The Black Cat Knocks on Wood (6 page)

I paused, completely taken aback by Rita’s demand, not to mention her appearance at my home. In this setting, I was accustomed to seeing people in shorts and tank tops or swimsuits. Rita was all business in gray slacks with pumps and a black print shirt. As was her habit, she had an extra pen stuck behind her ear. Her auburn hair looked wild today, frizzed out from the humidity. I looked at the legal pad she held, filled with her loopy handwriting, and the stack of papers and files on the bench next to her. Aside from the hair, she looked every bit the high-powered city attorney. I couldn’t believe she’d set up shop on my deck.

Hitchcock gave me a look like,
Can you believe the nerve of this woman?

The fact that Rita had made herself at home in my personal space annoyed me to no end. She actually expected me to
work
for her?

“You
do
remember I turned in my resignation last year?” I said.

“Right,” Rita said. “You quit working at the firm. This is a new day, a new place, and I’m prepared to make a new arrangement with you.”

“I’m not interested,” I said.

“I’m talking a minimal assignment. Ten hours, tops.”

“I don’t do legal work anymore.” I was curious, though, about what had brought her to Lavender. “What kind of case are you working on?”

“A family partnership. Standard forms need massaging to fit the circumstances.” She fanned the pages of the legal pad, and I could see she’d filled a dozen or more of them. “This needs to be input.”

Looking at those handwritten pages was a déjà vu moment, and not in a good way. Though Rita was in her midforties, she practiced like an old-school attorney who’d grown up before the invention of computers. More like she thought she was simply too important to type for herself. How many hours, days, weeks of my life had I spent transcribing things for her?

Too many
.

I gave her my best forced smile. “I’m sure Aunt Rowe wouldn’t mind if you’d like to use her scanner or fax to send your project to the office.”

Rita sighed. “That new girl can’t read my handwriting to save her life. For this, I need you.”

I wasn’t agreeing to the work, but I had never before heard anything approaching a compliment from Rita, and I wanted a moment to savor the words.

“Who’s the client?” I said.

“Leave the names blank for now. I’ll fill them in later.”

Like I’d agreed to do the work. I frowned. “Is the client’s name a state secret?”

“You know good and well about confidentiality issues,” Rita said. “You don’t need to bother yourself with the names.”

Hitchcock stood, stretched, and leapt gracefully to the windowsill behind Rita.

“I’m not bothering with any of it. I can’t do the work. I don’t have time.”

“I spent all morning grinding out these pages,” she said. “This is a time-sensitive project.”

“Then I suggest you fax it to the firm right quick. It’s after lunch.” She could have already done so, unless there was some top-secret reason she didn’t want anyone—not even anyone at the firm—to know what she was working on.

Not my problem.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Rita said in a last-ditch effort to convince me to help her.

Like I need the money that badly. I have enough in savings to live a good five years in Lavender, thank you very much.

Rita glared at me, like she couldn’t believe I wasn’t jumping at the opportunity. I smiled sweetly.

“Sorry, but I have an appointment.” The woman wouldn’t quit hounding me unless I gave her a good excuse for ending the conversation. “Matter of fact, Hitchcock and I are a bit late already.”

“Who’s Hitchcock?” Rita said.

“My cat. I assumed you’d already met.”

Rita eyed me suspiciously.

“We’re going to see Doc Jensen.”

“Oh, for the love of Pete.” Rita stood at the same moment Hitchcock jumped down from the windowsill to land on her files. Papers and folders slid off the bench and scattered over the deck.

I bent to gather the documents around my feet. The name Devlin popped out at me, and I purposely slowed my movements to scan the pages.

“Now look at the mess you’ve made.” Rita knelt beside me and in one fast movement swooshed everything together into a haphazard jumble. She grabbed the papers I had in my hands. Not before I spotted a spreadsheet with the Devlin name on top.

