The Black Cat Knocks on Wood (17 page)

“Clearly, you’ve been snooping in my cottage,” she said. “I don’t appreciate it.”

“Well I don’t like the fact that whoever ran you off the road might have been after me.”

“What?”

“Deputy Rosales brought up the idea, though I think it’s a lot more likely someone is after you. You’re working with the richest family in the county. One of them has already been murdered.”

“Not by her husband,” Rita said.

“That remains to be seen.”

Rita’s gaze moved to the bedside table and a big cup sitting there. “Could I get a freaking drink of water?”

“Sure.” I picked up the cup and held it for Rita as she leaned forward to take the straw into her mouth and drink.

When it seemed like she meant to empty the cup, I said, “Don’t overdo it.”

Her head dropped to the pillow, and she licked her lips.

“Thanks.” She stared at the wall briefly before turning her gaze to me. “Crystal was about to change the terms of the trust.”

I placed the water cup back on the table. “How do you know that?”

“Lance told me.”

“Why was she changing it?”

“They weren’t happy about Cody’s plans for his future,” she said. “Eighteen’s too soon to turn over money like that.”

“How much money?” I said.

“A lot.”

“Can Lance make a change now that Crystal’s gone?”

“Not exactly,” she said. “And he doesn’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“He trusts Cody to make the right decisions.” She grimaced. “I think he’s wrong.”

“Have you told all this to the sheriff?”

“No.” Rita shook her head. “That would go against the rules of professional ethics.”

“Isn’t there some kind of an exception to attorney-client privilege if someone’s trying to kill you?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “This never came up before.”

“Who do you think killed Crystal? You must have a theory.”

“I do.” Rita paused. “Cody Devlin had the biggest motive of all.”

In spite of the things Rita Colletti told me, I couldn’t for the life of me imagine Cody Devlin killing his own mother. Then again, I knew next to nothing about the boy. After leaving the hospital I headed straight to Knead to Read, where I hoped to get a teenage perspective on Cody’s personality.

The bell over the door jangled as I entered the bookstore. Tyanne looked up from where she knelt next to a box on the floor in front of the “New Arrivals” shelf. She wore purple today, from her headband down to her Crocs. Ethan stood behind the sales counter ringing up purchases for a customer. I detoured by the front window to pat Zelda and Willis on the head and was rewarded with loud purrs.

“Look what the wind blew in,” Tyanne said in an uncharacteristically snippy tone.

“Having a bad morning?” I said.

She stood and propped fists on her hips. She glanced toward the checkout and lowered her voice. “When were you
going to tell me you almost got yourself shoved off the side of a cliff last night?”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s an overly dramatic way to put it. I wasn’t even in that car.”

“You could have been,” she said.

“I wasn’t, and I’m thanking my lucky stars. Sorry if you were worried.”

“If?”
she said. “Of course I was worried. Everyone in town is talking about the accident.”

“Then you might know more details than I do.” That sounded snide, and I didn’t want to come across that way. “If you wanted to hear them straight from me, you could have called.”

“I
did
call. Where’s your phone?”

My shoulders sagged. “Uh, I’m not sure. In a pocket maybe?”

“You used to be more organized.” She shook her head, as if mourning my out-of-control state of being, but then a smile broke through. “Sure is good to see you, though.”

We exchanged a brief hug, and the tension in the room eased.

I said, “Mind if I borrow Ethan for two minutes? I need a teenage POV.”

“You’re working on your book?” Tyanne grinned. “That’s good to hear. Need his help? Be my guest.” She headed for the checkout, stopped to say a few words to Ethan, and greeted a woman coming into the store with a small child.

Ethan looked up and came my way. “Doin’ research? I’m your guy.”

“Not exactly.” I glanced at Tyanne, busy with the customer for the moment, and felt guilty for misleading her. “Maybe we should talk in the back.”

Ethan grinned. “Top-secret plotting?”

“Something like that.”

“One sec.” Ethan pulled some books from the cardboard box Ty had left behind, arranged them on the shelf, then
picked up the empty box. We went into the storeroom, where he placed the box with other empties in the corner before turning to me. “Fire when ready.”

“This is, um, delicate,” I said.

Ethan folded his arms over his chest. “What’s goin’ on?”

“You’re more observant than the average teen.” I trusted Ethan had a feel for Cody Devlin if only from observing the other boy around the school.

“Thanks, I think.”

“Tell me what you know about Cody. Pretend you’re writing a character sketch to describe him. What would it say?”

“Are
you
writing a book about Cody?” Ethan said.

“No, nothing like that. I want to know more about him as a person, his traits, what he likes, what he doesn’t. Anything you’ve observed, even if it doesn’t seem important.”

