The Black Cat Knocks on Wood (3 page)

“A couple champion riders from Dallas are comin’.” He rubbed his chin. “We signed up some locals to perform.”

“All professionals, right?”

“Mostly,” he said. “What’s your interest?”

“My aunt and her friends are planning to take part,” I said. “I think she must be mistaken about your intentions for the event. Rowena Flowers.”

“Yeah.” Ace lifted his hat and scratched his head. “I remember her. She signed up for goat tyin’.”

“
Goat
tying?”

He smirked. “You have a problem with that?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. There is no good reason to rope a goat.”

“All due respect, ma’am, it ain’t against the law. If it’s your aunt you’re worried about, I believe this is her decision. She can sign a waiver same as everybody else who performs here or bow out. Makes no difference to me.”

“Surely Mr. Devlin doesn’t approve of your endangering the lives of senior citizens. I’ll speak with him about this.”

Ace laughed. “Good luck with that. Lance came up with the senior rodeo idea, little lady, and I believe I know what he’d do or not do better’n you.”

The man didn’t stand more than two inches taller than me, and I didn’t appreciate the “little lady” tag. And boy oh boy did I ever want to wipe that smug expression off his face.

“Then I’ll speak with Crystal,” I said. “I’m sure she has more influence over him than you do.”

“That woman don’t care about nothin’ ’cept herself,” Ace said. “Never has, never will. You finished with your weak threats now?”

Tyanne came through the gate, walking fast toward us.

I straightened and kept my eyes on Ace. “I’m not finished talking about the cruelty of roping goats.”

He threw back his head in a deep laugh, then pinned me with a dark-eyed stare. “You have a problem with goat tyin’, ma’am, you got no business livin’ in Texas. I have work to do. Good day.” He turned and headed for the gate.

Tyanne put a restraining hand on my arm, but I couldn’t hold back a retort.

“You haven’t heard the last about this.”

Ace glanced over his shoulder and kept walking. “Knock yourself out.”

“
That man could ruin the good name of cowboys all over Texas.” I had fumed about Ace McKinney the whole way back to Tyanne’s bookstore, and I wasn’t finished yet. There were no customers in the store, and I was glad for the opportunity to freely speak my mind while I paced the length of the sales counter. “McKinney ought to care about safety. If he doesn’t, he should at least be concerned about lawsuits ’cause if one of these senior citizens falls and breaks a hip—”

“He probably makes them sign something.” Tyanne arranged and rearranged books in a display by the front door.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “The jerk
did
say something about a waiver, but still. I want Aunt Rowe to be safe, Ty. Her friends, too.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m a bit surprised the ladies are all on board for such strenuous activity.”

“They’re blindly following Aunt Rowe, their ringleader. If you ask me, she’s too fearless for her own good.”

“Better than being a scaredy-cat, isn’t it?” Ty grinned.

“I’m not sure. Can you seriously see my aunt dealing with that McKinney yokel?”

“I’m sure Rowe can hold her own with the patronizing cowboy.”

“What cowboy?” Ethan came from the storeroom carrying an armload of new paperbacks. The teen knelt to arrange the books on shelves near the checkout counter.

“A man at the rodeo,” Tyanne said.

“Mr. Devlin?”

“No,” I said, “an unlikeable guy who works for him.”

“Oh,” Ethan said. “Mr. Devlin is no prize himself, least not according to Cody.”

“Lance Devlin’s son?” I said.

“Yeah.” Ethan placed the last of the books on the shelf and stood. “Cody’s not my best friend or anything. Kid has issues, but seems like he also has two sorry excuses for parents.”

“What makes you say that?” I walked over to the window seat and perched between the bookstore cats, Zelda and Willis. I ran a hand down each cat’s back, and their motors started up.

“Cody had the lead in the school play,” Ethan said. “My mom would have had a front-row seat, taken like a thousand pictures, you know.”

Ty nodded. “Sounds like me.”

“That’s a normal mom,” Ethan said. “Proud of whatever the kids do.”

I thought about my own mother, who didn’t fit the normal mom model.

“I’d expect Crystal Devlin to be a very proud mother,” Tyanne said.

“Maybe about other stuff,” Ethan said. “Not when it comes to acting. That’s what Cody wants to do with his life. His parents don’t approve, and neither one of them came to see him.”

“Maybe they had a prior engagement,” Tyanne said.

“The play ran two different weekends,” Ethan said.

Tyanne frowned. “Hard to imagine an excuse good enough to miss every performance.”

Ethan nodded. “That’s what I’m saying.”

