The Counterfeiter-Catching Cat: A Beatrice Young Cozy Cat Mystery (Beatrice Young Cozy Cat Mysteries Book 1) (3 page)

Roy slammed down the ancient phone, making it ring in its cradle. He leaned back in his fading orange office chair and took a deep slug of coffee while eyeing his visitor.

“Tough day?” Beatrice asked, sitting in a chair opposite him.

The sheriff watched Lucky and Hamish tiptoe around his office, sniffing everything in sight. “And it’s only getting worse,” he growled. “I knew I’d see you here today.”

“Why’s that?” she asked, trying for her most disarming smile.

“Because I know the mayor would tell his wife about Jordan Clark and his wife would be at your café this morning telling half the world. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out how news gets around in this town.”

Beatrice grimaced. “You’re all too right. Secrets aren’t safe with anyone in Ashbrook.” She leaned forward, unable to contain her curiosity. “So what do you have on Jordan Clark?”

The sheriff crossed his arms. “Why, so these crime-solving cats here can get on the case?”

Beatrice stared him down with the full weight of her sixty-two years. Jacob Roy may have been the head cop in Ashbrook but he was still ten years her junior. She had babysat him as a teenager and she never let him forget it.

“You’d think Hamish and Lucky would get more respect given how they’ve helped out recently. I wouldn’t mind getting a bit more respect either. After all, I cleaned up your throw-up after you ate too many cookies, hid things you broke, scrubbed your crayon marks off the walls...”

Roy grimaced as if in pain. “Okay Bee, enough. I apologize. I’m just … not a cat person, I guess.”

“You don’t have to love them, just keep an open mind. Now let’s get to the important stuff—do you have the video tape of Jordan Clark leaving the bar?”

The sheriff nodded reluctantly and turned to his ancient computer, striking the keys gingerly as if it were a bomb about to explode. Beatrice stood behind him and watched as a video on the screen sprang into motion. It was grainy but Beatrice could see Jordan standing outside the bar, smoking and only partially illuminated by a nearby streetlight. People passed by but they took no notice of him. Then he threw down his cigarette and began walking east. He didn’t appear to be weaving or stumbling as a drunken person might do, but it was hard to tell. What
was
obvious was that he was walking quickly, as if he was determined to get somewhere.

“Raises more questions than it answers, doesn’t it?” the sheriff said, rubbing his lined forehead. “Eerie as all get out, too.” He grabbed his wallet and keys off the desk and stood up. “That’s all I got time for right now, Bee. Sorry.”

“Where’re you going?”

He sighed. “Paying a visit to Sally Ann White’s house. It’s where Jordan was staying with her daughter, Amy, before he disappeared. Sally was the one who reported him missing on Sunday. I want to do a formal interview and see if Jordan has left any clues behind.”

Beatrice looked at him meaningfully. “You want to come with me?” the sheriff asked in a tone that could not conceal his annoyance.

“You bet I do. Hamish has the best nose for clues, better than any dog. If there’s anything to sniff out, he can do it.”

Roy shook his head in frustration. “Alright, but you and the cats have to go in another car. I don’t want any fur in my truck.”

Sally Ann White lived in a tiny house with pink plastic siding at the edge of town, not far from the bar where Jordan worked. A chain link fence surrounded a patch of scraggly grass. She appeared at the door in faded jeans with a tired expression on her face. She was in her early forties and though her brown hair looked frazzled from various dye jobs, her hazel eyes were still clear and pretty.

“Hi folks,” she said, opening the door for them. “Sheriff, glad you caught me on my day off. Nice to see you, Bee.”

The two of them were acquaintances and always said hi and had a quick chat if they bumped into each other at the post office or grocery store. That wasn’t often, though, because Sally Ann worked long hours as a cleaner at the park.

Beatrice gave her a quick hug. “Is it alright if my cats come in?”

“Absolutely. Love the critters.” She picked up Lucky and her eyes widened as she stroked his fur. “He’s just like a little teddy bear!” she cooed. Hamish sat on the floor, staring up at her with jealous narrowed eyes.

The sheriff and Beatrice sat in her faded living room on a rose-patterned sofa. Framed photos of her daughter covered the walls—Amy in kindergarten missing her front teeth; Amy at prom in a tight pink dress, her hair in corkscrew curls; Amy in her graduation cap looking serious. She was a pretty young woman with long brown hair, hazel eyes, and a smattering of freckles.

