Nozy Cat 1

by Lyn Key

  Travis chuckled uneasily. “Boy, this lady detective stuff you’re doing with Hope is a lot more exhilarating than watching it on TV is.”

  “Stayed tuned,” Peggy Sue said. “The best part is yet to come.”

  “Just be careful whatever you do,” Travis said. “Don’t be a hero or is it a heroine? You know what I mean. Bye.”

  “Did you get all that?” Peggy Sue asked.

  “You laid it out just as I would have,” Hope replied. “Cammie fooled us once, but she won’t do it again. Wrap your minds around how we can get her. It has to be smooth and quick. I’ll have no gore because I faint at the first sight of blood.”

  You’re kidding us, right?

  “I’d never make light of blood and murder,” Hope replied.

  It’s probably late to point this out, but your squeamish nature might be a problem. Blood and murder go together like sugar and spice.

  “After filling her gas tank, Cammie left for work,” Peggy Sue said. “She told me she steps outside the plant during her work breaks. We’ll confront her with our accusations then and see how it goes.”

  “She’ll deny everything we accuse her of having done,” Hope said.

  “Finding our stolen key in Cammie’s handbag would seal the deal for us,” Peggy Sue said. “She’d have a hard time accounting for it hidden there.”

  “How might we go about finding out if she has it?” Hope asked.

  Do either of you have any experience with pickpocketing or purse snatching?

  “Neither of those petty crimes appears on our rap sheets,” Hope replied with a smile.

  How are you with breaking and entering? Are you cat burglars?

  “No, but I know who is at least half of a cat burglar,” Hope replied. “That would be our very own Nozy Cat.”

  Are you back on the Nozy-Cat-shimmies-down-the-chimney gambit? I’m not going for it. I suppose our just confronting her and asking if she’s guilty of murdering Hugo has a slim to nil chance at succeeding.

  “You suppose right,” Hope said. “We have to act fast because the time is slipping away. I want to get home ASAP to my daughter Stace, and Peggy Sue has to get home to her hubby Travis, and you have to get home for I don’t know what.”

  I have to get home to feast on my sardines.

  “There you go then. Everybody has to get home to do something tonight.”

  Boom. A stroke of genius just hit me.

  “Don’t be bashful,” Hope said. “Let us in on your insight.”

  We still have the bookshop’s covert surveillance cameras at our disposal.

  “The surveillance cameras are broken,” Hope said. “They’ve never worked since we signed the lease and moved into the space. We discussed it with Sergeant Trogg.”

  “Cammie doesn’t realize they’re broken,” Peggy Sue said. “For all she knows the covert surveillance cameras in the ceiling recorded everything she did while she was inside the bookshop.”

  Why are you slow to catch on, Hope? Are you fuzzyheaded from the fatigue? Explain it, Peggy Sue.

  “One of us will contact Cammie and tell her in a calm but stern voice we recorded her dragging Hugo’s dead body into the bookshop and dumping him off. After she picks up her dropped jaw from the floor, we inform her either she pays up, or we give the video to Sergeant Trogg. If she agrees to pay us, we know she’s the guilty one.”

  “You pose an intriguing idea, but it probably won’t clear our name,” Hope said. “Sergeant Trogg is obsessed to arrest us—and only us, it would seem—for Hugo’s murder, and he won’t listen to anything different we have to say. He thinks we killed Hugo because he was blackmailing us.”

  Sergeant Trogg is badgering you. He told us he doesn’t have diddly squat, and he’s just hoping you’ll trip up enough so he can arrest you. Bring him in on your sting operation before running it on Cammie by telling him that he’ll get to hear everything she says with his own ears. What does he have to lose except for taking up a little of his time?

  “I like our chances with setting up and springing our trap on her,” Peggy Sue said.

  Hope mulled it over for a long minute before she broke into a smile. “All right, you twisted my arm,” she said. “I don’t mind telling a few lies if we’re doing it for a worthy cause like keeping us out of prison for a crime we didn’t commit.”

  “That’s why I count on you as my friend,” Peggy Sue said. “When the chips are down like now, you turn practical-minded and shrewd.”

  Since we’re spreading around the love, don’t I deserve getting my share of it? After all, it was my brilliant idea in the first place.

