The Black Cat Knocks on Wood (18 page)

I smiled. “Hi, are you Irma?”

“Quick, quick,” she said. “Trash it.”

“Excuse me?”

“The door. Don’t let her in.” She made a shoving motion with her hand.

“Oh, sorry.” I closed the door behind me, then looked at Irma. “Is that better?”

“Trash it. No, not trash it. You know what I mean. I can’t talk right.” She put a thumb and forefinger together and twisted them.

“Oh, you want me to lock the door?”

“Yes,”
she said emphatically.

I did what she asked and turned around. “This is Hitchcock. We thought you might like to have a visit.”

“Oh, yes.” She held her arms out and wiggled her fingers in a gesture for us to come closer. I walked over to her, and she patted her lap. “My, he’s a big boy.”

I leaned down and Hitchcock jumped from me to the arm of the chair. Irma’s stern expression softened as she stroked the cat.

“Hope we’re not interrupting your lunchtime,” I said. “If you need to go to the dining room, just let me know.”

“No way,” she said. “We pay buckets of money, and they feed us off-brand hot dogs.”

“Is that why you wanted me to lock the door? So they won’t come and make you go to lunch?”

“Lots of reasons. Lady down the hall comes in, uses my bathroom. Another one steals my pants. People in here are nuts, and I don’t belong here.”

“Have you lived here long?” I said.

“Since my stroke,” she said, “but I don’t need this place. I need to go home. Will you take me?”

How to respond?

I knelt by the chair and talked to my cat.

“Hitchcock, isn’t Irma a nice lady? She likes you a lot.”

The cat took my cue and rubbed his head against Irma’s shoulder. The woman cupped a hand around his head and put her cheek next to his.

“I do like the cat,” she said, “but don’t patronize me. If I don’t get out of this place, I’ll go insane.”

“Have you talked to your family about this?”

“Yes,” she said. “My daughter won’t listen.”

“You mean Jordan?”

“Yes,” she said harshly, as if Jordan was a thorn in her side.

She didn’t question how I knew her daughter’s name.

“But Jordan’s very nice,” I said. “She comes to see you every day.”

“That’s not true.” Irma turned away from Hitchcock to glare at me. “Who told you that?”

“Um, she did,” I said. “But if she misses now and then, I’m sure it’s because she’s very busy with her work.”

“Work is a four-letter word.” Irma paused, and her watery
blue eyes met mine. “Don’t you think she should care more about her mother than that woman she hates?”

“Who does she hate?” I said.

“The fancy one, what’s her name? Like a stone, but sparkly.”

“Crystal?” I said.

“Yes.”

“Why would you say she hated Crystal?”

“She hates me, too,” Irma said, her tone growing more agitated. “Used to bring me things I need. Little things. Hairpins. Lotion. Those peanut butter crackers and Life Savers I like. Now I’m too much bother.”

“I’ll talk to Jordan about those things,” I said, “but she was here to see you today, right?”

Irma shook her head. “She was not.”

“Yesterday?”

“Nope. That’s Bingo, and she missed.”

“How about Monday?” I said. “She told me she was here to see you Monday morning.”

The old woman shook her head so hard I was afraid she’d get dizzy. “She missed Monday, and that was the most important day of all.”

“Why?”

“The 4-H girls came to put on a show. Group she belonged to years ago.” Irma’s expression grew wistful. “She promised she’d watch the performance with me, but she didn’t come.”

“I’m sorry. Maybe she’ll make it next time.”

“No,” she shouted, causing Hitchcock to jump off of her lap. “I won’t be here next time,” she went on. “I’ll be at my own place. You tell Jordan I said that.”

I agreed to do so, grabbed the end of Hitchcock’s leash, and quickly said my good-byes.

We stepped into the hallway and I closed the door, then blew out a breath. “Well, that was an experience.”

“Mrreow,” Hitchcock said.

A woman in royal blue scrubs and white tennies
quick-stepped down the hall toward us. “You’re Jordan Meier’s sister?”

“Me?” I glanced around and saw no one else.

The woman held a piece of paper out toward me. “We need this bill taken care of posthaste, or we’ll have to release your mother before the end of the month.”

“I’m not—”

“I’ve talked with Jordan about this a number of times,” she said. “Has she mentioned our conversations?”

I shook my head. “No, she hasn’t, but—”

“She said she’d have to talk to her sister. I’m sure you understand we can’t allow residents to fall so far behind in their payments.”

I thought Jordan didn’t have siblings.

“So, will you be making a payment today?” the woman said. “We accept credit cards—”

“Wait.” I held up my hand, palm out. “I am
not
related to Jordan Meier, I don’t know if she has any relatives aside from her mother, and no, I won’t be making any payment.”

The woman ran a hand through her curly brown hair. “Oh. Jeez, I’m sorry. Here I go, violating all kinds of privacy laws.”