Sally Ann brought in a plate of biscuits and cups of coffee. “Amy’s working today,” she said. “I know she would have wanted to be here if she could. She and Jordan have been together since ninth grade, you know.”

“We’ll find a time to talk to her,” the sheriff replied, reaching for a biscuit. “For now, tell me: how long’s Jordan been living here?”

A line appeared between Sally Ann’s eyebrows. “Oh, about four years now. Ever since his Mama kicked him out of the house.”

The sheriff chewed and swallowed. “Has he changed at all lately? Become different, I mean.”

“Not really. He’s always been a reckless type. Doesn’t think before he acts. Gets in these rages, smashes stuff, yells. I’ve threatened to kick him out a million times. I don’t know why I haven’t, I guess because Amy’s so attached to him.”

She sighed and thought for a moment, a chipped mug full of coffee cradled in her hands. “Actually, he’s been in a better mood lately. Not so angry. Acting like life is finally on his side for once. I thought maybe he liked working as a short-order cook at Johnny’s. He’s had a hard time keeping down a job.”

Beatrice watched Hamish and Lucky meticulously sniff out the room. “Has Amy said anything about why Jordan’s changed?” she asked.

Sally Ann played with the mug nervously. Her nails were painted a cheery coral color. “No. Actually, she’s been really quiet lately. Almost to the point where I feel like she’s avoiding me. Maybe it’s because of some trouble between us.”

She cleared her throat. “You see, I had to ask Jordan to move to the basement and I installed a lock to he can’t come into the main house. Has to go out the side door. I feel awful about it, even more so because Amy was so mad at me. But to tell you the truth, sheriff, he sold my television, took cash from my wallet, used my credit card without asking. I’m a single mother on a tight budget. I’m barely making ends meet as it is.”

A vein appeared in the sheriff’s forehead. “And you never reported these robberies?” he said brusquely. “This is the first I’ve heard of this.”

She shook her head quickly and looked deep into her coffee mug. “I didn’t want the boy to get in any more trouble. Amy loves him. I didn’t know how she would cope if he ended up in jail.”

Her eyes misted and she dabbed at them with a tissue she took from her pocket. “Sorry. Despite my feelings about Jordan, I still feel responsible for him. Not even his own mother cares if he’s alive or dead. I’ve tried to get in touch with her but she hasn’t called me back. Anyway, it’s not like him to disappear. He never goes far from Ashbrook. Or from Amy.”

The sheriff got up and patted her shoulder. “Don’t you worry, Sally Ann. I’ll do everything in my power to find Jordan as soon as possible. You can call me night or day if you need anything. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll have a peek at the basement and then we’ll be out of your hair.”

Sally Ann unlocked the padlock on the basement door and Hamish and Lucky ran down the creaky wooden steps without hesitation. Hamish knew exactly what was expected of him and as usual, Lucky followed his lead. The three humans came down after them.

The unfinished basement had a concrete floor and tiny windows covered with tin foil. Cobwebs stuck to the wooden rafters.. A wooden futon frame and mattress was pushed into one corner and an open door revealed a rudimentary washroom. Another door that led outside was shut tight with a heavy bolt.

“Jordan sure liked his privacy,” the sheriff commented, eyeing the covered windows and bolted door.

Sally Ann crossed her arms in front of her thin body. “Sometimes I wondered if he got on the wrong side of somebody. He seemed to be obsessed with securing the place.”

Roy looked at her sharply. “What somebody would that be?”

She shrugged and shook her head sadly. “It’s just a theory. He had a way of ticking people off.”

Hamish jumped on a large wood table in the middle of the room and began sniffing eagerly, his fluffy tail twitching all the while. Then he began scratching and meowing frantically. Beatrice approached. The table looked like it was stained black with something like ink. She sniffed the air, detecting a sharp, acidic smell mostly masked by a heavy odor of lemon. Cleaning products.

“Did you clean down here recently?” Beatrice asked.

Sally Ann shook her head. “No. I didn’t want to disturb anything before you folks had a look.”

Beatrice frowned. “You smell it?” she asked the sheriff. He nodded. “And something else beneath it. Ink maybe?”

He nodded again, this time more slowly, his bushy eyebrows meeting over his forehead as his brain worked over this new development.

“Did you have a printer down here?” he asked Sally Ann.

