Trouble in Bliss: A Lyssa Jones Short Story

 

 

The usually quiet Jones Mansion was buzzing with activity, a horrible mix of sounds and smells assaulting my feline senses. I lounged in my favorite windowsill, my sleek black fur absorbing the last warm rays of the setting sun. From my perch in the grand foyer, I had a perfect view of all the rooms that came off the grand foyer, as well as the driveway, where a parade of cars was pulling up.

Elder human Maybee was in the kitchen, whipping up what she called "culinary masterpieces." To me, it just smelled like burned offerings to some strange human god. Her man friend Earl, with his booming voice that made my whiskers twitch, set the table in the dining room with some of Maybee’s most colorful dishes. The younger human, Lyssa, bounced from room to room, making sure everything was perfect for the evening's dinner party. Humans and their strange rituals.

"Stevie," I meowed, my tail twitching with anticipation, "the humans are arriving. Ready to put our plan into action?"

Stevie, the blind Australian Shepherd puppy, wagged her tail so hard I thought she might take flight. Despite Stevie's lack of vision, her other senses were remarkably keen, and I often used those senses to my advantage. Her human, Sam, had dropped my little minion off earlier this afternoon, giving us the perfect opportunity to plan the evening's entertainment.

"Oh boy, oh boy!" Stevie yipped, spinning in a circle. She really liked doing that circle thing. It made me dizzy just watching her. "Is it time for Operation Canine Chaos and Feline Frenzy?"

I rolled my eyes. Leave it to a dog to come up with such a ridiculous name. "We're calling it 'The Great Key Caper,' remember? Honestly, sometimes I wonder why I bothered to include you in this plan at all."

"Because I'm adorable and you love me?" Stevie suggested, her fluffy white tail wagging even harder. That thing at the end of her body was almost as big as the duster Maybee used to clean the dining room chandelier.

Before I could respond with a suitably scathing retort, a ghostly chuckle filled the air. "Now, now, you two. Play nice. The party is about to begin."

Stevie and I perked up, although I made a point of keeping my interest subtle. No need to look too eager. Jimi Jones, the deceased former owner of the mansion, had become a mentor of sorts, always encouraging our antics—much to the annoyance of his daughter, Lyssa, who seemed to be the only human able to hear him. I not only heard him but could see him, or at least a shadow of him. Stevie could've seen him, too, if not for the lack of vision thing.

"We're ready!" I purred, my whiskers twitching with excitement. "Stevie, assume your position by the door. Remember, act cute and helpless."

"I am cute and helpless!" Stevie replied with a prance. She really was cute, for a canine, with her thick white coat, curly flame of a tail, and ears that were just a little too big for her head. I could see her potential, as long as I trained her now, before she got much bigger.

"So it shouldn't be too much of a stretch," I muttered under my breath, and stretched a paw to give it a good cleaning. A cat must always look their best, even when planning mischief.

The large front door swung open, and Stevie's human Sam arrived, juggling a large casserole dish and the prize: car keys. The scent of whatever was in that dish made my nose twitch. Humans and their strange food choices.

"Let The Great Key Caper commence!" I declared, swishing my tail with anticipation.

Stevie snuffled her human's ankles in greeting and wiggled her tush like it was loaded with ball bearings. She let out a long 'awooooo!' to emphasize her excitement. Subtle, Stevie. Real subtle.

"Come on in, sweetness," Maybee said, taking Sam's coat and hanging it in the large coat closet that was hidden under the gorgeous staircase that climbed all the way to Lyssa's apartment on the third floor. The closet smelled of mothballs and old leather, a scent that made me sneeze.

"Sam, you didn't have to bring anything!" Lyssa protested when Sam thrust a casserole dish into her hands.

"I know, I know, but I don't have anyone else I can test recipes on before Finn's next visit," Sam replied, grinning. "He's on a health kick." Finn was Sam's man friend. He lived in something called another state, which seemed to involve a lot of phone calls from Sam.

"What is it?" Lyssa asked suspiciously, peering into the container as if it might bite her.

"Kale and quinoa," Sam laughed.

