The Black Cat Knocks on Wood (19 page)

I thought about going straight to the sheriff’s department after talking with Jordan, but my stomach complained loudly about that idea. I’d missed lunch a couple of hours ago. Probably not a good idea to push on without any fuel to keep me going.

Rather than stopping at a restaurant and risk getting involved in conversation with the town gossips, I bought two taquitos from Juan’s drive-through and parked in the shade of a pecan tree to eat and think things through. The tree didn’t do much to cut the afternoon heat, so I kept the car and the air conditioner running.

Hitchcock stretched across the console and propped his front paws on my leg to get his nose closer to the food wrapper.

“Hold on. I’m getting you some.”

I unwrapped a tortilla, checked to make sure there was no onion, and dumped a portion of the egg and sausage filling on a napkin. I tore the bottom part off a paper cup and poured
bottled water into the makeshift bowl, then placed the water and food on the passenger side floorboard for the cat. He was suitably grateful and lapped at the drink before nibbling on a piece of sausage.

I tore open a packet of picante sauce and doused the remainder of the taquito before taking a big bite. Yum. That hit the spot. I settled back in the car seat and reviewed my conversation with Jordan.

She was the second person today who pointed a finger at Cody Devlin. I could hardly ignore him as a viable suspect. While working with Crystal, Jordan heard Crystal’s end of many a phone call between mother and son. Conversations in which Crystal insisted Cody attend college in the fall at her alma mater, Texas A&M. She had no tolerance for talk of Cody’s dream to become an actor. A week ago Jordan witnessed a shouting match that ended with Cody telling his mother he didn’t care what she wanted, he was going to live in California. She could take her money and shove it.

I could envision the boy saying such things in the heat of the moment. Realistically, though, he’d need money to live on.

Hitchcock was back up on the passenger seat and taking a bath, apparently satisfied with the bits of food he’d picked off the napkin. As I reached down to gather his leftovers, I heard a ding that signaled an incoming text. Where the heck was that phone?

Hitchcock twisted around to look at the back of his seat, and I found the device lodged deep in the crease. I pulled it out and smiled at the message from Luke.

Missing you. Hope you’re staying safe.

I hesitated for a moment before answering.

Miss you, too. Dinner when you get back.

I slipped the phone into my tote and ate the second taquito, absorbed with thoughts of the man and the promise of a deepening relationship. I hadn’t addressed the
safe
topic, but I wasn’t planning to do anything that would jeopardize our second attempt at a dinner date.

Back to Jordan. She might be trying to take heat off herself by bringing up Cody’s fights with his mother. At the time of the murder, Jordan was allegedly at home packing up things to prepare the house for selling. She had no one to confirm her alibi.

Did I see her as the killer? Nope. An embezzler? Yes. I’d already decided it wasn’t my job to report her for stealing money. She intended to turn herself in now that she’d spilled the beans about her wrongdoing to me. I’d wait and give the woman a chance to make things right. That left the big question.

If Jordan wasn’t the killer, who was?

I cleaned up my lunch wrappings, shifted into reverse, and looked at Hitchcock.

“Time to see Sheriff Crawford.”

The cat glanced up for a moment and went straight back to his bath. Some statements didn’t deserve a response, I guessed.

*   *   *

As Hitchcock and I approached the entrance to the sheriff’s department, the dispatcher came barreling out. Laurelle smiled broadly when she saw us.

“Howdy, Sabrina. Hitchcock.” She bent to rub the cat’s head.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” I said.

“Quick run to Hot Stuff,” she said. “Get you anything?”

“No thanks. Sheriff Crawford in?”

“Yup. He’s alone in his office.”

“Great.”

“Ainsley’s here, too.” She looked down at Hitchcock.
“He’ll give you grief about bringing a cat inside. Just a warning.” She took off toward the back parking lot.

Hitchcock looked up at me.

“Well, I hate to leave you in the car, but I have an idea.” I picked him up, went back to my car, and punched the button to open the trunk. I set the cat and my tote inside the trunk.

“Mrreow.”

“Of course I’m not leaving you in here.” I dumped everything out of the tote, then picked Hitchcock up and deposited him into the soft-sided leather pouch. “Will this work?”

