The Counterfeiter-Catching Cat: A Beatrice Young Cozy Cat Mystery (Beatrice Young Cozy Cat Mysteries Book 1) (7 page)

Beatrice agreed silently and took a sip of her steaming cinnamon tea. It flooded down her throat and into her stomach, leaving a comforting trail of warmth. Happiness: it was so simple and yet sometimes so elusive. She looked over at Matthew and in the darkness he smiled his irresistible broad smile, his teeth still as white and straight as they had been when he was twenty. It was impossible not to smile back.

10

The Cozy Cat Café was unusually busy the following morning. There was a glut of school trips to the White Mountain National Forest and plenty of harried parents and teachers poured into the café early in the morning. They were desperate for a caffeine fix before a full day of trying to get hyperactive or sulky eight year olds to listen to them.

Hamish slept in his usual window seat in the sunshine, determinedly ignoring the hubbub, while Lucky chased errant rays of sunshine and begged for attention from anyone and everyone.

Beatrice was glad for the business and happy to think how this influx of people would benefit the local hotels. When she was a child, Ashbrook was nothing but a sleepy little town that teenagers left as soon as they graduated from high school.

Now, thanks to the popularity of the park, the town had evolved into a full-blown tourist destination. The streets had been re-paved, the buildings remodeled, the sidewalks redone, and trees planted. It was an incredibly pleasant place to live and Beatrice never wanted to be anywhere else.

Sunshine spilled through the tall windows and lit up the rough floorboards. A gentle hum of chatter came from the customers sitting around the long table or tucked into cozy corners surrounded by Beatrice’s battered books.

Meanwhile, Zoe was running around like a chicken with her head cut off. They were in short supply of everything—their signature sunshine muffins stuffed with carrot, pineapple and coconut, English Breakfast tea, and homemade yogurt. Her long bangs were sweaty and she had a desperate look in her eyes.

“Bee, I think I’m going to have a heart attack if I get another breakfast order for eight. Are you sure I’m cut out for this job?” she asked anxiously as she flipped three omelets cooking on the stove.

Beatrice’s heart went out to her. Even though Zoe was completely competent, she still had moments of self-doubt. Zoe had been troubled as a teen—cutting classes, trying drugs, and staying out late. Then her mother, who also happened to be Beatrice’s high school friend, died in a car accident.

Zoe was of age when her mother died, but Beatrice stepped in anyway. She forced the young woman to start working at the café and kept her there. Now, five years later, at the age of twenty-three, Zoe was practically running the place.

Zoe also had her own apartment downtown and a used car and she was talking about doing her business degree by correspondence. Beatrice couldn’t be prouder.

“You’re doing a great job,” Beatrice said firmly, brushing Zoe’s bangs aside. “You’re efficient, the food is amazing, and I swear you’re a better pastry chef than I ever was.”

Zoe’s face brightened though she still chewed nervously on her lower lip. “I should have made more sunshine muffins this morning,” she mumbled as she slid the finished omelets onto plates.

“Honey,
no one
knew this stampede was coming. Chin up. I’ll help you cook.”

Zoe gave her a quick smile and busied herself adding roasted potatoes and salad to the plates. Beatrice checked the order list and began mixing up a batch of pancakes.

She found herself thinking obsessively about Jordan Clark. She had already called the sheriff that morning to see if he had been to Moore’s bar. Disappointingly, neither Cameron nor his fake bills were anywhere to be seen. The sheriff and his deputy were searching but nothing had come up.

The coroner hadn’t released his report yet on Jordan. Beatrice felt anxious for some kind of development in the case. She had a strange feeling from Madison and Cameron’s behavior that there was more going on than met the eye, foul play or not.

Her cell phone then started up its insistent meowing—a ringtone which seemed to irritate everyone but her. She answered it in a flash.

“Bee, the coroner released his results. Jordan was murdered,” the sheriff said immediately. “And I’ve got Amy in the office for questioning. Get yourself here in the next half hour and thank me later.”

Beatrice had never made an order of pancakes so quickly. She assembled the meals in a flash, made sure that Zoe could handle things on her own, and then gathered the cats, grabbed her field coat, and was in the truck before twenty minutes had passed.

