The Counterfeiter-Catching Cat: A Beatrice Young Cozy Cat Mystery (Beatrice Young Cozy Cat Mysteries Book 1) (9 page)

“I know but I was foolish because I wanted the easy way out.” Amy sniffed. It sounded like she was fighting back tears. “I’m an idiot. And now look at the mess I’m in. Jordan was killed. I don’t know why. Maybe someone found out what he was doing.”

Cameron was silent for a moment. “Never mind that,” he said gruffly. “That’s the police’s job, to figure out who did it. Your job now is to figure out the rest of your life. You can have a clean start, okay? I’ll burn the evidence, I’ll help you clean out the rest of your mom’s basement. Quit your job and come work with me. Forget it ever happened, alright? That’s all you can do now.”

There was silence and then Amy stepped into Cameron’s arms and they stood there in together. After a few moments, Cameron muttered, “I’d better get going. I’d bring you with me but I don’t want to involve you in this any more. I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll figure everything out, okay?”

The sheriff emerged from the bushes then and strode towards the couple quickly, his hand on his holster. “Hold right up,” he said in his deep, confident voice. To hear it immediately made Beatrice straighten up and feel nervous. “No one’s going anywhere.”

Cameron immediately walked towards him, shoulders hunched forward. “You been listening this whole time?” he said in a threatening tone. “That isn’t legal and it isn’t right. You got
nothing
on me.”

“I think I’ve got plenty on you,” the sheriff returned. He drew his handgun. “Now you’re coming with me.”

Matthew stepped out of the bushes, his usually kind face set in hard, determined lines. Cameron looked surprised but not afraid. He probably saw two older guys when he was a young, strong man. What he didn’t know was that the pair of them was in fighting shape and could take
two
younger men (or more) in an instant.

Cameron stepped forward. “Don’t make me shoot you,” the sheriff growled. The younger man paused but lunged forward anyway. Roy fired the gun but his good eye betrayed him and the bullet missed its target by a hair.

The man didn’t even flinch. He was on the sheriff in an instant, tackling him to the ground and positioning to punch him out. Beatrice’s hands flew to her mouth. She saw Amy out of the corner of her eye running toward the gun that was on the ground.

Hamish spotted her and came flying out from under the car, the recorder still dangling from his collar. He collided with the gun and it shot across the parking lot, headed straight for Beatrice. She picked up the gun in a snap and tucked it in her pocket. She had no idea how to use it; she dearly hoped she wouldn’t have to learn on the spot.

Meanwhile, Matthew laid two big hands on Cameron’s shoulders and yanked him clean off the sheriff. He threw the young man to the ground like he was a piece of garbage and pinned him down in turn.

“Bee! The cuffs!” he yelled.

Beatrice felt like she was moving underwater as she stumbled towards the sheriff. He was straining to get up but it looked like the wind had been knocked out of him. He was able to hand her the cuffs and she thrust them at Matthew, who had no trouble rolling the furious man over and cuffing him on the spot.

“Rangers don’t just stare at trees, you know,” he said in response to Beatrice’s stunned look.

Suddenly there was a loud and indignant chorus of meows. Hamish and Lucky were at the trailhead, yowling frantically. She knew immediately what they were up to.

“Amy! She’s run off!”

The sheriff hauled himself to his feet, Beatrice handed him his pistol, and he sprinted off towards the trail. Lucky and Hamish raced after him, their tails straight and proud like flagpoles.

Matthew continued to pin down Cameron with his knee, who insisted on struggling and cursing despite his position.

“You haven’t been teaching your cats to retrieve guns now, have you?” he asked with a ghost of a smirk on his face.

“Cross my heart, hope to die, I haven’t,” she replied. “Even
I
have limits.”

About ten minutes went by before the sheriff came back up the path, leading a cuffed and deflated Amy in front of him. The cats bounded ahead, their whiskers taut and eyes bright with triumph. Roy was sweating furiously and red in the face.

“I swear,” he huffed. “She had a good lead on me. Thought I wasn’t going to catch up. And that black cat just shot out like a little speed demon, cut her off, and tripped her up. I was almost going to ask him if he wanted to cuff her too.”

Beatrice reached out to Lucky, who bounded into her arms. She picked him up and snuggled his soft head. “What a good kitty,” she murmured.