Ethan put his head back and looked at the ceiling. “He keeps his feelings locked up. He’s sensitive. Opinionated, but doesn’t show much of that side. Driven, not in the direction his parents want. Sorta moody. That’s not exactly right.” He chewed his lower lip, thinking. “I got it, he’s smoldering.”

“Smoldering?”

“You know, when there’s something burning right under the surface, like it has to break free sooner or later, but he keeps holding back.”

“That sounds bad,” I said.

“Not always.” Ethan shrugged.

“You mean sexy?”

“No, well, girls compare him to some kid on TV. Lots of ’em are jealous of Mimi. Cody has the looks, you know? I bet he’ll make it big out in California.”

“Right. You told me he wants to go into acting.”

“That’s his plan,” Ethan said. “Matter of fact, I’m surprised he’s still here in Lavender.”

“What do you think he’d do if someone tried to stand in the way of his dream?” I said.

“You mean like would he kill his mom?” Ethan shrugged again. “I dunno, maybe.”

Tyanne appeared in the doorway and cleared her throat loudly. “Sabrina Tate. You aren’t talking about fiction at all, are you?”

“You assumed. I never said that.”

“And why on earth are you trying to pin a murder on that poor boy?”

“Uh, I’ll go watch the store.” Ethan ducked his head and left the room.

“I’m not pinning anything on anyone,” I said. “Rita says he has the best motive. I just came from visiting her in the hospital.”

“So now you’re throwing Cody under the bus based on what your least favorite person in the world told you?”

“No. I’m more suspicious of the dad. I can’t vouch for what Rita will or won’t tell the sheriff. Not that she’ll tell him anytime soon. She’s so banged up it hurts to look at her.”

“How long do they think she’ll be in the hospital?” Ty said.

“She might be released as early as tomorrow.”

“Is that safe?”

“You mean because of her injuries?”

“No, because someone might try to finish what they started. At least in the hospital she has people close by day and night.”

“True.”

“More important, are
you
safe?”

“Of course.” I fidgeted, knowing she was right to be concerned. “So long as I stay away from the rodeo I’ll be fine.”

Knock on wood.

“Then make sure you stay away,” Ty said.

“I will. Lance and his men give me the heebie-jeebies.”

“What about your aunt and her friends?”

“After last night, Aunt Rowe knows better than to go over there. Watching that car run off the road—” I paused as gooseflesh rose on my arms.

Tyanne pursed her lips, looking thoughtful. “I don’t know who was behind the car accident, but I don’t believe Lance or Cody killed Crystal.”

“Because she’s family?”

“No, because men shoot, stab, strangle. None of this ‘let’s clunk her over the head with a brick.’ Men go for a sure thing.”

“You have a point, but everyone close to Crystal was male.”

“What about the woman who worked for her?”

“Jordan Meier.”

“Right. I hear she’s taken charge of the business. Maybe she wanted that all along.”

I thought of the things I’d heard about Jordan over the past few days.

“Now that you mention it, Crystal treated Jordan very badly. What if Crystal pushed her over the edge?”

“Does Jordan have an alibi for the time of Crystal’s death?”

“I talked to her shortly after Crystal’s body was found. She told me she was visiting her mother at the assisted living home. Said she went there every morning.”

“Did the sheriff’s department check that out?”

“If they haven’t already, they need to. This is an important piece of the puzzle.”

Tyanne waved an index finger at me. “Leave it alone, Sabrina. You have a book to edit.”

“I know, but imagine your daughter’s disappointment if Pearl goes to jail for a crime she didn’t commit and she never sees her BFF Julie again.”

“Now
you’re
being overly dramatic,” Ty said.

“Maybe so, but I can’t sit around and trust Deputy Rosales to do the right thing, ’cause that might never happen.”

*   *   *

An hour after leaving the bookstore, I pulled into the Manor House parking lot and found a nice spot under a shade tree. Tyanne probably thought I meant to ask questions about Jordan at the sheriff’s department, but if I checked on
her alibi first, I’d be armed with facts when I went to see Sheriff Crawford. If the young woman’s alibi panned out, I’d gladly cross her off my suspect list. I wasn’t sure yet if Cody Devlin needed to stay on the list or not.

I looked at the home in front of me, a long ranch-style building of red brick with white shutters. The sign in the front yard read, “Manor House, Assisted Living and Memory Care.” I didn’t know if they allowed pets inside, but I’d soon find out.

“Mrreow,” Hitchcock said from the passenger seat.

“Yes, you must wear the harness. I need you to be the model of a well-behaved, perfect pet for a senior citizen—or their families and friends. The more cats we can place in loving homes during our event, the better.”

I’d brought flyers for the black cat adoption day to hand out. The perfect disguise for my real purpose in visiting.