Lyssa made the same face I make right before I rid myself of a hairball, and ducked out of the way of an arm punch from Sam. I had to agree with Lyssa on this one. Kale? Quinoa? What happened to good old-fashioned tuna?

Holly, the town mayor and Lyssa's best friend, arrived next with Cara, who was part of their 'girl gang,' as Maybee called it. The two newest humans were deep in conversation about what sounded like gossip. Both of them laid their keys on the marble-topped table at the base of the stairs. If I could rub my paws together gleefully, I would have.

"And then," Holly giggled, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that my sensitive ears easily picked up, "Mrs. Fiddleston said she saw old man Jenkins doing the cha-cha with his Halloween skeleton!"

"No!" Cara gasped, pretending to be shocked.

Earl, Maybee's man friend, reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to his fancy British taxi. "Better put these here before I forget 'em." Yes, you should. Good to be consistent, human. Makes our job so much easier.

The last human to arrive was Ansel, Lyssa's ex-uncle, who lived across the street. He came with a wooden box filled with bottles of wine. I like wine. The rich, fruity scent tickles my nose. "I wasn't sure if we needed red or white, so I brought both," he announced. He set the box down to slip out of his coat, and kindly put his key on the marble table with everyone else's. Perfect.

As the humans exchanged greetings and handed coats to Lyssa, Stevie put the first step of my brilliant plan into action. Stevie bounced between the guests, tail wagging, bumping into both human and table legs with orchestrated clumsiness. Or maybe it wasn't intentional. She is kind of a klutz.

"Stevie!" Cara cooed and bent to scratch Stevie behind the ears. "Good thing Sam didn't name you after Grace Jones."

The Sam human was like ghostly Jimi; she loved music, always singing or humming some tune I couldn't quite place. Some of it sounded like caterwauling, if I’m honest. But that’s why she’d named her canine after a famous musical woman.

"I'm not sure she'd be any more graceful if she could see," Sam teased. "Stevie, sweetie, you're going to hurt yourself if you keep bouncing around like that."

Stevie yipped excitedly in response. Her act was working. The humans were so distracted by her antics that they didn't think twice as they absently placed their house and car keys on the ornate table in the foyer.

From my hiding spot, I watched with smug satisfaction. Humans are so predictable, always putting their important items in the same place, never suspecting that their adorable companions might have nefarious plans.

"Well done, Stevie," Jimi's ghost murmured from his seat on the staircase. "You've got them eating out of the palm of your paw… so to speak."

My whiskers twitched in amusement. It was time for phase two.

As the humans made their way into the dining room, following the enticing aromas (well, enticing to them, anyway), I leaped onto the foyer table, my paws landing among the scattered keys.

"Let's see," I said, considering our options. "The sparkly pink one must be Holly's—they scream 'mayor with a penchant for upcycling.' And this old one is definitely Ansel's, although he probably hasn't changed his locks since I was a kitten."

One by one, I used my paw to carefully nudge each set of keys off the table, dropping them onto the rug where Stevie waited. The soft clink of metal on wool was music to my ears.

"I've got them!" Stevie whispered, her nose twitching as she sniffed each set of keys. "Whose are these?"

"Those are Holly's. Pick them up and drop them into the plant pot by the grandfather clock," I directed, watching the silly puppy walk headfirst into an armoire. I'd need to help a little, I supposed. "To your right. A little more. There you go!"

"Put Earl's in the umbrella stand—even though he's a Brit and should be all about umbrellas, he'll never think to look there." I was having to work harder than I'd planned, what with the blind thing and all. It would be worth it, though. The looks on the humans' faces would be priceless.

As Stevie scampered around to complete her mission, Jimi's ghost sat on a step next to me. "You know," he said, a glint in his spectral eyes, "I once hid my own keys so well, I couldn't find them for a week. Drove Lyssa's mother absolutely batty."

I purred in approval. "Sounds like you were a cat in a previous life, Mr. Jones."

