Librarian Kathleen Paulson and her inquisitive cats find themselves in a jam when a musician turns up dead, in the newest installment of this New York Times bestselling series. It’s summer in Mayville Heights, and Kathleen Paulson and her detective boyfriend, Marcus, are eager to attend the closing concert of the local music festival. The concert is a success, but then one of the band members is discovered dead shortly after it. At first it’s assumed the death is a robbery gone wrong, but Kathleen suspects foul play—and she’s certain that she, along with her trusty side-cats, Owen and Hercules, can help solve the murder. Before his death, Kathleen had noticed the victim in the library researching his genealogy, and when she and Marcus take a closer look at the man's family tree, they begin to think a previous death of one of his relatives now seems suspicious. The more Kathleen thinks about it, the more this murder feels like it could be an encore performance. Kathleen and her cats will need to act fast and be very careful if they want to stay off of a killer's hit list. "Kelly develops an intriguing mystery and spins an enchanting story about how Owen and Hercules can instinctively nudge Kathleen in the right direction...A delightful and entertaining read."--Fresh Fiction “Kathleen is a smart, resourceful heroine, and cat lovers will delight in the charming felines."– Booklist Praise for the New York Times Bestselling Series "Cozy readers will enjoy spending time with Kathleen, her cats, and the appealing residents of Mayville Heights."— Publishers Weekly   "Will delight fans of cat mysteries and Jenn McKinlay's Library Lover's series."— Library Journal   "Ms. Kelly continues her highly successful series with another winning tale...Lots of great characters and two adorable cats."—Fresh Fiction   "Owen and Hercules are a delight."—Kings River Life Magazine   "With great characters and an interesting story, readers will be in for a treat with this classic whodunit."— RT Book Reviews Sofie Kelly is a New York Times bestselling author and mixed-media artist who lives on the East Coast with her husband and daughter. She writes the New York Times bestselling Magical Cats mysteries and, as Sofie Ryan, writes the New York Times bestselling Second Chance Cat mysteries. chapter 1 The stage set up at the end of the marina parking lot was in darkness, and there wasn't enough light from the stars and the sliver of gleaming moon overhead to make out anything, even though we were sitting just a few rows back. The crowd spread out across the pavement on lawn chairs and coolers had gone silent, so silent it seemed as though we were all holding our breath. But underneath that silence I could feel a faint buzz of anticipation, like the current of energy in the air just before a thunderstorm hits. And then a clap of wood on wood, one drumstick hitting another, counting off the beat-One! Two! Three! Four!-cracked the quiet. And all at once there was music: the sound of a raucous electric guitar; and the crowd went wild. Beside me my friend Roma was grinning, bouncing on her canvas lawn chair, her dark eyes shining. She leaned sideways, bumping me with her shoulder. "That's Harry, Kathleen," she said in my ear, "which has to mean-" She didn't get to finish the sentence because the smooth voice of the announcer boomed through the sound system, drowning out everything else. "Please welcome-after a very long absence-Johnny Rock . . ." He paused. I leaned forward, suddenly knowing what his next words had to be. And then they came: ". . . and the Outlaws!" The stage lights came up and the crowd really went wild then, cheering, clapping, hooting and whistling. I couldn't take my eyes off the stage because that amazing electric guitar was in the hands of Harry Taylor-Harry, who mowed my lawn and kept just about everything running at the library for me. He was in his fifties with just a little hair left, his face lined from years of working outside in the sun. Harry looked like someone's dad, practical and dependable, which he was-not like some rock star guitar virtuoso-which it seemed he also was. I knew Harry played guitar. I knew he had been in a band, in this band, but I was dumbstruck that I had no idea he was so incredibly talented. Roma was already moving to the music. "Close your mouth, Kath," she said, grinning as if she'd guessed what I'd been thinking. "I'm pretty sure you just swallowed a bug." I didn't get a chance to answer because Johnny Rock had started to sing John Mellencamp's "R.O.C.K. in the U.S.A.," striding onto the stage from the left side. His voice was full and strong with just a hint of a raspy edge to it. Johnny Rock, aka John Stone, looked like he could have been actor Bradley Cooper's older brother-blue eyes, brown hair shot with a bit of gray waved back from his face, long legs and muscular arms in a tight black T-shirt and faded jeans. He had that same naughty-boy grin as