A woman behind a window in the vestibule had a phone to one ear while she typed on a computer. She glanced at me briefly, pointed at a spiral notebook on the shelf in front of her window, and motioned for me to sign in. Her attention went straight back to the computer.

If everyone who entered the building had to sign in, then Jordan’s signature should be here on the morning Crystal died. Checking up on her might be easier than I thought. From the looks of the book, the place didn’t have all that many visitors, a fact I found depressing.

The woman at the computer seemed to have already forgotten my existence. I poised the pen over the book, then “accidentally” pushed the book to the floor and stooped down where the woman couldn’t see me. I glanced up at the corners of the ceiling to make sure they didn’t have surveillance cameras, and didn’t spot any.

Hitchcock pawed at the book as I tried to read the signatures. I scanned and turned pages quickly but I didn’t see Jordan Meier’s name on any of the recent days. Before I
could look farther than two weeks back, I heard a voice above me.

“Excuse me,” the woman at the window said. “Do you have a problem?”

“Uh, no.” I looked up and saw she’d poked her head out of the window and was looking down at me. “I’m fine.”

“Oh,” she said brightly, noticing Hitchcock. “You’re from the animal place. Why didn’t you say so? You can go on in. Folks here love the therapy visits.”

My cat sat in his most photogenic pose and looked up at the woman with an adorable and innocent expression. What a suck-up.

I stood and placed the book back on the shelf. The woman was watching me, so I quickly signed my name on the appropriate page and placed the pen next to the book. I pulled a flyer from my tote.

“We’re glad to visit,” I said. “And here’s a flyer about a cat adoption event that’s coming up in August. Maybe there’s a place you can post this where residents and visitors will see it.”

“Sure thing.”

She took the flyer from me, then pushed a button to unlock the inner door. I heard a buzz, and she nodded for me to go in.

I pushed through the door into the inner sanctum and took in my surroundings. Hitchcock’s nose twitched as he sniffed the air. Unless I missed my guess, the residents were having hot dogs for lunch. Not my idea of a nutritious meal, but if they made the senior citizens happy, why not?

A dozen or so people sat in a dining room off to our right, apparently the lunch early birds since it was barely after eleven. Employees scurried around, some of them assisting people using walkers, others carrying arms full of folded laundry, some coming and going through a swinging door I guessed led to the kitchen.

A young lady with strawberry blond hair worn in a bun on top of her head came over to us.

“Welcome to Manor House,” she said in a cheery tone. “I’m Ashley. And what’s your name?”

She knelt beside Hitchcock and ignored me, as if the cat would answer her question himself.

“This is Hitchcock,” I said.

She looked up, her eyebrows nearly at her hairline. “Hitchcock, the bad luck cat?” she said.

“No, no,” I said. “He’s not bad luck.” I scanned my surroundings to make sure no one was listening. The seniors in view were intent on a woman carrying a tray filled with water glasses and distributing them at the tables.

“My grandma told me a story way back when about the bad luck cat,” Ashley said. “Then he showed up in town not long ago. She freaked out when she heard he was back.”

“My cat is not the legendary cat you heard about.”

I wanted to convince her that no cats were bad luck, but she seemed oblivious to the fact that I’d spoken at all.

“These folks have enough bad luck in their life already,” she said. “I don’t think it’s such a good idea for the bad luck cat to be here at Manor House.”

I lowered my voice. “My cat is
not
going to cause anyone bad luck, and I’d rather not continue this line of conversation. I came to visit people and make them feel better.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” She glanced around warily as if she expected bad luck to come up and tap her on the shoulder.

“I’d especially like to visit Jordan Meier’s mother,” I said. “Do you know where I can find her?”

“Irma Meier?” The girl frowned. “Bless her heart, she’s holed away in her room as usual. Down that hall in room twelve.” She pointed the way.

“Thank you.” I stooped and picked up Hitchcock, then turned away from Ashley and headed down the hall.

“Sorry about that, Hitchcock,” I whispered to the cat. “The last thing we need is people calling you names. That sure grates on my nerves.”

“Mrreow,” he said softly.

“You’re right. I need to put on a happy face.”

I headed for room twelve, holding Hitchcock close, and noted the variety of decorations and drawings on each of the doors. Irma Meier’s closed door held a wreath made from strips of fabric, one of them a colorful cat print. A wooden black cat cutout sat in the center of the wreath’s yellow bow. I took this as a good omen and knocked on the door.

A gruff voice answered, “Who is it?”

Hitchcock and I exchanged a glance, and I leaned in close to respond. “My name’s Sabrina, and I’ve brought my cat to visit you.”

“Come in,” she said. “Make it quick.”

Sounded like she was in a hurry to get out to the lunch table. I opened the door and stepped inside.

A stern-looking woman with curly gray hair sat in a blue recliner in the corner next to the bed. She wore a heavy black sweater that made me hot just looking at it.