The Black Cat Knocks on Wood (5 page)

My sense of self-preservation kicked in, and I turned away from the sad scene. Better to leave now before Deputy Ainsley came up with a convincing reason I should be held and questioned. As I quick-stepped down the sidewalk, I felt sorrow for Cody Devlin. The kid would have a hard time, losing his mother, even if what Ethan related was true and they hadn’t had the best relationship.

I felt a twinge of guilt for leaving Pearl behind, too. In her distressed state of mind, she might blurt out things better left unsaid. Not that the whole town hadn’t already heard about her dispute with Crystal Devlin. If Pearl had cooled her jets when she saw Crystal, instead of rushing over to that building for a confrontation, we’d all be having a normal, peaceful morning.

Too late for that.

I’d feel better after I confirmed Hitchcock was at home sleeping the morning away as he usually did. First, I had to retrieve my computer and phone from the coffee shop.
Chances were slim that I’d be able to concentrate on writing today, even though my character was about to find a body and what I’d just experienced could add a ring of authenticity to my chapter. I turned in the direction I’d come, eager to leave the chaos behind, and saw Crystal Devlin’s assistant in front of the realty office with a key in her hand. The emergency vehicles had drawn Jordan’s attention, and she stood frozen in place.

I didn’t want to be the one to tell her the news about her employer, but I couldn’t bring myself to pass by the woman without a word.

Jordan smiled and spoke first. “How are you this morning?”

I slowed my pace. “Not too good, to tell the truth.”

She frowned. “Why? What’s going on down there?”

“You haven’t heard?”

She shook her head. “No. I just came from the nursing home across town. I go there every morning before work. Breakfast with my mom.”

“That’s nice.”

She grimaced. “It’s not, actually. She acts like she doesn’t remember who I am. Spends the time griping at me because her breakfast isn’t perfect.”

“I’m sorry. Alzheimer’s?”

“No, she had a stroke,” Jordan said. “Bottom line is she’s just mean. Nothing new.”

“Oh.” I wondered why the woman subjected herself to such treatment every day. I would get poor marks as a daughter if anyone expected me to visit my ornery mother under those circumstances.

Jordan looked past me to the flashing lights. “Was there an accident?”

My train of thought had gone down the mother track, and I jerked back to the present. “Um, you mind if I come in to tell you about it?”

“Okay.” She unlocked the door, and we stepped inside.

Jordan flipped a wall switch, and fluorescent lights
brightened the office. She walked over to the desk and put her purse down, then leaned over the desk to power up the computer.

“I’m afraid the news is bad,” I said slowly. “Crystal—”

Jordan’s head popped up, and she turned to face me. “What’d she do this time?”

“It’s not what she did, it’s what happened to her.” I paused and blew out a breath. “Crystal is dead.”

Jordan stared at me and slumped against the desk. “Oh no. How did it happen?”

“I’m not exactly sure,” I said. “It appears that she was killed by falling bricks.”

Jordan’s face, usually a rosy shade, had gone pale. “
Where
did it happen?”

“She was in the old restaurant that’s up for sale.” I described the scene. “Maybe she was meeting a prospective buyer.”

Jordan shook her head. “We’re not showing that space until the work is completed. Another week, maybe more. She gave me explicit instructions.”

I lifted my hands in a beats-me gesture. “Maybe she changed her mind. In any case, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” I wasn’t going to say one word about the possibility of foul play.

Jordan wrapped one arm around her waist and rubbed her forehead with her other hand. “This is just awful. Her poor family. Lance. Cody. Poor Mrs. Morales.”

“Who’s Mrs. Morales?” I said.

“Crystal’s housekeeper, cook, personal assistant. Paloma Morales. She’ll be devastated. They were close.” Jordan looked toward Crystal’s office, at her desk, then back to me. “What happens with all the properties for sale? The closings? Oh no, do I even still have a job? What should I do?” Her eyes filled with tears.

I sensed she was putting on a bit of a show. Jordan hadn’t seemed at all fond of Crystal the day before. Of course, they might have simply been out of sorts after the incident with the cat and the broken vase.

“Take it as it comes,” I said. “You’ll probably hear something from the family or their attorney. Until then I would answer the phone, take messages.”

She nodded slowly. “Okay. I can do that.”

“Maybe the sheriff will have some advice. I’m sure he’ll be by to speak with you.”

“Me? Why?”

Oops. Shouldn’t have said that.

“You worked together. He’ll probably ask you about the property where it happened. Crystal’s schedule. That sort of thing.”

Jordan frowned. “Sheriff Crawford can ask me all he wants. I don’t have any idea what happened to Crystal.”

“Of course not,” I said.

