11 The Cats that Cooked the Books Read online

  The Cats that Cooked the Books

  Karen Anne Golden

  Copyright

  This book or eBook is a work of fiction.

  Atlantic City, New Jersey, and Nyack, New York, are real places. The town of Erie is not. The characters I create do not exist, nor have they ever lived in these cities.

  Names, characters, places and incidents are products of my imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, persons or cats, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Edited by Vicki Braun

  Book cover concept by Karen Anne Golden

  Graphic design by Rob Williams

  Copyright © 2020 Karen Anne Golden

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 9798630578068

  Dedication

  For my husband Jeff

  Table of Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Coincidence

  An occasion when two or more things happen at the same time, especially in a way that is unexpected or unlikely.

  Cambridge Dictionary

  Introduction

  Katherine “Katz” Cokenberger, a thirty-one-year-old heiress, didn’t always live in the small town of Erie, northwest of Indianapolis, Indiana. She grew up in Brooklyn, went to NYU, and became a computer professional. After inheriting money from a great aunt, Katherine moved to the Midwest to take care of a pink Victorian mansion and an Abyssinian cat. Easy peasy, she thought. She loved cats and already had three Siamese, so what was one more? But in the words of her late mother, “Be careful what you wish for, because the outcome may not match up to your dreams.” Soon after moving to the quaint town, Katherine’s pink mansion became known as a murder magnet because of the number of crimes that would be committed there.

  Putting aside the mansion’s not-so-stellar reputation, Katherine counted her many blessings. She’d married the love of her life, Jake Cokenberger, who was a history professor at the City University. The couple’s feline family had increased to seven: six Siamese and one ruddy-ticked Abyssinian. However, none of their cats was your garden-variety house cat. Each feline had unique abilities beyond the realm of the everyday cat. Siamese littermates Scout and Abra performed a macabre death dance and had the strange ability to predict murder. Iris and Abby stole evidence from criminals and hid it in a wingback chair, then retrieved it when an alert investigator was around. And most extraordinary of all was the cats’ habit of clandestinely surfing the Internet to provide clues to solving crimes.

  Katherine’s best friend Colleen Murphy moved from New York to Erie to go to college in the city, and recently married Jake’s cousin, Daryl Cokenberger, a deputy sheriff from the neighboring county. Ex-con Stevie Sanders was getting on with his life, raising a teenaged daughter.

  And Chief London could relax because a capital crime hadn’t been committed in Erie for a few years.

  Until a blast from the past stormed in, leaving tragedy in its wake.

  Chapter One

  Far Away from Erie, Indiana

  Atlantic City, New Jersey

  Rose Martinez, an Atlantic City casino bookkeeper, made her way across the gaming floor. She came in early to finish up an accounting project she’d started the day before. She wasn’t surprised by the meager number of players at the slot machines. On a weekday, at six in the morning, it wasn’t usual to have a full crowd of easy targets — busy losing their money — as she called them to her co-workers. As she walked, she didn’t notice the man following her. She was distracted by the loud music playing overhead and the constant din of slot machines, each blaring out its own kind of music.

  Rose headed to the refreshment kiosk to fill her office mug to take upstairs where she worked. She adjusted her leather tote bag, and leaned in to press the diet soda button. She overfilled her mug, and the drink splashed on her white suit blouse. “Dang, I have to get this stain out before it sets,” she said, annoyed. She spotted the nearby restroom, set her mug on the kiosk counter, and darted into the ladies’ room. She positioned her roomy bag next to the sink.

  While she yanked paper towels out of the dispenser, a man came up from behind, grabbed her by the hair, and held her head back. She brought her hands up to disengage the attacker’s grip, but he was much stronger than she was. He yanked her hair even harder. “Gimme your phone,” he demanded.

  “Why do you want my phone?” she gasped.

  “Shut up! Give it to me,” he repeated, pushing her face down in the ceramic bowl of the sink.

  “Get off of me. How am I supposed to give it to you, when you won’t let me get in my bag,” she said, struggling to breathe.

  He wrenched her head back and pushed her to the floor.

  Rose fell hard on her knees. She winced with pain. She sat down, turned to face her attacker, and took a good look at him. She’d never seen him before. She didn’t think he was one of the players she’d just seen on the gaming floor, because he was too well-dressed. He wore a black business suit with a crisp white shirt and black tie. She couldn’t understand why a man so impeccably attired would want to harm her.

  The man reached over, grabbed the bag and dumped the contents in the sink. Fumbling through the personal contents — wallet, comb, hand sanitizer, and a wallet-sized photo album of Rose’s grandchildren, he barked angrily, “Where is it?”

  Rose rubbed the back of her head. “Who are you?”

  “I said, where is it?” he commanded loudly.

  “It’s . . . it’s,” she stuttered. “It’s not there.”

  The man eyed her suspiciously. “Are you freakin’ nuts? Just tell me where it is?”

  “Give me a second to catch my breath.”

  The man walked over to her and drew his fist back like he was going to hit her.

  “It’s in my left pocket.”