For the next few minutes, Stevie and I worked in perfect harmony, distributing the keys to odd hiding spots around the mansion. Sam's keys ended up in a shoe in the closet under the stairs. Cara's were tucked between two books on the bottom shelf in the library. Ansel's found their way into the pocket of an old cardigan that was hung on the back of the desk chair in the study. I had to do the heavy lifting—I can be punny sometimes—with that one.

"Trouble? Stevie? Where are you, kiddos? Dinner's about to be served!" Maybee called, her voice echoing through the mansion.

We froze, exchanging a panicked look. Well, as much of a panicked look as a blind dog and a nonchalant cat could exchange.

"Quick," I hissed, "meet me in the dining room. And act natural!"

As Stevie darted off, only skimming one chair leg, Jimi's ghost chuckled. "This is going to be a hoot. I wish I could still eat popcorn."

I gave him a haughty look. "Less commentary, more lookout duty, if you please, Mr. Jones. The night is young, and our mischief has only just begun."

With that, I sauntered through the pocket doors into the dining room, the very picture of feline innocence. Behind me, the foyer table stood empty, the only evidence of our crimes a few glossy black hairs.

Stevie trotted in and sat at Sam's feet, the picture of canine innocence. She has a good nose, I'll give her that. She could pick her human out of a foot lineup without a single false sniff.

"There you are, you little troublemaker," Sam cooed, reaching down to ruffle Stevie's giant ears. "Were you playing hide and seek with Trouble?"

Exactly. We hide, you seek.

Stevie wagged her tail, leaning into Sam's touch. I had to admit, for a dog, Stevie was good at playing dumb. Then again, perhaps it wasn't entirely an act.

The dining room was loud with happy activity and conversation. Lyssa and Maybee bustled in and out while the rest of the humans chatted around the dining table. The chaos of voices and clinking cutlery was almost too much for my sensitive ears.

"Holly, love," Earl said, accepting the glass of wine Ansel handed him. "How's the mayor's world? Any scandals we should know about?"

Holly laughed, a sound like tinkling bells. "No murders this week, thank goodness. At least not yet. Yesterday I had to mediate a dispute between June Washburn and her neighbor over the proper height of hedges. It got so heated, I thought I'd have to call Sheriff Adler!"

As the humans continued their chatting, I strolled around the perimeter of the room, keeping a watchful eye on the proceedings. Jimi's ghost flickered into view as he leaned against the fireplace mantle, visible only to me.

"You know," Jimi mused, stroking his spectral chin, "Ansel and I got into a hedge dispute once. Ended up growing mine into the shape of a giant hand making what some might call a rude gesture. Ansel responded by trimming one of his bushes so it looked like someone's posterior, bent over, if you get my drift…"

I snorted, a sound that sounded like a sneeze. Humans and their bizarre territoriality. At least cats keep it simple with scent marking.

"Gesundheit, Trouble," Cara said, reaching over to pet me. "I hope you're not coming down with something."

Lyssa snorted. "It's probably a fur ball from plotting mischief."

Good guess! I allowed myself to be petted while shooting a meaningful glance at Stevie. Darn it. Having a blind minion took some of the fun out of it.

I rubbed myself against Cara's hand and ambled over to Stevie, and gave her a playful nip on the ear.

She understood the message. It was time for the next phase of our plan. With an exaggerated yawn, Stevie stood and wandered around the table, her nose twitching as she sniffed all the delicious aromas.

"Stevie, honey," Sam called, "be careful not to bump into anything."

But Stevie had other plans. She 'accidentally' jumped into Ansel's lap, causing him to jolt and spill his wine.

"Oh, dear!" Ansel exclaimed, carefully lowering Stevie. Her fluffy white fur was now spotted with burgundy stripes. Oops. "I'll get some napkins from the kitchen."

"Don't worry about it, Ansel," Lyssa reassured him. "I'll get a damp towel for each of you."

Lyssa headed through the butler's pantry to the kitchen.

I took that opportunity to improvise. With a graceful leap, I landed on the table, right in the middle of Sam's casserole dish. The warm squish of quinoa between my paws was oddly satisfying.

"Trouble!" Sam gasped, reaching out to grab me. "Naughty kitty. What are you doing?"

