A Berry Murderous Kitten: A Laugh-Out-Loud Kylie Berry Mystery (Kylie Berry Mysteries Book 2)

by A. R. Winters

  My heart soared. Angels sang. My eyes teared up. Brad had said that my eggs tasted great!

  He shook his fork at me. “I want to know what in Sam Hill you were thinking?”

  I again looked from him to the eggs and back again. Confused.

  “No,” he said. “Not the eggs. Forget the eggs. I want to know what you thought you were doing sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. I want to know why you thought it was okay to investigate Cam’s murder.”

  My stomach dropped. Busted. Guilty. But another part of me wasn’t having it. I lifted my chin and stared Brad right in the eyes. Defiant. I didn’t leave a marriage to a man who liked to tell me what to do just to let some other man tell me what to do. “Is there anyone in town that I am—by law—not allowed to have a conversation with?”

  “No, but—”

  “And is it illegal for me to reminisce about Cam with the people who knew him?”

  “No…”

  “And—”

  “Now you stop right there,” Brad said. He wagged his fork at me, took a bite, and then wagged his fork some more. “How’d you make these so good? Wow, they look bad. Forget that… You know what I’m talking about so stop acting like you don’t. You’ve been investigating Cam’s murder. You’re muddying the waters for the professionals, and you could put yourself in harm’s way. Remember the last time? Remember how that turned out?”

  It was my turn to cross my arms. “I remember not going to jail for a crime I didn’t commit. I remember getting to the truth sooner than all the professionals.”

  Brad’s expression darkened, and his jaw clenched shut mid-chew. His eyes still angry, he swallowed. “Officer Matt Brown, gunned down and killed when he knocked on somebody’s door. Officer Willa Moore, shot once in the chest and once in the abdomen when she recognized evidence at a residence during the questioning of a suspect. Officer Vern Jasper, body never found.” It was time for more fork shaking. “You’re staying out of this investigation. I do not want to be getting reports of… of something like that happening to you.” His voice drifted off at the end as his full attention shifted back to his plate of eggs.

  I felt humbled. He cared. He really cared. “Did Willa live?”

  “She did.”

  Brad eventually left with a thermos full of coffee that he’d brewed himself. Going on his advice, I placed an online order for a higher quality coffee than what I’d been serving. I wasn’t too proud to let coffee’s addictive qualities do some of the work of getting people in the door. But looking at the prices, I wondered if it might be cheaper to offer up cups of brewed gold.

  Picking the coffee brand with the best reviews that was also within my budget, I added on an order for a coffee grinder. So many of the reviews emphasized the need to grind the beans fresh prior to brewing for best results. I figured a lot of little changes could add up to big success with customer satisfaction.

  As the day progressed, people wandered in. Some stayed. Most got a little something, sat a while, then left. When Susie popped in, my hand immediately went to my hair. Yesterday’s post-hamburger French braid had worked out so well that I’d done it again this morning, minus the condiments.

  First thing, Susie assessed my hair. I don’t even think she looked at my face. “Looking good, Kylie.” She leaned over the counter, turned me around, and fixed an errant strand before turning me back around and pulling a few strands loose in the front to frame my face. “There. Perfect.” She smiled and finally looked at the rest of me. “Do you do fill-ups?”

  “Fill whats?”

  “Fill-ups.” She plopped a shiny, purple, metallic insulated to-go mug on the counter.

  The too-expensive coffee I’d just ordered suddenly began to feel like a very good investment. “I sure do!”

  I poured her some of the coffee that Brad had made and then set out the chilled cream dispenser and the cubes of sugar.

  “Oh, how cute!” She lifted the lid of the dispenser. “Is this real cream?”

  “It is.”

  “Organic?”

  Dang it! Note to self. Get organic. “No, but if you plan on becoming a regular, I’ll make sure to get some.”

  Susie’s eyes got wide with excitement. “In that case, could you offer some other things too? I like my coffee with brown sugar and molasses.”