  “There’s no question you’ll always be the top cat here,” Hope said.

  Chapter 22

  Hope found nothing was more comfortable than wearing a pair of her favorite broken-in jeans. Denim made her feel like a country girl. On the other hand, Nozy Cat wasn’t nearly as crazy about the denim collar with the half-dozen little jingle bells she’d bought for him to sport during the Christmas holidays. Right now, Hope and Peggy Sue sat in the bucket seats with Nozy Cat perched on the tuffet between them. A few cars occupied the ill-lit parking lot to the denim jeans plant. They watched the side door where Cammie Jenkins would soon emerge when she took her work break.

  The downtime gave Nozy Cat the opportunity to resume taking care of his tongue bath. As he tackled his self-grooming with gleeful grunts and slobbery licks, Hope glanced over at him. Attending to personal hygiene, be it feline or human, was best done behind closed doors. She said nothing and gritted her teeth. Perhaps it was a short tongue bath—but, alas, it wasn’t. A minute later, he was getting into it big time, flopping down, and rolling on the tuffet while using his saliva-dampened forepaws to wipe behind his pointy ears.

  “Must you be doing that right this minute?” Hope asked. “Can’t you wait until later?”

  Nozy Cat stopped in mid-lick with the tip of his little pink tongue left sticking out. Is my doing it getting on your nerves? I can’t imagine why it would be.

  “If done in moderation, observing your tongue bath is tolerable at best,” Hope replied. “But now you’re so overzealous, grooming yourself from your nose to your toes. Have you no shame?”

  Would you prefer I just perch here and mimic a feline gargoyle?

  Hope nodded. “That would be divine if you would.”

  “Hey all, let’s not get sidetracked by tongue baths and feline gargoyles,” Peggy Sue said.

  Just then, a car running with no blazing headlights nosed up into the parking space next to them. The engine stopped, but the driver didn’t get right out.

  Hope was relieved. “I had my serious doubts he’d show up. He was his usual curmudgeonly self when I called him, and it took some doing. He’s fixated on his theory Hugo blackmailed us, so we had to murder him to avoid paying the hush money.”

  “I’m afraid we lead boring small town lives that don’t include anything nearly as spicy and immoral as blackmail and hush money,” Peggy Sue said.

  Here he comes now. This sleuthing stuff sure does make strange bedfellows. I can’t believe we’re now in league with him. It’s like Superman teaming up with Lex Luther to save the planet.

  The rear door on the driver’s side opened up, and the hatless man scooted into the rear seat. He closed the door behind him without making a noise. The three up front could smell the peppermint lozenge he’d popped into his mouth. Nobody spoke for several rapid heartbeats.

  “Good evening, Sergeant Trogg,” Hope said. “Did you bring the grand plan with you?”

  “What? Isn’t this your dog and pony show?” Sergeant Trogg asked. “I’m here at your invitation.”

  “Nice try at shifting the responsibility,” Peggy Sue said. “But if we go down, we’re dragging you with us all the way to the muddy bottom.”

  “You make the extraordinary claim you’ve figured out Cammie Jenkins is the guilty culprit who killed Hugo Spangler,” Sergeant Trogg said. “What’s more, she’s going to confess t
o it tonight within my earshot.” He laughed with no mirth. “The next hour should prove to be amusing if not interesting.”

  “Cammie certainly had more of a reason to murder Hugo Spangler than we ever did,” Hope said. “We barely knew him as we’ve repeatedly told you.”

  “Cammie is Hugo’s murderer and not us,” Peggy Sue said. “Which part of that do you not understand?”

  “All right, where did Cammie obtain the poison she used in her murder plot?” Sergeant Trogg asked. “How did she administer it to Hugo without his knowledge? How did she convey his dead body to your bookshop and get inside it without anybody seeing her? Your theory has a few leaks, and you’re going to have to plug them.”

  “Rome wasn’t built in a single day,” Hope replied. “Be patient.”

  Nozy Cat says he’s bored. Can I resume taking my tongue bath?

  His complaining earned him a finger poke from Hope. She’d issued her final warning. He’d better put a sock in it. Going for broke over the next hour, they had to stay focused, and it had to go off without a hitch.