“I wasn’t there,” she said. “I was at the nursing home, remember?”

“Right.” Why had she assumed the timing of her nursing home visit coincided with Crystal’s death?

I turned toward the door. “I have to get going. Sorry to bring you such tragic news.”

“Not your fault,” Jordan said. “Take care now.”

She opened the door, and though she didn’t actually give me a push I got the feeling she wanted rid of me in the worst way. I hurried down the sidewalk, wondering all the way why Jordan felt the need to repeat her whereabouts earlier in the morning.

I rounded the corner at the coffee shop quickly and bumped into a man on his way out.

“Hey, Sabrina Tate,” he said. “Long time no talk to.”

Hayden Birch, the rodeo clown, apparently had excellent balance, because he easily kept his cardboard tray of four tall cups level in spite of our collision.

“Hayden, hi. Sorry, I didn’t watch where I was going.”

“No harm done,” he said. “I’m an indestructible kind of guy. Have to be in my line of work.”

“I guess so.” I avoided eye contact. He sounded too jolly
to have learned the morning’s news, and I didn’t want to tell the story again.

“Hey, you okay?” Hayden angled his head to catch my eye.

“I’m fine.”

“Been a helluva day so far, huh?” Concern creased his brow.

I looked up. “You know?”

“Course I do.”

“About Crystal?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

Hayden waited as the coffee shop door opened and two women walked out. The strains of “Don’t Stop ’Til You Get Enough” drifted out. When the door closed and the women had moved a distance from us, he said, “Construction company put in a call straightaway to Mr. D. Guys who walked in and found you and that other woman on-site.”

“Pearl.”

“Right, Pearl.”

“Why did they call Mr. Devlin?” I said. “It’s not exactly their job to notify next of kin.”

“They’re pals of his,” he said.

“The good ol’ boy network.”

“Something like that,” Hayden said.

“So Crystal’s husband found out she’d died, and then he what? Broadcast the news?”

“He didn’t. Ace did. Mr. D told Ace, and Ace sent a text to the staff. Same as he does whenever anything happens that involves us.”

“Huh.” I looked at the tray Hayden held. “Who’s all the coffee for?”

“Ace, me, and a couple of the guys who came in for supplies. I’m going to meet them.”

So these guys learned their boss’s wife was dead, and they came to town for supplies. Business as usual. That seemed cold, but maybe that’s how it was in the ranching business. Couldn’t let the livestock go hungry.

“Where are you heading?” he said.

“In there.” I nodded toward the coffee shop and noticed Max and a couple of customers looking out the front window at me. “Or maybe not. Last thing I want is to go inside and get caught up in the gossip.”

“Want me to go back in and get you some coffee?” he offered.

I looked at him. “No thanks, but if you could retrieve my laptop case from Max and bring it to me, I’d be grateful. I could hold your coffee.”

Hayden didn’t seem to mind the odd request. He handed me the coffee tray and went back into the shop. After a few seconds, I saw him through the window. Max handed my laptop case to Hayden. When he came back outside, we traded coffee for computer.

“I appreciate that more than you know.” I gave Hayden Birch a grateful smile.

“Better watch out,” he said. “I may call in a favor.”

I thought of Ace McKinney warning me about the clown. “You’d better deliver that coffee now before it gets cold.”

He grinned. “I’d rather stay here and while away the morning with you, but duty calls. See you next time around, Sabrina Tate.”

I watched for a few seconds as Hayden strode toward a pickup parked at the curb, then slipped the laptop case strap over my shoulder and turned in the direction of my car. My mind raced with the events of the morning. I unzipped a pocket on the case to retrieve my phone and check for messages, hoping for one that said Pearl was released from questioning, but it was too soon for that. When I looked up before crossing the street, I spotted Luke Griffin. He leaned against the front bumper of his pickup, parked next to my car. Griffin looked awfully official in his tan game warden uniform. Aviator sunglasses covered his eyes.

“Hi there,” I said when I got closer. “I heard a rumor you’re celebrating a birthday.”

His eyebrows rose. “You get that from Birch?”

“Birch?” I looked back to where Hayden and I had stood a moment ago, a spot in Griffin’s direct line of vision. “No, not from him.”

“What were you two so cozy about?” he said in a testy tone of voice I hadn’t heard from him before.

“Cozy? You may need to have your eyes checked or take off the dark glasses.” I slipped my phone back into the laptop case. “We were anything but cozy, discussing a death.”

Griffin’s expression told me he hadn’t heard about Crystal yet, so I filled him in.

“Man, I’m sorry to hear that.” He removed his sunglasses and stuck them in his shirt pocket. “I apologize for making an assumption about that guy.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, “but you almost nixed my offer to make your favorite cupcakes. Assuming it really is your birthday.”