He seemed to glare at me, but he made no attempt to leap out when I picked up the tote and hung it from my shoulder.

“I hope this will get us as far as the sheriff’s office without having to deal with Deputy Ainsley.”

I closed the trunk and walked into the building, my right arm cradling the cat-in-tote. I could see Hitchcock’s ears sticking out of the top. Ainsley had never paid much attention to me, and I hoped he wouldn’t start now.

I needn’t have worried. The deputy was seated at his desk, intent on a man in a cowboy hat across from him. The man made hand motions as he talked and had a harsh and familiar voice, though I couldn’t make out his words.

Ace McKinney.

I wanted to know why he was there, but not badly enough to call attention to myself. I waved to Cookie, the dispatcher on duty, and walked straight through toward the sheriff’s private office before either of the men noticed us.

Sheriff Crawford looked up from his paperwork when I stepped into his office and quickly closed the door behind me.

“Afternoon, Sabrina.” He removed his reading glasses and without missing a beat said, “Hello, Hitchcock.”

The cat’s head popped through the tote opening. “Mrreow.”

The sheriff’s brows drew together. “Something wrong, Sabrina? You look worried. Is Rowe okay?”

“She’s fine,” I said. “Least she was when I left this morning. You know Aunt Rowe. Witness a murder attempt last night, business as usual this morning. Nothing much fazes her.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” He sat back in his chair. “Then what has you riled up?”

“The man out there.” I pointed at the lobby. “McKinney. Are you investigating him for the murder?”

“He came to report a stolen truck,” the sheriff said. “You know something we don’t?”

I thought for a moment before responding. “McKinney and that clown guy, Birch, were in town the morning of Crystal’s murder.”

“A lot of people were in town,” he said.

“True, but he’s so, so—”

“Rough around the edges?” Sheriff Crawford said.

“He has a nasty personality, and I have a bad feeling about him.”

“The jail’d be jam-packed if I arrested everyone who gave me a bad feeling.”

“When did his truck go missing?”

“Wasn’t his,” the sheriff said. “Belonged to the ranch. And it’s not missing anymore.”

“Any idea who took it?”

He shook his head. “Truck was abandoned behind Krane’s Hardware. Middle of the night, I’d guess. Front end’s banged up pretty good.”

“Is it the one—” I paused as a vision of the car being rammed off the road flitted through my memory.

“Probably. We’ll have it checked out.”

Hitchcock started squirming, and I knelt down to hold the tote open. The cat slipped out and walked to the sheriff. Crawford patted the corner of the desktop, and Hitchcock jumped up to say hello. As man and cat enjoyed each other’s company, I concocted a theory.

“Hypothetically,” I said, “Ace McKinney could have used the truck to run Rita off the road, ditched it, got a ride back to the ranch, then come here to report the vehicle stolen to cover his tracks.”

“Save that for your next plot,” the sheriff said. “We questioned McKinney. He admitted Crystal Devlin wasn’t his favorite person. He was in town that morning pickin’ up supplies and didn’t stay long.”

“Anyone back up his story?”

The sheriff nodded. “Both Lance Devlin and the clown guy as you call him.”

“Who may also be suspects,” I said.

Crawford patted Hitchcock on the head. “Enjoyed the visit, you two, but I have work to do.”

“I hope you’re narrowing down the suspects.” I said, “and that Pearl’s name is off your list.”

Sheriff Crawford used a thumb and index finger to smooth his mustache. “The investigation is ongoing.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know telling me that is going to make me obsess about the murder even more.”

“One of the things I like about you.” He smiled. “If it makes you feel better, I no longer suspect Pearl.”

I brightened. Maybe Ty’s daughter and Pearl’s granddaughter would have their BFF visit after all.

“Will you make an official statement to that effect?” I said.

“Not yet. Between you and me, and I know I can trust you to keep the info to yourself, right?”

I made a cross on my chest. “Absolutely.”

“We’re taking a closer look at the husband, the son, and the clown,” he said.

“Seriously? The clown?”

He nodded. “He’s a more likely suspect than the other two in my opinion.”

His statement gave me hope that I could stop worrying about Cody Devlin being the culprit.

“Did you know Lance was consulting with Rita Colletti about a divorce?”

“I heard as much,” the sheriff said.

