The Cats that Cooked the Books (The Cats that . . . Cozy Mystery Book 11)

by Karen Anne Golden

  “Is it?” Stevie said, looking at his watch. “I guess it is.”

  “And getting dark,” she said, swiping a hungry mosquito from her face.

  “Okay, but before we leave, I want you to do something for me?”

  “What?” she asked, studying his face for a clue of what he wanted.

  “Look up at the turbine’s lights.”

  Rachael stood up and looked. Each turbine flicked a series of red flashes. “Amazing,” she said in awe. “It looks like a million fireflies.”

  “The lights are warning lights for pilots flying overhead.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Here’s something else that makes sense,” Stevie said getting up. He pulled her into an embrace. “I really want to do this again.”

  “Me, too,” Rachael said, hugging him back. She thought, I’ve changed my mind. I’m not leaving Erie tomorrow. I’m going to call Ray and meet him somewhere. I’ll hand over the flash drive and the money, and be done with it.

  “One more kiss for the road?” Stevie asked tenderly.

  Rachael smiled.

  He took her face in his hands and kissed her a sweet gentle kiss.

  “Thank you for everything,” she said.

  “You bet.”

  Then the couple grabbed their lawn chairs and walked to the truck. Stevie took both chairs and put them on the truck bed. Rachael climbed into the cab.

  They drove back to Erie in silence, holding hands.

  On the outskirts of the town, Stevie and Rachael noticed an ambulance shrieking by. A second one followed.

  “What the hell?” Stevie asked.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Something big. There must have been a bad wreck.”

  They drove into town. Main Street was blocked by several state and local police cars. An Erie cop Stevie didn’t recognize motioned for Stevie to stop. He came over to the truck. Stevie powered his window down. “Officer, what’s the problem here?” he asked.

  Rachael could see the large police presence in front of her building. The color drained from her face.

  The officer said, “This is an active crime scene. You’ll have to turn back.”

  Rachael squeezed Stevie’s hand as hard as she could.

  He glanced over at her, saw her shake her head, and mouth the word “no.” Then he realized she didn’t want the cop to know it was her building.

  He answered, “Thanks. Will do.”

  He put the truck in gear and backed up. He then headed back out-of-town.

  “What was that about?” he asked Rachael.

  She didn’t answer.

  “Why didn’t you want the cop to know you lived there?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Yes, you can.” Stevie turned down a country road, pulled over and parked. “Listen, I’ve known from the very first time I met you that you’re afraid of something.”

  “How would you know that?”

  “Because you freaked out when Intruder came into your house. A normal person would have checked it out, or hid.”

  “That’s what I did. I hid!”

  “You cowered in the corner like a trapped animal. Then my daughter posted that video of you that made national news. I watched your reaction. You looked like you were going to run out of the building, jump in your car, and leave town. Am I right?”

  “Yes,” Rachael whispered.

  “I have a strong suspicion it’s someone you know. Someone you had a relationship with. Someone who has threatened to hurt you.”

  Rachael began to cry.

  Stevie got out of the truck and came to her side. He opened the door and extended his hand to her. “Come here,” he said.

  “I can’t.”

  “You can. I want to hold you.”

  “My knees are knocking.”

  He reached up and helped her out. He hugged her and held her for a moment, then said, “Something really bad happened back there at your place. Someone probably got seriously injured. You need to get it together because I’m taking you back so you can talk to the cops.”

  “I can’t. I can’t. I have to run. Please help me.”

  “Run from what?”

  “My ex-fiancé is a gangster,” she blurted out. “He said that if I ever left him, he’d kill me. I think he knows where I live.”

  “Wait. Back up a step. Where does he live?”

  “In Atlantic City, New Jersey.”

  “Well, that’s a long way from here. When you left him, did you leave a paper trail of where he could find you?”

  “No, I made sure of that when I left. I covered all the bases. I didn’t tell my friends where I was going. I didn’t tell my Grammy. I didn’t leave any kind of forwarding address. I had it planned out to the last detail. I made myself disappear.”

  “So, what do you have to be afraid of?”

  “I wasn’t afraid until Salina’s video went viral.”

  “I’m so sorry that happened.”

  “What am I going to do? If I go back to my place, he could be lurking in the shadows ready to catch me.”

  “You can come home with me.”

  “No, that’s a terrible idea. What if he follows us? You have Salina to think of.”

  “Okay. Okay. Let me think.” Stevie thought for a moment, then said, “I’ll go with you when you talk to the cops.”

  “No. I’m not talking to the police,” she said adamantly.

  “Your place is crawling with cops. Your ex would be an idiot to show up now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ll be protected as long as the cops are there. But first, we need to find out what happened. I’m bankin’ it had nothing to do with your ex showing up. I’ll call my brother.”

  “Why your brother?”

  “Half-brother,” Stevie corrected. “Dave owns the tavern at the edge of town.”

  “So?”

  “In this town, if you want to find out anything you either hang out at the Red House diner, or have a drink at the Dew Drop Inn.”

  “Small town,” Rachael observed.

  Dave answered on the third ring. “What’s up, bro?”

