The Counterfeiter-Catching Cat: A Beatrice Young Cozy Cat Mystery (Beatrice Young Cozy Cat Mysteries Book 1) (2 page)

Lucky darted out of Beatrice’s office in the back. He had a habit of greeting customers like a little eager dog. He danced around the expensive running shoes of the ladies, looking up with his stunning green eyes for pats or bits of food.

“Hi Bee,” Nancy called out in her sing-song voice. “Black coffee for me.”

Nancy sat at her usual table: a long wood farmer’s table surrounded by mismatched chairs painted in various colors. Long pendant lamps hung overtop but there was enough sunshine flooding the café that they didn’t need to be turned on.

Nancy crossed her legs and shook her blonde hair out of its ponytail. She had been blonde, slim, and gorgeous in high school and she hadn’t changed much since. She had gone from being the most popular girl in high school to Queen Bee of Ashbrook’s social scene.

Beatrice went over to their table and began taking orders for black coffees and fruit bowls. This wasn’t her favorite crowd. Nancy and her friends had been in her grade and they used to tease her relentlessly for being too outspoken or wearing the wrong clothes.

Forty-odd years had gone by and their words no longer stung. Beatrice didn’t care to try to impress them anymore. Still, she didn’t like that their gossip was often petty and sometimes downright cruel. She would have banned the Nancy group from the café if their regular attendance wasn’t so good for business. Plus Zoe wasn’t afraid to talk back when she disagreed with them.

Lucky wound around the spandex-clad legs of the ladies, purring loudly. Most of the women couldn’t resist petting and cooing over him. He had dense, plush hair like a stuffed toy and round, sweet eyes. Nancy was the exception. She moved her legs away whenever he approached and cleared her throat audibly.

“Did you hear about Jordan Clark?” Nancy asked, looking up at Beatrice as she jotted down the last order.

She shook her head, hoping that the mayor’s wife wasn’t going to start on another malicious rant.

“Sally Ann White, his girlfriend’s mother, reported him missing yesterday.”

Beatrice paused, her pen suspended over the pad of paper. “When did he disappear?”

“Friday night. Went to a bar with his friends. He left the bar by himself and didn’t come back. No one’s seen him since.”

Beatrice snapped shut the notepad. She realized that Nancy’s friends were baiting her. They knew how she loved a good mystery. What’s more, they probably joked about how she was a crazy old lady married to her cats.

That didn’t matter one bit. The fact was a brand new, and very time-sensitive, mystery needed solving

She tried to remember what she knew about Jordan but she couldn’t recall anything other than that he was a young guy, in his early twenties, and a short-order cook at a local bar. “Do you know if the sheriff has any leads yet?” she asked, trying to arrange her face to avoid looking as curious as she felt.

It didn’t work. Nancy laughed and looked knowingly at her friends. “Not sure. Why don’t you ask him yourself? Bring Hamish while you’re at it.”

Hamish trotted up upon hearing his name and promptly jumped into Nancy’s lap. The look of horror on her face was priceless. “Oh my God, ugh, cat hair, ugh…”

The big cat allowed her to push him off and then sat beside her chair, blinking serenely, as Nancy tried to wipe off the mess of long hairs that he had left behind.

Beatrice winked at the mischievous Maine Coon and walked away. “Order’ll be about five minutes,” she tossed over her shoulder, feeling pleased as punch.

She went into the back and delivered the order to Zoe, who was mixing up a batch of muffins. She blew her bangs out of her face and made a face. “Extra salt for all of them,” she joked.

Beatrice snorted and went back to the counter to take care of some take-away orders. Once the coast was clear, she covertly pulled her smartphone from the pocket of her jeans and began texting Matthew:

Nancy’s here. Would cyanide be too much?

His response popped up a minute later:
Definitely overkill. How about the bitterest coffee known to man?

More bitter than my heart?
she replied, typing quickly with nimble fingers.

If that’s possible. I’m trying to work. Go away. :D

She laughed to herself and typed back:
Singing to trees again, are you? I won’t interrupt that kind of important activity.

Beatrice tucked her smartphone back into her jeans. She wasn’t sure what she would do without Matthew’s friendship. They had divorced on good terms but she had never thought they would be friends, especially when he got re-married and had children. Yet time had a way of softening grievances and strengthening old bonds. For that she was glad.

