Still with the nagging feeling to read, I reached for a pocketbook that been also in my drawer for some time of eight months (I think…): A Cat Under the Mistletoe.
This mystery fiction novel by Lydia Adamson has Alice Nestleton as the main protagonist; our resident amateur sleuth, cat-lover, cat-sitter and former actress and model. While bringing one of her client’s tabby to a cat psychiatrist, she finds the cat “shrink” sitting on her chair, dead. Apparently, she was murdered—a gunshot below her right ear, with a ridiculous white apron around her waist. It would seem that all the cats that enter her life always bring this woman into a LOT of trouble!
Personally, I did not like Alice’s attitude. At times, she would interrogate her own suspects with just substantial proof. At times, she would come out as a stupid detective-wannabee. She jumps to conclusions without any actual absolute proof, and the only way to catch the culprit is to set up traps. Maybe, she should have just stayed as an actress or model, but since murders couldn’t escape her, she just had to dig into it.