The cafe. - Chapter 1 & 2
The only place in this community that anyone can walk into and feel an immediate sense of belonging.
Sure, the library down the street had a nice feeling in the air, and maybe the restaurant a few streets over had a small feeling of community, but nothing beat the feeling that walking into the cafe gave.
The cafe has two floors and a basement. It’s open every day from 6:30 AM to 10:30 PM.
When entering, it almost feels like you’ve just stepped foot inside of a narrow book nook owned by an old woman who smells like whiskey and cinnamon. The front is cluttered with wooden tables and chairs; most of the sets creek or wobble. The right side is where the bar is. A few stools strolled in front, and the cash register sat on the side with a stack of menus beside it. Next to the bar, on the left, is where a spiral staircase is located. Upstairs, it hosts bookshelves, comfortable seating, coffee tables, different tables for board games, and, lastly, the two unisex bathrooms.
At the early hour of 6 AM, the cafe is silent and still.
Except for in the kitchen.
Arthur slammed a wooden box full of fruits onto the counter, and the back door of the cafe swung shut. Iron stood straight, grabbed the box from him, and started unloading it into the fridge. Arthur turned, meowed, and headed back outside to his truck to grab the remaining fruits.
They worked in a system every morning like that, restocking, making dishes and drinks, and cleaning.
Usually, though, their mornings went smoother than misplaced shipments, owners yelling in the backroom,m and a few of the staff dropping tears and snot into the food.
And… two detectives in the main foyer.
Rowan, one of the beloved staff and members of the community, had been found mauled inside his apartment.
They met sometime while studying abroad for law and travelled back to Shiftopia. Together, they created a law firm and eventually became detectives as well.
Tasked with figuring out who Rowan's murderer is.
They finally walked to the cafe counter, where Kat was restocking the straws.
“We need to interview every staff member here,” Tina said, holding her notebook tightly to her chest. Trix held his own and added lowly, “minus Rowan cause hes-.”
Kat paused, very visibly unsettled. She didn't even acknowledge Trix’s comment; for her own sanity, it didn't happen.
“Now? He died two days ago. We don’t get a moment to grieve?”
Tina shook her head. “The police have reason to believe the murderer will strike again. We’re interviewing the whole town.”
Arthur was interviewed first by Trix. She circled him.
“Where were you two nights ago?” He asked behind Arthur, pen ready on his notebook.
“My farm. I was helping a horse give birth,” Arthur answered. He straightened up, feeling uncomfortable under Trix’s gaze.
“Do you have proof of this?” Trix sat in front of him, and she wrote suspicious in bold lettering once Arthur shook his head.
He answered fine, at first—no red flags.
But he immediately tensed up, his orange fur puffed out as Tina pulled out a baggie of orange fur. Seemingly collected from the murder scene. ‘
“Why is your fur inside Rowan's apartment?!”