  “What time does Cammie go on her work break?” Sergeant Trogg asked, checking his smart phone.

  “We can’t say,” Hope replied. “Neither of us ever worked here.”

  “Maybe you should consider it,” Sergeant Trogg said. “Manufacturing denim jeans probably pays better than selling used books does.”

  “That’s true but it can’t be nearly as much fun,” Hope said.

  “Why is your blue-eyed cat sitting there staring at me like the Great Sphinx?” Sergeant Trogg asked.

  “Don’t feel as if you’re somebody who’s special,” Hope replied. “He does that to almost everybody he meets.”

  “He’s actually sizing you up to determine whether he likes you or not,” Peggy Sue said.

  “I’ll make it easy for him to decide since I don’t like him one bit,” Sergeant Trogg said. “Tell him to stop doing it. He’s giving me the heebie jeebies.”

  “Nozy Cat, quit staring at Sergeant Trogg and giving him the heebie jeebies whatever they are,” Hope said. “He can’t be distracted tonight.”

  Aw, I was just having a little bit of fun. He can dish it out fine, but he’s a bad sport who can’t take it.

  “Okay, lay out tonight’s scenario again,” Sergeant Trogg said. “Speak slowly because I need to take the time to digest it all.”

  “It’s nothing too intricate,” Hope said. “When Cammie goes on her work break, she told Peggy Sue she steps outdoors through the side door there to get a breath of fresh air. She can only look at denim jeans for so long before her eyes glaze over. Peggy Sue will call out through her open window. We’ve already spoken to Cammie once tonight, so she’s expecting us to inspect their colored denim jeans for purchase. She’ll mosey on over and slide into the rear seat where you’re sitting now.”

  “Meantime, where am I expected to be?” Sergeant Trogg asked.

  “You could be scrunched down on the floor mat beside her,” Hope replied. “I have a pink-hearted quilt in the trunk to cover up and hide you. She’ll just think I’m carrying a large object back there.”

  “If you ever say I hid under a pink-hearted quilt, I’ll deny it to the hilt,” Sergeant Trogg said.

  Nozy Cat snickered.

  “At any rate, Cammie will sit there and listen while I make our pitch,” Hope said.

  “You’re blackmailing her with the non-existent surveillance footage your broken security cameras took of her depositing Hugo’s dead body in your bookshop,” Sergeant Trogg said. “Either she pays you the extortion fee you demand, or you drop a dime on me about having caught her on film. The evidence seals her doom as Hugo’s murderer.”

  “That’s how we’ve drawn up the plan,” Hope said. “What do you think?”

  “If I was a gambling man, and I’m glad I’m not, I wouldn’t bet a wooden nickel on it,” Sergeant Trogg replied.

  Do you have something better to use?

  “Do you have something better to use?” Hope asked, repeating Nozy Cat’s pointed words.

  “Since you called me so abruptly, I haven’t had the chance to put much thought into it,” Sergeant Trogg replied.

  “Then by default we’ve nothing but our plan to put into action tonight,” Hope said. “Are you prepared to go forward with it or not?”

  “Okay, let’s press on ahead,” Sergeant Trogg said. “What happens after I hear Cammie admit she murdered Hugo?”

  “That part is left up to you,” Hope replied.

  “If it backfires on me, which it may well do, I’ll look ridiculous,” Sergeant Trogg said.

  “Nobody will need to know anything about it,” Hope said. “If Cammie doesn’t take the bait, then you’ll remain hiding under the pink-hearted quilt, and she’ll leave us.”

  “Of course we’ll have blown our best shot to nail her,” Peggy Sue said.

  “That’s okay because I still have the consolation prize of you ladies to arrest as my murder suspects,” Sergeant Trogg said.

  “We’ll keep our fingers crossed that never comes to pass,” Hope said. If you do have the brass to arrest Hope and Peggy Sue, be prepared to cope with eight pounds of wild swamp cat fury in your face.

  Hope chuckled. Who could have a better pet than Nozy Cat who was always so fiercely loyal to her and Peggy Sue?

  “What’s so funny up there?” Sergeant Trogg asked. “Law enforcement is a sober business, and it’s nothing to laugh about, especially at a critical time like this.”