But I was quick. I darted across the table, my paws leaving a trail of quinoa and kale, before leaping onto the buffet and knocking over a vase of flowers. The crash of shattering glass was music to my ears.

Chaos erupted. Earl and Holly jumped up to help Sam salvage the casserole, although I heard Earl whisper, "Thank you, Trouble!"

I purred a "You're welcome!" before slipping out of the room. Always happy to help a fellow food critic.

Cara and Maybee tried to catch the toppling vase before it spilled water all over the wood floor, while Ansel stood in the middle of it all, patting at his wine-stained shirt.

Amidst the commotion, Stevie sneaked out, following her nose towards the kitchen.

Jimi's ghost appeared next to me, watching the mayhem unfold. "Gotta say," Jimi chuckled, "you two make quite a team. I haven't seen this much excitement since the Great Fondue Incident of '78."

I meowed in agreement. You ain't seen nothin' yet, human. Er, ghost.

I watched with satisfaction as the humans resettled around the dining table.

"I'm sorry about the casserole," Sam sighed. "But if I'm honest, Trouble might have saved us all."

Although they didn't notice me, I purred and stretched in a bow. Always happy to save humans from their own culinary mistakes.

"Maybee, this looks amazing," Holly gushed, eyeing the steaming dishes spread across the table.

I rolled my eyes. Humans and their obsession with cooked food. Give me a nice bug carpaccio any day.

"Thank you! I hope everyone enjoys it," Maybee beamed.

Five minutes later, they'd forgotten all about our shenanigans. As they ate, I sidled under the table, weaving between their legs. Stevie met me there, tail thumping against the floor as she waited for inevitable scraps to 'fall.'

"Patience, you oversized mop," I whispered. "We've got bigger fish to fry…or in this case, keys to hide."

Stevie's tail wagged harder. "I love fish!"

I sighed. Sometimes I wondered why I'd chosen her as my partner in crime. But then again, her cute but clueless act was perfect for throwing off suspicion.

Above us, the humans prattled on about boring human things. Work, weather, the latest news. I tuned most of it out, focusing instead on the delicious aroma of roast chicken wafting down to us. No one would complain if someone dropped a piece for a beautiful house panther…

"And then," Earl was saying, his booming laugh shaking the table, "Diner Daisy sent me off to deliver an order to the wrong hotel!"

The table erupted in laughter. Humans are so easily amused.

As the main course gave way to dessert, I decided it was time to set the next phase of our plan in motion. I gave Stevie a meaningful look. And again, realized that looks, meaningful or otherwise, would not be appreciated.

"Showtime," I meowed.

Stevie let out a pitiful whine and pawed at Sam's leg.

"Oh, Stevie," Sam cooed, "do you need to go outside, girl?"

Stevie barked once, tail wagging like the metronome above Jimi's old piano.

"I'll take her," Maybee offered, pushing back from the table. "I could use a bit of fresh air myself."

Perfect. As Maybee and Stevie headed for the door to the back patio, I slipped out of the dining room unnoticed.

I padded through the foyer, my whiskers twitching with anticipation. Soon, these humans would discover the little surprise we'd prepared for them. And then the real fun would begin. Lyssa suggested coffee.

"I'll go put on a pot," she said, standing up. "Trouble, why do you look like you're up to something? No more mischief, okay?"

If only she knew. I blinked innocently, letting out a soft meow. Who, me? Never.

We just had to wait for dinner to end and for the humans to discover their missing keys. I settled into my favorite spot by the fireplace to take a catnap while we waited for the humans to finish dessert and coffee. The warmth from the flames made my fur tingle pleasantly.

Earl was the first to notice something was amiss. There was a note of panic under his British accent. "Has anyone seen my keys? I was going to get a couple of cigars from the taxi for Ansel and me. I could have sworn I left them on the foyer table with everyone else's."

"There was a whole pile of them," Holly said. The dinner guests exchanged confused glances.

"Not a single key here now!" Earl announced.

One by one, expressions changed from contentedness to panic. They all rushed to the foyer, only to find the table bare.

"This is impossible," Sam muttered, running her hand through her short, spiked blonde hair tipped with fuchsia. "They were all right here."

