The Extortion Cat-astrophe: A Beatrice Young Cozy Cat Mystery (Beatrice Young Cozy Cat Mysteries Book 2) by Alannah Rogers
Authors: Alannah Rogers
Tags: mystery novels, cozy mysteries, Cozy Mystery Series, cat mystery, cozy cat mystery books, cozy mysteries women sleuths, mystery series books, cozy cat mysteries, cozy mysteries new releases
Ads: Link
1
Beatrice Young paced impatiently in front of the pastry display case at the Cozy Cat Café. The 62-year-old owner had come up with so many great recipes over the year: white chocolate and dried cherry scones, salted caramel and chocolate tarts, crepe cake with whipped cream and raspberries, and much more.
Yet none of them was going to win her first place at the famed Ashbrook Fall Fair’s annual baking competition.
No, she needed something really spectacular. Something the judging committee had never seen the likes of before.
“Mraw!” Beatrice looked down to see her sleek black cat, Lucky, sitting anxiously at her feet.
“Do you want pets, love?” she asked, scooping him up and kissing his silky-soft head. “Or do you have a genius recipe idea? A tuna cake topped in caviar, perhaps?”
The little cat looked up at her with a loving expression and tried to butt her nose with his, all the while purring loudly. Beatrice planted another big smacker between his ears and then put him back on the floor.
Her big Maine Coon, Hamish, looked on jealously from his window seat. With his tabby markings, tan ruff, and tufts of black hair sticking from his ears, he was a very handsome cat indeed. At that moment though, his expression was decidedly sour.
Beatrice would have asked her pastry chef, Zoe Murphy, for help with her recipe but Zoe was sequestered away in the bathroom, whispering on the phone to the new guy she was dating—Hunter. As far as Beatrice could tell his only redeeming quality was that he had rough-around-the-edges good looks. Otherwise, he was way more zero than hero, what with the fact that he had no real job and lived in his cousin’s basement.
Beatrice sighed and wiped down the tables to distract herself. At least it was a gorgeous fall day. Honey-colored sunshine flooded through the almost floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside, orange-tinted sugar maples shivered in the breeze. A few leaves shook loose and spun lazily to the ground.
At least everything was right with the café. The place had been her pride and joy ever since she had opened it a good thirty years prior. A long wood farmer’s table sat in the center and snug groups of antique chairs and sofas upholstered in velvet were clustered around it, tucked next to bookshelves and beside the windows. Behind the counter were wall-mounted chalkboards plus an assortment of old tins and apothecary jars. Beatrice took a moment to look around with satisfaction.
The heavy wooden door banged open, making her start. It was Hannah Moore. They had struck up a friendship after the young lawyer had helped her out with her last mystery involving a local counterfeiting ring. Hannah regularly came into the café for a mid-afternoon almond milk latte.
Despite their age difference of forty years, they got along swimmingly. As someone who loved solving local mysteries as much as Beatrice, Hannah was the perfect person to teach her the basic ins-and-outs of criminal law.
“Afternoon,” Hannah said, plunking her big leather handbag down by her favorite table by the window.
Lucky ran up immediately and began winding through the chair legs, his green eyes looking up at her adoringly. Hamish jumped down from his window seat with a loud thump , trotted over, and pushed his bulk between Lucky and the chair.
“You look like you just ate a whole lemon,” Hannah said as she reached down to pat them both. “What’s up?”
Beatrice made a face at her and signaled to the barista to make Hannah’s usual drink. She sat down opposite Hannah and pulled her big white knit cardigan tighter against the crisp breeze coming through the windows.
“It’s the Ashbrook Fair next week. I’m wracking my brains about what I want to make. I haven’t won in two whole years because that Purple Lilac Café opened up and stole first place! I mean, who names their café after the state flower? What kind of serious operation is that?”
Hannah snorted. “Okay, Bee. Did you forget
Beatrice Young paced impatiently in front of the pastry display case at the Cozy Cat Café. The 62-year-old owner had come up with so many great recipes over the year: white chocolate and dried cherry scones, salted caramel and chocolate tarts, crepe cake with whipped cream and raspberries, and much more.
Yet none of them was going to win her first place at the famed Ashbrook Fall Fair’s annual baking competition.
No, she needed something really spectacular. Something the judging committee had never seen the likes of before.
“Mraw!” Beatrice looked down to see her sleek black cat, Lucky, sitting anxiously at her feet.
“Do you want pets, love?” she asked, scooping him up and kissing his silky-soft head. “Or do you have a genius recipe idea? A tuna cake topped in caviar, perhaps?”
The little cat looked up at her with a loving expression and tried to butt her nose with his, all the while purring loudly. Beatrice planted another big smacker between his ears and then put him back on the floor.
Her big Maine Coon, Hamish, looked on jealously from his window seat. With his tabby markings, tan ruff, and tufts of black hair sticking from his ears, he was a very handsome cat indeed. At that moment though, his expression was decidedly sour.
Beatrice would have asked her pastry chef, Zoe Murphy, for help with her recipe but Zoe was sequestered away in the bathroom, whispering on the phone to the new guy she was dating—Hunter. As far as Beatrice could tell his only redeeming quality was that he had rough-around-the-edges good looks. Otherwise, he was way more zero than hero, what with the fact that he had no real job and lived in his cousin’s basement.
Beatrice sighed and wiped down the tables to distract herself. At least it was a gorgeous fall day. Honey-colored sunshine flooded through the almost floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside, orange-tinted sugar maples shivered in the breeze. A few leaves shook loose and spun lazily to the ground.
At least everything was right with the café. The place had been her pride and joy ever since she had opened it a good thirty years prior. A long wood farmer’s table sat in the center and snug groups of antique chairs and sofas upholstered in velvet were clustered around it, tucked next to bookshelves and beside the windows. Behind the counter were wall-mounted chalkboards plus an assortment of old tins and apothecary jars. Beatrice took a moment to look around with satisfaction.
The heavy wooden door banged open, making her start. It was Hannah Moore. They had struck up a friendship after the young lawyer had helped her out with her last mystery involving a local counterfeiting ring. Hannah regularly came into the café for a mid-afternoon almond milk latte.
Despite their age difference of forty years, they got along swimmingly. As someone who loved solving local mysteries as much as Beatrice, Hannah was the perfect person to teach her the basic ins-and-outs of criminal law.
“Afternoon,” Hannah said, plunking her big leather handbag down by her favorite table by the window.
Lucky ran up immediately and began winding through the chair legs, his green eyes looking up at her adoringly. Hamish jumped down from his window seat with a loud thump , trotted over, and pushed his bulk between Lucky and the chair.
“You look like you just ate a whole lemon,” Hannah said as she reached down to pat them both. “What’s up?”
Beatrice made a face at her and signaled to the barista to make Hannah’s usual drink. She sat down opposite Hannah and pulled her big white knit cardigan tighter against the crisp breeze coming through the windows.
“It’s the Ashbrook Fair next week. I’m wracking my brains about what I want to make. I haven’t won in two whole years because that Purple Lilac Café opened up and stole first place! I mean, who names their café after the state flower? What kind of serious operation is that?”
Hannah snorted. “Okay, Bee. Did you forget
Similar Books