So that’s who Rita was working for. I glanced around and didn’t see her briefcase or phone anywhere nearby. If she’d
sequestered herself on my deck to concentrate on the job, she might not know what had happened to Crystal. Once she learned the news, her project might lose its urgency. Or at least drop from the top-priority spot. I, however, wasn’t telling Rita one thing that would keep me tied up with her for a second longer than necessary.

Rita pushed the pages into some semblance of a pile and tamped them on the floor like a deck of cards. She picked up the awkward collection of papers and stood. “This was a wasted trip.”

You really thought I would help? In your dreams.

“We must run,” I said, directing Rita down the steps. “Don’t want to be late for our appointment. Good luck with your project.”

I scooped Hitchcock up and watched for a minute as Rita tottered on her heels across the lawn toward the Paris cottage. Then I took the cat inside and grabbed the flyer I wanted to show the vet.

“Don’t worry, boy,” I told him. “You don’t have an appointment. This is a social call.”

I made sure I locked the cottage up tight before leaving.

*   *   *

Magnolia Jensen’s veterinary clinic was located in a white house on a corner lot a few miles south of Lavender. Maggie and I had discussed getting together about the black cat adoption weekend. If she didn’t have time to meet this afternoon, fine. I cared only about getting away from Rita Colletti. If the lawyer didn’t want to send the typing assignment off to her office—easy enough to do in this technological age—then why hadn’t she typed it on her own danged computer from the start? Involving me didn’t make sense.

“Why does her obnoxious behavior continue to surprise me?” I said to Hitchcock. “That doesn’t make sense either.”

“Mrreow,” he said from the passenger seat, where he sat up like a rabbit with his front paws on the door frame.

I parked the car and sweet-talked the cat until he walked across the console and let me pick him up to carry him inside. I had bought a cat carrier, but so far had been unable to maneuver Hitchcock into it. Seeing as I had spent a good bit of time convincing townspeople that he wasn’t bad luck and that any efforts to trap him needed to stop, it seemed wrong somehow to force him into something so traplike.

Inside the office, Darla, the young receptionist who barely came up to my chin, was saying good-bye to a woman with a chocolate Lab. The Lab strained at his leash, trying to get closer to us, but his owner yanked him along and they left the building.

Darla turned to us. “Hiya, Miss Sabrina and Hitchcock. You doin’ okay? Do y’all have an appointment?” She glanced down at her computer screen.

“We’re fine,” I told the girl. “No appointment. If Doc Jensen has a few minutes, though, I’d like to talk with her about that adoption event we’re working on.” I wanted the vet’s approval on the flyer before I had copies made.

“She’ll be through with her patient soon,” Darla said, “and has a little time before the next.”

I was about to take a seat, when Hitchcock decided he’d had enough of being restrained and squiggled out of my arms to leap onto the U-shaped counter surrounding the reception-area desk.

“C’mon, Hitchcock,” I said. “Don’t bother Darla while she’s working.”

The cat walked to the end of the counter and sat down as if he owned the place.

“Oh, he’s not bothering me,” Darla said. “Hey, did you hear what happened to Crystal Devlin, that real estate woman?”

She didn’t wait for me to answer.

“Miss Pearl from the candy store, you know she and Miss Crystal never did get along. Well, Miss Pearl knocked Miss Crystal upside the head and killed her.”

“That’s not what—”

“Don’t know about you,” Darla continued, “but I’d’ve never thought that sweet little old lady had it in her to murder somebody in cold blood.”

Hitchcock let out a long howl, like he was putting in his two cents about her comments.

“Good Lord, Darla,” I said. “That’s not what happened at all. I hope you haven’t been telling everyone you saw today that tall tale.”

“She has.” A vet tech wearing a lab coat of paw-print fabric walked into the room. “Didn’t know what to make of it myself.”

“I got the news straight from my friend Nicole,” Darla said, “and she’s tight with Deputy Rosales.”