“I didn’t do anything wrong…” protested Amy, her hazel eyes staring blankly from her white face.

“Miss, being involved in a counterfeiting operation is a felony. We’ll do what we can for you but you have to come in to the station.”

He put them both into the back of his truck and slammed the door. Angry muffled voices immediately filtered out.

“I know it’s not kosher but one of you can hop in the back,” the sheriff said wearily. “I’m not about to leave you standing out here in the middle of the night. The cats can ride in the front, if you like.”

Both Beatrice and Matthew agreed that they’d sit in the back and treat it like an adventure, though after five minutes they were so sore they regretted it a little. The bumpy country road did not make for a smooth ride. At least they had a perfect view of the wash of stars above. The cool night breeze blew against their faces and great choruses of peepers sang in the ditches.

“I could get used to this crime solving thing,” Matthew commented, trying to seem casual about it.

Beatrice grinned. “Exactly. You loved playing the hero.”

He shrugged and flashed her his old, charming smile. “It’s not the worst thing. Though I’m not sure who was more helpful, me or those cats of yours.”

Beatrice just smiled smugly at this. Finally, people were realizing that Lucky and Hamish were more than just novelties. That made her just as happy as solving the counterfeiting mystery.

Yet she wasn’t completely satisfied. One central question remained: who killed Jordan?

16

Beatrice pushed aside the white gauzy curtains across from her bed and let out a deep breath as the familiar sight of the woods greeted her. It had been a stressful night and she was glad to have this morning to relax and recharge.

In the dense red spruce forest, a black-backed woodpecker tapped insistently on a trunk and a couple of gray jays flitted between the branches. The sugar maples had burst into full flame-colored glory, their showy leaves crowding out the more modest yellow beech leaves. A grey squirrel crept up one of the spruces, a nut in its mouth, and disappeared into a knot in the tree.

Winter was coming, not that Beatrice minded. She and Matthew took full advantage of the season to skate on local ponds and snowshoe down snowy trails. There wasn’t a season in New Hampshire that she didn’t like.

The sound of the kettle whistling downstairs brought Beatrice back to reality. Matthew must be up. He had stayed overnight in the spare room, as he often did. He’d said last night that he didn’t want to leave Beatrice alone if there was a killer on the loose. She suspected it was because the spare bed had a better mattress than his and she always kept the fridge and pantry stocked.

She sighed and checked the clock. 6:30 a.m. Time to get up. Slipping on her knit slippers, she padded downstairs in her blue plaid flannel pajamas. Matthew was already dressed in the extra ranger’s outfit he kept in the closet in the spare room—tan button-up shirt and dark brown pants. Lucky and Hamish were happily feasting at their food bowls in the kitchen. Matthew gave her a wry look.

“It’s not like they gave me a choice. They were meowing so loudly at my door there was nothing to do but feed them. I don’t know why they didn’t wake
you
up.”

“Because they know I refuse to get up before 6:30. But they know you’re an early riser.”

Mathew grimaced and poured hot water into a cup and a travel mug already prepped with English Breakfast tea bags. He looked a bit tired but otherwise awake and ready for the day. “I have to get in early today. What are you going to do?”

Beatrice propped herself up in one of the tall wooden chairs at the breakfast bar and took a sip of the tea. Its soothing warmth was perfect. She added a drop of milk. “I’m going to swing by to see the sheriff before I head to the café.” She sighed. “Last night was draining.”

Matthew nodded cautiously. Beatrice cupped her mug in her hands and thought about Sheriff Roy. He must have been up late questioning Amy and Cameron, making calls to lawyers, and filling out paperwork. She slid her smartphone out of her front pocket and stared at it. No word so far.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay here by yourself?” Matthew asked. He slid around the breakfast bar and squeezed her shoulder gently.

She looked up into his caring eyes. “Honestly Matt, I think the killer is already locked up.”

He blinked. “You think it was Amy or Cameron?”

Beatrice swung around to face him. “Think about it. Those two had a real stake in Jordan’s fate. Why would some stranger bother to kill him over a small-time counterfeiting operation? The fake bills we found in Amy’s suitcase last night didn’t amount to much. And from what I can tell, the bills were only distributed in the local area and they hadn’t been at it very long. Amy and Cameron, on the other hand, have motive.”

