he couldn’t agree more.

 

Of Cat By Cat Reviews: Stories Featuring Fellow Felines and Their Friends

          The 13^th Hex by Jordan L. Hawk is the story of a misfortunate unbonded feline familiar named Cicero who gets dragged into danger by his crow familiar friend, Rook, and nearly drowns. Having once accidentally dropped my favorite catnip toy into my water bowl and seeing no way to retrieve it without getting my paws wet, I could easily relate to the terror that Cicero felt in being nearly completely submerged in water.  If Rook was any kind of real friend, he should know that cats do not like water. Though Mrs. Blakeley, who was visiting for tea Thursday last, mentioned to Miss Butterwith her cousin’s cat Mr. Tibbles actually plays at the faucet. However, I seriously doubt whether Mrs. Blakeley actually knows what a cat is, because while helping clean up after tea, she declared there was not enough cream to save and promptly poured it down the drain. And I was sitting right there. Next to my clean bowl. That Miss Butterwith always fills with the remainder of the cream. Thank goodness Miss Butterwith was there to give me a little splash of fresh cream. And a kipper.

….Miss Butterwith has just come in and informed me that I might have mistaken the main characters of the story The 13^th Hex.  I am not entirely sure that she is correct, but I will try again.

The 13^th Hex is the story of Dominic Kopecky, a hexman, and Rook, an unbonded familiar, working together to find out who is murdering people with altered hexes. In the end they may get more than they ever dreamed of…..and Cicero gets some fresh cream…..

Miss Butterwith has also just informed me that Cicero gets his very own story in Hexbreaker where he teams up with someone named Tom. This seems wholly appropriate since as everyone knows a tom is a male cat, and who better than a Tom to work with Cicero. It is sure to be very delightful and I look forward to reading it while enjoying a nice fresh bowl of cream....and maybe a kipper.

Regards, Mr. Pinkerton.

 

 The Hexworld prequel short story The 13th Hex is out now at:

Amazon , AmazonUK , ARe , Smashwords , Kobo , BN and iBook

Cicero's Story, Hexbreaker, out May 6th is available for pre-order:

Amazon , AmazonUK , ARe , Smashwords , Kobo , iBook , and BN

      While I am busy working with my ghost writer to document new adventures, I have decided to make your waiting time easier by sharing older adventures.
       This first one tells the very harrowing moment when my very favorite catnip mouse fell in the water bowl. I can barely look back on this without shuddering.
                                              Enjoy, Mr. Pinkerton

Mr. Pinkerton and The Drowned Mouse



Mr. Pinkerton realized his mistake nearly the same instant he made it. He had been reluctant to abandon the new catnip mouse that Miss Butterwith had gotten for him at the Village Fete Sunday last so when he went to get a drink of water of course he brought it with him. He meant to drop it beside the bowl, but instead in it went. It wasn’t really his fault, the bowl was too large.

                Mr. Pinkerton wondered briefly if this was how Lassie felt when Timmy went in the well. But no, boys pulled cats tails or chased them or threw rocks, so definitely no. This was a completely different situation.  One that he didn’t quite know how to get out of.

                Maybe he should just yowl until Miss Butterwith came in to investigate. Miss Butterwith always liked to investigate things.  But Miss Butterwith was in the garden, and she very often sang to herself while she worked in the garden.

                Perhaps he should go out to the garden himself and tell Miss Butterwith that his mouse fell in the water bowl. But what if she didn’t understand what it was he was trying to tell her? The number of times Mr. Pinkerton had gone to tell Miss Butterwith something only to have her exclaim, “Dear me Mr. Pinkerton! You are a genius!” Then she would go ring Inspector Appleby. Meanwhile Mr. Pinkerton’s needs would go unaddressed.

                Another option, of course was for him to reach in and grab it himself. But the mouse was wet, it would drip, maybe even on his paws. If there was one thing Mr. Pinkerton did not like was getting his paws wet. So this option was not really an option at all.

Mr. Pinkerton sat down on his haunches and contemplated his dilemma.

The door to the garden opened and Miss Butterwith came in singing “Love in Bloom”, removing her garden hat and gloves.

“Mew” said Mr. Pinkerton, with all the hopelessness and despair he was feeling instilled in that one plaintive plea.

“Oh, bless”, said Miss Butterwith. “Poor dear, what has happened?” She came closer, peering into the water bowl beside which M. Pinkerton sat. She then reached down and plucked the little mouse out of the water. “There, there Mr. Pinkerton, we’ll just lay it out to dry.” She suited action to words by pulling a tea towel out of a drawer and placing the sodden mouse atop it.  She also had also removed something else from that same drawer.

 “Well, it’s a good thing I got you more than one”, smiled Miss Butterwith as she leaned down and ran a hand from the top of Mr. Pinkerton’s head all the way down his back to that wonderful place at the base of his tail.

Mr. Pinkerton could not stop the purr that started from his throat as he arched up into Miss Butterwith’s   hand while taking the mouse she offered. He knew he would never, ever put it down.    The End