{"product_id":"claws-for-concern-isbn-9780425277799","title":"Claws for Concern","description":"\u003cb\u003eCharlie Harris and his Maine Coon cat, Diesel, are embroiled in a new mystery when a cold case suddenly heats up in the latest installment of the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling series.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCharlie Harris is busy enjoying his new grandson when a mysterious man with a connection to Charlie's family starts visiting the library, bringing with him troubling questions about an unsolved murder...\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCharlie may be a proud new grandfather, but he and Diesel still have work to do at Athena College and the small Mississippi town's public library. He's too busy to deal with true-crime writer Jack Pemberton, who wants Charlie as the subject of his latest book--and who won't take no for an answer.  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA more appealing proposition for Charlie is spending time helping a kind, elderly man navigate the library's genealogical database. But he's shocked when he learns that the visitor's search is focused on a member of his own family: his late aunt's husband.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCharlie befriends the man and considers inviting him to stay in his home, but he's soon given reason to question that notion. Jack is certain that Charlie's new houseguest was involved in a shocking homicide that took place years ago in a small town near Athena. As this cold case heats up, Charlie and Diesel have to uncover a killer who may already be too close to home...\u003cb\u003ePraise for the novels of Miranda James\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Let us now praise the cozy mystery, so comforting on dark days, so warming on chilly nights—the literary equivalent of a cat.”—\u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e “Courtly librarian Charlie Harris and his Maine Coon cat, Diesel, are an endearing detective duo. Warm, charming, and Southern as the tastiest grits.”\u003cbr\u003e —Carolyn Hart, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the Death on Demand Mysteries\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Combines a kindhearted librarian hero, family secrets in a sleepy Southern town, and a gentle giant of a cat that will steal your heart.”\u003cbr\u003e —Lorna Barrett, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of the Booktown Mysteries\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \"James should soon be on everyone's list of favorite authors.\"--Leann Sweeney, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of the Cats in Trouble Mysteries\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Ideal for Christie fans who enjoy a good puzzle.”\u003cbr\u003e —\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “[A] pleasing blend of crime and charm.”\u003cbr\u003e —\u003ci\u003eRichmond Times-Dispatch\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Humor and plenty of Southern charm…Cozy fans will hope James will keep Charlie and Diesel in action for years to come.”\u003cbr\u003e —\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “James just keeps getting better and better…It’s an intelligent read, so well-written that I couldn’t stop reading it. Every single time I turned out my light for the night, I found myself thinking about the story, flipping the light switch again and reading just ‘one more chapter.’”\u003cbr\u003e —MyShelf.com\u003cb\u003eMiranda James\u003c\/b\u003e is the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the Cat in the Stacks Mysteries, including \u003ci\u003eTwelve Angry Librarians\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eNo Cats Allowed\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eArsenic and Old Books\u003c\/i\u003e, as well as the Southern Ladies Mysteries, including \u003ci\u003eFixing to Die\u003c\/i\u003e,\u003ci\u003e Digging Up the Dirt\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eDead with the Wind\u003c\/i\u003e. James lives in Mississippi.One\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I couldn't stop checking the clock on the wall nearby. \"Come on,      three o'clock,\" I muttered under my breath. \"Get here already.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The wretched clock refused to cooperate. It read two forty-seven,      and the second hand seemed to be taking way too long to sweep      around the clock's face. Thirteen minutes until I could pack up      and head home.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Diesel, my Maine Coon cat and near-constant companion, warbled      anxiously from the area next to my feet under the reference desk.      He always picked up on my emotions, and I forced myself to calm      down. There was no point in getting a nearly forty-pound cat all      wound up. Nor myself, actually.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's all okay, boy,\" I told him in a low voice before I reached      under the desk to scratch his head. \"We'll be home soon.\" I think      the cat knew what-or really, who-was waiting for us at home, and      he was as eager as I to be there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Clock check. Only eleven minutes to go. I could leave now if I      really wanted to. I volunteered at the Athena Public Library. I      did not earn a paycheck from the place. I knew, though, how much      the director, Teresa Farmer, and the other staff appreciated my      help on Fridays, and I wasn't going to cut my time short. I      settled back into my chair for the remaining minutes and glanced      around me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e On this late July afternoon, the only people I saw in the library      were adults, mostly my own age or older. Some, no doubt, sought      relief from the punishing heat. The soaring temperatures taxed air      conditioners, and there were many elderly people in Athena who      couldn't afford to cool their houses. I knew most of those who      came into the library to get relief, at least by name.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e One man was a definite stranger, however. I first noticed him a      week ago. Tall, a bit stooped, with a shambling gait, he looked to      be about ten years older than me, so that put him in his      midsixties, though he might have been older. I'd not had any      interaction with him last week, and he had not come near the      reference desk today. He had glanced my way a couple of times, his      expression a puzzled frown.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I wondered whether he knew me or thought that he might. I had      never seen him before that I could recall, though there was an      elusive familiarity about his face. Maybe I had run across him      thirty years ago, I mused, before I left Athena to move to Texas      for graduate school in library science. I couldn't place him, but      I hadn't spent much energy trying. I had learned over the years to      let such things resolve themselves on their own schedule. The      answer to this particular puzzle, if I knew it, would occur to me      in due course.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Earlier today I had thought about approaching him and simply      asking him who he was, but I hesitated to follow through on that.      