“Sounds good,” the chief agreed.
Katherine smiled. “All in favor of the charity of the month going to Ruth Reynolds say aye.”
“Aye,” the chief said.
“Aye,” Margie stated, reaching down and fumbling for her bag.
“All righty then,” the chief said, getting up from his chair. “Until next month, ladies,” then looking around the room, “Where’s my hat?”
Underneath the table, Iris yowled guiltily.
Katherine lifted up the tablecloth and peeked at the blue-eyed, brown-masked cat. “Miss Siam, what are you doing in here?” she asked, surprised.
Iris sat on top of the chief’s hat. She’d adjusted her body for the most comfort, with her paws tucked beneath her. She slowly blinked an eye kiss.
“Get off of that,” Katherine scolded.
Margie laughed, then helped herself to more pretzels.
The chief got down on his hands and knees and said to Iris, “You know it’s against the law to steal the Chief of Police’s headgear.”
Iris yowled sweetly. She got up, ceremoniously kicked the hat with her back legs, and plopped down on the photo so the chief wouldn’t see it.
The chief laughed. He picked up his hat and brushed off a few cat hairs, then grinned. “What’s a few hairs.” Holding the hat in his hand, he walked to the front door. Margie followed him. Iris waited until the humans had cleared the room, then she retrieved the dog-eared photo. She bit into one of the ratty corners, then bound to the living room where she stored it with her other loot, in the lining of a blue wingback chair.
Chapter Five
Monday Afternoon
Stevie Sanders parked his red Dodge Ram outside the Erie High School and looked around for his daughter, Salina. Earlier he’d texted and said he was running late. When he didn’t see her standing outside waiting for him, in the now-vacant parking lot, he texted again. “I’m here. Out front.” Salina was taking a summer class in journalism. She was a natural at asking the right questions.
Stevie, a former prison inmate and drug runner, hadn’t committed a crime in years. When his ex-wife, Darlene, overdosed on drugs, he gained custody of his teenaged daughter. Now, he was happy being a father and proud that his business interests had grown into a successful venture. At this point in time, he was happier than he’d ever been, but unhappy in finding the right woman to share his life with. His biggest obstacle was his friend and neighbor, Katherine Cokenberger. There wasn’t a woman in the world that could live up to her, and if there was, he was convinced he’d never meet her. If only Katz wasn’t married, he thought. If only Jake was out of the picture, but that’s never going to happen, he ventured, then snapped out of his reverie.
Salina rapped on the passenger side window. “Dad, open up. I’m melting. I’m melting,” she said dramatically.
Stevie unlocked the door. “Hey, Baby Cake, sorry I’m late.”
“Where were you?”
“The boss lady has me hustling to finish the electrical in this old building downtown. I forgot the time.”
“It’s okay,” Salina said, getting in. “I was about to text KC to see if she could pick me up.”
“Two peas in a pod,” he joked. “You really like her, don’t ya?”
“Ah, duh?” Salina teased.
Salina threw her bookbag on the floorboard and hopped up onto the passenger seat. “Dad, Shelly and I have been invited to a party. Can I go? Can I?” she asked excitedly.
“When is it?”
“This weekend.”
“Where?”
“Julie Baxter’s house.”
“Who’s Julie Baxter?” Stevie pressed.
“She’s the most popular girl in school.”
“Why have I never heard of her before?” he asked, pulling out of the school parking lot.
“Dad, what is this, the third-degree?”
“Is it a boy-girl party?”
“No, it’s a girl party. A slumber party, Dad.”
“I’ll think about it,” Stevie said, wanting to know more about this new friend whom Salina had never talked about.
“I know when you think about stuff, that means I won’t be able to go,” Salina pouted.
Stevie turned onto Lincoln Street and parked in front of their home, an American Foursquare.
“Home, sweet home,” he said. “Why don’t I fix a snack before dinner?”