As the humans searched the foyer, growing more and more frantic, Stevie and I sat on the Persian rug in the entry hall.

Now it was time for the grand finale.

Jimi's ghost sat on the steps next to us, barely containing his laughter. "This is the most fun I've had since I died!"

My whiskers twitched in anticipation. The real challenge was yet to come. How long could we keep the humans running in circles?

As Lyssa's voice rose above the others, suggesting they split up and search the entire mansion, Stevie and I settled in. After all, what was a dinner party without a little excitement?

As the humans scattered throughout the mansion, Mr. Jones stroked my fur, and I could almost feel his touch. Our plan was unfolding perfectly, like a ball of yarn rolling down a staircase—chaotic, unpredictable, and totally entertaining.

"Stevie," I whispered, "it's time for phase three. Operation Misdirection."

Stevie's tail wagged. "Oh boy, oh boy! What do I do?"

I sighed. Sometimes I wondered if Stevie's excitement was an act or if she was just … well, a dog. "Remember the plan we talked about. You go to the closet and start barking at the shoes. I'll handle the rest."

As Stevie trotted off, Jimi's ghost materialized next to me.

"You know," Jimi mused, "I once hid my wife's favorite brooch as a joke. Spent the next week sleeping on the couch. Be careful you don't take this too far, kitty."

I gave him a look that clearly said, "Please, I'm a professional." Then I slinked off towards the study, where I could hear Ansel muttering to himself as he searched.

Stevie positioned herself outside the closet door where Sam's keys were sitting in a shoe. She took a deep breath and let out a series of sharp, excited barks.

"Stevie?" Sam's voice called out. "What's up, girl? Did you find something?"

Sam rushed into the foyer, followed closely by Cara and Holly. They found Stevie spinning in circles, barking at the closet door.

"What on earth has gotten into her?" Holly opened the closet door. "Wait a minute … are those… keys?"

Cara gasped. "Those are mine! How in the world did they get in here?"

As the women tried to figure out what had happened, I was putting my part of the plan into action. I slipped into the study, where Ansel was halfheartedly poking through a bookshelf.

With silent paws, I made my way to the cardigan where I had hidden Ansel's keys. Just as the man turned around, I knocked the keys out of the sweater’s pocket and onto the floor with a clatter.

"What the—" Ansel jumped, startled by the noise. He looked down to see his keys lying on the carpet. "Well, I'll be damned. How did they get there?"

I meowed, rubbing against Ansel's legs as he bent to pick up his keys.

"Did you find these for me, Trouble?" Ansel asked, scratching me behind the ears. "You're a clever little thing, aren't you?"

Too clever for you, human, I thought, purring loudly for effect.

Back in the library, Holly, Cara, and Sam were poring over old documents when Stevie's excited voice caught their attention.

"Hey, look up there!" Cara pointed at the chandelier. "Is that … glinting?"

They all craned their necks to look. Sure enough, there was a faint metallic glimmer coming from the top of the chandelier.

"Good eye, Cara," Holly said, squinting. "It looks like something's caught up there. But it can’t possibly be keys, can it?"

Sam was already dragging over a ladder. "Only one way to find out what it is."

"Be careful, Sam!" Cara called out as Sam started to climb. "Maybe we should wait for Lyssa or Maybee…"

"Nonsense," Sam grunted, stretching out as far as she could. "I've … almost… got it!"

Just then, Stevie, caught up in the excitement, bumped into the ladder. Sam let out a yelp as she teetered precariously.

"Sam!" Holly and Cara cried out in unison.

But before disaster could strike, Earl burst into the room. With reflexes nearly as agile as mine, he steadied the ladder with one hand and caught the falling item with the other.

Sam laughed. “Not keys. A silver party mask.”

“Oh, I bet that’s from New Year’s Eve, 1999.” Maybee said with a mysterious smile.

"Well," Earl chuckled as Sam climbed down, "I came in to tell you I found my keys in the umbrella stand of all places, but it looks like I arrived just in time for a rescue mission!"

As the humans in the library caught their breath and marveled over the strangeness of the situation, Jimi's ghost appeared next to me in the study.