Willis got up, stretched, and stood on my lap so he could rub his head against my chin. “My mother doesn’t approve of my writing, but I’m doing it anyway.”

“Without your aunt’s encouragement you might still be working at that law firm,” Ty said. “Your
fearless
aunt.”

We both knew I wouldn’t have taken the plunge of quitting my job if not for Aunt Rowe. “Sometimes it’s hard to take a chance on a dream.”

“Cody says he’s moving to L.A. no matter what his parents think. He’s almost eighteen.” Ethan headed back toward the storeroom.

Tyanne watched him go, not responding to his last statement. Her kids weren’t old enough to make drastic moves, but I knew she’d voice her opinion if and when the time came.

“Sounds like Crystal Devlin’s priorities are messed up,” I said. “She missed her son’s big moment. She cheated Pearl, a fellow businesswoman. All in all, I’m thinking these Devlins aren’t the nicest people.”

“Crystal has a redeeming quality,” Tyanne said. “Most people do.”

“What’s hers?” I said.

“She gives a good amount of money to charity. Got an award at the last chamber of commerce meeting for making a large donation to the Find-a-Cure walkathon.”

“Huh.” I patted each of the cats and stood. “Maybe this would be a good time for me to solicit a donation for the Love-a-Black-Cat event.”

“And ask her why she cheated Pearl?” Tyanne said.

I smiled. “That, too, if I can work it into the conversation. After I get a donation, of course.”

My friend nodded. “Smart.”

“Could you print a copy of that flyer I e-mailed over here yesterday?”

“Already did.” Tyanne walked behind the sales counter to retrieve a copy of my flyer and handed it to me. “I was going to hang this one in the window, but I can print another.”

*   *   *

I drove the short distance to Bluebonnet Street where Devlin Realty sat four doors down from Sweet Stop. I couldn’t quit thinking about the rodeo. I had to try talking rationally with Aunt Rowe about the danger factor. Surely she didn’t want to break her leg again. If that didn’t work, her friends might come to their senses and talk her out of it before the date came. Which wouldn’t save me from worrying until then.

I parked on the street and told myself to set aside my attitude about Crystal Devlin missing her own son’s performance in the school play. I’d have to put on a pleasant face if I hoped to get a donation from the woman. As I walked toward the office, I realized the front door, with “Devlin Realty” scrolled in gold on the glass, stood open. I heard a raised voice coming from inside.

“I told you time and again to keep the door shut,” a woman screeched. “Clean up the mess. We can’t have clients walking into this disaster.”

My fist was poised to rap on the door, my flyer in the other hand. I paused, stuck the flyer in my tote, and poked my head into the office.

The bossy woman, in a gray pencil skirt with heels and a blousy red top, stood with her back to me. Her artificially light blond hair was pulled back and held in a large clip. Silver earrings dangled halfway to her shoulders.

Magazines and real estate flyers were strewn on the floor, along with a desk calendar, pens, and unopened mail. In front of the desk, pink Shasta daisies lay in a pool of water and glass shards from a broken vase. The desktop lamp was knocked over but had escaped a fall to the floor. A younger woman in tan slacks and a dingy brown top knelt on the floor with a roll of paper towels in one hand.

“For the love of God, Jordan, pick up those papers before they get wet.”

The girl was mopping up water with the paper towels, and pencil-skirt lady was apparently too good to help. Either that or her skirt was too tight for her to bend down to the floor.

I crossed into the room and whisked the pages that weren’t even close to the water from the floor. I grabbed the mail, then stood and placed everything on the desk. When I turned around, I recognized Crystal Devlin because her face adorned advertisements all over town.

She pasted on a fake-looking smile. “Thank you so much,” she said in a syrupy voice. “I’m sorry you had to witness this little accident. We seem to have had a run-in with a stray black cat this afternoon.”

I paused with my hand halfway into my tote to retrieve the flyer.

“There was a cat here in your office?” I said.

Crystal nodded like this was the most tragic event she could have imagined. “I walked in and there he sat, on Jordan’s desk. A huge black cat with big green eyes.”

Good grief.
Had Pearl brought Hitchcock to town after our conversation?

“I don’t know how he got in here,” Jordan said. “I did
not
leave the door open.”

Crystal looked down at the other woman. “Don’t use that tone with me, Jordan. I saw the cat, big as life, and it didn’t walk in through the wall. Now, Miss . . .”

She turned to me and offered a hand with perfect French-manicured nails. “I’m Crystal Devlin.”

We shook, and I introduced myself, well aware of Crystal’s discreet inspection of my T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops.

