Black Cat and the Accidental Angel (Black Cat Mysteries Book 3) (11 page)

The bedroom door cracked open. “I don’t want to live with Mama and Charlie. He doesn’t like me. He’s mean.”

“I know.”

Cindy rushed out and flung her arms around John’s waist.

“Your mom said she isn’t with Charlie any more. Next time you see her, he won’t be there.” John pushed the hair off her forehead. “Listen. Did you hear Mama say Angel got away? She’s not at the shelter. She’s somewhere near a gas station.”

Cindy’s head reared back. A smile lit up her face.

“I’ll call the Chevron station and AM-PM. They’re the only two stations between here and town. Maybe someone has seen her. When we go into town tomorrow, we can stop at the gas stations and talk to the fellows. Maybe she’s still hanging around.”

Cindy gave a little yelp. “Can you call and ask? Now?”

John went to the phone and dialed. “Hey Bruce? John Goldstein here. Was my ex-wife at your station a while ago? Yellow Honda, four-door? She was? Listen. She had a little orange cat in the car with her. She said it jumped out when she opened the door. Would you keep an eye out for the cat? If you see her, try to catch her and give me a call, will you? Thanks. Appreciate it.”

John grinned at Cindy. “Let’s go right now. We’ll stop by the station and look around. Maybe we can find her.”

Within fifteen minutes, Cindy and her daddy left to search for Angel.

Black Cat paced the floor for several hours until they returned—without Angel.

Before Cindy went to sleep that night, she knelt by the bed and said her prayers.

“Dear Jesus. Thank You for my daddy and the Emus and for Black Cat and thank You for letting Angel get away from Mama. But, Jesus, now I need to ask a big favor because Angel got lost. You know what she looks like, all gold and sort of stripy and she has a kink in her tail. Please find her and bring her home. I know You can find her because Daddy says You can see everywhere, even through the trees. If You’d do that, Jesus, I’d be ever so good and mind Daddy. Oh, I almost forgot. Bless Mama too, because somebody should love her and I’m mad at her right now, so maybe You can be her friend. Okay? That’s all I need. Amen.”

Black Cat snuggled by her pillow, and added a few prayers of his own to the Father of all living creatures.

Cindy rubbed Black Cat’s head. “You’ll see. Everything will be alright now. Jesus will protect Angel and keep her safe. She’ll be home soon.”

Black Cat stared into her eyes and blinked.
I hope you’re right, but how can you be so sure?

“It’s true. I know, because Daddy told me so.”

Black Cat turned to look out the window. A blue jay hopped onto the bird feeder hanging on the limb just beyond the window. It pecked at the seeds, then kicked off and disappeared. The empty feeder swayed from side to side.

Was there a chance he’d see Angel again one day? Would the Father of all living creatures care about a little lost cat? Would He hear Cindy’s prayers? Black Cat nestled closer. The faith of a child is a beautiful thing.

Chapter Eleven

J
ohn dialed the animal shelter. Wouldn’t hurt to tell them Angel was lost, in case someone picked her up. He turned his back to Cindy’s room. Best not let Cindy overhear the call. She was already upset enough.

“Hello? Nevada County Animal Shelter.”

“
Um.
Yes. This is John Goldstein. I called before and reported finding a couple of cats? A cream-colored tabby and a black and white tom?”

“Yes, Mr. Goldstein. I’ve got the report right here. It says you’re keeping them at your house in case someone calls? Is everything alright?”

“Well, not exactly.” John scratched his head and looked around the cabin.

Black Cat, lying on the back of the sofa, peered out the window. Perhaps he thought Angel would come waltzing home on her own. The house already felt empty without her.

“Uhh.
Under circumstances that I’d rather not discuss, the tabby female—her name is Angel, by the way. She’s…
uh
…lost. Could you give me a call in case she’s turned in?” Just what would he do if someone found her and turned her in? He’d already told Cindy they couldn’t keep the cats.

“Sure thing, Mr. Goldstein. I’ll make a note. We’ll be on
Angel-alert
and let you know if we find her.”

“She has orange stripes and goldish colored eyes.” John lowered his voice and glanced again toward Cindy’s bedroom door.

“Yes, I know. You gave us her description yesterday.”

“Okay, thanks. Good-bye.”

Guess that was all he could do. The guys at the service station might spot Angel, or someone might see the posters Cindy made. They were doing everything possible to bring Angel back. What if Angel’s owner saw the posters? But, wasn’t that the point; to find her real home? They’d deal with that, if and when…
Do I want the cats or don’t I?
It was all so mixed up in his head.

The cats were supposed to cheer up Cindy. Instead, she barely had time to wrap her head around the idea that they could stay for a while, than Carolyn waltzed in to spoil it. Just like two years ago. He’d no sooner come home after eighteen months in Iraq and some careless camper burned down forty acres of timber, including three homes and their vineyard.

Right after the fire, Carolyn announced she needed to
find herself
and took off with the propane delivery man. He had hoped she’d
find herself
in another state and stay there, but here she was again, making trouble.

How many nights had Cindy cried herself to sleep, thinking her mother didn’t love her? Hadn’t he about gone out of his mind dealing with a grieving child, the divorce, making ends meet, building the Emu enclosure and buying the birds with the last bit of borrowed funds? He was so close now—with the eggs due to hatch in a few weeks. Just a little longer. If he could keep the bank off his back and keep Carolyn off his neck. He was due for a break. Surely someone would spot the little cat and call—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Lord! Now what?