  “You’re wound up like a ball of yarn,” Hope said. “Sometimes humor works better than force does to resolve the tense situations we deal with.”

  “For your sake, this sting had better work out the way you designed it,” Sergeant Trogg said. “I’ll allow you a little more leeway, but I’d better see fast results, or else I’m pulling the plug on it.”

  Chapter 23

  Hope suggested using her and Sergeant Trogg’s smart phones as a microphone in their car and a speaker in his car was a better option than the pink-hearted quilt concealment idea. He agreed and parked his police car—it was a dark gray, unmarked sedan—at the furthest, darkest edge of the parking lot but within striking range when the right moment arrived.

  They tested the audio transmission, and it was a clear, strong enough signal for executing their sting operation. While they waited, Peggy Sue and Hope remained careful of what they said because the nearby Sergeant Trogg could hear every word of it. However, Nozy Cat wasn’t as reserved about airing out his opinions, which Sergeant Trogg couldn’t hear.

  The Sweet Springs Crime Solvers should offer a reward for the killer’s arrest. A murder is a serious enough crime to warrant paying out a five-figure sum. I’d be willing to donate my split of the reward to the fund keeping open the doors to the Brontë Bookshop.

  “I’m certain the Crime Solvers offers no reward for the killer’s arrest,” Hope said. “Am I correct in making that statement, Sergeant Trogg?”

  “Your only reward will be our undying gratitude for your doing your citizens’ duty,” the nearby Sergeant Trogg replied.

  “Uh-huh,” Hope said.

  You can stuff your “undying gratitude” in your hat. I want to hear the clink of cold, hard cash on the table and lots of it, too.

  “Just simmer down a little over there,” Hope said.

  “Say what?” Sergeant Trogg asked.

  “Hope was speaking to me,” Peggy Sue lied. “I’m fuming over how long we’ve spent in the dark parking lot. I have a load of dirty laundry waiting at home to wash tonight not to mention a disgruntled hubby waiting up for me.”

  “Cammie’s work break should be coming up shortly,” Sergeant Trogg said. “Just sit tight for a bit longer but stay on your toes and don’t nod off on me.”

  The June night insects screeched in the willows and beeches outside their open car windows. The sweet whiffs of honeysuckle blooming on the nearby fencerow wafted into the car interior. Hope felt as if she were on a church picn
ic as a girl when she developed a crush on the dark-haired, handsome boy named J.D. Jones, her future husband. Everybody had called her a bookworm, and she knew then she’d never outgrow her passion for books and reading them.

  J.D. would be so proud of her for keeping the Brontë Bookshop, her lifetime dream, going in the tough economy. She wistfully regretted he’d never get to take any photos of his daughter Stacey in her senior prom gown, applaud her on stage receiving her high school diploma, or walk her arm-in-arm down the wedding aisle. Hope had saved the cake topper from their wedding cake for Stacey to use if she wished to—

  The sketchy face of Cammie Jenkins appearing in Peggy Sue’s open window jarred Hope out of her reverie.

  “Hope Jones? Peggy Sue Roswell? Is that you in there?” Cammie asked, the sound of her voice confirming her identity. “I thought I recognized your car. Did you track down your coffee tonight?”

  “We did buy some flavorsome coffee at Cordelia’s Expresso,” Peggy Sue replied. “Thanks for giving us the recommendation.”

  “Not a problem,” Cammie said. “Why are you sitting in our dark parking lot?”

  “You invited us to come over and check out your line of colored denim jeans,” Peggy Sue replied. “Are you on your work break?”

  “I also do the plant security,” Cammie replied. “I take a jaunt through our parking lot every once in a while to chase away the high school kids who like to use it for their party spot.”

  “That brings back my high school memories,” Peggy Sue said.

  “Why don’t you hop in the back?” Hope said. “We can chat a little.”

  “I’ve just got a minute or two I can spend with you.” Cammie settled into the rear seat and placed her denim drawstring handbag on the seat beside her. “Another night would be a better time to check out the jeans. It’ll take me a little time to put together a display for you. Or I could bring the jeans home, and you could stop by the house again. Either way, it doesn’t matter to me.”

  Not interested in seeing the colored denim fashions, Hope got straight to the point. “Peggy Sue and I know what you did,” Hope said.