He appeared reserved and perhaps shy, and I didn't want to intrude      if he truly had no desire to talk to people. I glanced his way      again, and he looked up for a moment. Then he dipped his head      down, focused once more on the book in his lap, and I read that as      a clear signal that he did not want to be interrupted.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Diesel chirped and laid a large paw on my knee, as if he were      asking me the time, and I checked the clock. Two minutes to three.      Bronwyn Forster, one of the full-time librarians, should be here      to relieve me any moment now. Sure enough, when I looked toward      the area where the offices were, I saw her emerge from the doorway      and head toward us.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e After we greeted her, and she and I exchanged places, Diesel      stayed with Bronwyn while I went to gather my things. He had to be      sure to get his full quota of rubs on the head and under the chin      before we left. Bronwyn, like the other staff and many of the      patrons, never hesitated to oblige him. No wonder he loved coming      to work with me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Back at the desk again, I spoke to Bronwyn. \"Would you mind      keeping him with you for a minute? It's so hot outside, I want to      get the car started and cooling off before I put him in it.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Bronwyn gave me her habitual sweet smile. \"Of course, Charlie.      Diesel won't mind getting loved on for a couple more minutes.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I heard a happy warble from behind the desk and knew Diesel would      be content until I was ready to take him out. \"Back in a minute,      then.\" I headed for the door.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The second I stepped outside the heat swarmed around me like a      cloud of gnats. I could feel the sweat starting to form as I made      my way through the parking lot to the far side where the staff      usually parked. This morning I had found a spot beneath the      largest tree that cast shade over the lot. That meant the inside      of my car was a few degrees cooler than it might have been      otherwise.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I backed the car out and drove it around the lot to the closest      spot to the front door. I left the engine running and went into      the building to retrieve my cat. The moment I called, he came      running around the desk toward me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I scooped him up in both arms and backed out the door, with one      last farewell to Bronwyn. The temperature was too high      today-hovering around the century mark-to let Diesel walk over the      hot asphalt and concrete. In weather like this I carried Diesel to      and from buildings where the sidewalks and parking areas were in      the direct sunlight. I didn't want him blistering the pads of his      feet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The drive home took less than ten minutes, and once I had the car      parked in my garage, I let Diesel out of the backseat. He preceded      me into the kitchen where I knew we would find the object of our      intense interest.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When I stepped into the room I saw my daughter, Laura, sitting at      the table, feeding my grandson, and chatting with Azalea Berry, my      housekeeper. Diesel approached Laura slowly. When he reached her      side, he looked up at her and chirped twice.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Hello, handsome boy,\" Laura said. \"We're almost through here, and      then I'll let you see him. How about that?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Diesel warbled in happiness. He loved the baby and could sit near      him and watch him for long periods of time. Until both he and the      baby fell asleep, that is.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I greeted both women and put my things on the small table by the      door. I moved closer to Laura and my grandson and watched for a      moment. Then my vision blurred, and I had to slip my handkerchief      out of my pocket to wipe my eyes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"How is young Master Charles Franklin Salisbury?\" I asked, my      voice husky.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Laura laughed as she looked up at me. \"Like his grandfather,      always ready for a meal.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Azalea chuckled at that. \"That baby sure is a chip off this old      block.\" She slid a sly glance in my direction. \"How about      something for you, Mr. Granddaddy?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I grinned at the silly nickname Azalea gave me not long after baby      Charlie was born. We were all giddy with happiness over the      arrival of this child. I hated that his grandmother and his      great-great aunt weren't alive to see him, but I knew they were      watching over him. I sometimes felt their presence here in the      kitchen. Like now, when a whisper of air passed my right ear.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I wouldn't mind a cold glass of water,\" I replied. \"This horrible      heat wave makes me thirsty.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I'm glad to hear you ask for water instead of a diet soda.\" Laura      smiled at me. \"You were drinking way too much of it. It's good      that you've cut back.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e After a satisfying couple of sips from the glass Azalea handed me,      I raised an eyebrow at Laura and sniffed. \"You wouldn't say that      if you hadn't had to give up the exact same beverage while you      were breastfeeding my grandson.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Ha-ha,\" Laura replied. \"By the time this young man is off the      breast, I will have completely forgotten what the ambrosia tasted      like.\" She sighed. \"No wine until then, either. That I will      definitely go back to, believe me.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I didn't think you had to cut caffeine out completely, though,\" I      said as I took a seat across the table from Laura and baby      Charlie.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"No, I don't, but it needs to be limited,\" Laura said. \"I still      have a little, mostly coffee or tea, but nothing like what my      intake used to be.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I recalled her teenage years-and probably the years spent in      California while she pursued her acting career-when she seemed to      live on diet drinks, salads, wine, and cheese, with the occasional      hamburger and french fries on the side.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"How is his rash?\" I nodded toward the baby.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Almost completely cleared up,\" Laura said. \"His doctor said that      infant acne is fairly common and usually clears up on its own.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I don't remember whether you or Sean had that,\" I said. \"I don't      think you did, though.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"It's all due to maternal hormones,\" Laura replied. \"His little      face will be completely smooth again in another day or two.