"Quite a show you're putting on," he said, his spectral eyes twinkling. "But you might want to wrap things up soon. Lyssa's starting to get that look she used to get when she knew I was up to something."

I nodded. Time for the grand finale. I darted out of the study and down the hall, letting out a series of loud, urgent meows.

"Trouble?" Lyssa's voice called out. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

I led Lyssa on a merry chase through the mansion, stopping at the large potted plant by the grandfather clock. I pawed at the soil insistently.

"What are you … Oh!" Lyssa exclaimed as she dug into the pot and pulled out a set of keys. "Holly! I found your keys!"

Soon, all the guests had gathered in the foyer again, each clutching their recovered keys and sharing outlandish theories about how they had ended up in such strange places.

"Maybe we have a ghost," Cara joked.

Lyssa frowned, and I was confident she’d come to the conclusion I’d expertly lead her to: her ghostly father was playing practical jokes!

Jimi's spirit, invisible to all but Stevie and me, burst out laughing. "Good one, kitty! You’ve got a real talent for misdirection.”

Lyssa's head swiveled toward Jimi and me, and she frowned. "Jimi? Did you—"

I'd forgotten she could hear him, too. Oops.

Jimi made a zipping motion across his mouth, and the three of us sat as innocently as we could.

As the excitement died down and the humans made their way back to the dining room, Lyssa paused, a puzzled expression on her face.

"Wait a minute," she said with a frown, "has anyone seen my keys?"

Stevie and I exchanged a quick glance. The night wasn't over yet, and Lyssa's keys, hidden in the one place no one would think to look, were our pièce de résistance.

The feline mastermind (me) and her canine minion (Stevie) settled in to watch as the search began anew.

As the search for Lyssa's keys resumed, Stevie and I retreated to a quiet corner. The mansion was once again abuzz with activity, the dinner party all but forgotten in the wake of the great key mystery.

"Well, Stevie," I purred, my tail swishing with satisfaction, "I'd say our little caper has been quite successful. Who knew humans could be so entertaining?"

Stevie wagged her tail. "It's been so much fun! But, um, where did we hide Lyssa's keys again?"

I rolled my eyes. "In the one place they'll never think to look, of course. The cat food bin in the kitchen."

Lyssa, looking frazzled, was retracing her steps through the main floor for the third time. As she passed by him, Jimi's ghostly voice chimed in.

"You know, pumpkin," he whispered into her ear, "when I was alive, I always kept a spare key in the kitchen. Never know when you might need a midnight snack and get locked out."

Lyssa whispered, although it was more of a hiss, "Are you playing ghostly practical jokes, Jimi?"

"Not I!" Jimi chortled.

I shot his specter a warning look. "Mr. Jones, you're not trying to help them, are you? That would be cheating."

Jimi's ghost held up his hands in mock surrender. "Wouldn't dream of it, kitt-o. I’m having too much fun to rat you out!”

Stevie played her part perfectly, running from room to room, barking excitedly at random objects and generally adding to the chaos. I maintained an air of feline nonchalance, occasionally deigning to investigate a drawer or cupboard with an expression that clearly said, "You humans are ridiculous, but I'll humor you."

Finally, as midnight approached and the search party was on the verge of admitting defeat, Lyssa slumped into a chair with a groan.

"I give up," she announced to no one in particular. "I suppose I should just call a locksmith in the morning."

At that moment that Stevie, whether by design or dumb luck, investigated the cat food bin. Her eager barks drew everyone's attention.

"Stevie, you can't have cat food—," Sam said, kneeling down next to her dog.

Lyssa, more out of habit than hope, opened the bin—and let out a yell of surprise. There, sitting atop a mound of kibble, were her keys.

"How on earth," she breathed, fishing them out, “did they get in here?"

I sauntered in, looking for all the world like I'd had nothing to do with the evening's events.

"Well," Ansel said, shaking his head, "I have to say, this has been the strangest dinner party I've ever attended."

"Forget dinner," Earl laughed, his booming voice filling the kitchen. "This was a full-on adventure! Who needs food when you've got mystery, intrigue, and a series of comic mishaps?"