Beatrice popped into the back to check on Zoe. Though her quirky personality made it impossible to put her on cash, she had proven herself an excellent cook and pastry chef. She was also reliable, dedicated, and drama-free—the best kind of employee. Beatrice also employed two more servers and a kitchen assistant to help but no one was as indispensible as Zoe.

The young woman was hurriedly topping fresh fruit with their homemade yogurt and coconut granola. Nancy refused to eat anything else, especially anything that had carbs, and so the other women followed her lead and always ordered the same. Though to Beatrice and Zoe’s amusement, when Nancy was absent they all ordered French toast, pancakes, and eggs benedict with unabashed glee.

Another server helped Beatrice carry out the plates and when that was accomplished, Beatrice busied herself arranging pastries behind the counter so that she might be able to overhear anything the group of women said. As the mayor’s wife, Nancy was a valuable source of information.

Right now they were talking about a yoga retreat in Costa Rica they all wanted to go on. One of the women, Joan, was feeding Lucky bits of bread under the table. Beatrice gave the cat a hard look and he slunk away unhappily. The women chattered on and Beatrice kept up with her arranging and cleaning until the topic of the retreat died down.

Finally, Joan asked timidly, “Nan, I can’t help thinking about that young man, Jordan. Did your husband say anything else about why he might have disappeared?”

Nancy ran a manicured hand through her hair and smiled. “He did swear me to secrecy, you know,” she began. The women leaned in closer, knowing exactly what that meant. “But, I know you’ll all keep this to yourselves, right?”

Her friends nodded eagerly. Beatrice, who was cleaning crumbs out of the bottom shelf, froze in breathless expectation.

“Apparently Jordan was at Johnny’s Place on Water Street playing pool with his friends last Friday night,” Nancy continued in a whisper. “Around midnight he left without telling anyone. Yesterday, the sheriff got hold of security footage from a camera outside the bar. But the tape just shows him walking down Water Street. And then he disappears into the distance.”

Nancy’s best friend since high school, Janice, frowned. “But that street leads straight into the woods. There’s nothing out there. Where would he be going?”

Their ringleader shrugged and stirred her coffee absently with a spoon. “Not sure. All we know is that no one’s seen him since.”

The group of women shivered simultaneously. One of them quickly changed the subject back to their yoga class and the topic of Jordan and his disappearance was dropped.

As soon as the woman had left, Beatrice went into the kitchen. Hamish, who had been trying to get into the drawer where the fake bill was kept, abandoned his mission and came running after her. Lucky followed.

Beatrice immediately shut the cat gate between them. Try as she might, she couldn’t convince them to stay out of the kitchen on their own. Even though they tended to listen to her, Beatrice suspected that the lure of food was too strong for them to abide by her “no cats in the kitchen” rule.

Zoe was sitting down with a cup of coffee, looking beat. Her dark bangs were plastered against her forehead and she had shed her apron, revealing her usual outfit of jeans, high-top sneakers, and a hoodie.

Beatrice joined her at the small corner table. “Nancy said that Jordan Clark’s disappeared. Did you know him?”

Zoe shook her head. “That’s awful. He was a couple of grades below me at school. I never knew him that well, though. He ran with a different crowd. Rougher.”

Beatrice frowned. “Nancy says he left Johnny’s Place and walked down Water Street towards the woods. Seems awfully strange for someone to walk that way on a cold fall night.”

“Jordan’s known to like his beer,” Zoe said reluctantly. She brushed her sweaty bangs out of her face. “He could have been trying to walk off the drink.”

“I don’t know. That doesn’t sound quite right to me. Especially since he never came home. I have a weird feeling about this, Zoe. I’m sure the sheriff is investigating but, if he’s lost or something happened to him, time’s of the essence. I have to help.”

The young assistant eyed her boss. Through long practice she knew when Beatrice had set her mind on something. The only thing to do was either step aside or pitch in.

“I don’t know how much I can tell you,” she said. “I remember that he was suspended a bunch of times for yelling at teachers, bullying kids, skipping school. I think he took some car repair courses at the community college after he graduated but he flunked out. Started working as a short-order cook at Johnny’s Place.”

“He has a mother, doesn’t he? Rachel. Lives in that old clapboard house on Pine Street at the edge of town.”

