Cold brew catastrophe, p.1
Cold Brew Catastrophe, page 1
part #3 of Comics and Coffee Case Files Series
Cold Brew Catastrophe
Christine Zane Thomas
William Tyler Davis
Copyright © 2019 by William Tyler Davis
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
By Christine Zane Thomas
Food File Mysteries starring Allie Treadwell
The Salty Taste of Murder
A Choice Cocktail of Death
A Juicy Morsel of Jealousy
The Bitter Bite of Betrayal
Comics and Coffee Case Files starring Kirby Jackson and Gambit
Book 1: Marvels, Mochas, and Murder
Book 2: Lattes and Lies
Contents
Cold Brew Catastrophe
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Also By Christine Zane Thomas
About Christine Zane Thomas
About William Tyler Davis
Acknowledgments
Cold Brew Catastrophe
by Christine Zane Thomas and William Tyler Davis
1
Gambit made a low guttural sound. It wasn’t so much a growl as it was a question—or maybe an accusation.
You brought a cat home—a cat—without discussing it with me? Seriously, Kirby, what are you thinking?
I was thinking that this was a new low. It was one thing to talk to my pets and a whole other to give them a side of the conversation.
I imagined a thought balloon above Gambit’s head. More words. More questions. All of them to do with the small kennel I held.
I set it down gently on the table of the closest booth.
Gambit popped the imaginary thought balloon as he clambered up my leg. He wanted a better look. He hopped into the seat of the booth—this was new—then he scrambled his front haunches onto the table. His long dachshund nose sniffed the bottom corners of the kennel.
The cat inside made no attempt at anything. She didn’t hiss. She didn’t yowl. She didn’t ball up toward the back of the kennel, scared. Her green eyes stayed trained on Gambit.
I set him back down on the floor, and he bounced up and down on his hind legs, almost toppling over backward.
“To answer your question,” I said to Gambit, “to really answer it… I wasn’t thinking. Not at all.”
In fact, I felt tricked. I felt guilted into adopting this cat, Rogue.
For the past hour, I’d sat outside in the car questioning my decision making. Outside my comic book and coffee shop, Kapow Koffee, on the edge of its WIFI range, I’d watched a dozen YouTube videos. I’d typed in these questions: How to introduce a dog to a cat? How to introduce a cat to a dog? Do dogs and cats get along? The best way to introduce new animals.
My search, while exhaustive, failed to garner a single video suited to my particular situation.
“It’s okay, boy,” I reassured Gambit. I bent down and picked him up. I held him by the chest with his long belly extending down my forearm. We both took a better look at Rogue.
The black cat had a white patch on her nose and another on her chest. She had long whiskers. Her left ear didn’t perk as straight up as her right. Those patches of white fur were part of the reason I’d named her Rogue. In the comic books, Rogue was one of the X-Men, and she, too, had a streak of white running through her hair.
Gambit huffed as I set him back down.
Technically, the two animals had met twice before. And in both encounters, Gambit had chased after the cat. But the one time he actually caught up to her, he’d barreled into her, unsure of what exactly to do in such a circumstance.
I unlatched the cage, fully expecting Rogue to dart out. She didn’t.
Now, Gambit was hesitant. He backed away toward his doggy bed.
I reached into the crate and pulled Rogue out.
Then Gambit growled for real. Rogue wasn’t having a real growl. Claws emerged. They sank into my arm, well past the surface of my skin.
“Really?” I lifted her so we were eye to eye. My brown eyes stared into her green ones. “It’s going to be like that, huh. You know you’re safe up here, right? Look at him. He’s not even a foot tall. He can’t get you. I wouldn’t allow it.”
Rogue didn’t share my confidence.
This wasn’t going well. I’d ventured inside with aspirations the two animals would become fast friends. Now it seemed as though I’d been delusional. It was time to figure out a backup plan.
What had those videos actually said again?
“This is stupid,” I said out loud. “I’m stupid.”
The bell that dangled on the door handle of the shop jingled. “You aren’t that stupid,” a familiar voice said.
Gambit’s tail went to thumping. He knew that voice too. I turned to greet Felicia. Felicia smirked. Then she set her eyes on the cat for the first time and her jaw dropped in horror. “Okay, maybe you are a little stupid. I thought you were getting a rescue?”
“This is a rescue,” I said.
“A dog. I meant a dog rescue.”
A dog was exactly what Felicia held in her own arms—a puppy to be exact. She set it down beside her sneakers, and it immediately went to chew on her laces.
Gambit trotted toward the pup, tail wagging madly. He gave the puppy a nuzzle around the neck. And Gambit’s red shorthair daughter, Scarlet, immediately pounced at him. Then the two were off, playing as if the cat wasn’t there at all.
“I know what you meant,” I said. “And I meant to get a dog. But I got sweet-talked into this monstrosity. She’s the same cat Gambit chased after a few weeks ago. You remember?”