Jimi's ghost appeared one last time, grinning from ear to ear. "Well done, you two," he said. "You've given our friends a night they'll never forget."

With the mystery solved and the excitement winding down, the guests made their way back to the dining room. The food was cold, the wine was warm, and Sam's quinoa and kale surprise had congealed into something that resembled avant-garde art more than food. But nobody seemed to mind.

As they all settled around the table, recounting the evening's events with much laughter and exaggeration, I curled up in my favorite spot by the fireplace. Stevie, worn out from her adventures, flopped down next to me with a contented sigh.

"You know, Stevie," I murmured, my eyes already drifting closed, "for a dog, you're not half bad at this mischief business."

Stevie's tail thumped against the floor. "Thanks, Trouble. Does this mean we can do it again sometime?"

I opened one eye to glance at the puppy. "We'll see, Stevie. We'll see."

The next morning dawned bright and clear, but the residents and guests of Jones Mansion were slow to stir. The previous night's adventures had left everyone exhausted, so the women had one of their grown-up slumber parties in Lyssa's third-floor apartment.

I was the first one up, stretching languidly in a patch of sunlight streaming through the library window. I padded to the kitchen, where I found Lyssa nursing a large cup of coffee. I don’t know why they like that stuff so much.

"Morning, you little troublemaker," Lyssa murmured, reaching down to scratch behind my ears. "I don't suppose you have any insight into last night's key fiasco, do you?"

I purred in response, rubbing against her legs. Denial, denial, denial.

As if on cue, Jimi's ghost materialized in the kitchen. "Morning, baby girl," he said in her ear. "Looks like you could use another cup of coffee. Or maybe something stronger after last night?"

"I'm still thinking you had something to do with that, Jimi," Lyssa accused with a yawn.

I meowed in agreement, causing Lyssa to chuckle. "You're chatty this morning, Trouble. I hope you're not planning any more mischief." Maybe she wasn't so dumb for a human.

If I could smirk, I would have. Instead, I hopped onto the counter and began grooming myself, the picture of feline innocence.

One by one, the other humans trickled into the kitchen. Maybee stumbled in, her red hair sticking up at odd angles, followed by Earl, who looked surprisingly chipper. Cara came down the back stairs, rubbing her eyes like a young human on Christmas morning. Sam was a notoriously late sleeper, and Ansel wasn't with us, since he'd gone back to his own home across the street last night.

"Morning, all," Earl boomed, his voice far too loud for the early hour. "What shall we scavenger hunt today?"

Groans met his suggestion, but soon enough, the kitchen was filled with the sounds and smells of breakfast being prepared. The scent of bacon frying and coffee brewing eventually lured Holly and Sam from their beds.

As the humans busied themselves with breakfast preparations, Stevie made her appearance, stumbling into the kitchen with all the grace of a newborn fawn.

Stevie and I lounged beneath the table, happily accepting scraps of bacon that "accidentally" fell to the floor.

"You know," Cara said between bites of scrambled eggs, "I can't remember the last time I had this much fun at a dinner party. Or a breakfast, for that matter."

"Agreed," Holly chimed in. "Although maybe next time we could skip the scavenger hunt."

"You know, Stevie," I mused, "I think we may have found our calling. Professional party enhancers. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Stevie's tail thumped against the floor. "Does this mean we get to do this again?"

I purred. "Oh, Stevie. We're just getting started."

"Well," Maybee said, slipping an arm around Lyssa's waist after everyone but Sam had departed, "that was an interesting evening. Maybe we should make it a monthly event?"

Lyssa laughed and bumped her hip against her aunt's. "Let's not get carried away. I don't think my nerves could handle this on a regular basis."

The humans might think they were in charge, but the real master of the house knew better. As I drifted off to sleep, my mind was already whirring with ideas for our next adventure. After all, in the town of Bliss, there was always mischief to be made and chaos to be caused.

The End… for now.

 

 

If you enjoyed reading Trouble in Bliss, you'll love the rest of the Lyssa Jones Cozy Mysteries

Check it out!

Available in Kindle Unlimited