  Stevie put the call on speaker. “Do you know what’s goin’ on Main Street? The place looks like a cop convention.”

  “Yeah, I heard a couple of cops were shot in that building next to the Erie Hotel.”

  “Shot?” Stevie said, shocked. He looked over at Rachael. Her jaw dropped.

  “Heard it was pretty bad. One of them had to be airlifted to Indy.”

  “Are you talkin’ about the place where I did the electrical work?”

  “Yeah, belongs to the woman who wants to open a café.”

  “Did you hear if the shooter was caught?”

  “No, he got away.”

  “Well, thanks for the intel.”

  “Stop in and see me sometime.”

  “Will do.” Stevie ended the call and turned to Rachael.

  She spoke first. “Oh, this is terrible. I can’t believe this is happening.” She buried her face in her hands.

  “I wonder why the cops were at your place?”

  “I don’t know,” she shook her head. “But I do know Ray shot them and got away. Now he’s going to be coming after me.”

  Stevie tried to defuse the situation by asking a question. “So, Ray is your ex’s name?”

  “His name is Ray Russo.”

  “When I did time, I knew a Russo. He was Italian.”

  “Ray is very Italian.”

  “What do you mean by very Italian? I ain’t from New Jersey.”

  “He’s Sicilian.”

  “Dang, girl, you surprise me every day.”

  “Not all Italians or Sicilians are criminals,” she defended. “Some of my close friends are Italian, and trust me, they are good people.”

  “Good people, but not your fiancé?”

  “Ex.”

  “All right, let’s get back on track. Here’s the plan. I’ll take you b
ack home. We’ll talk to whoever is in charge, tell them the honest truth—”

  “No way,” Rachael protested. “I’m not telling them about Ray.”

  “Why would you have to? In my experience, as a former criminal, you never volunteer anything to the cops. Got that?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll say you were on a date with me. True fact. Describe the barbecue food, tell them what we’ve been doing for the last few hours.”

  “Okay, I’ll try, but I’m so nervous, I’m not sure I can do that.”

  “If that happens, then I’ll tell it for you. You don’t have to worry. I’ll be there to back up what you say.”

  “Then what? I’ve watched enough crime shows to know the police are not going to let me back inside my place until they’ve processed the crime scene.” Rachael’s voice broke. “How am I going to get my car? I need to pick up Intruder tomorrow.”

  “We’ll figure out something.”

  “Where are we going to live? We can’t stay at the hotel. That’s too close.”

  “I’ll take you to a safe place where Ray won’t find you. And if he does, he’ll have hell to pay.”

  “Where? What do you mean, hell to pay?”

  “My friend Ted lives way out in the woods.”

  “But I don’t know him,” she said apprehensively. “Is there anywhere else I can stay the night?”

  “Don’t worry. Ted has been a friend for a very long time. Trust me. No one will mess with him.”

  “Why is that?” she asked, still not convinced staying with a stranger out in the middle of nowhere was a safe idea.

  “He’s a part-time bouncer. He’s big and fearless, and won’t be afraid to protect anyone I care about.”

  Rachael burst into more tears. “I’m so sorry I’ve brought this to your door.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  After Katherine walked Salina home, she returned to the mansion and decided to wait up for Jake. Scout and Abra stood tall on the turret’s window sill. Dewey and Crowie were in the atrium, sitting on the bottom step. Lilac and Abby were somewhere else. Iris trotted in and threw herself against Katherine’s leg. She mourned a sad yowl.

  Katherine picked her up. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  Iris yowled again and buried her face in Katherine’s neck. Katherine cuddled her for a moment, then said, “Miss Siam, I have to set you down now. I need to feed you guys and put you to bed.”

  Katherine’s cats were creatures of routine. As soon as she said the words “feed you guys,” Lilac and Abby appeared from the back of the house and bounded up the stairs. Dewey and Crowie were a fast third and fourth. Then Scout and Abra raced by. Only Iris remained behind.

  Katherine picked her up and carried her to the playroom, where the other cats had gathered around their porcelain Haviland bowls. She gave each cat a small cup of dry kibble, fluffed up their cozy beds, then locked them in. Before she shut the door, she counted cats. “Yep, all seven accounted for. Good night, my treasures.”

  The cats were too busy eating to answer, except for Dewey, who bellowed a loud “Mao.”

  “You’re welcome,” she answered.

  Iris stood by her bowl but wasn’t interested in her food.

  “Miss Siam, if you don’t eat your food, the other cats will.”

  Iris yowled sadly.

  Katherine went downstairs and headed to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of cabernet, then went back to the living room and sat down in the wingback chair. Putting her phone down on the coffee table, she sipped on her wine.

  A few minutes later, Jake came home. He opened the front door and called for her, “Katz, are you still up?”

  “I’m in the living room,” she said, watching him walk in.

  “Hi, handsome,” she said with a smile.

  He had a serious look on his face. He came over to her chair and got down on his knees. He took her hands into his.

  “Jake, what’s wrong?”

  “Daryl called me.”

  “Daryl? Is he okay? Is something wrong with Colleen?”

  “They’re fine. Katz, I have some bad news.”

  “What? Tell me?”

  “Chief London has been shot.”