Matthew sighed heavily, his forehead wrinkling. “Then I hope the sheriff has gotten a confession out of one of them. Despite what Jordan did, he didn’t deserve to die. It’s a bad business.”

Putting a hand on his shoulder, Beatrice looked directly into his eyes. “He may be an old crabapple but Jacob knows what he’s doing. I’d be surprised if he didn’t have news for us soon.”

17

After Matthew had left for work, Beatrice went upstairs to shower quickly and get dressed. She put on jeans and a black shirt with white horizontal stripes and tossed her long hair up in its usual clip. She pulled on her duckie boots and quilted riding jacket and headed out, the cats trotting hot on her heels. They both appeared bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and they looked up at her and meowed, as if eager to get going.

It was a brisk fall day. A cool wind whisked through the trees and sent the leaves shivering on the lawn. Beatrice realized she would be spending a good part of her weekend raking. Not that she minded—she found garden work therapeutic after the hustle and bustle of the café.

As she entered Ashbook proper, the town looked as sleepy and innocent as always. Alice was putting a sign out in front of the pharmacy advertising a sale on vitamins. There was a short line up outside of the ATM on the corner and a dairy delivery truck pulled up in front of Jones’ Convenience Store. Beatrice piloted the car into the parking lot of the sheriff’s office.

Jacob Roy wasn’t at his desk when she went in but Deputy Smith was there, pecking at an ancient computer and slugging down coffee at the same time. He was a nice-looking man in his late twenties, tall with a full head of brown hair and hazel eyes. Beatrice kept thinking she should set him up with Zoe.

“Morning, Bee” he said in his mellow tenor. “Nice to see you—good work last night. Sheriff’s meeting with Amy’s mother right now in the interrogation room.”

“And Amy and Cameron?” she asked anxiously.

“In detention. We’ve got enough on her for a counterfeiting charge and him for conspiracy thanks to that recording you made last night, not to mention assaulting a police officer. Looks like we’ll have to let them out on bail, though, if someone pays up.”

Beatrice sank down in the chair opposite his desk. “Parker, I’m sure that one of those people killed Jordan.”

He looked at her sharply. “Do you have any evidence?”

She shook her head. “Not yet but I will. When can they be released on bail?”

“Noon, I think.”

Beatrice nodded. “Then I’d better get to work.” She called Zoe at the café and asked her to open the café without her. Zoe didn’t mind in the least, as everyone was concerned about catching Jordan’s killer. She wasn’t exactly sure what she would do but she felt certain that she had to retrace what had happened on Jordan’s final night.

The sheriff came into the office, his eyes red and bleary and his face lined. He evidently hadn’t gotten much sleep. Beatrice stood up eagerly.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said gruffly before collapsing into another chair.

Beatrice didn’t waste a minute. “Jacob, I think you know that either Amy or Cameron has to be the killer. Where were they the night Jordan was murdered?”

The sheriff sighed and massaged his temples. “Both have alibis. Amy said she was home with her mother and Cameron said that he was working in the back room at the bar.”

“Did anyone see him?”

The sheriff shook his head.

“Not exactly the most airtight of alibis. One of them has to be lying.”

The sheriff looked at her, his eyes half-shut from fatigue “Well, no one saw Amy or Cameron at the bar where Jordan was, if that’s what you’re asking. What’s more, people there described Jordan as drunk and aggressive, but he didn’t seem afraid for his life.”

“Someone must have seen
something
.” She clicked her tongue at the cats. “I’m going to try to retrace Jordan’s steps. I’ll call you if I find anything,” she said over her shoulder.

The sheriff let her go with a shake of his head. Parker smiled and poured his boss another cup of coffee. It was going to be a long day.

At Johnny’s Place, no one had anything new to report on Jordan. So instead Beatrice drove out to the lake where his body was found. It was an incredibly peaceful place. The lake was completely still and reflected the brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows from the trees that encircled it. Sugar maples in bright orange cloaks were so close to the banks that their branches dipped down into the water. The azure sky above was dotted with fleecy white clouds.

Beatrice carefully stepped along the rocky shore. The cats tiptoed alongside, sniffing the ground and looking about. There was no sound except for the occasional plop of a fish jumping in the lake or the faint rustling of the leaves. The shore area where Jordan had been found was still marked off with pylons and tape. She knew there would be nothing to see there—the team would have scoured the area thoroughly.