Purrs and Peril

by Jinty James

  “She says she doesn’t have a machine. But she lives near Steve.”

  “So does Mrs. Finch but I don’t want to believe she’s the killer. And Mrs. Finch has a coffee machine.”

  “So you told me,” Zoe replied. “But how could a sweet old lady like Mrs. Finch be the murderer? She’s teaching us to knit!”

  “If you think the killer is someone who lived near Steve, then we might be suspects as well.”

  “What?” Zoe widened her eyes.

  “Think about it. We live a block away from Steve. He was a regular customer. It’s amazing in one way that the detective hasn’t been back to the coffee shop more often.” Not that she wanted him to, Lauren told herself – very sternly.

  “You’re right! I just hope the police don’t think like I do.”

  CHAPTER 8

  On Thursday, Lauren was just about to unlock the front door when Ed entered the cafe space. This was such an unexpected occurrence that she just looked at him, her mouth parting slightly.

  “Can anyone come to the painting bee at the church on Saturday?” His short auburn hair stuck up in tufts and flour smudges decorated his black apron.

  “Of course,” Lauren told him. “I haven’t been attending church much lately, but Zoe and I will be going when we close lunchtime on Saturday.”

  “Good.” He nodded, as if wanting to escape back to the kitchen. “I was thinking I could give them a hand.”

  “I’m sure Pastor Mike would appreciate it.” Ed was the gruff silent type, and most of the time she didn’t know what to say to him, apart from how amazing his pastries were. She didn’t think he spoke much to Zoe either, but Zoe spent a little more time in the kitchen doing the dishes, and was more accustomed to working with him.

  “Pastor Mike’s been good to me,” Ed told her, “even though I don’t go to church. I’d like to help him.”

  “We’ll see you there, then.” Lauren smiled. “Oh.” A thought struck her. “Are you interested in working an extra day per week – on Wednesdays?” She hadn’t had a chance to raise the subject until now.

  Ed took a moment to reply. “Yeah, okay. But the same hours as the other days. It would really help me out right now – the dentist says I need a couple of crowns.” He grimaced. “I even went to the casino on Monday to ask if they needed a new pastry supplier, or help in the kitchen on my days off here, but they turned me down.”

  “Oh.” So that was why she and Zoe had seen Ed at the casino!

  “I like working here,” he said gruffly. “But I didn’t know whether you could afford to pay me for an extra day, so I didn’t ask.”

  “I can definitely afford for you to work on Wednesdays as well,” Lauren confirmed, thinking it was sweet of Ed to be concerned about the café’s finances.

  Ed nodded, and ducked back into the kitchen. With his help, as well as the other volunteers – she didn’t know how many were assisting, but she hoped it was a lot – maybe they could complete painting the church in one day.

  She hummed as she unlocked the door. Annie jumped down from her bed and ran to the Please Wait to be Seated sign, ready to greet their first customer.

  “HI, MRS. FINCH!” ZOE waved her battered paper bag that contained her knitting. “I can’t believe it’s knitting club already!”

  Lauren suspected her cousin was sounding a little cheerier than she actually felt that Friday evening. Zoe hadn’t gotten much knitting done, despite her efforts. Neither had Lauren. At least now her scarf didn’t look like it would become a skinny tie, but she was only a quarter of the way through her project. At the rate she was knitting, her scarf mightn’t be ready until the winter after next.

  “Come in, my dears.” Mrs. Finch appeared glad to see them. Her wrinkled face creased into a smile as she ushered them into her house. It was a complete change from the way Pamela had greeted them when they’d returned her black leather bag. Although, Lauren admitted, it had been unnecessary for Pamela to invite them in for coffee. She and Zoe hadn’t expected that.

  “How is Annie?”

  “She missed you today,” Lauren told her.

  Mrs. Finch sighed. “I wasn’t feeling very well this morning, and I knew you girls were coming tonight, so I thought I would skip the café today.” She brightened. “Maybe you could bring her with you next Friday.”

  “She’d love that,” Lauren replied. Mrs. Finch was one of Annie’s favorite customers.

  “And she can play with our wool,” Zoe added. “Annie loves doing that at home.”

