The Counterfeiter-Catching Cat: A Beatrice Young Cozy Cat Mystery (Beatrice Young Cozy Cat Mysteries Book 1) (5 page)

“And you told the sheriff?”

“Oh yeah. He doesn’t have any leads yet, though. In the meantime, I’ve become better than the Secret Service at identifying a fake, pen or not.”

Beatrice frowned. “I had one appear at my store today.”

Jeff’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Was it the first?”

“Not sure. I never look closely at the money that comes in.”

“You know, this is getting to be a real problem,” Jeff interjected as he handed over the change. “I know other business owners who are just as cheesed off as I am about the fakes. It’s bad for business. We have to find the person who’s doing this or come winter, we’re all going to be hurting bad.”

6

Warm, golden sunshine spilled through the almost floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the café as Beatrice came in. She immediately went to get her laptop from the office. Hamish and Lucky both seemed exhausted by the excursion and they settled into their respective favorite window seats for a nice catnap in the sunshine.

Beatrice sat in
her
favorite spot, a table by the front window. It had a comfy chair upholstered in powder blue velvet damask. Battered paperbacks sat on the shelf built into the exposed brick wall on her right and lily of the valley spilled out of a little chipped vase on the table. She powered up her laptop and resisted doing more research about Jordan Clark and the people in his life. As much as she wanted to help, she had pressing café business to attend to.

She put in orders for supplies, updated the café blog and social media accounts, answered emails from travel editors who wanted to interview her or profile her café, and logged into their accounting program to check the cash flow. Payroll was coming up and she wanted to be in good form to cut the necessary checks.

Those tasks complete, Beatrice opened the previous month’s sales report. There was nothing but good news as customers were lapping up the new fall menu and drinks. Sure, rents were rising in downtown Ashbrook but her healthy profit more than compensated for that expense.

Try as she might, she couldn’t concentrate on the numbers. Jordan’s death pressed urgently upon her thoughts. To add to her distracted frame of mind, Lucky jumped up on her lap and kneaded her legs furiously with his little needle claws before looking up with his round green eyes and meowing piteously. She kissed his velvety head. Hamish jumped up onto the window ledge next to her and glared at both of them jealously. The pair of them were like jealous siblings who refused to grow up.

A car door slammed. Beatrice looked out the window eagerly. Matthew came striding forward, car keys jangling on his finger. She loved the way he always looked happy after a day of work.

He had started at the park as a young man and worked in fire prevention, search and rescues, and law enforcement. Over the years, though, he had become much more interested in conservation. He now exclusively ran the interpretive programs, organized tours and educational instruction for visiting students, supervised the production of brochures and other informational material, and did outreach in the community to promote conservation. The constant cheerful look in his eyes told Beatrice that he was doing exactly what he had always wanted to do. It filled her with joy to see him that way.

Matthew breezed through the door, his nose and cheeks reddened from the sun. It contrasted with the steel gray of his wavy hair and full white beard. He looked quite smart in his ranger’s uniform. Unlike every other man she knew, he had kept trim over the years thanks to his love of hiking and canoeing. Matthew had always been a moderate man, not prone to binge drinking, flares of temper, or impulsive decisions.

He made a perfect husband … for someone else.

Beatrice was comfortable with her single status. She had dated over the years since her divorce but she had never found anyone she wanted to marry. She had always lived alone, or at least since she and Matthew had split, and she was so comfortable with her routines, flexible schedule, and freedom that the idea of compromise seemed silly. Matthew was an amazing best friend. But anything more, no matter the gossip that swirled around them, was unthinkable.

“Hi Bee,” he said, kissing her cheek. He smelled like pine trees and fresh air. He sat at the chair beside her and Hamish immediately clambered up into his lap. The big Maine Coon had a strange fondness for him, even though Matthew wasn’t really a cat person.

Still, he scratched Hamish’s fluffy ruff and winked at Beatrice. “Still can’t figure out why he likes me. Lucky couldn’t care if I was alive or dead.”

Beatrice smiled. “Hamish is just one of those cats who love non-cat people. He’s stubborn that way. Do you want anything to drink?”

“I’m okay. I actually came here because I had an idea. I was thinking that we might visit some of the local shops and see if they’ve also received fake bills.”