“No one needs to know. You can trust me to keep quiet.” I introduced myself and Hitchcock.

The woman stooped to pet the cat and blew out a breath. “Thanks. I’m Connie from accounting.” She lowered her voice. “If I don’t find a way to collect on the Meier account, my boss will have my head—or Irma Meier will have to be moved—or both.”

Irma would be happy to move, so long as it was back home to her own house. I’d be surprised if Connie hadn’t already heard that song and dance from Irma.

“Wish this handsome guy worked in my office,” she said as she continued to stroke Hitchcock’s back. “He’d do wonders to soothe my nerves.” She sighed. “The thing with that girl is she slips in and out of here under the radar whenever she can so I don’t see her.”

“You mean Jordan?”

Connie nodded. “I know she’s been here, but I miss her every time. Maybe that’s her plan.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” I said.

“When I heard you were here and that you were going to see Irma, well, I made an assumption.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, “but I was under the impression Jordan came here every single morning to see her mother.”

“Used to,” Connie said. “Lately, she’s suspiciously absent. I checked the book. Last time she signed in was two weeks ago Wednesday.”

“Huh,” I said. “Wonder what’s up?”

“I realize cleaning out a parent’s house can be an arduous chore.” Connie chattered on, privacy matters obviously forgotten. “Not to mention the emotions involved since she’s selling the home where she spent her whole life.”

“She’s selling her mother’s house?” I whispered for fear Irma Meier would somehow catch wind of what would be quite distressing news.

“Place is already listed,” Connie said. “Might sell quickly. Jordan may be planning to pay our bill then. Problem is, the owner of Manor House won’t bend his rules for the Meier family or anyone else. If they don’t pay soon, like within the week, I don’t know what will happen to poor Irma.”

I mulled over my conversation with Irma as Hitchcock and I headed back into town. I didn’t know with certainty that everything Jordan’s mother said was true. The stroke might have affected her memory, but she sounded lucid. Did Jordan hate Crystal to the extent that she’d kill her? Had she believed such a drastic act would somehow cure her financial problems? If so, she wouldn’t be selling the family homestead.

I didn’t think any of these actions would bring in the quick money Jordan needed to pay the Manor House bill. Irma wouldn’t care one bit if they kicked her out, but boy oh boy, I didn’t want to be around to witness her reaction when she learned her daughter was selling the house. Hitchcock was sitting up on the passenger seat and had a nervous purr going as if he, too, was concerned about Irma’s plight.

So where
was
Jordan on the morning of Crystal’s death? I still didn’t have an answer to that question.

“Maybe we should give Jordan the benefit of the doubt,”
I said to Hitchcock. “She might have a plan for her mother’s ongoing care.”

“Mrrrrreooooow.” Hitchcock’s meow sounded more like a complaint.

“Guess you’re not convinced,” I said. “We could go to ask her.”

“Mrreow,” the cat said with what looked like a nod of his head.

I had to laugh. He seemed to understand exactly what I said, and I was in the mood to confront the young real estate agent on her mother’s behalf.

Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the Devlin Realty office and parked out front. Hitchcock was growing accustomed to the leash and harness, and he stayed by my side as we walked through the office door.

Mimi Trevino looked up from a magazine that lay open on top of a mess of papers. The girl’s hair was held back haphazardly in a clip, and her eyes looked red and puffy. I would normally chalk up her appearance to a young person’s night on the town. Due to the week’s events, though, the poor girl was more likely dealing with Cody and the aftereffects of his mother’s death.

“Hi, Mimi,” I said. “Is Jordan in?”

“Nope.” She looked up at me and glanced at Hitchcock. The cat stood on his back legs with his front paws on the edge of her desk. “He sure is tall.”

“That he is.”

Hitchcock nosed at the papers surrounding her magazine, and I couldn’t help but notice an envelope-sized slip of paper that read, “Insufficient Funds Notice” on top.

I would have liked to get a better look. Instead, I politely averted my gaze and said, “Do you know when Jordan will be back?”

“No idea.” Mimi grabbed a tissue from the box on the desk corner and wiped at her nose. “She’s out meeting with a client.”

“You doing okay?”

“Just great.”

“And Cody?”

“He’s hangin’ in there.”

“That’s good.”

I paused and considered what information the girl might be willing to give me. Her working relationship with Jordan was new. I wondered how much allegiance she felt toward the other woman.

“Have you heard that Jordan’s selling her house?”

“Yeah. You interested in buying it?” Mimi lifted her magazine and pushed papers around. “I have a flyer about it here somewhere.”

Hitchcock got back on the floor and strained at the leash to walk around to Mimi’s side of the desk.

“I’m not in the market right now,” I said. “I was thinking about the stress she must be going through. A lot has fallen on her shoulders suddenly.”