  “Get up,” he said, extending his hand to help her to her feet. He frisked her and found the phone. He grabbed her right hand and forced her thumb onto the home button to unlock it. Scrolling down her recent calls list, he looked up. “What did you talk to Emma about?”

  “Emma?”

  “Emma Thomas. You work with her.”

  “Oh, that Emma. She called to tell me she’d quit without notice. I told her that was a terrible idea because she wouldn’t get a reference for her next job.”

  “Stop,” he said, putting his hand up. “I know she quit yesterday. Did she tell you where she was going?”

  “I got the impression she didn’t have a job to go to.”

  “Listen, stupid, I asked where she was going?”

  “Well, I assume she went home. I hardly know Emma. Why would she tell me this kind of personal information?”

  The man eyed her suspiciously. He scrolled down several lines of recent phone calls, but only one of them was Emma’s. He tapped the number. A “call failed” message appeared on the screen.

  He asked again gruffly, “Did she
tell you where she was going?”

  “No, she did not!” she answered adamantly. “I’m telling you the truth.”

  “You better not be lying to me,” he said in a threatening voice.

  “I beg your pardon. Lying?” Rose huffed. “I’ve done a good job for this casino, and I’ve never been accused of lying. I will tell you one thing, Mister, that is the absolute truth. I’m heading straight upstairs and I’m telling my manager, that you, whoever you are, attacked me. And I hope if you work here, you’ll get fired! You can’t go around attacking employees.”

  “Is that a fact?” he said, heading for the door.

  “How about I sue you for assault? I’m calling Security right now and tell them you hit me!”

  “I am Security, you stupid woman.”

  Chapter Two

  Mid-July in Erie

  Daryl’s and Colleen’s Wedding Reception

  Late Saturday Afternoon

  Jake Cokenberger drove his Jeep Wrangler off the paved highway onto a gravel drive and to the barn where a wedding reception was being held for newlyweds Daryl and Colleen. One week before, the couple had been married in Queens, New York, and afterward attended a reception held by Colleen’s Mum. Many of Daryl’s relatives and friends didn’t have the money to fly to New York and stay in a hotel, so the solution to the problem was to have two receptions. The Indiana reception was being hosted by Daryl’s side of the family, which included family members from all over the Midwest.

  Katherine rode shotgun. “I didn’t realize the infamous wedding barn was on a gravel road.”

  Jake hit a deep rut, and the Jeep bounced.

  “Whoa, there, cowboy, slow down,” she advised.

  Jake pulled into the gravel parking lot, which was full of pickup trucks.

  “Are we late?”

  “No, we’re right on time,” Jake answered.

  “Why is everyone standing outside?”

  “They’re waiting for Daryl and Colleen to show up. Daryl’s driving the old ’67 Impala and wanted to make a fun entrance.”

  “Okay, I got it. I don’t think Colleen is aware of this or she would have told me.”

  Jake parked, then walked over and opened Katherine’s passenger door. She struggled to climb out of the Jeep. Her short calico dress hiked up.

  Jake admired. “Nice legs, I mean kicks.” He grinned mischievously.

  “Quit it,” she scolded. “I can’t get out. My dang cowboy boot is hung up on something. I’m stuck.”

  Jake reached in and unhitched the problem boot, then helped Katherine out of the Jeep. Before he set her down, he kissed her hard on the lips. “Just thought I’d get a kiss in before the soiree.”

  Katherine giggled. “A barn soiree. That’s new.”

  The couple walked to the front of the barn and joined the group standing outside. Grandpa Cokenberger came over and gave Katherine his signature hug.

  “I’ve forgotten what a hearty hugger you are,” she said, laughing.

  “There they are,” someone yelled from the back of the group.

  Daryl slowly drove his black Impala and parked it in front of the barn. The vintage car door squeaked when he climbed out. He was dressed like Jake — blue jeans, white shirt, and cowboy string tie. He walked around the car to open Colleen’s door, but Grandpa had beat him to it. The elderly gentleman was attired the same way.

  Grandpa extended his hand and helped Colleen out. “You’re just about the purdiest gal I’ve ever seen,” he said.

  “Who’s the purdiest?” Colleen asked with a glint in her eye.

  “My wife, of course,” Grandpa beamed.

  Colleen wore a short, white lacy bridal dress. Her long red hair was styled in a wavy mass of curls. On her feet, she sported a pair of pointy-toed cowboy boots. She caught Katherine’s eye and pointed toward her boots.

  Katherine brought her hand up to her mouth to keep from laughing. Colleen was never one for boots, let alone cowboy boots.

  Cora Cokenberger, Jake’s mother and co-planner of the reception, said in a low, snippy voice to her sister, June (aka Daryl’s mom), “I told her not to wear them boots.”

  June shushed her. “On this day, a bride can wear whatever she wants.”

  Cora gave a pinched-up facial expression.

  Two men in their twenties, the Cokenberger twins from Ohio, were dressed in matching red plaid shirts with suspenders, blue jeans and cowboy boots. They slid open the barn door, and motioned for the bridal couple to go inside where the band was playing the wedding march on their fiddles and upright bass.