  Mrs. Finch chuckled. “I’m sure she does.”

  They sat down on the fawn sofa, while the senior sat opposite them in an armchair.

  “Now, how far have you gotten?”

  Zoe pouted. “Not very far at all.” She held out her knitting to the elderly lady.

  “This is good, Zoe,” Mrs. Finch said, a little surprise in her tone. “I can’t see any holes at all.”

  Zoe beamed. “I really tried not to get any – and I was constantly checking after each stitch so I could unravel them right away, wasn’t I, Lauren?”

  “That’s right,” Lauren replied with feeling. Zoe’s constant question of: “Can you see a hole? Can you see a hole?” had almost driven her woolly in the evenings.

  “How’s your scarf coming along, Lauren?” Mrs. Finch handed Zoe’s knitting back to her.

  Lauren showed the senior the beginnings of her project.

  “Very good.” Mrs. Finch smiled at her. “You two will be experts in no time.”

  “Awesome!” Zoe picked up her needles and started another row.

  Lauren did the same.

  “Have you heard from the police again?” Lauren asked, telling herself she wasn’t asking because of him – the detective – Mitch – but because she was genuinely interested and concerned about the way the police had suspected Mrs. Finch.

  “No, thank goodness.” Mrs. Finch shook her head. “I just hope that’s all over with now.” Her eyes misted. “Poor Steve – he was such a good neighbor to me.”

  “What about his house?” Zoe asked curiously. “Do you know who inherits?”

  “All I know is that he has an ex-wife and parents in Florida. And that he owned it – or at least was paying a mortgage. I don’t know who will inherit.”

  They knitted in silence for a couple of minutes, the click clack sound of the needles almost soothing now.

  “Hey.” Zoe lifted her head from her blanket-in-progress. “Does Pamela live behind you?”

  “Why, yes she does,” Mrs. Finch replied. She waved a hand behind her. “One house over, though. How did you know?”

  Zoe explained how Annie had discovered Pamela had left her bag behind. “Her coffee was quite good,” she concluded, “apart from the almond milk. But I prefer the lattes and mochas we make at the café.”

  “That reminds me,” Mrs. Finch said. “I poked around with that coffee machine again that my son gave me, but I still can’t work out how to use it.” She sighed. “I suppose I should pack it up and donate it to the thrift store, but if my son found out, his feelings would be hurt.”

  “I understand.” Lauren nodded.

  “All you need are some pods,” Zoe said enthusiastically. “I could even buy some from the grocery store and see if I can get the machine working for you.”

  Lauren gave her cousin a surprised “What?” expression, her eyebrows raised.

  Zoe bit her lip. “That’s if you’d like me to, Mrs. Finch,” she amended.

  “That would be wonderful, dear.” She beamed. “I’m sure I could get the hang of it once someone shows me how to make it work.”

  Zoe chatted to the elderly lady about the different types of coffee pods you could buy, although her tone was a little subdued. An hour later, when Lauren stated her fingers were beginning to get tired, they rose and said goodbye.

  “Are you two going to the painting bee tomorrow?” Mrs. Finch asked as she saw them to the door.

  “Definitely,” Zoe answered. “We’ll b
e there in the afternoon.”

  “I wish I could help Pastor Mike.” She stretched out her gnarled, twisted hands. “But I would just be in the way. Do let me know how it goes.”

  “We will,” Lauren promised. “Hopefully we’ll see you tomorrow or Tuesday at the café. I know Annie will be pleased to visit with you.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I’m up to it.” Mrs. Finch waved goodbye to them, before slowly shutting her front door.

  Once they’d turned the corner into their street, Lauren halted.

  “Why did you offer to help Mrs. Finch with her coffee machine?” She stared at her cousin.

  “I know.” Zoe wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry. At that moment I wasn’t even thinking she could be the killer and I just wanted to help her out. Like she’s helping us with our knitting.”

  “I get it.” Lauren bumped Zoe’s arm. “I feel the same way.” She paused. “If the police haven’t taken her machine away, then I guess it’s okay if we do help her learn how to use it.”