  My brows went up and my mouth fell open. I’d never heard of such a thing. But, self-preservation kicked in, and I was nodding my head before I even knew it. “I can do that!” Yep, I was no longer in the driver’s seat. Entrepreneur-Kylie had taken over. “And if you make it in for coffee Monday through Thursday, Friday’s coffee is on the house.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “I love that! I’m going to tell all my customers. I’ll give you a shoutout on Facebook. What’s your website?”

  I was so over my head taking on the café. With the mention of a website, I sank a little deeper. “I don’t have one yet, but it’s in the works.” The tip of my nose did not suddenly become visible. It did not grow. Phew!

  “Well as soon as you get it up, let me know. I’ll tell everyone about it.”

  Susie left, and I rallied with a silent pep talk. I had an insanely long health inspection list of things that needed to be fixed, forty-five days to do it, a killer to catch, Zoey’s innocence to prove, and more coffee goodness to procure. I could do this. I would do this.

  Yet, even with all of that to do, I couldn’t get past thinking about Max. He had me steaming. Every time he entered my thoughts, my vision turned a little red. But I wasn’t sure why I got so mad. Roberto, the new Camden Falls health inspector, had been here because he was trying to woo Dorothy. I’d originally come to the conclusion that Max called and made a complaint, but Dorothy hated me and wanted me to fail. It made more sense that Roberto had acted on his own because of his feelings for Dorothy. Max had probably not had anything to do with it.

  So, Roberto being in love with Dorothy explained the surprise health inspection. But that didn’t explain how Brad had found out that Zoey and I were investigating Cam’s murder? Someone had told him. Max knew we were investigating, but so did Ned, Patty, Steph, Jared, and John. Any one of them could have said something. It would make sense for Ned, Patty Steph, Jared or John to tell. They each had a personal stake in the situation. They were involved either as a suspect or as the alibi of a suspect. But Max wasn’t a suspect or the alibi of a suspect. If he had told the police that Zoey and I were investigating Cam’s murder, he’d done it for reasons that had nothing to do with Cam. His reasons would have had to do with Zoey, and as a survivor of a manipulative and controlling ex, I wanted to know what those reasons were.

  But that led me back to the question of was it Max who told or one of the others. It was an endless loop of possibilities that played over and over inside my head, and it left me confused as to who to be mad at. Despite that, all of my anger wanted to zero in on Max. I didn’t care if he was guilty or not. I wanted it to be him. That way all my anger toward him would be justified.

  I cleaned the counter as I stewed, sorting through my layers of emotion. I didn’t like Max. He reminded me of Dan, my ex. But that mental association wasn’t fair to either Zoey or Max. If Zoey had someone who wanted to step up and take care of her, I had no right to get in the way just because of how someone else had done me wrong.

  The aged beauty, Agatha, strolled in wearing flowing clothes that gently swirled around her as if moved by magical, invisible energy flows. Ethereal as ever. She took a seat at the bar. “How are you today, sweetie?” she asked. “You looked troubled.”

  If only my arms were long enough to reach across the counter and hug her. “It’s Zoey. I’ve been worried about her. Everyone thinks she hurt Cam.”

  “Well, she did hurt Cam. She beat the snot out of him, right out there on your sidewalk.” She pointed out the window. “Taught the twerp to think twice before putting hands on a lady who didn’t want to be touched.”

  I had
to nod. No nonsense and direct, as always, Agatha was right.

  With Zoey on my mind, I walked over to the window and gazed out. But instead of seeing Zoey’s building across the street, I saw the shiny, black, hulking SUV that had been hanging around since almost the day I’d arrived in town. There was no cloud of warm exhaust billowing in the cold, late morning air, and I wondered if I’d finally get the chance to see its owner walking out of one of the surrounding businesses.

  I craned my neck. Watching. Looking.

  I texted Zoey. That big SUV is back.

  Zoey: Watching it.

  I wondered whose security camera she was tapping into to see it. She didn’t have a window overlooking Main Street.

  Me: Seen the owner?

  Zoey: Nobody’s gotten out. Parked for over an hour.