Salina frowned, grabbed her bookbag, and climbed out of the truck. “Shelly’s Mom and Dad are okay with it,” she sassed, slamming the door. She stormed to the front door, then called back, “You never let me do anything.”
Chapter Six
The Intruder
Rachael’s Planned Café in Erie
Tuesday
Emma Rachael Thomas, now using her middle name, stood next to a tall bistro table in the first-floor storefront of her planned café. It was the only piece of furniture in the entire three-story building. She flipped open her laptop and did a Google search on what she needed to do to open a restaurant. First, she required a local business license to operate, a food-handler permit, and an employer ID number. Next, she had to obtain a sales tax permit from the state government. From all of this and the related tons of paperwork, she feared information about where she lived might become a public record. “Public record” meant Ray and his mob friends would find and kill her. Fortunately, she didn’t put the cart in front of the horse. She hadn’t ordered the expensive commercial kitchen appliances, because the more she explored the opening of a café, the more she thought it was becoming a very bad idea.
Rachael was happy that the remodeling of the upper two floors were finished, so she could shop for furniture. She was tired of sleeping on a borrowed inflatable mattress and longed for a normal bed.
The first floor was almost complete. The kitchen was finished except for the restaurant-grade appliances, sink, dishwasher, stove and refrigerator. The white cabinets and butcher block counters were installed. If I don’t pursue the café idea, I could have regular kitchen appliances installed. And when the electricity is hooked up, I’ll be good to go, she thought. I have a feeling that will be soon.
She glanced over at the electrician kneeling on the floor, installing new receptacle outlets. He was the reason why she was in the storefront, and not in the kitchen where she normally set up her laptop.
After her last devastating relationship, she couldn’t believe she was attracted to another man, but he was so different from Ray. He had impeccable manners, he never used raunchy curse words, and he . . . he . . .. Rachael pinched herself and thought, Danger! Proceed with extreme caution. Then she stole another look at the electrician, who was screwing on a wall plate cover. She loved his deep, midwestern accent, his shyness around her, and the fact he was one of the handsomest men she’d ever seen: blond-haired with piercing blue eyes, tall and obviously in great physical shape.
Stevie Sanders, a man with a criminal past, noticed her glance and stood up. “Ma’am, you’re making way too much noise. It’s hard to concentrate.” He then smiled.
Rachael returned a serious look, then realized he was kidding. She smiled back and played the game. “I haven’t said a word. You’re the one who’s noisy.”
Stevie held up his screw driver. “Not my fault. Blame it on Walter.”
“Walter? Who’s Walter?”
“My screw driver.”
“Do you normally name your tools?”
“Sure, why not?”
A loud noise came from the kitchen. Something heavy crashed to the floor.
Rachael startled. Fear washed over her face. She quickly moved to the front of the storefront and crouched down in the corner.
Stevie caught her emotion. “Hey, look, it’s okay. I’ll check it out.” He ran into the kitchen, holding his screw driver like a deadly weapon. In the kitchen, he found the back door open. He moved to close it, then he found several small cooking pots scattered on the floor. He saw the movement of a black kitten darting for
cover under the opening for the new sink.
“Come here, you little rascal. I’m not going to hurt you,” he said gently.
The kitten came out and made a beeline for Stevie. It hooked its little claws on Stevie’s work pants and started to climb. Stevie reached down and lifted up the frisky kitten. He cradled it in his arms. “Ah, you’re a cute little darlin’.”
Heading out of the kitchen, he called, “Coast is clear. I found your intruder.”
Rachael was shaking so hard, she couldn’t answer. She didn’t want Stevie to see how terrified she was, but she couldn’t hide the fact that she was scared to death. She thought Ray had shown up to do what he said he was going to do to her — kill her, or beat her so badly she’d be in the hospital.
“Ma’am,” Stevie called. He approached her and saw how disturbed she was. “It’s okay. No need to fret. Your kitten pushed some pans over.”
Rachael rose and said in a nervous voice, “I don’t have a kitten.”
“No?” Stevie asked, surprised.