11

Amy was sitting in the sheriff’s office, one knee jiggling nervously, her hazel eyes wide. She looked pale and had dark smudges under her eyes as if she hadn’t slept properly in some time. A big pink bag sprawled on the floor like a lazy lapdog.

Her eyes darted from the sheriff to Beatrice and down to the cats, who settled on top of a filing cabinet. They stared down at Amy as if they were the judge, jury, and executioner.

“Hi Amy,” Beatrice said. “I’m so, so sorry for your loss.”

Amy looked down at her hands and began to chip off her purple nail polish. Her shoulders were hunched and her face pinched as if she was trying to hold back her emotions.

“Thanks for your concern ma’am,” she said in a flat voice.

Sheriff Jacob Roy sat behind his chipped old desk, hands neatly folded, bushy eyebrows drawn together.

“We’ve had some trouble tracking you down Miss White,” he said. “I’ve asked you to meet with me since your mother reported Jordan missing. I know we’ve had some communication by phone but your absence still strikes me as odd. Can you explain yourself?”

Amy’s eyes darted to the door, as if judging the possibility of escape. Then she took a deep breath and looked the sheriff directly in the eye.

“I was looking for Jordan,” she said in the same flat voice. “When he didn’t come home Saturday morning I freaked out. I mean, sometimes the guy parties late, but he always comes home. So I just took off, trying to look for him.”

The sheriff leaned forward. “And why did your mother call the police and not you?”

Amy returned his hard look and crossed her arms. “Everyone knows Jordan’s a complicated guy. He’s had problems with cops, mostly just for getting in fights. I knew he wouldn’t want me calling you.”

“Alright. So where have been the last few days?” the sheriff asked.

She shrugged. “Drove to his work to see if anyone knew anything. Went around to see his friends. A lot of help they were too, hung-over and mean as snakes. Then I went into the park. I know Jordan likes to go for hikes when he’s feeling bad.”

The sheriff’s brows lowered. “Why would Jordan decide to go for a hike at night in the National Forest? Has he ever done that before?”

“I don’t know. Jordan’s unpredictable. Look at the tape of him walking out of that bar. Just taking off. He’s like that.” She paused and started chipping the polish off her thumb again. “Are you sure somebody did this to him?” she said in a small voice. “I mean, I’m sure he was drunk, maybe he fell…”

The sheriff cleared his throat loudly. “Amy, the coroner specifically told me that he had been held underwater. I need to know who did this to him. And I need you to help me.”

As he was speaking, Hamish crawled off the file cabinet and cautiously approached Amy. Hamish’s eyes were fixed on her intently as if she was a giant squirrel. She paid him no mind until he started to sniff at one of her hands dangling down. She snatched the hand back and frowned.

Hamish wouldn’t be put off. Due to his size and strength he was afraid of very little, even dogs. He put his paws up on her lap, butted his head right against her fingers, and began sniffing intently.

Amy stood up fast and backed away. “What’s that cat doing?” she said in a nervous voice. “He’s freaking me out.”

A sudden idea struck Beatrice. She decided to be straightforward.

“Amy, there have been counterfeit bills found in Ashbrook. At my café, the pharmacy, the grocery store where you work. At Moore’s Bar, too. We found a whole envelope of them there.”

Amy’s face paled further but Beatrice soldiered on. “Madison said that you and Cameron are close. Was there any jealously between him and Jordan? Could Cameron have…”

Her line of inquiry was stopped by Hamish’s brash action. He leapt up on Amy and began nipping at her fingers. Amy screamed and backed right against the walls. Beatrice tried to shoo away the feisty cat but he would not be discouraged. He shied away for a moment and then tried leaping at Amy again.

There was a commotion as the sheriff moved between the two of them and Beatrice tried to grab hold of the massive Maine Coon who, when he wanted to be, was as slippery as an eel and stubborn as a mule.

By the end of it, Hamish was put in another room and Amy was sniffling into a tissue. Hamish hadn’t hurt her—he had never been an aggressive cat—but he certainly had scared her.

The sheriff cast a severe look at Beatrice that told her it was time to skedaddle. She scooped up Lucky, retrieved Hamish, and went back to her truck. The big cat sat in his bed, looking as serene as could be.

“You shouldn’t have gone after Amy like that,” she said to him.