  Okay, so that was weird. I craned my neck again to look at the SUV, and then realized that whoever was in the SUV could be looking back at me.

  I went back to Agatha, took her order for a cream cheese danish (that I’d procured from the grocery store) and gave it to her on the house with a cup of steaming coffee.

  Tall, lanky Sam walked in carrying his backpack on his shoulder. The café was quieter than usual today, and there was an excellent chance that he’d be able to get some studying in as he took care of customers.

  My cell phone vibrated with a text.

  Zoey: Sam’s there. Meet me at my car.

  I grabbed my coat and left by the back door. It was a long hike to the far end of the block, behind where I’d seen the SUV sitting on Main Street. I crossed from my side of the street to Zoey’s and hoofed it behind the buildings of her block. I even climbed a brick fence that acted as a support wall between parking lots built at different ground levels. Finally, I made it to Zoey’s car.

  Starsky and Hutch, back together again.

  “What’s the plan?” I asked.

  “Follow the SUV.”

  Chapter 22

  Why are we doing this again?” I asked. We’d been sitting in Zoey’s car, parked three spots back from the SUV for over an hour. I was getting more concerned than suspicious. I wondered if whoever was inside the SUV might have gone into a diabetic coma or something. They could need help.

  “I want to know who’s in there,” Zoey said.

  Very simple answer. Very direct. To the point. No rationalizing. I could respect that. But I still didn’t know why we were here doing this.

  “Aren’t we supposed to be figuring out who killed Cam? The car that dumped Cam’s body in front of the café didn’t look anything like the SUV.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Want to know who’s driving it.”

  Paranoid is as paranoid does, I thought to myself. Given that Zoey could keep tabs on the majority of the country—the world?—it made sense that it would bother her that she didn’t know who was behind the wheel of the SUV that had been hanging around for weeks.

  “If I get out and throw rocks at it, the owner would get out, right?” I was really getting tired of sitting there. It was a good vantage point from which to watch the café, though. I’d counted a whole five people who had gone inside and a whole seven people who had come out. Yep, the place was hopping.

  Zoey started the car and my gaze fixed forward. Sure enough, the SUV’s taillights were on. A second later and we were on the move.

  I hadn’t explored much since I’d gotten to town. I’d been in survival mode in one way or another since the day I’d arrived. So, I was surprised at how fast the town fell away and the roads narrowed to just large enough to fit two cars passing each other. There was no shoulder on the side of the road. No space for walking or biking. There was road and then not road. In some spots, there was a sudden drop-off, the ground dropping away further than I could see over the road’s edge. We had officially left the cozy country town and had driven out into the country. Trees, hills, houses at wide distances from each other, barns, fields, and fences marked the distance we traveled. The SUV turned off of one country road and onto another so many times that I was completely turned around. I no longer had a clue as to which direction the city of Camden Falls was in. I also had no idea how to get back.

  “Do you know where we are?” I asked.

  “Not a clue.” Zoey’s gaze remained locked on the SUV. We’d hung back far enough that we’d almost lost it a few times as it turned onto this or that road, but each time Zoey had managed to spot it or guess the right choice between a left or a right. She was a bloodhound on the scent, focused forward with no thought of how to get back.

  “Hey, look.” The SUV was turning. “Is that a road or someone’s drive?”

  “I think it might be someone’s private drive.” She slowed to a crawl in the middle of a curve on top of a hill. We watched as the SUV made its way down a gravel road that wound around the back end of a property that looked abandoned.

  The SUV stopped. The door opened, and someone got out.

  “Is that…?” I squinted and leaned forward, as if getting three inches closer to the SUV parked a third of a mile away would help me make out the driver’s identity.

  “That son of a—” A car honked as it passed us. It passed in a no passing zone and in the middle of a curve. That driver had not been happy, and neither was Zoey. Her hands were white knuckled, gripping the wheel as she leaned forward in her seat.

  Even from our far distance, we were both sure. The person who had gotten out of the SUV was Max.