“This is like a bad game of whisper down the alley,” I said, “and I don’t think the sheriff would appreciate your passing false information around town.” I certainly wasn’t going to share anything I knew as fact with this blabbermouth. Did the sheriff’s department believe that Pearl had murdered Crystal? Why would they if the falling bricks were what killed the woman?

The tech said, “Ma’am, you need to restrain your cat. Doc’s seeing a not-so-cat-friendly Rottweiler, and he’ll be out here in a second.”

If there was any confrontation between Hitchcock and a Rottweiler, I feared for the dog. Still, I didn’t want to take any chances. I approached Hitchcock, and he leapt from the desk to the top of a file cabinet.

The tech pulled a black harness and leash from a wall hook and handed it to me. “Try this.”

Easy for her to say.

I took the harness and studied the straps, trying to figure out how to put the thing on a cat. I was still struggling with it when I heard the jingling of a dog’s collar and watched as the large brown-and-black dog practically dragged its female owner to the counter. When I looked back to the file cabinet, Hitchcock was nowhere in sight.

“He went thataway.” Darla pointed down the hall. “You can go on to Doc’s office. I think Hitchcock already did.”

Sure enough, I found my cat sitting big as you please on Maggie Jensen’s desk with the vet obligingly scratching his head. Doc Jensen wore a pretty turquoise lab coat. Her straight dark hair was streaked with gray, held back in a silver clip that coordinated nicely with her silver-framed eyeglasses.

“Looks like you lost control of your cat,” she said with a smile.

“Lost it?” I said. “I never had control of Hitchcock and probably never will.”

“You should try. Here, I’ll give you some tips on how to use the harness. He’ll like it once he gets used to it.”

That would never happen, but I watched as the vet handled my cat and made him do things no ordinary person could ever convince him to do. She fastened the harness around him and snapped the leash onto the harness, then handed the other end of the leash to me.

“Simple,” she said.

Hitchcock looked like he was smiling at her. Unbelievable.

“That’s very impressive, but you know pets don’t behave for owners the way they behave for you.”

“Maybe not.” She laughed. “What brings you here?”

I took my tote off my shoulder and pulled out the flyer I’d printed. “If you approve of this, I’ll have copies made to hang up around town and to use to solicit donations. Speaking of which, I already received one.” I took out the check Crystal Devlin had written and placed it on the desk. “I’m not sure what to do with this now.”

Maggie picked up the check. “Bless her heart,” she said. “Crystal was always a supporter of animals in need. I was distressed to hear the bad news about her.”

“Maybe we should return the check under the circumstances,” I said.

“I’ll hold on to it for a bit,” Maggie said. “Might ask her husband what to do. I see him quite often.” She picked up the
flyer and studied it. “This is great. Of course, we had a perfect model.”

She turned to Hitchcock, comparing him in person to his likeness on the page. He looked at her through slitted eyes and began purring.

I laughed. “He’s such a suck-up, isn’t he?”

“You and I think the best of Hitchcock, but not everyone does. I think you should make it a point to keep him restrained as much as you can. He’ll get accustomed to the harness with time and practice.”

“I want him to be a happy cat. He’s lived his life with a sense of freedom. I hate to spoil that.”

“I understand,” Maggie said, “but you need to protect him from trouble, too.”

I frowned. “What sort of trouble are you talking about?”

“Communicable disease, for one. You should keep an eye out for feral cats in your area. Feline AIDS is a problem.”

I hadn’t seen any feral cats, but Maggie was right. I didn’t want to take any chances.

“There’s another kind of danger,” she said. “The sort where people are blaming Hitchcock for things.”

“Uh-oh. What now?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Maggie said. “I would never think the worst about this dear cat. That patient who just left, though, the lady with the Rottweiler, said she saw the bad luck cat in town this morning.”

I sighed and settled into the chair across the desk from Maggie. “Thomas told me Hitchcock rode home from town with him yesterday. I suppose he could have slipped into town again today without my knowledge.”