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Diesel chirped as if to acknowledge gratification at this news.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Azalea placed a stack of mail in front of me. \"You hit the jackpot      today.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Half of it at least will go in the recycling bin.\" I eyed the      pile with a jaundiced glance. There were three catalogs, several      circulars, and four letters. I pushed the catalogs and circulars      aside and picked up the envelopes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"When I was a little girl,\" Laura said, \"you used to give me all      the mail you didn't want so that I could pretend it was my mail.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Yes, I did.\" I laughed. \"You would sit and read through it so      solemnly.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Laura rolled her eyes. \"I must have been adorable, thinking I was      important enough to have mail like my father.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You were, and still are, adorable,\" I told her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Mushy,\" Laura said, but she smiled.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The first two letters were junk mail. The third was a legitimate      bill. The fourth, however, seemed to be of a personal nature. The      return address and my name and address were all handwritten.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I glanced at the return address. The name was Jack Pemberton, and      the town was Tullahoma, a smaller town about eighty miles      southwest of Athens. I didn't recognize the sender of the letter.      I couldn't recall ever having met someone of that name.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Curious, I opened the letter by tearing a small strip off one end.      I extracted the pages inside, along with what looked like a      bookmark. Pemberton might be a writer, I decided. Was he trying a      direct-mail approach to selling books?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I examined the bookmark first. One side showed two images of book      covers, both with slightly lurid illustrations. I laid the      bookmark aside and opened the letter. I scanned it quickly,      impatient as usual to figure out what the import was. Then I went      back and read it more carefully.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I frowned and laid the pages aside.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"What is it, Dad?\" Laura said. \"Bad news?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Not news at all.\" I laughed, suddenly struck by the seeming      absurdity of the letter writer's intent. \"A man from Tullahoma      wants to write a book about me.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"About you? Why?\" Azalea asked, obviously puzzled. Then suddenly      her face cleared and she scowled. \"About all your murders, you      mean.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Two\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"They're not my murders, Azalea.\" I shook my head. \"I may have      helped solve them in some way, but I didn't go looking for trouble      to get into. I can assure you of that.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You might not have gone looking for it, but you didn't run away      from trouble when you found it, Dad.\" Laura cocked an eyebrow at      me. \"I know it's not by choice, but you have to admit you got a      lot of satisfaction out of figuring them out when the killer      wasn't immediately obvious.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I will admit that,\" I said. \"I've been reading mysteries for      nearly fifty years, so it's pretty hard to resist one when it      practically falls into your lap.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Or you stumble over the body.\" Laura grimaced. \"Not something I      want to experience ever again myself. Once was enough for me.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I know, sweetheart.\" I remembered how upset she had been when she      found her former boyfriend dead, the victim of murder.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Kanesha might not be too happy to see you getting all the credit      in a book, either.\" Laura wiped the baby's mouth, refastened her      blouse, and then laid Charlie on her shoulder to burp him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Laura referred to Kanesha Berry, chief deputy in the Athena County      Sheriff's Department, and the official investigator of murders in      the county. She also happened to be my housekeeper's daughter, a      situation that Kanesha had never regarded with good grace.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Azalea snorted at Laura's observation. \"That girl better thank the      good Lord Mr. Charlie's been willing to help her out. Some of      those murders were downright strange.\" She favored me with an      oblique glance when she hit that last word.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Strange murders or not, Kanesha got the credit in all those      cases,\" I said. \"I may have helped her solve them more quickly in      some instances, but I have no doubt whatsoever that she would have      figured them out all on her own. I also have no doubt that she      would have preferred it that way.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Then what are you going to tell the man who wants to interview      you?\" Laura asked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I haven't decided yet,\" I responded. \"I want to talk it over with      Helen Louise first.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Helen Louise Brady, owner of the best French bistro south of      Memphis, was my best friend and also my girlfriend. Some might      consider the word girlfriend old-fashioned, but I was an      old-fashioned kind of guy in many respects, including romantic      relationships.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Now that she's cut back her hours at the bistro,\" Laura said,      \"you at least have more time to talk, instead of only late at      night after the bistro's closed or when you go in there for a      meal.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You'd think so.\" I tried not to sound irritable. \"But Helen      Louise is having a harder time letting go of some of the      responsibility than she expected.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I thought she had worked everything out,\" Azalea said. \"Isn't      that young man been working there doing good as a baker?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Henry?\" I said. \"Yes, he's doing fine, but I think he's getting a      bit exasperated with Helen Louise. She tends to hover and hang      around later than she says she will.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"She's put so much of her life into that place,\" Laura said as      baby Charlie emitted a burp. She and I exchanged smiles.","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46305143914725,"sku":"NP9780425277799","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780425277799.jpg?v=1767723817","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/claws-for-concern-isbn-9780425277799","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}