“I remember.” Felicia smiled. “I remember you huffing and puffing when you had to catch Gambit down the street. Can I hold it? Boy or a girl?”
“Of course.” I wasn’t exactly holding onto Rogue as much as she was clutching my arm in a vice. I held her out for Felicia who stroked the cat’s back. Rogue immediately let go of my arm. She went ever-so-willingly into the cradle of Felicia’s arms. I love-hated how good Felicia was with animals. I wished it came so naturally to me.
“She’s a girl,” I told Felicia. “Rogue.”
“Really? Again with the mutants?”
“What? I think it’s a fitting name. I’m actually surprised you know it’s an X-Men name.”
“There are like infinity movies. Halle Berry. Hugh Jackman. That vampire chick from True Blood plays Rogue.”
“I don’t think she ever became a vampire.”
“Whatever,” Felicia rolled her eyes, “you know what I mean.”
She cuddled Rogue to her chest, giving her soft kisses on the head. “She’s a sweetheart, I’ll give you that. Plus, she won’t be chewing up every shoe you own—not like that little demon.”
At that, Scarlet caught her first glimpse of Rogue. She barked, high-pitched. The bellowing woof of a hound dog was still a few months away.
“No, ma’am,” Felicia scolded. “We like Rogue. She’s our friend.”
“I don’t know if it’s going to be quite that easy,” I said.
“Probably not with Gambit,” Felicia agreed. “But Scarlet’s still in the learning phase. Aren’t you, Little Demon?”
The dog waggled her little tail in answer.
Felicia had gotten Scarlet for her daughter, Neena, a grade schooler. And the girl was typically in tow when Felicia wasn’t working. And she had to be off work. At least she wasn’t dressed for it, not in her pants suit with a badge and a gun on her hip. But there was no Neena.
Being a Sunday, the coffee shop was closed. My girlfriend, Avett, was at work. They’d changed her scheduled shifts at the hospital, and my Sundays had become a whole lot lonelier.
“So, what are you doing here?” I asked Felicia. “And where’s Neena?”
“Mostly,” she said, “I came to see the rescue. I wasn’t exactly expecting a cat.”
That made sense. When I’d posted about it on Facebook, I was vague on the details. “You and me both. She’s cute though, right?”
“So cute.” Felicia nuzzled the kitty. “I do have ulterior motives though… Neena isn’t here because she’s with Derek. It’s his last weekend in town. He moves to Dallas tomorrow.”
“How’s Neena taking it?”
“Fine, I guess.” Felicia shrugged. “But she hasn’t gone a week without seeing him yet. Or a month… Or two months. They’ve been practicing their FaceTime calls. I let him get her an iPad.”
“It sounds like you’re taking it harder than she is.”
“For now, I am,” Felicia grumbled. “It’s just I can see the storm on the horizon. Neena doesn’t.” Felicia took stock of the kennel on the booth table. It belonged to Gambit but went mostly unused. “Do you have anything for a cat? Or are you as completely unprepared as I think you are?”
“The latter,” I said honestly.
She shook her head. A few minute
We returned to the shop where I lugged the supplies up to my apartment upstairs. “Now, to put the cat tree together,” I said, thinking it was probably time for Felicia to go.
But she smiled and looked at her watch. “I’ve got time. I can help—if you make me a mocha.”
I agreed to her demand.
The dogs spent that time downstairs while Rogue got the lay of the land upstairs. She immediately scampered away and found a hiding place—a feat in such a cramped and tiny apartment.
“Feels weird being up here,” Felicia commented. “The last time, ya know, I didn’t exactly have an invite.”
I nodded. That was true. The last time Felicia had been in the apartment, she was searching for evidence—proof that I’d murdered my best friend and business partner Ryan Walker. She found no such evidence. The murder had been staged to look like I’d done it when, in fact, I had not.
“It is weird,” I agreed—but not for the reasons she thought. In the back of my mind was the reminder that I had a girlfriend. One that hardly ever visited my apartment. One who probably wouldn’t be too happy with me spending time alone time with my former high school crush. But I’d never actually explained the whole history to Avett.
Avett assumed, mistakenly, that my apartment was the typical mess of a bachelor pad, complete with pizza boxes and littered with beer cans. Why she thought such a thing, I wasn’t sure. She knew that I wasn’t much of a drinker. And the best pizza place in town was a five-minute walk away. I’d never gotten it delivered once—because why would I?
We mostly spent our time together at Avett’s new condo on Gaiman Island. And once a week, we sat down for a family dinner with my Memaw, whom Avett still affectionately called Mrs. Jackson, despite Memaw’s protests to call her Martha. It was Memaw, through her friend Barb, who had set the two of us up in the first place.
And it was Barb’s murder that had driven a knife, so to speak, between me and Felicia. We’d been on the outs for several weeks before the murder was solved.