Zoe nodded. “Not anymore. Last I heard she moved to Plymouth. Anyway, she kicked him out during high school because he was getting into so much trouble. He went to live with his girlfriend, Amy, and her mom. He was still living there, last I know.”

“Amy White! I know her. She’s a cashier at the Ashbrook Old-Fashioned Grocery. What do you know about her?”

“Not much.” Zoe pursed her lips, as if she was only reluctantly entering into the topic. She took another slug of coffee. “She was kind of the Nancy of her grade. Naïve, not too bright, and she sure had the hots for Jordan. Her mom tried to get her to stop seeing him but as I understand, Sally Ann’s a bit of a pushover.”

Beatrice thought this all over. “I’d better go see the sheriff,” she muttered under her breath. “It’s time to start piecing this all together.”

Zoe’s eyes flew wide open. “Well, take a bulletproof vest. I’m sure he’s going to be none too pleased to see you.”

3

Beatrice piloted her ancient pick-up truck through the picturesque streets of Ashbrook. She couldn’t imagine a prettier town.

The low buildings were fashioned from deep red brick. Hanging signs in old-fashioned lettering announced a jewelry shop, a lawyer’s office, a wine store, and a boutique hotel. The wide sidewalks were lined with black iron streetlamps. Each store had potted plants on its windowsills and cheerful chalkboards on the sidewalk announcing sales or daily specials. Lush elms provided shade on the narrow street and white spires from the local church towered in the distance.

Hamish sat on his cat bed in the backseat, his brown ears with their little black tufts of hair at the ends standing straight up, looking as unruffled as a CEO who is used to being chauffeured from one place to another. He absolutely adored car travel, as he was an adventurous cat and he loved exploring new places.

Lucky, on the other hand, was a decidedly nervous passenger. Other than the usual caterwauling of a car-adverse cat, he also had a bad habit of trying to crawl into Beatrice’s lap. During one memorable trip, he had managed to get under Beatrice’s feet as she was driving and almost got them in an accident. After that he had been banished to a cat carrier.

The plush black cat meowed piteously from the back, his green eyes wide through the iron mesh of the carrier door. A paw tried to wind through the bars, the claws flexing furiously.

Beatrice shook her head at him. “Now Lucky, we’re almost there. Stop being such a giant baby. How many times have you been in the car during your lifetime? A million? And has it killed you yet?”

Hamish sneezed disdainfully and directed a pitying look towards the carrier beside him. He tolerated Lucky but friends they were not. Beatrice had adopted him six years prior from an animal shelter in Plymouth—her beloved cat Molly had died the year before and she had decided it was time to offer another animal in need her home.

The big Maine Coon had ruled her household like a king on his throne for two years, until a friend of a friend died suddenly and left behind a tiny black kitten, Lucky. Beatrice rescued him and immediately fell in love with his affectionate, sweet nature.

Hamish was not nearly as impressed. As a former only child, he had never quite forgiven Beatrice for forcing him to co-exist with another cat. Beatrice had hoped that he might take Lucky under his wing and teach him his mystery-solving techniques, but the poor black cat was left to his own devices. Ignoring Lucky was Hamish’s full-time occupation.

Beatrice turned down a side street and parked in front of the unassuming sheriff’s office—a low brick building. Crime wasn’t a big problem in Ashbrook. Shoplifting, drunken fights, and speeding were usually the worst of it. The sheriff had only one deputy, Parker Smith, to help run his office.

Sheriff Jacob Roy was on the phone when Beatrice walked in. His office hadn’t changed since the 1970s—fake wood paneling on the walls, cheap particleboard furniture, and a rotary phone. The sheriff was a stubborn man, highly adverse to change. He was dedicated to old-fashioned police work: methodical investigation and recordkeeping with a minimum of interference from computers or cell phones.

The sheriff looked up and his bushy gray eyebrows contracted. Clearing his throat, he continued his phone conversation.

“That’s right, ma’am. You were parked illegally last Friday in front of a fire hydrant. No … no. Now ma’am, everyone knows that’s not permitted. You have to pay the fine just like anyone else would. No ma’am, I can’t cancel the ticket for you. That wouldn’t be fair to the other folks who have paid. Ma’am, please don’t use that language. Okay, okay. I have a visitor, I have to go now.”