Mimi shrugged. “I guess.”

“She handling it okay?”

Mimi scrunched up her face and put a finger to her nose, holding back a sneeze. After a second, she said, “How would I know?”

“She’s probably still in a state of shock about Crystal,” I said. “Were they close?”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“I didn’t think they were.” I checked over my shoulder to make sure we were still alone, then leaned closer. “Does Jordan talk about Crystal at all?”

“Not much. Why?” She paused, and after a few seconds her eyes widened. “Holy sh—, I mean, um, you think Jordan had something to do with it?”

“I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but—”

Mimi said, “You know, she acts kind of like she’s glad Crystal’s gone.”

That gave me a jolt. If Jordan was involved with the
murder, wouldn’t she at least play the part of a grieving friend to throw everyone off? Maybe she didn’t realize her behavior looked guilty.

“Has anyone from the sheriff’s office come to speak with her?” I said.

Mimi riffled the corners of the magazine. “Haven’t seen anyone. They could have talked to her at home.”

“I’m sure they’re covering all the bases.”

“They haven’t asked me a thing.” Mimi sniffed and swiped at her nose with the tissue again.

“Do you know anything?”

“I have an opinion,” she said. “I’m the one who sees the big smile on Jordan’s face when the commissions come rolling in.”

I wondered how many commissions could have come in within the past few days. “Have you mentioned this to anyone? Mr. Devlin perhaps?”

Mimi grimaced. “Yeah, right. He thinks my opinion’s worth squat.”

“Who does the accounting for the business?”

“Beats me,” Mimi said. “Nobody here but me and Jordan.”

Which meant Jordan might be able to siphon money off to herself.

“You happen to know who Jordan’s meeting with or where?” I said.

“I think she’s at Sweet Stop,” Mimi said, “or the building next door. The one that candy-store lady’s buying.”

Interesting. The woman who might have done away with Crystal meeting with the woman who had been accused of doing the deed.

I called to Hitchcock. The cat materialized from behind a file cabinet, and we said our good-byes. We had barely stepped onto the sidewalk when I heard the lock snick shut behind us. I turned to see Mimi had flipped the Open sign to “Closed—Back in One Hour.” Protecting herself from additional questions, maybe? Probably regretting that she’d said too much.

She could have told me from the start that Jordan was only a few doors away from her office, but things worked out for the best. I wouldn’t have gotten as much information from her as I had. Whether or not any of the things the girl said would prove valuable was anyone’s guess. I didn’t like the idea of Pearl spending time with a woman who not only seemed to be neglecting her mother and selling the house out from under her but who also might have murdered her boss.

My imagination flew into overdrive as we hurried down the sidewalk. I paused in front of Sweet Stop and looked through the plate glass window to scan the store. There were two clerks behind the sales counter and half a dozen customers in the aisles perusing the candy displays. No sign of Pearl.

“Let’s check next door,” I said to Hitchcock, and he was right beside me as I moved on to the adjacent storefront. The two buildings shared a porch roof, and I could see why Pearl was eager to acquire this property to expand her store. If Jordan was selling the place to Pearl, I wondered what had happened to the seller Crystal had lined up to buy the building.

The front door stood open, so I went on in and saw Jordan and Pearl leaning over a sales counter with paperwork in front of them. Pearl held a pen in one hand and was in her candy store apron as if she’d rushed off for a coffee break. She looked up as we walked in.

“Sabrina, I’m getting it,” she said, her complexion glowing. “I’m buying the store.”

“That’s nice, Pearl.” I forced a smile as my gaze went to Jordan. “Did Crystal’s buyer back out?”

“He had to wait on something before he could buy,” Pearl said, “and I’m paying cash, so I’m
in
.”

Jordan said, “His purchase was contingent on several factors, and I’m happy to sell to Pearl instead. We might close in less than thirty days.”

“Can you afford to wait that long?” I said before my better judgment set in.

Jordan frowned. “What do you mean?”

Pearl watched me with a yeah-Sabrina-what-
do
-you mean expression. The paperwork in front of her appeared to be a contract. She looked perturbed that I was interrupting her deal.

I kept my eyes on Jordan. “I understand your mother has some needs that aren’t being met.”

The young woman frowned. “Who told you that?”

“She did. We went to visit her at the home a little bit ago.”

“You mean you and the cat?” Jordan said.

“That’s right. Your mother likes cats. She’d like to get one of her own after she moves back home.”

Hitchcock looked up at me as if he knew I embellished the story.

Jordan’s complexion paled. “I’ll talk with my mom about that.”

“Will you tell her you’re planning to sell the house and she’s not ever moving back home?”

“That’s a personal matter.”

Pearl said, “Sabrina, we’re about to sign the contract so I can buy this property.”