“Are you in the market to purchase real estate?” she said.

“Um, no,” I said, “but about that cat. Where is he now?”

Crystal shrugged. “Anybody’s guess. He took off after racing around the room like he was possessed.”

“Had you seen him around before?”

Crystal shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

Jordan looked up from her task and shook her head. “Certainly not in here.”

“Were you chasing the cat? Is that how all of this happened?” I swept my arm to indicate the mess.

“All I did was walk in,” Crystal said. “I’m between appointments and came by to make some phone calls. Opened the door, and the animal went berserk. I’m not sure what
she
was doing.” She looked pointedly at Jordan.

Jordan ignored Crystal and dragged a nearby wastebasket closer to her. She gathered the sopping-wet towels and threw them into the basket, though I had the distinct impression she’d have loved to throw them at Crystal.

“Now, Sabrina,” Crystal said, “If you’re not buying real estate, do you have something to sell?”

“No, I didn’t come about real estate at all.” I glanced at my tote. Would these women ID Hitchcock if I showed them the flyer with his picture front and center? I decided to take the chance and pulled out the page.

“This may not be the best day to ask since you’ve just had a bad experience with a black cat.” I showed them the flyer and explained about the upcoming adoption event. “I’m gathering donations to fund the pet food, vaccinations, and spaying and neutering of the future adoptees.”

Their expressions didn’t change when they glanced at the picture of Hitchcock.

“Of course I’ll donate,” said Crystal. “Just because one black cat caused me bad luck today doesn’t mean I have anything against the species in general. I’ll grab my checkbook from my desk.”

I bit my lip to keep from responding to her bad luck remark.

Her heels tap-tapped across the tiled floor. She opened a door and went inside.

Jordan was still on her knees, carefully picking up pieces of the broken glass and tossing them in the trash. I stooped to help her and noticed tufts of black cat hair on the floor, too.

I didn’t want the cat they saw to be Hitchcock, but what were the odds that a different black cat showed up here?

“Did the cat you saw resemble the cat on my flyer?” I asked.

Jordan glanced up. “Should it?”

“I don’t know, just making conversation.”

“Black cats look pretty much alike,” she said. “All I know is I didn’t leave the freakin’ door open. Why would I when every little mosquito or gnat that gets in here throws her into a tizzy?”

“Sounds like the cat did the same.”

“True.” Jordan smirked.

“She difficult to work for?” I whispered.

“Did Davy Crockett die at the Alamo?”

Crystal’s heels tapped in our direction, and Jordan shut up.

“Here we go.” Crystal reappeared and crossed the room.

I stood and accepted the company check she handed me.

Holy moly. Five hundred dollars.

I smiled. “Thank you on behalf of black cats everywhere.” Crystal Devlin might have other not-so-likeable traits, but she cared about animals, and that said a lot in my book.

“You are most welcome,” Crystal said. “Happy to help. I trust there will be a program of some sort and Devlin Realty will be listed as a donor.”

“Absolutely,” I said.

“Excellent.” Crystal nodded. “Now I do need to run to my next appointment.”

Given that the woman had just made a generous donation, I decided this was not the time to quiz her about Pearl’s real estate deal. I’d come back for that conversation.

Pearl was the woman destined for interrogation this afternoon. Her store was conveniently close by, and no amount of candy could sweeten me up if I learned she’d brought Hitchcock to town against my wishes.

I hurried down the sidewalk toward the candy store, scanning the street as I went. No sign of a black cat, not that I expected to spot Hitchcock strolling amongst the tourists. Pearl’s proposal to bring him to town was even more ridiculous now that I’d met Crystal Devlin, a woman who didn’t strike me as particularly superstitious. If the cat in the real estate office was Pearl’s doing, she’d wasted a lot of effort.

Unless her goal was to annoy me—because if that cat was Hitchcock, she’d succeeded big-time.

A young mother with two small boys entered Sweet Stop ahead of me. The kids squealed with delight and raced across the wide-plank floor to the Ninja Turtle display in the corner. I stepped over the threshold and was instantly enveloped by the mixed scents of chocolate, peppermint, and vanilla. With the song “It’s A Small World” coming through speakers and the chatter of excited children as background, some of the tension left my shoulders.

Two young women standing behind the glass display case
doled out candy to customers, but Pearl was nowhere in sight. I zeroed in on a customer in uniform. Sleek black hair fell to her shoulders.

Deputy Patricia Rosales.

Not my favorite person, and the feeling was mutual. She accepted a brown paper sack from a clerk and turned before I had a chance to move out of her line of vision.

She smirked and walked in my direction.