“That’s what I mean,” she said. “You need to keep a better eye on him. Lady says that the bad luck cat caused Crystal Devlin’s death. The last thing I want to see, and I’m sure you’ll agree, is for Hitchcock to get mixed up in a murder investigation.”

I left Doc Jensen’s office, thoroughly aggravated that anyone would accuse Hitchcock of causing a death. Complaining about the unfairness of people’s fears and attitudes about my cat wouldn’t solve anything. Better to go home, lock myself in the cottage with Hitchcock, and take out my frustrations on a fictional character. I needed to catch up on my page count. My agent was hopeful about the sales potential for my first novel, and I didn’t want to disappoint her by taking forever to write the second.

The afternoon was sunny and hot, nearly a hundred degrees in the shade. We got into my car, Hitchcock still wearing the harness and leash Doc Jensen had generously given us, and I blasted the air-conditioning on high. The cat squirmed on the passenger seat, scratching at the harness. I knew he wanted to pull a Houdini-like act and get free of the thing.

“Hold on, buddy,” I said. “We’ll go home, and I’ll take that contraption off so you can relax.”

He cut his eyes to me before folding his legs and settling into his meatloaf position.

I smiled and patted his head. I was about to pull out of the parking lot when my phone rang. Aunt Rowe. I put the car in park and answered, expecting to hear details about the rodeo outfits she’d gone to order.

“Glenda says you’re not home,” Aunt Rowe said. “Hope you’re in town, ’cause I need you now.”

My heart rate jumped. “I
am
in town. What’s wrong?”

“We’re at the sheriff’s office, and Pearl’s having a spell. I need help getting her home.”

“They’re releasing her?” That was good news.

“Soon,” Aunt Rowe said. “Jeb is finishing with her now. The sooner we get her out of here, the better.”

“See you in two minutes.”

“Wait by the back door,” she said. “You don’t want to get in the middle of this. We’ll come out.”

Sounded ominous.

“Okay.” I was already headed their way.

We ended the call without further explanations. Questions ran through my head. What kind of spell was Pearl having? A fainting spell? A panic attack? Something with her heart?

The sheriff’s office shared a building with the Lavender Bible Church, which, according to the sign by the road, held services on Sunday mornings and Wednesday and Sunday evenings. That left the rest of the week free for comings and goings related to law and order. During Sunday services, Sheriff Crawford kept a deputy posted outside to keep the church folks separate from those who had business with his office.

A concrete porch with an aluminum awning ran the length of the building. The entrance to the sheriff’s office was around back. I found a parking space near the door and pulled in. Hitchcock stood tall and peered out over the dash at the building in front of us.

“We’re picking up Aunt Rowe and Pearl,” I told him, “so be on your best behavior.”

I hoped Pearl wouldn’t start in on her nonsense about seeing Hitchcock at the scene of Crystal’s death.

I looked around the parking area. Aunt Rowe’s car wasn’t in sight. I wondered how she’d gotten here. Pearl had likely been brought from the crime scene by a sheriff’s deputy. The office door opened. I moved to get out, then relaxed when I saw a blond girl emerging, not Aunt Rowe. I watched the girl pull a cigarette and lighter from a pocket. She headed to a spot a few yards from the door, lit the cigarette, and leaned against the building smoking and staring into space. She wore skinny jeans with turquoise tennis shoes and a white tank top. Her short blond hair was tousled in a cute style that suited her, but her face was pale and her eyes red-rimmed.

After half a minute, I realized she was the girl I’d seen with Cody Devlin earlier in the day. She might be the neighbor Glenda had mentioned. Aside from puffing on her cigarette and casting a worried glance at the door every few seconds, the girl barely moved.

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel and hoped Aunt Rowe and Pearl hadn’t run into an unexpected hitch. Maybe Pearl felt too ill to walk. I checked my tote to make sure I had my spare car key. I could lock the door and leave the motor running so Hitchcock would stay cool, something I’d never have chanced when I lived in Houston. I wasn’t overly concerned here, parked at the sheriff’s department. Besides, I’d only be gone for a few minutes.