“No,” she said, taking the kitten from Stevie, and petting it. The kitten purred loudly.
“Well, if this isn’t your kitten, I guess we need to find out who he or she belongs to.”
Rachael lifted the kitten in the air and examined the feline. “It’s a girl.”
“My friend Katz can hook you up with someone at the Erie Rescue Center. We can take the kitten there.” Stevie pulled out his cell phone.
“Oh, no, please don’t call anyone. I’ve been meaning to get a cat.”
Stevie shoved the phone back into his pocket. “As you wish, but with all the critters in this town running loose, you need to keep your door closed.”
“Normally, I do, but this morning, I was out back in the patio area trying to tidy up that god-awful flower bed. I propped the kitchen door open to catch a breeze; it has been so hot with no air-conditioning. The kitten must have come in then.”
“We better check outside to see if this kitten has a mama looking around for her missing baby.”
Stevie walked to the back door; Rachael followed him, still holding the kitten. Stevie walked outside and searched the small, enclosed area, which consisted of a tall, brick wall and concrete patio bordered by a weed-choked, overgrown flower garden.
“Yeah, I see what you mean about god-awful flower bed. It looks like something you’d see in an abandoned cemetery,” he chuckled.
Rachael laughed, then asked, “Do you see any more cats?”
“Nope.” Stevie looked at the brick wall that adjoined the back area of the hotel. It was covered with matted vines. “I think your intruder scaled the vines on this connecting wall.”
“Or came in through the gate. I had it open for a little while.”
“I can go next door to see if they’re missing a kitten?” Stevie suggested.
“Why would the hotel have a kitten?”
“The owners keep several cats out back in the loading dock area. The cats are supposed to be fixed.”
“Why? That doesn’t make any sense.”
Stevie misinterpreted what she’d asked. “So, they don’t have kittens.”
“No, I mean, why do the owners have cats in the loading dock and not in the hotel?”
“The cats are barn cats.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Barn cats are good mousers.”
“Oh,” Rachael laughed. “I get it. Pest control. I guess I have a lot to learn here.”
“You mean folks on the east coast don’t have mousers?”
Rachael was taken aback by the question and asked nervously, “How did you know I was from the east coast?”
“Your accent is a dead giveaway. A New Yorker, right?”
“Sort of,” Rachael said guardedly.
“Like I said, you have to meet Katz. She’s from New York, too.”
“We better get this baby inside,” Rachael said, changing the subject. She headed for the back door. She waited for Stevie to go in first, then once inside, she shut the door and set the black kitten on the floor.
“Aww,” Rachael said. “She’s precious.”
“She looks healthy.” Stevie glanced around the kitchen, noting the missing sink. “Where do you get your water?”
“I buy bottled water.”
“Then bust out some for this kitten. It’s hard telling how long she’s been outside. The little girl needs a drink.”
Rachael took a bowl out of the cabinet and filled it with water. She set the bowl down on the floor. The kitten slurped the water with her tiny tongue.
They both watched the kitten drink for a long time.
“I think you should name her Intruder,” Stevie said, running his hand through his hair.
Rachael reflected and thought about the name for a moment. She nodded. “Perfect. I like that.” Then she said, “I’ll have to take her to a vet for a check-up and her baby shots.”
Stevie winked. “Sounds like a plan. How old do you think she is?”
Rachael picked up the kitten and looked inside her mouth. She counted the number of teeth, then looked at the cat’s eye color, which was a deep amber. “I’d say she’s almost four- or five-months-old.”
“How can you tell?”
Rachael didn’t answer right away. She didn’t want to mention that she had some vet tech training, but had changed her major when she discovered she couldn’t stand the sight of blood. She’d already screwed up by not denying to Stevie that she was from New York. “Oh, I really don’t know,” she said cautiously. “We’ll see what the vet has to say.”
“Mew,” the kitten cried.
“If you’re keeping her, you’ll need to get some cat things.”
