Left Fur Dead
A Jules & Bun Mystery
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Date of Publication: June 25, 2019
Number of Pages: 304
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On Fur Bridge Farm, Jules cares for rescued rabbits. But when a killer strikes, she’ll need a rabbit to rescue her . . . Juliette “Jules” Bridge prides herself on the tender rehabilitation she provides for injured or abused rabbits on her New Hampshire rescue farm, but she has a very special relationship with one bunny in particular. Bun is a black-and-white rabbit who happens to have the ability to communicate through mental telepathy. Once she got over the shock, Jules found her furry friend had a lot to say. One frigid March morning on their walk together, Bun spots a body. The police identify the frozen stiff as Arthur Freeman, aka Arty the Mime. Jules and Arty knew each other on the children’s party circuit, where he’d perform magic tricks and she had an educational rabbit petting pen. With Bun egging her on, Jules decides it’s time they hop to it and put their heads together to discover who silenced the mime. But their investigation leads them down a rabbit hole of more suspects and lies, while a killer sets a trap for them . . .
FROM CHAPTER 1
My name is Juliette Bridge, better known as Jules. I’m the owner of Fur Bridge Farm, where I raise rabbits, find good homes for them, and care for others that have been rescued from difficult and often abominable situations. Bun, my best buddy, lives in my farmhouse as my resident housemate. He has a personality that warms my heart, that is, when he’s not poking his sweet little nose where it doesn’t belong.
Not your average rabbit, Bun’s smart, sociable, talkative, and very talented. His specialty is pure nosiness. He communicates with me by way of mental telepathy, which adds another dimension to an ongoing list of my problems. I know, it sounds ludicrous, but when Bun talks, I’ve learned to listen. I never thought I’d have a talking pet, but there you have it. He’s never mentioned how this ability came about, and I’ve never asked. Uncertain if everyone can hear him, I can only assume they aren’t willing to acknowledge his ability.
We’ve shared the farmhouse for the past couple of years, after I rescued him from a despicable family with no respect for animals. They were glad to see him go, saying he was in league with the devil. I figure they could hear him talk.
The first time I heard his voice, a soft, lilting, somewhat musical sound, I wondered if I’d imagined it. As time went on, he kept talking to me, and I continued to ignore him. One morning, about a year ago, we were taking our usual walk, when I ran into Margery Shaw. Margery had been Bun’s previous keeper and there was no love lost between us.
Having seen Margery coming before I did, Bun had huddled down inside the sling, burrowing as far as he could, trying to disappear. I heard a warning to take care before there was only silence.
The woman marched up and asked if I’d heard the rabbit talk. That was the dawning realization that Bun could, and often did, communicate with me. Unwilling to admit it to Margery, I shook my head and asked if she was imagining things. Her anger evident over my remark, I left her standing on the path as I jogged off, holding Bun close to my chest.
From that day forward, Bun and I have conversed on a regular basis. I doubt I can answer him telepathically and haven’t tried. I’m careful where and when I speak aloud to him. It doesn’t look good to prospective rabbit owners if I’m blathering on about something to Bun when they’ve come to the farm in search of rabbits of their own.
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