“Sorry,” I said. “Jordan and I can talk after you’re finished. I’ll wait outside.”

Jordan stared at me. “We have nothing to talk about.”

“Tell me where I need to sign,” Pearl whined, “and we’ll put this baby to bed. Sabrina, why are you bothering us now?”

“You wanted me to clear your name,” I said, “and that’s what I’m trying to do.”

“Clear her name of what?” Jordan said.

“Crystal’s murder,” I said. “As I see it, now that she’s gone, you have an advantage in the business. Money-wise.”

“Advantage? That lawyer is advising Mr. Devlin to sell the business. If he does, I’ll be out in the cold.”

My mental gears churned with this new information.

After a moment, I said, “How angry does that make you?”

Jordan’s cheeks had grown rosy-pink. “What are you implying?”

“Things aren’t going the way you’d like. You know, the lawyer you mentioned was run off the road last night. She’s in the hospital.”

Jordan gasped and put a hand to her chest. “No, I hadn’t heard.” She searched my face. “You think
I
had something to do with that?”

“Did you? I
do
know you weren’t really at the nursing home the morning Crystal died.”

“I haven’t done any—” Jordan’s voice cracked, and she bowed her head.

I stepped closer and spoke quietly. “Maybe you didn’t mean to kill her.”

The young woman looked up with tear-filled eyes. “I did
not
kill her. I would
never
hurt Crystal.”

“Was it an accident?”

“No, you don’t understand.” She buried her face in her hands and collapsed into sobs.

Pearl stepped closer to Jordan and put a hand on the younger woman’s arm. “Jordan, honey, it’s okay. Of course you didn’t do anything wrong.” She pinned me with a glare. “Sabrina, that’s enough. This girl is innocent.”

I guess Pearl didn’t appreciate me pinpointing another suspect—at least not this one. She and I exchanged glances and looked at Jordan as her sobs became quiet snuffles. After a minute or so, Jordan looked up.

“I care for Mother the best I can,” she said. “You have no idea how hard it is to keep up.”

I nodded with what I hoped was an expression that invited her to go on.

“There’s no one else to help,” she said. “I have to sell the house to make ends meet. I’m out of options.”

“I know a good home health care woman,” Pearl said. “She works cheap. Bet your mom would rather stay at her own house.”

Jordan looked at Pearl and attempted a smile. “Thanks, but my problems run deep.”

Hitchcock went to Jordan and rubbed against the woman’s legs. I pulled on the leash even though cat hair on her slacks might be the least of Jordan’s worries.

“What do you mean deep?” I said. “If you’re innocent and you’re able to pay the Manor House bill, things will work out.”

Jordan blew out a breath. “I wish it were that easy.”

“Chin up, girl,” Pearl said. “Let’s get the papers signed.”

“Maybe we can help,” I said. “Explain why it’s not so easy.”

“I don’t want to get in trouble,” Jordan said, “but the stress over all this is going to kill me if I keep everything all pent up inside.”

I waited, pinching myself to keep from telling her to spit it out. Pearl stayed blessedly quiet. Hitchcock kept up the leg rub, but Jordan didn’t seem to notice him.

Her gaze flicked from me to Pearl and back. “I borrowed money from Devlin Realty,” she finally said, “to pay the Manor House bills.”

“But they’re not paid,” I said, “at least not according to their accountant.”

Jordan’s jaw dropped. “You got private information about my bill? Why would you do that?”

“There was a simple case of mistaken identity,” I said, not wanting to drop Connie in the grease. “Apparently you mentioned something about consulting with your sister about the money owed.”

A blush rose on Jordan’s cheeks.

“You don’t have a sister, do you?” I said.

She shook her head. “You have to understand something.”

I waited. Pearl appeared interested in hearing the explanation, too.

“I never made enough money working for Crystal to pay for that home,” Jordan said. “Not enough to pay for anyone to come into the house to take care of mom. I barely took home what I needed to keep food on the table.”

“So you borrowed from Crystal?” I said.

“Without her knowledge.” Jordan’s body shook as if a slight earthquake had hit the building. “I took money from the company account when I needed it. Paid it back as I could. But then Crystal died—”

“And you panicked,” I said.

“Right.”

“And that’s why you’re selling furniture and antiques,” I said, remembering my conversation with Ernie Baxter.

Jordan nodded. “Mom would have a fit if she knew, and now I have to sell the house to put every penny back into the account before—”

Her voice broke.

“We’ll help you,” Pearl said. “Right, Sabrina?”

“Okay.” Though I didn’t approve of what Jordan had done, I felt her pain and believed she was telling the truth. “I’m sorry your family is having these problems.”

Jordan met my gaze. “I’m not the only one with family issues, and mine aren’t the worst. I think someone in Crystal’s family killed her, and I’m afraid it was her own son.”