“Cat things?”
“For starters, she’ll need a litter box, litter, and food.”
“I can make a temporary litterbox out of a small cardboard box. I can tear up some newspaper.”
Stevie nodded, then headed back to the front of the storefront. He called back to Rachael in the kitchen, “I’ll be finished in a few minutes, then I’ll turn on the AC before we suffocate.”
“Wonderful,” she answered.
Stevie installed the last outlet, then screwed on the wall plate. He returned to the kitchen, found the breaker box in the utility closet, and turned on the main switch. Then he walked to the front of the building to the programmable thermostat and tapped it to select air-conditioning mode. Cool air began circulating throughout the building.
Rachael returned. She walked over and stood in front of the wall register. “Yay. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
“Mr. Sanders, can I ask you a favor?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“My name is Rachael, not ma’am.”
“My name is Stevie, not Mr. Sanders.”
“Okay, Stevie.”
“What’s your favor?”
“I haven’t had time to buy a car yet—”
Stevie cut her off. “I can drive you to the pet store.”
“That’s very kind of you, but I can call an Uber.”
“Uber,” Stevie repeated.
“Yes, you’ve heard of them, right?”
“Yeah, but not around these parts. Erie doesn’t have a car service, taxi cab, or anyone signed up to drive for Uber or Lyft.”
Rachael wrinkled her nose in an attractive way. “In that case, I’m looking to buy a pre-owned car.”
“I can help you with that. I’ll keep my eye out for a nice, used car. I’ll even check it out for you.”
“I would appreciate that very much, but until I get wheels, can I take you up on your offer to drive me to a pet store?”
“Yes, ma’am. I mean Rachael. I’m officially finished.”
“Great. In the future, I’ll order pet supplies online, but today I really need a bunch of supplies for this kitten.”
“I take it you’re keeping her.”
“How’d you know?”
“Becau
se your face just lit up like a Christmas tree.”
Rachael grinned, then asked, “Oh, is there a restaurant close to the pet store? I want to treat you to dinner.”
“Yes, there is, but—”
Rachael interrupted, “Oh, I’m sorry if you already have dinner plans. It was presumptuous of me to assume.”
“It’s okay. I wanted to ask you if my daughter could come along, too? I told her I’d cook dinner tonight, but I’d much rather go out.”
“You have a daughter? Oh, wait, are you married? I didn’t see a ring.” Rachael stopped, realizing her faux pas. Every woman knows checking for a man’s wedding ring is a sign of being interested.
Stevie smiled through the mistake, but didn’t say anything.
Rachael continued, “I mean, oh gosh, I don’t know what I meant. I’m not very good at this,” she said, trying to find the right words to get out of an awkward situation.
“I’m not an expert on these matters, but I think you did a terrific job looking for a ring,” Stevie teased. He held his left hand up to prove the point. “I’m single. I’m not seeing anyone. I have a teenaged daughter. Her mother, my ex, died several years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“My daughter’s name is Salina. She’s fifteen, and loves cats.”
“She does?” Rachael asked happily, starting to relax. “This is perfect.”
“In fact, when I go home to change out of my work clothes, I’ll rustle up some food for the kitten. I’m sure Wolfy won’t mind if we take a few cans of his favorite food.”
“Wolfy?”
“My daughter’s cat, Wolfy Joe. He’s a big, old gray cat. Salina and I will bring the food back to you.”
“You are very kind,” Rachael said seriously. “Thank you.”
“Oh, and Rachael, when I take two wonderful ladies out to dinner, it’s my treat, got that?”
Rachael hesitated, then said, “Okay.”
“No problem. Pick you up at six?” Stevie said, packing up his toolbox and leaving.
“Yes, that would be great,” Rachael said, locking the door behind him. She leaned against the door and whispered, “Take it one step at a time. He’s really nice, but Ray was nice, too, when I first met him.”
The Cats that Cooked the Books (The Cats that . . . Cozy Mystery Book 11) Page 4
