Nozy Cat 4: Hope Jones Cozy Mystery Series, #4

By Lyn Key

Hope Jones operates the Brontë Bookshop in the hamlet of Sweet Springs, Virginia. Her best friend and business partner Peggy Sue Roswell assists Hope along with Stacey, her smart, spirited fifteen-year-old daughter. Their tuxedo feline Nozy Cat, opinionated and outspoken, is the bookshop mascot. The owner of the Tastes Like More Bakery reports the murder victim Jessica Grey in the kitchen, and Sergeant Trogg asks Hope to join the police investigation. She and Peggy Sue along with Nozy Cat soon identify the three murder suspects and encounter several unexpected twists while solving the murder mystery. Nozy Cat 4 offers cat mystery fans a clean read and an exciting whodunit with loads of good-natured humor and a fun dose of the paranormal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ed Lynskey
• Release date: Sep 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781393636106

Book preview

LICENSE STATEMENT

Copyright © 2019 by Ed Lynskey and ECL Press. All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author.

This e-Book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-Book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the vendor of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Front cover credit: Public domain photograph courtesy of MIphoto and the morgueFile.com.

Other Books by Ed Lynskey

Isabel and Alma Trumbo Cozy Mystery Series

Quiet Anchorage

The Cashmere Shroud

The Ladybug Song

The Amber Top Hat

Sweet Betsy

Murder in a One Hearse Town

Vi’s Ring

Heirloom

A Big Dill

Piper Robins Cozy Mystery Series

The Corpse Wore Gingham

Fur the Win

Hope Jones Cozy Mystery Series (as Lyn Key)

Nozy Cat 1

Nozy Cat 2

Nozy Cat 3

Nozy Cat 4

Ginny Dove Cozy Mystery Series (as Lea Charles)

Found Key

Private Investigator Frank Johnson Mystery Series

Pelham Fell Here

The Dirt-Brown Derby

The Blue Cheer

Troglodytes

The Zinc Zoo

After the Big Noise

Other Novels

Lake Charles

The Quetzal Motel

Ask the Dice

Blood Diamonds

Topaz Moon

Outside the Wire

Skin in the Game

Other Short Story Collection

Smoking on Mount Rushmore

Chapter 1

Snoring away, Nozy Cat, the security officer at the Brontë Bookshop, guarded the cash register with his usual vigor. He awakened and saw Stacey dusting behind the front counter. The tuxedo cat took his time stretching and looking around before he addressed the red-haired, freckled fifteen-year-old girl.

Have you seen my whoopee cushion, Stace?

Mom tossed it out, Stacey replied.

My wind-up chattering teeth?

Tossed.

My fake squirt ketchup bottle?

Tossed, I’m afraid.

My prank rubber snake?

Again, she tossed it.

Honestly, she’s such a stuffed shirt. Where is her sense of humor?

Mom doesn’t like you playing practical jokes on the bookshop staff and customers.

Where are she and Peggy Sue, pray tell?

They breezed off on a so-called errand.

Oh?

They acted suspicious, Nozy Cat. Something is up, and they’re keeping it as a secret from us.

Maybe they’re planning an Atlantic City vacation to surprise us with.

Stacey scoffed as she put aside the feather duster. Since when has Mom ever taken a summer vacation? She keeps her nose to the grindstone.

She doesn’t get it from me. If I was any more laidback, you’d have to embalm me."

I suspect there’s been a town murder.

Startled, Nozy Cat jumped straight up like the clown in a jack-in-the-box. His sky blue eyes widened. Strong words, Stace.

Shrugging, Stacey gaped out the storefront glass at Main Street during the midday lull. She saw a few cars and fewer townspeople. They moseyed, ambled, or sauntered while going about their affairs. She wished more of them would mosey, amble, or saunter into the Brontë Bookshop while opening their wallets, purses, and money clips. She checked the money drawer to the cash register.

How many books did we sell during my beauty nap?

So far, we’ve laid an egg, Stacey replied.

I don’t know how many times I’ve told Hope to install the neon sign. She says it’s too gaudy for advertising books. But I say neon is bold and beautiful, just what we need to woo in the bookshop customers. What do you think?

I’m all for it and so is Peggy Sue. Mom is the lone holdout, and we have to convince her it’s a swell idea.

Since it’s slow here, let’s close up and get a line on the latest town gossip.

You just want to see if another murder has taken place.

You really have the old noodle working today, kiddo.

Well, I am a teenage witch, Stacey said.

We haven’t proven you are, so I wouldn’t brew any custom potions, wear any pointy hats, or cast any magic spells just yet.

Look at it from my viewpoint. I’m talking to my cat in English, so I’d better have a good reason for it, or else it’s loony bin here I come.