“Have a little sweet tooth, Deputy?” I said when she neared.

“A surprise for someone special,” she said in a singsong tone. “His favorite. Today’s his birthday.” She held up the paper sack and gave it a little shake.

I didn’t know why she offered this information unless the birthday boy was local game warden Luke Griffin. He and I had spent a little time together. Nothing serious, just sharing a cup of coffee here, an ice cream cone there. Rosales had more than a passing interest in the man, and she acted more annoyed each time she spotted us together.

“How thoughtful of you,” I said.

Was today Luke Griffin’s birthday? I had no idea. If so, I doubted he planned to celebrate the occasion with Rosales. He usually took off in the opposite direction whenever the deputy came into view.

A middle-aged woman clutching her purchases came up behind Rosales. “Excuse me, Deputy. May I have a word with you?”

Glad for a chance to escape, I excused myself just as Pearl came around a shelf carrying an unopened carton marked “Necco.” She stopped short when she saw me.

“Sabrina. What are you doing here?”

Was that guilt crossing her features?

“Where’s my cat, Pearl?”

Her brows drew together. “Your cat? How would I know? Isn’t he at home?”

“I’m not at home, so I can’t answer that.” I glanced around
at the customers, then urged Pearl back the way she’d come. We stood between shelves filled with every kind of candy bar imaginable.

The upbeat song “My Favorite Things” came over the sound system, but I wasn’t feeling it today.

“Did you bring Hitchcock to town with you, Pearl?”

“Absolutely not.” She looked away.

“Pearl?”

“I’ll be right back.”

She began to turn, but I put a hand on her arm. “Do you have my cat here in the store?”

A little boy had wandered into the aisle and stood nearby eyeing the M&M’s. He looked up at us. “I want to see the cat.”

Pearl frowned at him. “There’s no cat.”

“Where is he?” I said.

She scowled. “I didn’t touch your cat.”

“Did you find a different black cat then?”

“Why would I do that?”

“So, you
did
bring Hitchcock to town.”

“I did not.”

The little boy’s mother hurried into the aisle and took his hand, glancing at us worriedly before she moved away.

“I wanted to see the cat,” the little boy whined.

“You’re disturbing my customers,” Pearl said in a low voice. “I didn’t touch your cat.”

“Where did the black cat that ran through Crystal Devlin’s office come from?”

“I don’t know anything about any cat.” Pearl pushed past me, headed for the candy counter with me on her heels. She set the carton on top of the display case with a thump.

“I’d like to believe you, but after what you said this morning I’m not sure I can.”

“How do
you
know what happened at Crystal’s office?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I was there for reasons unrelated to you. I thought about going to bat for you, Pearl, but now that I’ve met Crystal—”

A slim grandmotherly woman who’d been checking out the Disney display turned to us and said, “Are you talking about the Devlin woman who cheated poor Pearl out of her property?”

“That’s the one, Doris,” Pearl said.

“I heard that an Austin developer plans to open a cigar shop next door,” Doris said.

“Cigars?” Pearl practically shouted the word. “Who wants to smell stinking cigars? They’ll run off all my customers, and it’s all Crystal Devlin’s fault.” She glared at me. “If you think I’m gonna back off on tryin’ to cause that woman bad luck, you have another guess comin’.”

“Shush,” I said. “Think about something nice, like cream-colored ponies and crisp apple strudels.” Customers were staring at us, including Deputy Rosales.

“I’m not in a
nice
mood,” Pearl said.

“I noticed, but you don’t want Crystal hearing about you bad-mouthing her in front of the whole town. She’d probably slap you with a lawsuit.”

“She can just try,” Pearl said, “I’ll sue her back for cheating me out of the property. I made that offer fair and square.”

Rosales walked over to us, her expression stern.

“What’s the ruckus about, ladies?”

“Sorry, Deputy,” Pearl said. “But I tend to get loud when people like Crystal Devlin think they can cheat me out of something, and then others accuse me of lying.” Her glare deepened.

Doris said, “We can start a petition to keep the cigar shop out.”

“Good idea,” Pearl said.

“That’s a better idea than using my cat,” I said.

Pearl uncrossed her arms and put her hands on her hips. “I
told
you, I
didn’t
do that.”

“And don’t think about doing it either,” I said. “Crystal doesn’t seem superstitious, so what would be the point?”

“I’ve heard enough,” Rosales said, “and I have better ways to spend my time.”

She looked at me with that last line, and I knew she was baiting me. I ignored her and focused my attention on the homemade fudge counter. I was all kinds of annoyed this afternoon, but nothing that a chunk of York Peppermint Pattie fudge wouldn’t fix.

