The sheriff stopped some distance from the parking lot where Amy had pulled in. “Let’s walk from here,” he suggested quietly.
They piled out, being careful to close the doors quietly. Hamish and Lucky, newly freed from his carrier, jumped out and headed into the dark. Beatrice didn’t worry since she trusted them not to roam far. They had an unspoken agreement: the cats couldn’t go outside alone but, accompanied, they were allowed free range. Lucky had been a bit too free with this arrangement at the beginning and had wandered far out of sight but Hamish seemed to have brought him in line.
Sheriff Roy, Matthew, and Beatrice walked softly down the dirt road. Tall pines overhung the road, their dried needles scattered over the gravel below. Birds fluttered in the treetops but otherwise the only sound was of leaves rustling in the breeze. And the distant sound of a car door opening and slamming shut.
The three humans and two cats took a path that diverged from the road and ran alongside the parking lot.
Amy’s hatchback sat next to a pick-up truck. Its interior lights were still on and they revealed a person leaning against it: a tall, buff man in a plaid shirt was smoking a cigarette. The tip glowed red in the darkness.
Amy was dragging a suitcase out of the back of her car. Her skinny frame strained against the weight. The sheriff motioned for them to go closer. Beatrice took a pocket-sized digital recorder out of her pocket and switched it on. Cursing inwardly, she realized that they weren’t near enough to pick up voices, nor could she get much closer without being seen. Just her luck.
Then she felt the scratch of little claws on her jeans. She peered down to see Hamish urgently pawing at her, his intelligent eyes fixed on the recorder. Beatrice looked at the device and its little belt clip, then at Hamish’s sturdy leather collar, and in an instant she knew what to do.
“Genius, Hamish,” she said in a low voice.
She clipped the recorder onto Hamish’s collar and watched him run through the woods and skirt under the car so that he could be right by Amy and Cameron. Beatrice beamed like a proud parent at a school concert, trying to ignore the fact that Jacob and Matthew were staring at her like she had lost her mind.
15
Cameron stomped on his cigarette and helped Amy hoist the suitcase into the back of his pick-up. After tossing it in, he gathered her in his arms and kissed her passionately. She stood ramrod straight, not seeming to enjoy his embrace.
“Is that all of it?” he asked, his arms still around her.
“Yeah. I hid it as soon as I realized Jordan was missing. So you’ll get rid of everything?”
“I’ll burn it. Don’t you worry about anything. Amy, why’re you acting so weird? Look at me!” She tried to pull away from him but he held on. “I’m doing this for you. I’m putting myself in danger for you. Hell, I’ve even been spending fifty-dollar bills at the local stores, trying to get back those fake twenties in change. Hiding them so no one would get suspicious.”
“I didn’t know that,” Amy said in a small voice.
“Okay, well, all I’m saying is that I deserve for you to tell me what’s going on.”
She managed to pull away. “I dunno if you deserve it, Cam. Tell me now and be honest—did you do it?” she hissed.
“Do what?”
“Kill Jordan!”
He paused for at least five seconds.
“No!” Cameron finally burst out. “I thought … I thought maybe you did…”
“God no! Why would you even think that? Cameron, I swear, if you did anything to Jordan I’ll never forgive you.”
Cameron kicked the dirt under him. “I wanted to. Hell, I was so tired seeing him push you around. Force you to get involved in that stupid counterfeiting scheme. And not only that, but make you spend it and take on all the risk…”
“I know, okay?” Amy cut in, her voice high but firm. “You don’t need to tell me. I feel like the biggest fool there ever was. He was my first love, Cam. I trusted him. So it took me a long time to figure out that he was using me—by crashing at my house, printing his money there, then getting me involved. Jordan was selfish, always was, but I guess it took something extreme for me to see it.”
Cameron made a sound of disgust and turned from her. “I just don’t get why you went along with it for so long, spending all those fake twenties, and bringing him the change? You must have still loved him.”
Amy hugged herself. “Don’t say that,” she said in a small voice. “I dunno why I kept doing it. He was persuasive. And like I told you, we saw that program about printing money on TV. Jordan made it seem all badass and exciting. You got to understand, Cam, neither of us had more than a high school education. You think I’m ever going to get rich as a cashier?”
“You know I would pay you to tend bar. I’d give you a good wage, too. Teach you to help me manage the place.”
“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 s
tare 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 Counterfeiter-Catching Cat: A Beatrice Young Cozy Cat Mystery (Beatrice Young Cozy Cat Mysteries Book 1) Page 7