Nozy Cat laughed, a rusty chortle. We should land a Hollywood agent, make our sales pitch, and launch our own hit TV series.

You’re too late. It’s already been done.

The talking cats on TV advertise pet food, flea collars, and kitty litter. I could handle working that gig, no sweat.

The cats aren’t speaking but use human voiceovers.

Really now? What will they think of next?

How can you go with me since you trashed Mom’s backpack we used to carry you in?

Can’t you carry me in your arms? I don’t mind.

You’ve grown a bit broad in the beam.

I’ll strut my stuff beside you since we’re just headed down Main Street. If anybody says anything, why should we give a flying f—?

Watch your language. Mom bought a new bar of Grandma’s Lye Soap to wash out your potty mouth.

I was set to say why should we give a flying fortune cookie.

Stacey smiled. I like your plucky attitude, she said. But we’d better hang loose here until Mom and Peggy Sue return.

Then I’m due for my next beauty nap. Wake me up when you knock off for the day.

While Nozy Cat yawned, Stace rolled her eyes, a gesture she did many times throughout the day.

***

Hope Jones and her best friend Peggy Sue Roswell hurried from the Brontë Bookshop to the Tastes Like More Bakery on the corner of Whippoorwill Avenue and Main Street. All the street names in Sweet Springs except Main Street commemorated the Virginia songbirds. A bit earlier, Hope had taken Sergeant Trogg’s phone call.

Um, yeah, this is Trogg. You know, I’m with the Sweet Springs Police Department.

Your gravely voice is unique, Sergeant. I’d know it anywhere. Are we shooting the breeze?

No. I face a grave situation here, pardon the pun.

Hope reached out and snagged Peggy Sue’s sleeve. She stopped, and Hope nodded to indicate big trouble was astir.

Where is here, Sergeant, and what is your grave situation?

I’m standing outside the front door at the Tastes Like More Bakery. As you may’ve gathered, a murder has occurred again.

Already? We just finished solving one.

Yeah, we did, didn’t we? I could make the cynical cop’s remark it gives me job security. Regardless, I need your help.

Thanks for asking but Peggy Sue and I will sit this murder investigation out. We should take a breather and build up our energy.

Uh-huh. Is Peggy Sue there with you?

Hope didn’t look at Peggy Sue who glared back at her.

She’s standing beside me with a scowl on her face.

My cop’s hunch is she doesn’t need to build up her energy.

Your cop’s hunch is spot-on.

Sergeant Trogg chuckled. I figured as much. How soon can you get down here?

I could say we can’t drop everything we’re doing, Hope said. However, Peggy Sue would flip her wig if I did, so look for us in five minutes.

Make it in three minutes if you can, Sergeant Trogg said. I’m antsy to get you, er, I mean to get us started. See you soon.

Hope had tossed out a perfunctory excuse to Stacey working behind the front counter. She didn’t believe for one second Hope and Peggy Sue were headed to the post office. The post-office run was a one-person errand.

With a smirk, Stacey had watched them hustle out the bookshop door and down Main Street. She knew murder had reared it ugly head again and solving it required their skills. Sergeant Trogg relied on his pair of lady sleuths, too much so to Stacey’s way of thinking.

The Tastes Like More Bakery had replaced the Penny Lane Café and Bakery whose owner had sold it and moved to Arizona for health reasons. Hope was cheering on the new bakery’s success because she didn’t want to also lose it. Hearing the bad news of the murder there did little to bolster her confidence in its survival. 

Who is the murder victim? Peggy Sue asked.

Sergeant Trogg didn’t give me any details, Hope replied. He just wants us to come running like he always does when he calls.

Not to start anything, but we did promise him, Hope.

We also said we reserve the right to stop our snooping if it interferes with our personal responsibilities. He agreed to our terms.

Are you feeling a little overwhelmed?

Hope stopped and faced Peggy Sue who also halted.

We’re bookshop proprietors, Hope replied. You also have your husband Travis, and I have my daughter Stace. They depend on us. We can only go sleuthing in our limited amount of spare time.

I understand where our priorities lie. However, we’ve proven on our past murder cases we can handle juggling our different tasks.

You’ll sing a different tune the next time Travis wreaks havoc in your kitchen. How many broken microwaves have you had to replace?

It’s three and counting. Travis is taking another cooking class through Adult Continuing Education. This time I’m upbeat he’ll learn something useful. Meantime, Sergeant Trogg waits for us.

They continued on to the Tastes Like More Bakery where Sergeant Trogg stood beside the entrance. Fidgety with impatience, he’d been tapping his toe and timing their arrival on his wristwatch.