Griffin smiled. “Yes, ma’am, it is. Want to see my license?”

“That won’t be necessary,” I said.

“Good. I’d love some of your cupcakes.”

He grinned, and I couldn’t help smiling back at him.

“I didn’t like seeing you with Birch,” he said.

“We were talking.”

“He was flirting.”

“Last I checked, that’s not against the law.”

“He’s a bad influence,” Griffin said. “Covers it up with jokes, but I’d steer clear if I were you.”

“Bad influence? I’m not twelve anymore, Dad.”

“Just saying.” Griffin pulled his sunglasses out and unfolded the arms. “Think I’ll head over and see if the sheriff needs a hand. Now I know why this street is deserted. Everyone and their cousin is rubbernecking over on Bluebonnet Street.”

“You got that right,” I said.

“I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Oh?”

“For those cupcakes.”

Griffin climbed in his truck and backed out of the parking space. I stood there for a moment, wondering why he thought Hayden Birch was such a bad influence, then tossed my laptop case on the passenger seat of my own car and climbed inside.

Darn, now I have to add baking cupcakes to my to-do list, along with working on the book and wondering what really happened to Crystal.

The men—Birch and Griffin—had distracted me from checking on my main man.

Hitchcock.

I sure hoped I’d find him at home. Even if I did, though, too much time had passed. With his skills as an escape artist, I’d never know for sure where he’d spent his morning.

I headed home, eager to see my cat. Before I got there I spotted Glenda on the porch of the Venice cottage. Aunt Rowe’s golf cart was parked near the front door with a basket of fresh sheets and towels on the passenger seat. It was late in the day for Glenda to be dealing with linens. She kept a religious schedule, and I knew from the tangle of sheets she held in her arms something wasn’t right. I pulled over in front of the cottage and jumped out of my car.

“I suppose we have you to thank for the queen of Sheba staying here,” she said as I approached her. “Because of her, my schedule’s all whacked out.”

“Excuse me?”

“
That woman
,” she said. “The lawyer.”

“Oh. Her.” I had pushed thoughts of Rita Colletti away, like I would block memories of a root canal. “I didn’t know she was coming, so don’t blame me.”

“She said
you
told her about the cottages.” Glenda stuffed the ball of sheets under one arm and used her other forearm
to brush short dark hair away from her sweaty face. “So I’ve got you to thank for her highness’s special requests. ‘I prefer organic Blue Mountain coffee beans,’ she says, and ‘Do you have any croissants?’ and ‘I’d love some fresh-squeezed orange juice.’”

“She has those things at work, so she should have stayed in Houston,” I said. “We’re not buying anything special for her.”

“You got that right,” Glenda said. “Know what I told her?”

I shook my head. “What?”

“In my most kindly way, I said we are
not
a bed-and-breakfast, and that I’m oh, so sorry, if she prefers a bed-and-breakfast, I could certainly recommend her a nice place in town.”

I grinned. “You said that?”

“I did. If you want to report me to Rowe, so be it. Oh, and after I said that, Rita mentioned she likes higher-thread-count sheets. The ones we have on her bed feel a little too scratchy.”

“Seriously?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sorry, Glenda, I didn’t make the woman, I just worked for her.”

“Bless your heart,” Glenda said. “The way she talks grates on me just as much as what she says.”

“You’re preaching to the choir. Did Rita say what she’s doing here in Lavender?”

“Working on a case is all I got. Once she quit griping, I wasn’t gonna stand around and chitchat with the woman.”

“I hear that,” I said. “Let me help you with those.” I took the sheets from her, walked them over to the golf cart, and picked up a fresh set. Glenda has a couple of teenagers and doesn’t get riled easily. I wasn’t one bit surprised that Rita had pushed her over the edge.

We set about prepping the Venice cottage for the next guests to check in. I started making up the bed while she gathered throw rugs and began sweeping the hardwood floors with a broom.

“Have you seen Hitchcock today?” I said as I pulled the fitted sheet onto the mattress.

“Sure,” she said, “he came around earlier begging for leftover chicken.”

“What a mooch. I didn’t know you two were close enough for him to beg you for food.”

“That cat leaves no stone unturned,” she said. “Came around right after he saw Rowe leave.”

“He won’t come when she’s home?”

“Not since the day she caught him up on the kitchen counter gnawing on her lunch.”

“Uh-oh. I need to work on his manners. Where’s Aunt Rowe off to today?”

“She’s ordering those shirts and hats for the danged rodeo performance,” Glenda said.

“Oh, jeez. I’m still hoping that idea will blow over.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

“How long ago was Hitchcock with you?” I said.

