Hare Today, Dead Tomorrow

PRAISE FOR CYNTHIA BAXTER’S

LEAD A HORSE TO MURDER

“A cleverly constructed mystery chock-full of
dysfunctional characters all hiding motives for
murder . . . Readers—and particularly pet lovers—
[will] savor this delightful cozy.” —
Publishers Weekly

“Baxter hits all the right marks. Her characters step out
of the pages and into the corral, with plenty of bumps,
jumps and lots of horseplay.” —
Horse Directory

“A pure gold mystery.” —
Midwest Book Review

“A well-written murder mystery . . . I enjoyed the
glimpses into Jess’s personal life as she put the pieces
together to solve the murder. Ms. Baxter has created a
tale that will delight her fans.” —
Fresh Fiction

PUTTING ON THE DOG

“Dog lovers, rejoice! Baxter is back with a frisky sequel
to
Dead Canaries Don’t Sing
. . . . The tale moves
smoothly as Jess mingles with the film industry’s hottest
stars, tracking down clues, but readers will derive the
most pleasure from the antics of Jess’s canine
companions, Max and Lou, the author’s behind-the-
scenes look at dog shows and the sprinkling of
information she provides on each breed.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“Baxter excels at the telling detail: Her dogs wake up in
the morning as if they’ve ‘already hit the espresso pot,’
and a scene with Jessica dancing with the movie
heartthrob of the moment is so real it offers a
vicarious fantasy.” —
Romantic Times
(4 stars)

“A fun romp through Long Island’s east end . . . A real
page-turner. If you love good mysteries or love animals
or mysteries with animals, you’ll love Baxter’s

Putting On the Dog
.” —
Long Island Times-Herald

“In a similar vein to that of Susan Conant, Ms. Baxter
does an excellent job of creating hysterical characters
and providing plenty of descriptions of their four-legged
companions. An extremely quick read,
Putting On the
Dog
is a wonderful mystery that packs a lot of action
and red herrings into a slim volume that avoids the
pitfalls of pretentious punning. This is a great book
to read while curled on the couch with your own
four-legged friends.” —
TheBestReviews.com

“Cynthia Baxter has done it once again, and created an
extremely enjoyable, laugh-out-loud funny mystery that
would please anyone.
Putting On the Dog
is utterly
unstoppable, and hard to put down, while the
characters are all filled with crazy quirks, leading you
to think that absolutely anyone could be the killer.
Loaded with tons of pop culture references, as well
as an exclusive peek at how the rich live, this is
sure to be an absolute hit with all.”

—
Community Bugle Newspaper
(CA)

DEAD CANARIES DON’T SING

“Dead canaries don’t sing, but you will after reading
this terrific mystery!”

—Rita Mae Brown,
New York Times
bestselling author

“A little bird told me to read this mystery, which is
awfully good. For the record, I would shred
any canary who insulted me.”

—Sneaky Pie Brown,
New York Times
bestselling cat

“Clever, fast-paced and well-plotted,
Dead Canaries
Don’t Sing
stars an appealing heroine and furry
sidekicks sure to enchant pet lovers.”

—Carolyn Hart, Agatha, Anthony and Macavity awards winner

“
Dead Canaries Don’t Sing
is top dog, the cats’s
pajamas, and the paws that refresh all rolled into one
unfurgettable mystery entertainment.”

—Sarah Graves, author of the
Home Repair Is Homicide
series

“Loads of fun! Baxter’s veterinary sleuth and her
menagerie of animal companions are a great way to
spend an afternoon. So pull up a chair and dive in.”

—T. J. MacGregor, Edgar Award winner and author of
Category Five

“An auspicious debut . . . Messages, murder and a
menagerie of odd animals are along for the fun.”

—
Mystery Scene

“Should be on your [summer reading list].” —
Newsday

“Baxter’s light-hearted, enjoyable mystery is an
entertaining debut featuring a likable menagerie of
characters, a few surprising plot twists and a touch
of romance.” —
Lansing State Journal

“Charmingly humorous . . . [Baxter is] funny without
being fussy. Along with lovable Jessica and her
menagerie, the author has created a subtle yet creepy
antagonist whose unmasking is as intense as it
is surprising.” —
Romantic Times

“A truly refreshing read that moved the plot right
along. I’m looking forward to more in this new series.”

—
Rendezvous

“A lighthearted mystery with a strong convincing plot.
Recommended.” —
I Love a Mystery Newsletter

“Baxter tells her story with straightforward cheerful
simplicity [and] with an undemanding plot.
Dead
Canaries Don’t Sing
is a satisfying read, and should
especially appeal to animal lovers and residents
of Long Island.” —
mentalhealth.net

“You’ll fall in love with Popper’s four-legged
sidekicks. . . . Integrat[es] veterinary work and murder
in a fast-paced, light style that will keep you turning
the pages.” —
I Love Cats

“A wonderful new mystery by newcomer Cynthia
Baxter . . . Jessica and her menagerie of pets are fun
new characters who have a nose for truth, and
the curiosity to go along with it. . . . An exciting,
intrepid new mystery.”