  “Yeah!” Zoe’s eyes lit up. “Otherwise there would be a big yellow tape with the words DO NOT USE OR ELSE on her coffee machine.”

  Lauren chuckled reluctantly. “I’ll come over with you when you show Mrs. Finch how to work her machine.”

  “Great.” Zoe grinned.

  Lauren couldn’t match her cousin’s grin. All she could think of was, there’s safety in numbers.

  THE NEXT MORNING, ALL their customers spoke about the painting bee at the church. Lauren didn’t think they’d had so many orders for take-out before. Annie seemed disappointed – every time she tried to seat a new customer, they told her they wanted to go to the counter for a to-go order.

  At eleven, Lauren bent down to the cat. “Would you like to go home?”

  Annie tilted her head to the side, as if considering the question.

  “Brrp,” she finally answered.

  Lauren walked her to the door leading to their private hallway.

  “I’ll see you before Zoe and I go to the painting bee.”

  “Brrp.” Annie nudged Lauren’s hand, then swished through the cat flap.

  “We’re almost out of cupcakes.” Zoe studied the glass case that held only four of the sweet treats – all vanilla.

  “Maybe it’s true what Ms. Tobin said about vanilla being boring.” Lauren furrowed her brow.

  “No way!” Zoe patted her cousin’s shoulder. “I love your vanilla cupcakes, and so does Mrs. Finch. Ooh, by the way, I didn’t notice her come in this morning.”

  “Neither did I,” Lauren replied. “And there’s no way we – or Annie – would have missed her.”

  “Maybe she’s still not feeling one hundred percent,” Zoe said thoughtfully.

  “I hope she’ll be okay,” Lauren said. “Maybe we should check on her later.”

  “Good idea. We could go to the grocery store tomorrow and buy some pods for her machine and take them over.”

  “Okay,” Lauren agreed. “Should we go to church first?”

  “I guess so.” Zoe’s tone didn’t sound quite as enthusiastic.

  “Maybe we should close up now,” Lauren suggested. Their last customer had departed a few minutes ago.

  “You’re right.” Zoe grabbed the last cupcakes and put them in a cardboard box. “We can have lunch first and then join everyone at the church.”

  Lauren felt guilty as she locked the door and turned off the lights. She’d never closed so early on a Saturday – it wasn’t even noon! She hoped the desertion of customers meant that everyone was at the painting bee.

  Lauren and Zoe used the private hallway to enter the cottage.

  “We’re home, Annie,” Zoe called out. “And we’re going to have cupcakes for lunch!”

  “Brrt!” Annie sounded approving as she ran to greet them.

  “And salad,” Lauren added. “Then we’re going to help Pastor Mike repaint the church.”

  “Brrt,” Annie replied, weaving between their legs as they headed toward the kitchen.

  Lauren gave the cat her favorite tin of fish, while Zoe plated the cupcakes.

  “There’s a bag of salad in the refrigerator,” Lauren told her cousin.

  “Okay.” Zoe divided the salad into thirds – one third for her and two-thirds for her cousin. “Since you’re so keen on salad,” she told Lauren as they sat down to eat.

  Lauren munched on a forkful of greens, wishing they hadn’t sold out of paninis that morning. Oh, well. Less carbs. That had to be good – right?

  After Annie ate her lunch, she trotted off to the living room.

  “Probably cuddling up with our wool – or her pink mouse,” Zoe guessed as she bit into a cupcake.

  As soon as they’d finished eating, they said goodbye to the Norwegian Forest Cat and locked up.

  “I know people say you don’t need to lock your door in Gold Leaf Valley,” Lauren said as she dropped the key into her jeans pocket and zipped it up, “but—”

  “I know.” Zoe nodded. “Especially with a killer in town.”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you.” Lauren touched Zoe’s arm. “Ed is going to work at the café on Wednesdays as well.” She told Zoe the reason they’d seen Ed at the casino.

  “An extra day of Ed’s pastries is awesome!” Zoe grinned.

  They’d changed into old clothes – Lauren wore faded jeans and a white t-shirt that frayed at the hem, which she’d tucked in, and Zoe wore ancient chinos and a long-sleeved shirt with a pattern of arrows she’d picked up at the thrift store for a dollar, saying she was sure it would come in handy one day. It looked like this was its day.