Solving the investigation into Barb’s death had only served to bring Avett and I closer. Maybe today had helped to put mine and Felicia’s friendship back on track.
Felicia took a few sips of her coffee before we began building the cat tree. Well, mostly I built, and she supervised. Then Rogue graced us with her presence. She examined her new furniture before scurrying back to the hiding place she’d found.
“Next, you need to cat-proof the kitchen,” Felicia said.
When I gave her a dumbfounded look, she explained, “That’s what all that hardware stuff I made you buy is for. It prevents a cat from opening the cabinets. And the cover things go on the stove, so Rogue won’t accidentally start a fire.”
The thought of losing both my residence and business in one fell swoop sent shivers down my spine. “I’m pretty sure the lady at the shelter forgot to mention that,” I said. “I’ll do that next.”
Felicia checked her phone once more. “I guess I’d better go. I always get to be the bad guy—with Derek, with my parents… Just one time, I wish it could be someone else.”
“You catch enough bad guys,” I joked. “I assume it’ll work out in the end. And Neena loves you, regardless.”
She stood up, and she rolled her eyes at me for the umpteenth time in our years long relationship. I followed her down the stairs where Felicia scooped Scarlet from the ground but lingered in the doorway of the shop. “Oh,” something jogged her memory, “Rob wanted me to ask you—”
“It’s not about the pirate thing, is it?”
Felicia smiled again, biting her lip. “It is about the pirate thing.”
Rob Richards was our CrossFit coach. He owned the gym, a moving company, and the self-storage place on the outskirts of town. He was also an active member of the Niilhaasi Chamber of Commerce.
“Dad, too,” Felicia confided. “They really want you to help out. They’re coming at me from all sides.”
“Better you than me.”
Felicia’s father was the president of the Chamber of Commerce. He owned the only new car dealership in town.
“Come on, Kirby. It won’t be much. You’ll be part of the scavenger hunt. It’ll mean more foot traffic. More business. That’s a good thing, right?”
“You’d like to think that,” I retorted. “I’ll think about it. Okay?”
“Is that a yes?” she asked. “I think I heard you say yes.”
She walked out before I could give my rebuttal.
2
Felicia had been wrong. What started out as not much—what started as Kapow Koffee being a stop in the annual scavenger hunt—escalated to so much more.
Someone—my guess, Felicia, or maybe Memaw—had told the city council about my “artistic” abilities. And I was enlisted to help create the year’s pirate map. And by help create, I mean, I drew it with little help from anyone else.
In the months since my enlistment, I’d worked hand in hand with Felicia’s father and other chamber members, marking the treasure locations and other points of interest on the map.
Kapow Koffee was also the designated location to pick up said map. So, it wasn’t a stop on the scavenger hunt but the start. The map led to clues and the clues led to various treasures hidden around Niilhaasi Bay.
In most cases, the tiny model treasure chest was worth more than what was held inside it—crappy gift cards and monopoly-style money only good at a handful of merchants. Kapow Koffee wasn’t a participant. That was where I had drawn the line, so to speak.
A secret code phrase was required for us to hand over the map.
“Shiver me timbers,” a freckle faced kid uttered to Sarah. It irked me how unoriginal the passphrase was. My vote had been for “blasted barnacles.”
Sarah bent down and slid a map from the stack of glossy 8x10s under the counter. The kid took the map but didn’t order a coffee. He skipped out of the store in pursuit of his lousy fortune.
“We’re almost out of maps,” Sarah said.
I checked the Spider-Man clock on the wall. There were only a few more hours before the parade and the pirate landing beside the pier. After that, the festival was essentially over. Most of the participants had come in over the previous night and this morning.
“I think we’re good,” I told her. “These stragglers won’t find much of anything.”
Sarah nodded. She leaned toward the register, folding her tanned arms on her chest. She was into her second year of employment at the shop. In recent months, I’d officially dubbed her Assistant Manager and offered her a salary—in place of a measly hourly wage. Before I changed her pay, I’d caught her clocking out and working unpaid overtime hours too many times. Those hours she knew I couldn’t afford. But it was those hours that made all the difference in the shop’s success.
It was Sarah who made the comic book side of the shop tick. I couldn’t convey my gratitude enough. She’d sacrificed a lot to help run the place. I was still flabbergasted that she’d dropped out of college to stay in Niilhaasi. But she didn’t drop out of her theater program to work at Kapow Koffee forever. Her goal was to write for theater, movies, and TV.
“You’re probably right,” she agreed.
She spun at the sound of the bell on the door jingling.
And she wasn’t the only one who perked up. Gambit, who was fast asleep in his doggy bed at the other side of the shop, stirred. A tapping of doggy nails on the wood floor told him one of his cohorts was here to play.
Jock, Gambit’s dapple dachshund mini me, skittered across the floor. He slid into his old man after failing to come to a stop.