“And you, you’re going in your carrier,” she said to Lucky. She picked him up and immediately, out of the clutches of his back paws, fell a purple cell phone decorated in rhinestones.

“What on earth did you steal?” she asked the black cat. He blinked at her, all innocence. Sighing, Beatrice fished some gloves out of her bag, put them on, and unlocked the phone—the passcode was the classic “1234.”

There were texts and phone calls from Jordan but there were far more from Cameron. Amy had deleted them but copies remained in her trash bin, which she hadn’t emptied. Beatrice thanked the heavens she knew her way around a smartphone.

The messages from Cameron were sweet at the beginning, saying that he missed her and wanted to see her. Later, they became more aggressive, saying bad things about Jordan and asking when she was going to leave him. It seemed like Cameron really cared for her, though he seemed desperate about it.

Was he trying to protect her or was
he
the aggressor? It was hard to tell.

Beatrice decided that it was time to get more background information on Amy and Jordan. Madison probably wouldn’t speak to her again. But there had to be others who would talk.

Beatrice whipped out her own phone, looked up Amy on Facebook, and began scrolling through her list of friends. She immediately recognized people who had been in her year. Direct friends might protect her. Acquaintances might have more to say. Thankfully, Beatrice knew enough about Ashbrook’s social scene that she knew the difference.

She began sending Facebook messages rapid-fire, praying for a response.

12

“Beatrice, Hannah’s here to see you,” Zoe said, popping her dark head around the corner of the office door.

Beatrice immediately straightened from her hunched position over her laptop, her accounting program forgotten in an instant. After her visit to the sheriff’s offices, she had managed to finish all her tasks in a matter of hours. Now it was time to return to the case at hand. She slapped the computer closed and went into the café.

Hannah Moore had been the social outcast of her grade in high school, just like Beatrice. The reason seemed to be the same as it ever was—clothes not quite right, studious, socially awkward. Beatrice immediately felt sympathy towards her.

Now, Hannah worked as a legal assistant at the local law office and was a trim blonde with an expensive purse. She sat in one of the corner nooks by the window, the late afternoon light illuminating her made-up face. A foamy latte sat in front of her but Hannah couldn’t reach it because Lucky was circling her lap like a dog frantically searching for the most comfortable position.

He paused as Beatrice approached, emerald eyes wide. While Hamish liked to keep his distance from strangers, especially ones who loved cats, Lucky was always trying to coax affection out of her customers. He was persistent to the point of being annoying. It was Beatrice’s job to gently shoo him away, which only made him confused. Humans existed to love him. Why would Beatrice try to prevent that?

Beatrice took her place opposite Hannah in a comfy wingback chair upholstered in soft blue and gold brocade.

“So, you want to know more about Amy and Cameron?” Hannah said matter-of-factly, scratching Lucky between the ears. He purred loudly, his eyes closing in bliss.

Beatrice appreciated her directness. Hannah didn’t ask
why
Beatrice wanted to know. Maybe, for a lawyer, it was natural to ask questions about matters that didn’t directly concern you.

“That’s right,” Beatrice replied, smiling at Lucky as he continued to purr. “I’m helping the sheriff with his investigation so I’m trying to figure out how they’re connected. I know that Amy and Jordan dated for a long time, but I have the sense that Cameron was in Amy’s life too.”

“Of course he was,” Hannah replied quickly. “He was
always
in the picture. Cameron’s parents moved here right before grade nine and Amy and Jordan had already been dating for a year. Cameron wasn’t exactly in Amy’s social circle but they both ended up working at Wilson’s Diner that year.”

“And they became friends?”

Hannah shrugged and moved Lucky’s tail out of her face. “There were a lot of rumors. But it was plain to me, and probably the rest of our high school, that Cameron was in love with Amy. He used to drive her home after work, he followed her around at school and he never had a girlfriend. It got to the point where apparently Jordan forbade Amy from spending any time with Cameron. But they worked together so it was impossible for them not to talk.”

Beatrice frowned and leaned her elbows on the table. “Do you think Amy loved Cameron back?”

“I’m not sure.” Hannah reached carefully for her latte and Lucky watched her drink it with his big round eyes, still purring. “She was always nice to him, that I saw—but she was friendly, not flirtatious. And Cameron wasn’t exactly good-looking. Not like he is now. He really grew into himself after high school.”