  Lauren’s eyes widened when they arrived at the church. The grounds buzzed with members of the congregation wielding paintbrushes and cans of paint.

  “Oh, wow!” Zoe stood still.

  “I’m glad there are so many people here,” Lauren murmured.

  “Our posters must have worked!”

  “Or else everyone wants to help Pastor Mike.”

  “Look, there’s Ed!” Zoe waved to their pastry chef, who nodded in reply. He wore old jeans dotted with cream paint splashes and a plaid red shirt.

  “Oh, no.” Lauren’s heart raced.

  “What?” Zoe looked to the left, in the same direction as Lauren. “Oh.”

  Detective Denman – Mitch – wore faded black jeans that fit like a glove and a long-sleeved denim shirt. He was speaking to Pastor Mike, who looked like he was dressed in his oldest clothes, like his congregation.

  “He did mention the painting bee,” she muttered.

  “He did? When?” Zoe peered at her.

  “Wednesday. At the café.”

  “Do you think he’s here to interrogate people or to paint?” Zoe looked at Mitch, her eyes narrowed. “He’s picking up a paint brush. He’s dipping it into a can of paint—”

  “So I think we can assume he’s here to paint,” Lauren muttered through dry lips.

  “Unless he’s here to paint and interrogate at the same time!”

  Lauren and Zoe stared at each other.

  “Lauren and Zoe.” Pastor Mike approached them. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Our pleasure,” Lauren replied, shoving all thoughts of Mitch to the back of her mind. “What would you like us to do?”

  “We’ve got a lot of work done already.” The pastor beamed, seemingly unaware that he had a smudge of cream paint on his cheek. “But Mitch could use a hand over there.” He motioned to where the detective attacked the side of the church.

  “You don’t have another section of the building that needs painting?” Lauren asked hopefully.

  “Nope.” Pastor Mike shook his head. “We’re good.”

  Lauren trudged toward Mitch, Zoe by her side. “Stand between us,” she whispered to her cousin.

  “What?” Zoe looked startled. “Oh, yeah. You two have got the hots for each other but you’re both pretending not to. Okay.”

  “Hi, detective.” Zoe said breezily as they reached him. “Pastor
Mike told us to help you.”

  “Sure.” He looked at both of them. Was it Lauren’s imagination or did his gaze linger over her? “We can share this tin of paint. And I see the pastor’s given you brushes.”

  Lauren nodded, not sure if she could get any words out – which was so stupid.

  Lauren eye-gestured to Zoe to stand between her and the tall, good looking detective. She edged away to the right as far as she could go while still painting the side of the church. If she could get into the zone, she’d be able to tell herself that it was only her brush, the paint, and the church.

  Until she needed to load her brush with more paint.

  Drat.

  “Found any new suspects?” Zoe asked him chattily as Lauren edged towards the paint can, a sharp acrid tang hitting her senses.

  “I can’t comment on the investigation,” he replied, brushing the cream paint neatly along the church wall. “How about you two?”

  “What?” Zoe scrunched her nose.

  “What?” Lauren frowned, forgetting for a second she was trying to pretend he didn’t exist.

  “I hope you’re not interfering in police business,” he told them, loading his brush with more paint. He looked directly into Lauren’s eyes.

  “Of course not.” Her stomach tightened.

  “We’ve got plenty of business of our own,” Zoe said indignantly. “Cat café business.”

  “Good.” He applied his brush to the wall. The wet bristles swished against the clapboard. “Why don’t you open on Mondays?”

  “Because it’s our slowest day,” Lauren said. “And it’s good for Annie to have a break.”

  “We closed early today because we were sold out.” Zoe’s voice was filled with satisfaction. She gazed around the church grounds. People ate what looked like paninis and cupcakes. “I think just about everyone in town stopped by the café first to fuel up.”

  “Not everyone.” He stopped painting and turned to look at them, his gaze locking with Lauren’s.

  Her breathing stopped.

  “So why didn’t you, detective?” If Zoe noticed the byplay between her cousin and Mitch, she didn’t give any indication.