“Couple of hours. Why?”

Judging by what Glenda had said so far, I didn’t think she knew about Crystal.

“Pearl Hogan claims she saw Hitchcock in town this morning,” I said. “I’m afraid he might need an alibi.”

“Whatever for?” She lifted a wastebasket to sweep underneath.

I unfolded the flat sheet and swooshed it over the bed. “You haven’t heard about Crystal Devlin?”

“No.” Glenda stopped sweeping and looked at me. “What about her?”

I stopped fooling with the bedclothes and told her of Crystal’s death in the old building.

“Lordy, that poor woman.” Glenda set the broom aside. “She sold Lloyd and me our house. Sends us a cute little anniversary card every year. What a horrible accident.”

“Sorry to bring the bad news,” I said, “but I’m not so sure it was an accident.”

Glenda went to a ladder-back chair by the window, sat down, and wiped her palms on her denim capris. “After that
last time, I thought she’d have taken precautions. I don’t know, a karate class or something.”

“What happened last time?” I said.

“She went to show a property and met this guy who knocked her down, grabbed her purse, and drove away in her Mercedes.”

“That’s awful.”

“They caught the guy,” Glenda said, “but now this. Some agents wear special alarm bracelets so they can send an alert to the police if they run into trouble. Too bad she didn’t have one of those.”

A bracelet wouldn’t have helped Crystal stop a pile of falling bricks, but I kept the thought to myself.

“And here I was complaining about something that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things,” she said. “How petty. I can put up with Rita Colletti.”

“Won’t be pleasant.”

“It’s work.” Glenda shrugged. “Do they have any idea who Crystal was meeting this morning?”

I shrugged. “Pearl didn’t see anyone else.”

Glenda frowned. “How is Pearl involved?”

“She picked a bad time to talk to Crystal. Saw her head into that building and felt like she had to confront her.”

Glenda clucked her tongue. “Pearl, Pearl, Pearl.”

“I know. Of all the bad decisions.”

“She’s gonna have a mess of trouble,” Glenda said, “’cause it’s no secret she’s been badgering Crystal. Went to her house a few times, uninvited. Wrote letters. Said she was gonna report Crystal to the state board of Realtors, file a lawsuit against her, whatever she could to make Crystal pay for cheating her out of that deal.”

This was the first I’d heard of those things. “All that will come out.”

“You’d better believe it,” Glenda said.

“Pearl’s a wreck.” I told Glenda about Pearl’s request to borrow my cat and how she was convinced Hitchcock had
come to town. “Pearl thinks he crossed Crystal’s path this morning, and now she’s blaming herself for bringing up the idea of using him to cause Crystal bad luck.”

“Like the cat knew the plan and did what she thought in the first place?” Glenda said. “Sounds like Pearl’s crazy talk.”

“That it is.” I sighed. “I’m sure she’s not the only one who ever got crossways with Crystal Devlin. Sheriff Crawford will find the truth. Meanwhile, I need to look for Hitchcock. Make sure he’s not being held as an accessory to a crime.”

Glenda sighed. “I gotta move, too. Rowe will want to take a casserole over to the Devlin ranch. I’m not sure how much time their son spends at home, but the poor boy’s gotta eat.”

“You know Cody Devlin?” I said.

“He’s friends with my neighbor’s daughter. I see him over there a lot.”

“Small world.” I finished making up the bed, then went over to Glenda and gave her a hug. “Stay safe and steer clear of the wicked witch.”

“You, too.”

I walked back to my car, listening to the laughter and voices drifting up from the river. A perfect place to spend a summer afternoon. The water didn’t always bring up peaceful thoughts for me, though. The memory of finding the body of Aunt Rowe’s cousin in the river back in spring still caused a chill to run up my spine. Neither Bobby Joe Flowers nor Crystal Devlin would ever again enjoy life’s simple pleasures, and that saddened me. I was grateful to be here to enjoy this day, even if the temperature was hot enough to melt a rock.

I’d feel a lot more grateful after I found my cat.

I drove down to the Monte Carlo cottage and scanned the grounds for Hitchcock. I took my laptop inside and looked for the cat, but the only thing I found on my bed was black hair and a cat-shaped indentation in the comforter where I’d last seen him. I checked his favorite spots—the patch of sun on the carpet near my best living room chair, the fireplace hearth, the windowsill overlooking my writing table. The
place was small, so I’d exhausted all indoor possibilities in a matter of two minutes.

I opened the door to the back deck and did a double take. Hitchcock sat on the arm of the wooden bench, right next to Rita Colletti. The lawyer looked up at me.

“About time you got home,” she said. “I have some work I need you to do. Get your laptop charged up and ready to go.”