Beatrice then told Matthew all about her visit to Johnny’s Place and her conversation with Jeff. She left out the bit about Jordan, as she still wanted to respect the sheriff’s investigation.

Matthew nodded when she finished. “That confirms how serious things are. I don’t want folks in Ashbrook getting hurt from having fakes in circulation. We have to find out how many other businesses have seen counterfeits and if they can give us any clues as to who’s behind them.”

Beatrice nodded. “Alright then. How about an Earl Gray to go and we’ll make the rounds?”

She scooped up the cats and they took Matthew’s ancient gray pick-up to the Old-Fashioned Grocery, Ashbrook’s one and only grocery store. Matthew mentioned that they might come across Amy, Jordan’s girlfriend, since she worked there. Beatrice kept mum on that point. She was pretty sure Amy would have left as soon as the sheriff called her with the bad news.

They pulled into the parking lot. Like the rest of the downtown, the store was paneled in gray wood and had a sign with old-fashioned lettering. Inside, there was a bakery, butcher, and green grocer, as well as the usual dry goods. It was a charming place to shop, though not exactly cheap.

Matthew, Beatrice, and the cats headed to the back and climbed the stairs to the offices on the second level. Everyone in Ashbrook shopped at the Old-Fashioned Grocery, so Matthew said that it would be a good place to start their investigation. If there were fakes in circulation, they had to be at that store.

7

Ryan Jackson, the store’s manager, was just putting his computer into a knapsack when Beatrice and Matthew arrived. He looked surprised, especially when Lucky and Hamish trotted in, but he shook both the humans’ hands and patted the cats awkwardly.

A young guy in his mid-thirties, Ryan had gone away to get his business degree. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he came back and took a job managing the Ashbrook Old-Fashioned Grocery. After a couple of months, the reason became apparent—he married his high school sweetheart. They now had two adorable daughters.

He was a thin, slightly nervous man with a moustache and a habit of wearing business casual slacks and polo shirts that were a hair too big for him. Still, Ryan was smart as a whip and friendly to boot.

“Sorry, are you about to leave?” Beatrice asked as they came in.

Ryan smiled and gestured for them to sit down. “Yes, but I’m not in a rush. Please. Have a seat. It’s great to see you.”

They perched in gray felt chairs on the opposite side of his desk. The office had a nice big window but its gray walls and carpet gave it a bland, corporate feel. Filing cabinets, binders, and computer equipment were the only decorations.

“What can I do for you folks?” he asked, settling back into his chair.

“I was wondering if Amy was here today,” Beatrice replied.

The manager frowned, his cheerful expression clouding over. “She
was
here this morning. Then she got a call. It made her almost hysterical. I hope that doesn’t mean that there was bad news about Jordan. I didn’t press her, she was too upset, I just told her to take the day off and keep me posted.”

Matthew looked sideways at Beatrice but she didn’t return his glance. “What’s her behavior been like recently?”

“Unpredictable. When she’s here she seems distracted and worried. More often, though, she’s been calling in sick and switching her shifts. I haven’t said anything because I know Jordan’s missing. I can’t imagine what she’s going through.”

“Was she acting like this
before
Jordan went missing?” Matthew put in.

Ryan pulled at his moustache. “Now that you mention it, you’re right. She used to be such a happy, outgoing kind of girl. For the past couple of months she’s been a lot quieter. Sadder. I don’t know what changed. I thought that maybe she and Jordan were having difficulties but I didn’t pry.”

Beatrice and Matthew exchanged glances. She pulled the counterfeit bill out of her purse. “This is a fake I got in my café this morning. Have you been seen anything like this in your store recently?”

Ryan took the bill and looked over it carefully. His watery blue eyes missed nothing. “Sorry to say that I have. One of the tellers found a fake last week. Exactly the same as this one—the rough paper, irregular size, blurriness.”

“Who was using the bill?” Beatrice asked eagerly.

He grimaced. “Nancy Sullivan.”

Beatrice tried for her best poker face. The fact that the mayor’s wife had been caught using a fake bill shouldn’t have been funny, but it was.

“I assume it’s not her printing these on her inkjet,” Matthew said.