A confused expression came over her face. “No. I don’t even have a computer. Neither did Jordan or Amy, far as I know. I don’t know why anyone would be printing anything down here.”

“Ink of any kind? Maybe for drawing?”

“No sir. Neither were artistic types. I can’t imagine what they’d need ink for.”

Beatrice and the sheriff looked around the space but there was almost nothing to be seen. The place was bare, as if it had been scrubbed clean. Jordan’s clothes and any other personal effects were gone, though a few toiletries remained in the bathroom.

The sheriff scratched his scalp as he surveyed the scene. “You mind if we see Amy’s room?”

Amy’s room couldn’t have been more different. It spoke volumes about the fact that she was Sally Ann’s only child and a highly prized one at that. She had a pink canopy bed with a matching comforter and pillows, pink flowery wallpaper, and a collection of stuffed elephants sitting on a shelf. Perfumes and cosmetics crowded the top of her dresser and the mirror above it had photos of her and Jordan stuffed around the edges.

Sally Ann sighed as she looked at the photographs. “Amy hasn’t been sleeping here since I moved Jordan downstairs. But I keep it neat and tidy anyway.”

“Would anything of Jordan’s be in here?” the sheriff asked as he peered in the closet. He looked entirely out of place in that overly pink and precious room.

“No, sir. He cleared out all his stuff when I told him to move to the basement.”

The sheriff looked in the drawers and under the bed but to Beatrice’s eye, nothing was to be found but Amy’s copious number of clothes and cosmetics. Hamish and Lucky had given up their search after a quick tour of the room and sat by the door, looking like two impatient children ready to go home.

His job done, the sheriff thanked Sally Ann and promised to contact her as soon as possible. Beatrice gave her a big hug and then headed back to her pickup truck with the cats trotting hot on her heels.

“I have a strange feeling about that basement,” Beatrice said as the sheriff got into his truck. “Feels like there could have been more stuff in there but someone took it out and then scrubbed the place clean.”

Roy leveled a serious look at her. “Perhaps. There was definitely a strange smell in there. And I don’t like that all of Jordan’s stuff was gone. Could be he decided to take off. But if cleaned the place first, he must have had something to hide.”

“You think he disappeared on purpose?”

The sheriff put his keys in the ignition. “Could be. Yet why would he leave Amy if she was supposed to be his one true love?” He shook his salt and pepper head gravely. “I have too many questions and too few answers for my liking.”

Beatrice then remembered Hamish’s strange behavior that morning. “You don’t think Jordan was up to anything illegal?” she blurted out. She told Roy all about the fake bill, how she had confirmed it was counterfeit, and that she had warned Zoe and the other staff to be on the lookout for more fakes.

Roy pursed his lips. “We can’t jump to any conclusions. A counterfeiting scheme is a serious offence.”

“I’m just putting two and two together. Why was there that ink stain? Why was the place cleaned out? And why did it smell faintly of ink and paper? I think it’s time to take things
very
seriously. Even get a team in there to test for evidence.”

The sheriff nodded slowly. “I hate to say you’re right, Bee, but things don’t look good. To tell you the truth, I’ve had other reports recently of counterfeit bills being circulated in town. I’ll call my boss and see if he can spare anyone.”

Beatrice smiled. “Thanks for listening, Jacob. And for taking me with you to Sally Ann’s. I’d better get back to the café but call me when you talk to Amy? I want to hear her side of things.”

The sheriff drove off, looking mighty serious. Beatrice got the cats in the car and buckled in. Though she felt anxious about the new clues they had uncovered she also felt a secret sense of satisfaction. She knew that if she was the most stubborn woman in all of Ashbrook, Jacob Roy had to be the most stubborn man. Yet, somehow, they had managed to work together for a change.

4

The earthy scent of coffee and the tantalizing smell of fresh-baked pastries hit Beatrice as she entered her café. Even after thirty years, her heart still swelled with pride whenever she saw the result of her hard work.

The Cozy Cat Café was exactly what she had always dreamed of. The walls were exposed brick and the floor was covered in sturdy wide planks of wood. A long, rustic farmer’s table took up one part of the room, while cozy groups of antique chairs and sofas upholstered in velvets, all banked by reading lamps and side tables, took up the rest of the space.

Shelves that contained Beatrice’s treasured collection of books lined the walls. Over the years she had amassed a wide variety of mysteries, romances, and historical fiction—the very genres she liked to read herself. Customers were welcome to browse among the books, or even borrow them.