On the way home, I licked the sticky fudge remains off my fingers and hoped Pearl was telling me the truth about the cat, that she hadn’t taken Hitchcock anywhere. I hoped to find him napping on the deck of my cottage, where he liked to spend the late afternoons.

As for Pearl’s other issues, those were her problems, not mine. She’d find a new property to purchase or maybe go on with her store as is. She did a good business out of the cute space, small though it was. If she didn’t like the cigar shop coming in next door, she could move. Her choice.

I pulled off the main road onto Traveler’s Lane and immediately spotted Thomas. He stood in a landscaped bed trimming an overgrown vine that threatened to crawl up and cover the Around-the-World Cottages sign. He lowered his clippers and flagged me down. I pulled to a stop and opened my window.

Thomas walked to the car and removed his straw hat before leaning over to talk face-to-face. “Case you were missin’ your cat today, I took him for a ride.”

My heart rate sped up. “What do you mean?”

“He hitched a ride. Just like you warned me, except this time I caught him red-handed.”

“Red-handed?”

“Red-pawed?” Thomas grinned. “Whatever. The cat made the trip home with me. Can’t honestly say how he got to town in the first place. I didn’t see him on the way in. Then clear as day I saw him take off out of the backseat of my Jeep when I parked at Rowena’s house.”

I swallowed. “How long ago was that?”

“Twenty minutes or so,” Thomas said. “Haven’t been back
long. I gotta say I wish you could convince that animal to stay put. I’m doin’ my best to get past the bad luck thing, but he was too close for comfort.”

“He’s not bad luck, Thomas,” I said, “but I’ll try to keep a better eye on him. Sorry about that.”

And even sorrier if it turned out that Pearl had actually taken Hitchcock into town, then turned around and lied to my face.

*   *   *

Hitchcock was at home, thank goodness, and napping on the deck of the Monte Carlo cottage, where I could usually find him at this time of day. I hadn’t eaten anything except the fudge since midmorning and considered joining Aunt Rowe for dinner. I didn’t feel like talking about the rodeo or Pearl, though, and couldn’t imagine shutting up on either topic if I saw my aunt. A little wine and time spent plotting out the next few chapters of my book sounded like a better idea.

I fixed a plate with leftover grilled chicken, cheese cubes, and a handful of grapes. Poured myself a glass of white wine, then grabbed a pad and pen and got comfortable in a cushioned chair out on the porch.

The early evening air was heavy with humidity. I popped a grape into my mouth and looked past the trees to the deep blue sky.

Think fiction.

A bit hard to do after all that had happened today. I didn’t want to dwell on those stresses. I needed to put thoughts of Pearl, Crystal, the cigar shop, and, wait,
was
it Luke Griffin’s birthday or wasn’t it?

Try to focus, Sabrina.

I could make black bottom cupcakes—Griffin loved chocolate—then just happen to take them into town tomorrow, see if I could “accidentally” run into him.

So sorry I missed your birthday. I made your favorite cupcakes, then got delayed and couldn’t bring them to you in time. Happy belated.

I ate some chicken, then took a healthy swig of my wine. If only there were a magic pill I could take to focus. I lowered my head and rubbed my temples. Ideas began to flow, and I jotted them down on my tablet.

Thirty minutes passed, and I’d made quite a bit of progress when I sat back against the chair cushion and reached for my wineglass. Dusk was beginning to fall. I heard snatches of conversation as guests made their way up from the river and headed back to their cottages. Across the lawn, a woman—a new arrival—unloaded luggage from the trunk of a black car parked next to the Paris cottage.

I reread what I’d written and felt a sense of satisfaction over where the story was headed. If I went straight to the computer, I might get a chapter done tonight. I felt a thousand percent more relaxed than I had an hour ago.

I stood and stretched. Watched the woman at the Paris cottage. Something about her seemed familiar, but I was a good distance away and couldn’t put my finger on it. In black slacks and a white shirt she looked like she’d come straight from the office. Hair with a reddish tint, pulled back. She rolled a suitcase into the cottage, stayed out of sight for a minute or so, then came out and opened the back car door.

She wasn’t our usual type of guest. Businesspeople usually preferred staying in town. I went down the porch steps and walked to the end of my sidewalk to get a better look. I was getting that hair-standing-up-on-the-back-of-my-neck feeling.

What was that about?

The woman pulled a fat black trial briefcase from her car, and realization hit me.

Rita Colletti.

My former boss. The lawyer I hoped I’d never see again in my life.