Ryan shook his head. “Absolutely not. She was horrified. We recently hired a new cashier from the city and it seems she has a good eye for identifying fakes.” He sighed and fiddled with a pen on his desk. “Unfortunately, it’s not something we’ve been vigilant about. I didn’t think I had to be and that’s my mistake.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve probably accepted quite a few fakes and never even realized it,” Beatrice said dryly.

“Well, we won’t keep you,” Matthew said, getting up. “Call us, won’t you, if you spot any more counterfeits? We’re trying to help the sheriff track down the source of them.”

Ryan shook their hands, a grateful smile on his face. “Thanks to both of you. A local counterfeiting operation, if that’s what’s going on, could be really bad for business. Let me know if you get any leads. I reported the bill to the sheriff but I know you’re his unofficial second in command,” he said, winking at Beatrice.

“I’m glad Deputy Smith didn’t hear that,” Beatrice whispered to Matthew on the way out.

He grinned. “I always said you should have become a detective.”

“No way. I think running a café is a lot more fun. Plus there’s only bad coffee and stale donuts in police work. That’s not up to snuff for me.”

As they went outside, the cats following behind, Beatrice spotted Amy’s friend Madison smoking in the designated smoking area, her cigarette hanging idly from between two manicured fingers with hot pink nails. She had long dark hair and gray eyes and was dressed flashily in tight jeans and basketball sneakers, though her green work apron covered most of her clothing. Her eyes widened as the two of them approached.

“Hi Madison,” Beatrice said. “How are you?”

Madison dropped the cigarette and ground it out under her heel. “Fine.”

They stood there awkwardly. Beatrice wasn’t especially well acquainted with the young woman. Amy and Madison sometimes came into the Cozy Cat Café for hot chocolate or cake but they rarely spoke to or even acknowledged her. Now, standing next to Madison, she felt about a hundred years old. The cats seemed to feel a similar sense of discomfort and kept their distance.

Beatrice decided the best course of action was to be as straightforward as possible.

“Have you talked to Amy this afternoon?” she asked. “We’re trying to help the sheriff with his investigation into Jordan’s disappearance.”

Madison frowned. “Not since she left around lunchtime. She was really upset but she didn’t want to talk about it. I don’t see what you’d want with Amy. She doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Ryan told me that she’s been rather quiet the past couple of months and it could have to do with Jordan. We’re trying to figure out why she might have been unhappy.”

“I don’t know. We haven’t been hanging out as much lately,” she replied, crossing her arms. “Tell you the truth, I’m fed up with her. Something was obviously going on in her life but she refused to let me in. Stopped talking to me almost entirely.” Madison looked into the distance, her gaze angry. “If you want the truth, go talk to Cameron Moore. I’m sure
he
knows what’s going on.”

Matthew’s heavy brows lifted. “The bar owner?”

“Yeah. He and Amy were close. Maybe too close for Jordan’s taste. Anyway, my break’s over. I gotta split. Good luck with things.” With that she marched back into the store.

Beatrice and Matthew looked at each other. Confusion was written across both their faces. “Do you think she’s hiding something?” Beatrice asked.

“Could be. After all, we don’t know her that well. It’s not like she’d be inclined to answer our questions. But, then again, maybe she’s right. Maybe Cameron
is
the one who knows the truth, though I don’t see what
he
has to do with anything.”

Beatrice considered this. “I guess our next stop is to see Cameron. But you do the talking. I’m not sure he’s the sort that wants to chat with an old lady.”

Matthew’s kind blue eyes crinkled at the corners. “You’re not old until you’re dead,” he said, grinning. “Plus, you don’t look a day over forty.”

“I don’t look a day over fifty-five, in low light, if you’re not looking directly at me,” Beatrice retorted, heading for the car. “Com’on. Let’s pay a visit to Cameron. I wouldn’t mind a nice cold beer, now that I think of it.”

8

Despite their best intentions to visit Cameron Moore, Beatrice couldn’t resist directing Matthew to stop first at a few of the stores he had patronized the previous Sunday—the pharmacy, a convenience store, and the hardware store.

Most of the shop owners said that they had never seen a counterfeit bill cross their counter. Yet, when they saw Beatrice’s fake, their eyes widened unhappily with recognition. Beatrice hated being the bearer of bad news. All of these stores would suffer from having counterfeit bills in circulation.