  Daryl took Colleen’s hand and they made their way to the bridal table next to a small stage. Katherine and Jake followed, and were surprised that the bridal table was a two-seater and didn’t include chairs for them.

  “Cuz, your table is right there,” Daryl said, pointing to the round table close-by.

  The large round table comfortably seated eight, and was appropriately appointed with a crisp, red and white tablecloth. The centerpiece was a bottle of champagne, sitting in a wood crate along with flutes. The crate also held non-alcoholic sparkling wine for non-drinkers and a giant pitcher of sweet tea. Next to the pitcher were eight Mason jars.

  Jake held Katherine’s chair and she sat down.

  Katherine asked, “What’s with the jars?”

  Jake sat down and grabbed two jars. He poured tea into each, and handed Katherine her glass. “Well, shucks pumpkin, country folk can’t afford no fancy glasses. We have to eat a lot of canned tomaters to git these jars.”

  Katherine poked him in the ribs. “Why shucks, I had no idea,” she mimicked.

  Jake grinned and made fun of her fake country accent. “You sound like you’re from Brooklyn.”

  “That’s because I am,” she smirked.

  Inside the barn, the tables quickly filled up with Jake’s large family. Cokey, Margie, and their two teenaged children, Shelly and Tommy, sat at the table next to them, and were joined by Jake’s parents, Johnny and Cora, and Daryl’s parents, Walton and June. Jake’s grandparents sat at a table with family members from Ohio. Daryl’s law enforcement cronies sat at another table, and were joined by Daryl’s boss, Sheriff Johnson.

  Since Colleen’s Mum had hosted a reception after the couple’s formal wedding in Queens, none of Colleen’s relatives were there, only her closest friend in the world, Katherine, who was more like a sister than a friend.

  Jake noted that no one had joined them at their table. “Maybe we’ll have it all to ourselves.”

  “Don’t spread out too soon. Check out the place cards.”

  Jake looked at the folded wedding card next to him. “Oh, you won’t believe who I’ll be sitting next to?”

  “Who?”

  “Our old friend Detective Martin.”

  As if on cue, Linda Martin, detective with the Indiana State Police, walked in, arm-in-arm with Mark Dunn, Katherine’s former estate attorney. They were followed by Chief London and his wife, Connie. They both walked over to the table. Jake and Katherine stood up to greet them.

  Katherine said excitedly to Mark and Linda, “It’s been way too long since I’ve seen you two.” She hugged them, then said to the chief and Connie, “I’m so glad we’re all sitting at the same table.”

  Connie, attired in a red and white gingham dress reminiscent of the famous Minnie Pearl’s signature costume, said to Katherine, “I love your dress. It’s perfect for a reception in a barn. I mean . . . I mean,” she stuttered, “I meant it as a compliment.”

  Katherine smiled. “I love yours, too.” She bit her tongue to avoid admitting she wasn’t a fan of the imposed dress code, but she had to comply with Cora’s and June’s wishes. And then pinched herself, because it could have been one of the dresses Cora favored that looked like it came off the set of Gone with the Wind.

  Everyone sat down.

  Jake noted, “We have two more seats at this table. I wonder who else is coming?”

  The chief reached over and picked up th
e place card. “Stevie and Salina Sanders.”

  Jake eyed Katherine curiously, and each silently questioned why Cora would seat Stevie up front with a family whose majority of members didn’t care for him.

  A very shy fifteen-year-old, with long blond braids, walked in. She wore a calico skirt with a western blouse. She nervously eyed the tables for her place. Cokey’s and Margie’s daughter, Shelly, stood up and yelled, “Salina, over here.” Shelly and Salina were thick as thieves.

  When Katherine saw Salina arrive, she rose and rushed over to her. “Hi, Salina. You’re sitting at my table.”

  “KC, Dad couldn’t come,” she said in a quiet voice, not offering an excuse.

  Katherine didn’t ask for one. She suspected Stevie would feel awkward attending the reception. And since the false rumor of their having a passionate affair, she hadn’t seen Stevie very much — almost as if he was avoiding her.

  “Salina, over here,” a very excited Shelly yelled again.

  “KC, is it okay if I sit by Shelly?”

  “Yes, of course. Besties always sit together,” Katherine winked. “I’ll catch up with you later.” She returned to her seat.

  The crowd got very lively and were clinking their mason jars with their knives. Daryl promptly kissed Colleen. Then a loud Yee-haw resounded off the walls of the rustic-paneled barn.

  The guests at the table exchanged pleasantries while they waited for their turn at the buffet table.

  Mark said, “Well, Katz, I seem to think wherever you go there’s some kind of adventure.”

  “Oh, you must have heard the latest about Colleen’s and my trip to the Indiana Dunes,” she said, then changed the subject. She didn’t want to get into the topic of how strange events followed her wherever she went or how her house, the pink mansion, was a murder magnet. Instead, she asked, “How are you liking your job in Indy?”

  “I made partner at the firm,” Mark beamed.

  A round of congratulations circled the table.

  Katherine said, “Jake has some good news, too.”

  “What’s that?” Mark asked.