  The laws of nature and physics that were broken getting us to where Max had parked would have made roller coaster engineers break out in a cold sweat. I got out of Zoey’s car shaking. Zoey got out of it swearing. She stormed forward, spewing her anger and hurt at Max as he walked backward with his hands up.

  “Baby,” he said when she’d run herself down to fumes. “I love you, but I know you. You’re a people watcher, baby. I just wanted the chance to get near you without you turning around and walking away. I wanted the chance to see you, to be near you again, but I knew I didn’t deserve it. Then, with everything that’s been happening to you over the last week, I’ve been worried about you. Please, Zoey. I was just looking out for you.”

  I was pretty sure Zoey wasn’t buying it. She stomped her way up to Max with her fists clenched. I wondered if Zoey had a tire iron in her trunk and how long it would take me to get to it if Zoey’s anger sparked Max’s anger and things turned violent. But to my shock, Max sank to his knees in front of her. His arms stayed down at his sides and his face stayed lifted. He looked ready to take whatever it was she gave with no intent to lash out or defend himself.

  “You left me!” Zoey screamed at him. “Then you stalked me!”

  Max said nothing.

  “That’s not right. You’re not right. How can you do that to somebody you love? That’s not love! That’s vile and selfish and cowardly. How could you be such a coward?” Zoey wasn’t holding anything back, but this time what came out wasn’t rage venting curse words. It was her hurt, her thoughts. Everything that had been building inside of her had finally started flooding out.

  “Oh, hey. Look at that. I’ve got a phone call,” I said to absolutely no one. Nobody was paying any attention to me. All the same, I dug my phone out of my pocket, turned my back and started walking. With my phone to my ear, I jabbered on to no one about strategies for tackling the fixes necessary to pass the next health inspection test when Roberto came back in a month. He had dinged me for a shelf being less than one-sixteenth of an inch too close the floor. He’d lain on his side with a magnifying glass and a flashlight to prove it.

  Cresting the knoll of a hill thirty or so feet away from where Zoey and Max were deciding whether to stomp out the embers of their relationship or feed it twigs and straw to get it going again, I took in my surroundings. It looked like a sprawling farm that had fallen into disuse. The winter grasses were high from a long summer of growth, and a nearby barn was being used to store old cars instead of farm equipment. I was tempted to go check it out. Maybe there
was a forgotten roadster tucked away that I could buy from a little ol’ lady who only drove the car on Sundays to get to church. Standing outside, most of what I could see wouldn’t be salvageable, but I’d watched scavenger shows where rare finds had been discovered in similar looking barns. That alone had my feet moving forward.

  Everything inside the barn was covered in dust or strewn with tarps. Two cars had flat tires and were so covered with dust that I couldn’t discern their color. They didn’t look like anything special. I popped the hood of one. No engine. Bending down and looking under the other, I saw a bunch of pipes that I was sure were supposed to be in the car and not on the ground.

  Moving on, I lifted the edge of one of the tarp-covered cars only to drop it just as fast. Something had made a home for itself inside the car by way of a missing window. The ammonia-laced musk was so strong it practically seared my nose hair.

  When lifting another tarp, I held my breath. But this car was intact. It was a white Toyota that had serious potential as one I could drive. In contrast, the sedan next to it looked pretty good but was in serious need of a paint job. It was peeling in a few places, like it had been sun-baked and exposed to the weather for too long. With a sigh and another longing look at the Toyota, I moved on. I had no idea how to track down its owner, but I was sure I wouldn’t be able to afford it right now anyway. It was way too nice.

  The next tarp I looked beneath revealed two side by side motorcycles. One was a dirt bike and the other looked like it was meant for the road. It looked pretty good, but it wouldn’t serve my purposes. I needed to be able to pick foods and goods up for the café.

  The sound of voices rising had me making my way back out of the barn to see what was going on. Max was on his feet, arms gesticulating. Zoey was on her way to poking a hole through his chest with her finger. Their argument was going in circles. Zoey wasn’t over the hurt and distrust that came from being abandoned. Max was swearing his undying love and proclaiming the right to look out for her without her permission or knowledge.