—
Community Bugle Newspaper
(CA)

Also by Cynthia Baxter

DEAD CANARIES DON’T SING
PUTTING ON THE DOG
LEAD A HORSE TO MURDER

To Faith

Acknowledgments

In researching this book, I worked with several people who were unbelievably generous with their time and their knowledge. I would like to thank Ursula Massoud of Paumanok Vineyards, Ltd in Aquebogue, who taught me the basics about wineries and winemaking. I would also like to thank Martha S. Gearhart, D.V.M., as well as Marc A. Franz, D.V.M. and the entire staff at the Woodbury Animal Hospital in Woodbury, especially Wendy Niceberg, Kim Marino, and Joanne St. George.

The fascinating true story of Captain Kidd comes from an outstanding book,
The Pirate Hunter: The True
Story of Captain Kidd,
by Richard Zacks. I would also like to thank Lisa Pulitzer and Kieran Crowley, my much-appreciated sources for information about police procedures.

And thanks to Caitlin Alexander for her invaluable help in pulling the whole book together, as well as Faith Hamlin, who is an ongoing source of encouragement and support.

A Note to Readers

Hare Today, Dead Tomorrow
is a work of fiction, and all names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Although some real Long Island places and some real people are mentioned, all are used fictitiously.

Chapter 1

“A man who carries a cat by the tail learns something he can learn in no other way.”

—Mark Twain

What!?” “Cassandra’s cat. He just stared at me.... There was blood everywhere, and she was lying on the floor, not moving—” Suzanne Fox’s voice broke off in a hoarse choke. We were sitting in her living room, less than forty-eight hours after she’d first called me with the news.

“Start at the beginning,” I instructed her, struggling to keep my voice even. I’d done the same thing hundreds of times before—usually while trying to calm an alarmed animal owner. “Slow down, take a deep breath, and tell me exactly what happened.”

She let out what sounded more like a desperate gasp than a deep breath. “Jessie, the police think I murdered my ex-husband’s fiancée. Her name is—was—Cassandra Thorndike. What am I going to do?”

“Thorndike—as in Thorndike Vineyards?” I asked, naming one of the most successful and best-known wineries on Long Island.

“Exactly. She was found stabbed to death at her house in Cuttituck, out on the North Fork.” Suzanne paused, as if she was trying to find the strength to go on. “Apparently her next-door neighbor dropped by for a visit. But Cassandra didn’t come to the door, even though it was wide open. The neighbor noticed her car was in the driveway and the TV was on. So she dialed 911. The police showed up, expecting to find some senior citizen with an overly active imagination and too much time on her hands.” In a strained voice, she added, “Except it turned out she was right.”

“But why would the police think you had anything to do with it?” I asked.

“They have witnesses, people who live in the neighborhood, who claim they saw a car the same make and color as mine drive up to her house not long before her next-door neighbor called. They said the driver had bright orange-red hair.”

“Were
you there?”

“Yes.” She let out a little choking sound before adding, “I—I saw her body, Jess. So I wasn’t really surprised when the cops showed up on my doorstep a couple of days ago and said Cassandra had been murdered.”

“You told them what happened, right?”

She waited for what seemed a very long time before answering. “Not exactly.”

“What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?” My mouth had suddenly become very dry.

“I—I told the police they had the wrong person. That I’d never even been to Cassandra’s house.” Before I had a chance to react, she cried, “Jessie, you’ve got to help me!”

It’s not easy staying calm when you’ve just found out one of your best friends is a murder suspect. I liked to think my decade of working as a veterinarian had taught me to handle all kinds of situations, especially the past few years of traveling around Long Island with my clinic-on-wheels. But this...well, this was something new.

I just stared at Suzanne for a few seconds, not wanting to seem too horrified by her situation but not quite able to take it all in. Even though she sat in a wooden rocking chair, she remained motionless. The fact that I always think of her as one of those people who never sits still made the image especially peculiar.

It was late morning, yet the blinds were drawn and the lights were off, casting the room in shadow. Even in the dim light, I could see that her huge, round eyes, the same shade of blue as cornflowers, were swollen and rimmed in red, as if crying had become as much a part of her routine as breathing. Her nose and cheeks were also puffy, and they’d taken on a pinkish tinge. Her remarkable orange-red hair looked surprisingly lackluster. While she had tamed her wild, wavy mane during our college years by wearing it in a waist-length braid, she’d recently gotten it cut into layers. Somehow, through either physics or chemistry, she’d also made it dead straight. It was usually stunning. Today, however, it hung limply about her face, looking as dejected as she did.

“I’m still not getting this,” I told her. “Why were you at Cassandra’s house in the first place?”

She glanced at me warily. “You know how upset I was when I heard Robert was engaged. For heaven’s sake, we’d only been divorced for a few months! The body that was our marriage was still warm.”