“She has plenty of information about the Devlins.”

He nodded. “So she says. I went to visit her today in the hospital.”

“Oh, good. Then she filled you in on everything.”

“She said
attorney-client privilege
a half dozen times.”

“Of course she did,” I said. “Why is Birch voted most likely?”

He held up a hand. “That’s all I’m saying.”

His desk phone rang, and Hitchcock jumped straight up in the air.

The sheriff and I shared a chuckle as he reached for the phone. I gathered my cat and put him back in the tote before we left the office. Tyanne would be glad to know I didn’t do or say anything that would jeopardize Cody. Jordan would likely tell the sheriff everything she’d heard when she came and met with him.

Neither McKinney nor Ainsley were in sight as I crossed the lobby and slipped out the front door.

Whew.

“We’re home free, Hitchcock,” I whispered as I headed to my car. “I’m really curious what the sheriff has on Birch—”

I stopped short when I saw Ace McKinney leaning against a tree in front of the building, smoking a cigar and talking with another man I didn’t recognize. I was close enough to hear McKinney loud and clear.

“What’s the difference between a dead skunk in the road and a dead lawyer in the road?” he said, repeating the tired old joke.

The second man was already laughing and didn’t respond.

“There’s skid marks in front of the skunk,” McKinney said and burst out laughing.

Really? The day after a lawyer is run off the road? And
the sheriff didn’t think McKinney had anything to do with Rita’s accident? He was exactly the kind of man I could see causing the wreck and killing Crystal, too. Being a jerk didn’t make him guilty, but it made me think of him as a suspect even more.

“Hang on, Hitchcock. I have something to say to this dipwad.”

McKinney’s back was to me as I approached.

“Gotta run,” the other man said, watching me from the corner of his eye as he hurried away.

McKinney turned to face me.

“Well, lookie here. Ain’t you a little out of place here at the sheriff’s dee-partment?”

“Maybe so, but you’re perfectly situated.”

His forehead creased. “Say what?”

“Kind of ballsy to bad-mouth lawyers the day after you run one off the road.” I wanted to get a rise out of him, and the accusatory statement worked.

His complexion darkened. “You’re talkin’ crap, lady. I didn’t do nothin’ to that lawyer.”

“But you don’t like her.”

“Hell, no, I don’t. She has Lance wrapped around her little finger. First off tellin’ him not to divorce the worst mistake he ever made, then orderin’ him how to handle his own business.”

“You really didn’t like Crystal either, did you?”

“It’s no secret. Had no use for that evil witch.”

I frowned. “Isn’t that a little strong? I mean, she was your boss’s wife. Did you help him out by getting rid of Crystal for him?”

“You mean did I kill her?” he said.

I nodded.

“Can’t take credit for that. You might wanna ask Birch. He and Crystal fooled around for a while. Heard her threaten more than once to go to Lance with that.”

I didn’t get why Crystal would have admitted her own
wrongdoing in order to cause trouble for Birch. “What would Lance have done?”

“Fire Birch’s butt.” McKinney smirked, as if the event would have made his year.

“I don’t guess it’s all that easy to find clown work,” I said, wondering if this was why Sheriff Crawford had Birch high on the suspect list.

“Guy used to work on the highway crew. This is a lot better gig, especially with him chasin’ all them barrel racing gals. He has a thing for women, case you hadn’t noticed.”

I
had
noticed, but I still found Hayden Birch a likeable person.

Which was more than I could say about McKinney.

“You see yourself as Lance Devlin’s one loyal employee, don’t you?”

McKinney shrugged. “’Cause I am.”

“What about the gambling?” I said, going with my instincts. “What does your boss think about that?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. He leaned toward me without answering.

“Did Crystal know?” I prodded. “Did she threaten to tell?”

“Where are you gettin’ this pile of crap?” McKinney said.

“I know why you didn’t like her,” I said.

“No, you don’t,” he said.

“Then why don’t you tell me?”

McKinney’s arm shot out, and he slapped the tree.

“Fine. You wanna know?”

I nodded as my heart raced. I told myself I was safe here, right in front of the sheriff’s department. McKinney wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. I kept my arm curled protectively around the tote holding Hitchcock. I could feel the cat’s body tensing.