  Katherine covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, no.”

  “Daryl is on his way to Erie. Sheriff Johnson called in a few men to help keep law and order in town.”

  “Is the chief in critical condition?” Katherine couldn’t contain her sobs and broke down.

  Standing up, Jake said, “Katz, get up. Come sit with me.” He offered his hand and helped her up. He led her to a nearby loveseat.

  “Daryl didn’t know. He said the chief and one of his officers were responding to a break in at Rachael Thomas’s place—”

  “Rachael’s place,” she repeated. “Why would anyone want to do that? Was she home when it happened?”

  Jake shook his head. “Don’t know.”

  “What else did Daryl say?”

  “That’s it, except one of the officers had to be helicoptered to Indy. He said he didn’t know which one.”

  “I know it was the chief. I just know it.”

  Jake gave her an inquisitive look. “How would you know that?”

  She picked up the photo of the chief’s wife and passed it to Jake. She then explained why she had it and who had stolen it.

  “Coincidence, Katz. Iris is a master of picking pockets.”

  “Yes, Iris is a thief, but a few minutes ago, when I put the cats to bed, she was troubled about something. I had to hold and comfort her, then when the other cats were bolting down their food, like they do, she just stood by her bowl and didn’t eat.”

  “What would Iris be troubled about?”

  “She really likes the chief.”

  “Oh,” Jake said. “You’re right, but it’s Scout and Abra who predict things.”

  “Like tonight.”

  “What do they have to do with the chief being shot?”

  “After I grabbed the photo from Abby—”

  “You mean Iris.”

  “No, Abby had the photo. Iris was fighting her to get it. Scout and Abra came into the room, took one look at the photo, and started doing their death dance. Hopping up and down like deranged Halloween cats. I assumed something terrible was going to happen to Connie, not the chief.”

  “I see the connection now.”

  “When did Daryl call you?”

  “About a half hour ago.”

  “Call him back. By now, he should know more about what’s going on.”

  “Katz, Daryl can’t release ongoing official police business.”

  “Oh, come on, Jake,” Katherine said, annoyed. “He can at least tell us which hospital Chief London is in, or if he’s dead or alive?”

  “Katz, listen, Daryl can’t tell us anything until the higher-ups say he can.”

  “Higher-ups? Who’s in charge if Chief London isn’t able to do the job?”

  “I assume Sheriff Johnson.”

  “This is frustrating. I’d text Connie, but I don’t know her cell number.”

  “I’m sure she’s been notified. She’s probably right by his side.”

  Katherine started to cry again. “He’s my friend. I love him.”

  Jake hugged her. “Talk it out, Katz.”

  “When I first moved here, he was one of the first people I met. He was the officer who responded to my call about Vivian Marston. He pronounced her dead.”

  “I know, sweet pea.”

  “When my house was damaged by the tornado, and I was staying at the bungalow, do you know what Connie and he did?”

  “No. Tell me.”

  “Connie made him bring me over something for my breakfast. It was so thoughtful. And over the years, I’ve really gotten to know him. I just can’t . . . can’t . . .” Her voice trembled and trailed off into silence.

  “Katz, maybe it was the other officer who was airlifted.”

  “Hang on a minute,” she said,
retrieving her cell. She texted Margie a message about what Jake had just told her about the chief. Knowing how gifted Margie was at getting information, she’d probably know the full story by now.

  Margie texted back. “Officer Troy was airlifted to Indy; Chief London was taken to the ER at the hospital across the bridge. I’ll text you if I learn anything else.”

  “Thanks,” Katherine answered.

  She relayed the message to Jake. “Let’s go there. He’s in the ER in that hospital across the bridge. I can’t sit here not knowing if he’s okay or not.”

  “Let’s go. Get your purse,” Jake said, leaving.

  “I’ll meet you outside.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The hitman, Marko Bruno, was fifty miles away from Erie before he called his boss. He needed time to come up with a good excuse for why he hadn’t gotten the ledger. He pulled over at a gas station, went inside to get a cup of coffee, and then returned to the stolen truck. He punched in his boss’s number and counted the seconds before the boss would blow up.

  Marko was pleasantly surprised that his boss didn’t blow up. Even when he told him about the two cops he’d shot. The boss simply clicked off a bunch of instructions of what he should do next, which he already knew by heart, because he’d done this kind of job so many times before. His orders were to dump the gun in the closest body of water. Check. He’d already done that by throwing it in the Wabash River on the way out of town. He was instructed to drive the stolen vehicle to the Indy airport, park it in long-term parking, then get on the shuttle to catch his plane. Check, sort of. Marko had two stolen vehicles. One was parked in the back of the storefront. And the other he was driving.

  The boss said to text him when he got to the airport in Atlantic City. He’d arrange for somebody to pick him up. Check. That was easy enough.

  Hanging up, Marko said, “Piece of cake.”

  Because Marko wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, he didn’t pick up on the subliminal message from the new personality assumed by his normally tough-as-nails boss. The light would come on later for Marko, when the guy who would pick him up would drive the hitman to an abandoned house and, as instructed, snuff him out.

  The boss wasn’t playing. He called Ray and asked him to finish the job.