He’d a craggy face with darting eyes that never missed anything. Blunt and stubborn, he’d be a full-fledged curmudgeon in a few years. He’d also remain a cop until they wheeled him out of the station house feet first on a gurney. Their relationship, though never warm and friendly, was cordial. Hope spoke first.

You rang, Sergeant? she asked.

We shouldn’t waste any time in getting started with the homicide investigation, Sergeant Trogg replied.

Your sworn duty is to enforce the law, Hope said. Peggy Sue and I are merely your informal advisers.

I haven’t forgotten who you are, and what you do, Sergeant Trogg said.

Who is the murder victim? Peggy Sue asked.

Jessica Grey, Sergeant Trogg replied. She was strangled to death.

Lord grant her soul eternal peace, Peggy Sue said.

No further explanation is needed, Hope said. We get the picture.

I’ll send you a copy of the police report in case you want to read it, Sergeant Trogg said.

I’ll wait for it with bated breath, Hope said. Suspects? Clues? Motives?

We start at square one and move forward, Sergeant Trogg replied.

Is Jessica’s dead body still lying in the bakery? Hope asked.

My CSI folks completed their duties and left the scene, Sergeant Trogg replied.

I hope they didn’t rush on our account, Hope said.

They didn’t have a whole lot to process, Sergeant Trogg said. Jessica is en route to the morgue as we speak.

I’m so jealous, Hope said.

Cynicism and sarcasm are my trademarks, and I resent any competition, Sergeant Trogg said.

You don’t hold a monopoly on either, believe me, Hope said.   

Sergeant Trogg got in the last word in the form of a grunt as he shepherded them into the bakery. The bright, clean lobby smelled of aromatic coffee, baked bread, and melted butter. Hope drew in a deep breath. How pleasant, she thought. The display shelves of blueberry scones, sugar cookies, and apple turnovers behind the glass reminded her she’d missed her ten o’clock break. She wondered if her buying a brownie snack to nibble on now would be tacky.

Hope wished she were back at the bookshop, and yet a profound curiosity drew her to this latest murder mystery. Her gumshoe fascination was difficult to put into words. By now, the folks in Sweet Springs had come to accept her as their amateur sleuth. Some of them called it her avocation, others saw it as her obsession, and a few didn’t know what to make of it.

Emma Miller wasn’t quite as tall as Hope or as roly-poly as Peggy Sue. Emma had made a big splash with opening her new bakery. Her toothy smile, china blue eyes, and earthy sense of humor made her a popular town merchant. Unmarried with no children, she’d dated several men over the years.

Hi Peggy Sue and Hope, Emma said. Welcome back to my bakery although this time it’s under horrid circumstances.

Don’t let it ruin your day, Hope said. Sergeant Trogg will quickly get to the bottom of it, and your life will return to normal. Isn’t that true, Sergeant?

I like to aim for an open-and-shut case, Sergeant Trogg replied. Emma found the dead body lying on the kitchen floor.

Hope nodded. You’re the tour guide. Show us the way.

Sergeant Trogg ushered them into the smaller kitchen. Hope took one look at the tile floor, arched an eyebrow, and posed her question.

Why is the dead body’s outline drawn in aerosol whipped cream instead of the traditional chalk lines? she asked.

I forgot my chalk sticks, so I improvised, Sergeant Trogg replied.

Are you kidding me? Hope asked.

I’m not known for my sense of humor, Sergeant Trogg replied.

Hope closed her eyes before he could see her roll them.

Do you have a new mantra ready for me to use and stay calm? Hope asked Peggy Sue. It’s going to be a long day.

Keep repeating nothing can ruffle my feathers, Peggy Sue replied.

Nothing can ruffle my feathers, Hope said.

Well? Is it working for you? Peggy Sue asked.

Nothing yet, but I remain optimistic, Hope replied. If Nozy Cat were here with us, he’d be rolling on the floor with gales of laughter.

I fear we’d be joining him, Peggy Sue said. As it is, we have to make the best of our difficult situation with Sergeant Trogg and carry on.

Chapter 2

Hope and Peggy Sue returned to the Brontë Bookshop where they filled in Stacey and Nozy Cat. Then Hope got back to work. She added a local author’s book to its proper shelf location near the front entrance. She picked up a box of used paperbacks and made her way to the Romance area, one of their largest paperback sections.

She sized up the used paperback she held. Why can’t I find my young Fabio and fall head over heels in love again? she muttered while admiring the eye candy on the front cover. As she shelved the used paperbacks in their proper places, Nozy Cat perched on top of the bookshelf. He swished his tail back and forth while he chattered.

Let’s donate a box of chalk sticks to the cops. Sergeant Trogg shouldn’t waste the aerosol whipped cream as he did on the floor.

I have to wonder about him sometimes, Hope said. What makes him tick?

You know my low regard for him. Did he