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