Black Cat brushed past John’s leg and beat him to the door.
Probably thinks it’s someone bringing Angel back. Hope he’s right, for Cindy’s sake
…

He opened the door while Black Cat danced between his feet. “Yes?”

A tall man with a thin mustache and piercing blue eyes stood on the porch. He had a mole just below his lower lip with a hair standing straight up in the middle.
Like on the hill in Iraq where we planted the American flag.
The man grinned and rubbed the side of his nose, his eyes drifting from side to side. He had something on his mind, for sure, but he wasn’t bringing Angel back.

“Mr. Goldstein? I’m your neighbor, Chuck Skimmer. I live over yonder.” He jerked his thumb over his left shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

It was hard not to stare at the mole because the hair swayed when he spoke. John opened the door wider. He gestured toward the sofa. “What can I do for you?”

Mr. Skimmer ambled in, sat and folded his hands on his knee. A few scraggly blond hairs stuck out from his shirt collar above the top button. “I have a cousin who works at the bank down town and…
um
…well, I hope you’re not offended, but he sort of mentioned that you’re having some financial problems.”

Great. Now, I’m the talk of the town. First the bank manager, and now Mr. Scammer
…
Skimmer.

Mr. Skimmer cleared his throat. “He said…my cousin that is, said the bank has started foreclosure on your property.” Mr. Skimmer rubbed the back of his neck.

The vein alongside John’s neck throbbed. He drew in a breath and crossed his arms over his chest. “Mr. Skimmer—”

“Now, don’t get mad, I’m not trying to embarrass you, Mr. Goldstein.” He put up his hand. “I’m actually here to do you a favor. You see, your land touches mine and I thought you might be willing to sell me your property before the bank takes over.”

“I don’t have any intention of selling my land. I’ll figure—”

“Sure! I know you’ll do your best, but sometimes things don’t work out like we plan. I just wanted you to know that I’m willing to help you out, see. This is what I’m willing to offer.” Mr. Skimmer’s hands trembled. “You sign a quit-claim. I’ll take over your note for the balance you owe the bank and give you…say, $25,000 cash for a grubstake somewhere else. I’ll even pay your back taxes—”

“Don’t say another word.” John stood and shoved his chair up to the table.
Who does he think he is, coming in here, offering to take my land off my hands?
“Get out of here before I bust you in the nose!” John lurched toward the sofa, his fist clenched. “I’d be an idiot to even consider your offer. This ranch is worth several million dollars. You think I’d let you have it for a measly $25,000 and the back taxes?” His cheeks stung. His chest heaved.

Cindy peeked out her bedroom door, and then eased the door shut, with barely a sound.

Mr. Skimmer jumped up from the sofa and backed away. He put up his hands, and bumped into the door. His words rushed out in a jumble. “If the bank forecloses, like they’re planning, the sheriff’s gonna throw you and the kid off the land and you’ll have nothing in your pocket. If you don’t go quiet, like, they’ll toss you in jail. What happens to your kid then,
huh
?”

Mr. Skimmer raised his fist toward John’s face. “You’ll come around to my way ‘a thinkin’ in time.” His mouth twisted to one side, a dribble of saliva at the corner caught the light. “Don’t wait too long.” Mr. Skimmer smirked, all noble-like, as if he’d offered a nickel to a panhandler. “When them papers get filed, it’ll be too late. Give me a call when you come to your senses. Here’s my number.” He shoved a Motel 6 card with his phone number scribbled on the back, into John’s hand, then reached back, groping for the doorknob.

“Here! Let me help.” John tossed the card onto the floor, reached past Mr. Skimmer, turned the knob and pulled open the door.

Mr. Skimmer kept his gaze locked on John’s face as he backed onto the porch.

John slammed the door.

Cindy crept from her room, her cheeks the color of tissue paper.

John turned toward her, his face still stinging. “I…I need a few minutes, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”
Gotta get control of myself. Don’t want her to see me like this.

Cindy stood stock-still, her eyes wide, a stricken look on her face.

John hurried into the bathroom and closed the door.

Black Cat hunched down and stared at the bathroom door. His head moved back toward Cindy.
Poor thing.
She looked like someone hit her.
Could things get any worse? First Angel disappears, and now this.

Cindy ran to Black Cat and buried her face in his neck. She carried him to the sofa, her tears soaking his fur. It was going to take a complete
lick-bath
to get all the salt off his fur, but it was a small price to pay if it would comfort her. He set to purring, his rumble shaking his whole body.
Brrummm
…
Hrrummm
…
Come on, Cindy. Don’t cry. I’m here.
His efforts seemed to work, as Cindy’s sobs quieted.

John stepped out of the bathroom, calmer now, and knelt down by the sofa. “There, now, Cindy. Don’t let that man upset you. No one’s going to take our land. We’ll find a way out of this, even if I have to rob a bank—”

Cindy’s head jerked up, tears streaking her face. She wiped her cheeks. Her lips trembled. “Oh, Daddy, you wouldn’t do that, would you? They’d put you in jail for sure, and I’d be all alone.” She flung herself back into his arms, squashing Black Cat between their bodies, her sobs shaking her thin frame as though her heart would break.

“There, there. I was kidding. Don’t take on so. Now, run in and wash your face. I’ll figure something out.” He patted her shoulder, shoved Black Cat onto the floor and sent Cindy to her room. Parents were like that. They’d say most anything to make a kid feel better. What he needed was to pull a rabbit out of his hat. And he didn’t own a hat…much less a rabbit.