Hello! Sorry it took so long to update this one. I was busy with Prongs Rides Again. (sigh) I wish this story would have a single review. I guess y'all are waiting till the final chapter to review. Oh, well. I'm gonna finish this story.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Cat Crimes books. They are the property of Martin H. Greenberg and Ed Gorman.

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Story #3: A Crime of Money

Richard Yates, of Norfolk, Virginia, lived a comfortable life. He wasn't married or even divorced, so he had no kids to worry about. He was about 5'6", had brown eyes and hair, and was in extremely good shape for a man nearing his fiftieth birthday. His only living relative was his mother, who had had her eightieth birthday a few months back. Her only companions were her two cats, both females, one a calico, the other a midnight black.

Richard didn't care too much for his mother. Whenever he visited, she was always talking about her cats. "Today, Ginger did this," or "Sooty did that." Since Richard had a dog, he was often given looks by his mother, and she even went as far as to ask him why he still had "that mangy, useless mutt."

Richard had retorted that Louie had been his best fiend for three years now and was certainly smarter than her cats. Richard often thought the old witch had a fortune stashed away, for she always fed her cats the best cat food on the market. Her house, too, was no small cottage, and Richard fancied living in it when his mother finally passed on.

Therefore, it was to his great shock that, on his next visit, he was told the house would be turned into a shelter for cats. Richard sputtered and objected, but his mother remained firm in her decision.

"Just think of it, Ricky," she said. Richard winced. He hated that nickname. It made him feel like a child again. "This place will be a safe haven for all the kitties in Norfolk."

"Why, Mother?" he asked.

"Because. That's my final decision, and as soon as I can get a lawyer up here, I'll be changing my will."

Richard left, furious. How dare she do something like this to me? he thought, stomping out to his car. The cats hissed at him as he went out the door, and he tried kicking one, only to miss. I'm her only child and she's going to leave everything to her cats?

He drove home with a boiling temper and when he finally reached his home, Louie had ducked out of sight, evidently knowing how his master felt.

Richard rattled around in his fridge and found an old six-pack of beer. He settled into his easy char, and automatically turned on the TV. He flipped through the channels and drank his beer. He was just lifting the third bottle to his lips when a brilliant idea crossed his foggy brain.

Simply kill her before she gets her will changed. He had watched enough CSI to cover his tracks well. He glanced at the clock. One in the morning. Good, he thought. She usually goes to bed about ten. I can use my key and sneak in. Her house is surrounded by trees, and my green Chevy would blend right in.

He stumbled to the door, picking up his car keys, and staggering down the stairs to his car. He slid in and started the engine, backing out carefully. After all, he didn't want to be in an accident in his drunken state.

He drove to her house, and parked the car far enough away so she couldn't hear him coming. He walked up to the front door and saw two pairs of yellow eyes glinting in the moonlight. The cats were staring at him, almost as if they knew what he was about to do.

Richard unlocked the door, slipped in, and proceeded to the kitchen. He found a carbon-steel knife, about a foot long, perfect for slitting a throat. Knife in hand, he started walking up the stairs to the second landing where he knew his mother slept.

He had gotten no farther than the middle of the stairs when a sudden motion at his feet almost made him stumble back down the stairs. Biting back a curse, he looked up, and saw the black cat sitting at the top of the stairs, her tail flicking back and forth.

Richard narrowed his eyes and raised his foot to take the next step. The black cat chose that moment to zoom down between his legs. Unable to keep his balance, Richard fell down the stairs.

When he hit the bottom, the knife he had been holding stabbed him in the chest. Richard knew his mother would not hear him if he screamed; she took her hearing aids out at night, trusting in the burglar alarm, and the police to keep her safe.

Richard slowly bled to death on the hardwood floor, his last thought being, I guess it really is bad luck for a black cat to cross your path.

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The next morning, Agatha Yates woke to find her son in a pool of blood at the foot of her stairs. She called the police and when they came, they were unable to ascertain why Richard would want to kill his mother. All the money she had ever owned had been spent on her two cats and the house. They were the only things of value she had.

Ginger and Sooty stayed on the couch the entire time the police were there. They licked imaginary blood splatter on each other's fur, looking as if they didn't have a care in the world.

Louie was taken in by Richard's neighbor, and Richard's house stayed on the market for years. Who wanted the house of a dead, possibly murderous, man? Eventually, an old couple bought it, thinking it was the home of their dreams. No bad luck came to them, surprisingly.

Richard's death was labeled an accident, and a small memorial service held. Nobody came though, except his mother, of course. She died at age ninety-two and, as per her revised will, the house was turned into a shelter for cats. When Ginger and Sooty joined their mistress, they were twenty years old.

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Point three is done! The next and final chapter will be Story #4: A Crime of Sex. Maybe then, I'll have a review. See you around.