“I’m going to check on them,” I told Hitchcock. “You stay here. Don’t open the windows.”

He made a trilling noise and calmly watched me leave. With the motor running, a cat like Hitchcock could probably push the button to power a window down. I shouldn’t have given him any ideas.

I walked up on the porch and stood by the glass entrance. No sign of anyone heading out. The girl and I exchanged a glance.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“Me, too.” She turned her head and exhaled smoke away from me.

I leaned toward the door and tried to look inside. The glaring sun kept me from seeing anything.

“I wouldn’t go in,” she said. “Place is a circus.”

“Huh,” I said. “Sheriff Crawford usually runs an organized office.”

She shrugged. “He’s juggling a bunch of stressed-out people today.”

I paused before mentioning Crystal, then decided to go for it. “Because of Crystal Devlin’s death?”

“Yeah. She’s my boyfriend’s mom.” She looked down at her feet. “
Was
his mom.”

“I’m so sorry.” I introduced myself. “I believe I saw you this morning. Were you with Cody?”

She nodded and blinked rapidly.

“Tough situation,” I said. “He’ll need a lot of support.”

“Right.” She gave me a slight smile. “I’m Mimi.” She offered her hand and we shook. “Mimi Trevino.”

“Sorry we couldn’t meet under better circumstances, Mimi. I think you might be a neighbor of my friends, the Kesslers?”

Mimi nodded. “Yeah, I know ’em.”

She didn’t offer more. After a minute of silence, I said, “Any idea what happened to Crystal?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “Cody and I were having breakfast. Pancakes, at the diner. He got a call.”

The door opened again. This time Cody came out. His dark wavy hair fell over his forehead and nearly covered one eye. He came over to Mimi and she tucked an arm through his possessively before introducing us. I offered my condolences to him.

“Thanks, ma’am. Appreciate it.” The whites of Cody’s crystal blue eyes were streaked with red. I got the impression he was making a Herculean effort to hold his emotions in check.

The teenagers didn’t make any move to leave.

“You waiting for someone else?” I said.

“We’re catching a ride with my dad,” Cody said. “He’s in there yelling at some old, uh, ladies.”

Uh-oh. I should have headed straight inside when I arrived, no matter what Aunt Rowe said.

“I’d better check on the situation,” I said. “My aunt’s here.”

“Dad’s focused on the candy-store woman,” Cody said.

“Where’s the sheriff?”

“He’s in there.” The boy shuffled his feet nervously.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out.

A text from Aunt Rowe simply said,
Help
.

She was inside with Sheriff Crawford and sending an SOS to me?

“Nice meeting you, Mimi, Cody. I’m being summoned.”

Cody dipped his head to acknowledge my words. I darted toward the door, then remembered Hitchcock. I’d take him inside with me, but I didn’t want to chance running into any anti-black-cat fanatics. I looked at Mimi and Cody and made a judgment call.

“You kids mind keeping an eye on my car?” I said. “My cat’s in there.”

“Sure thing,” Cody said, and I entered the building.

It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust from the bright sun as my ears focused on sharp words coming from the back of the space. I knew the office layout well from prior visits to chat with the sheriff about crime scene research for my books. The space was a little bigger than the Mayberry office of Andy Taylor that I knew from watching TV reruns as a kid, and this one was divided into small cubicles with a hallway leading back to a few enclosed rooms. Here, they had up-to-date, high-tech equipment and computers, and Sheriff Crawford had an actual office with a door. Laurelle, a dispatcher I’d met before, was at her desk wearing headphones and listening intently to the phone line. She waved to me, and I headed for the hall.

I glanced into Deputy Rosales’s vacant space and looked into Sheriff Crawford’s office as I passed. Also vacant. The voices had to be coming from the corner conference/interrogation room. The door stood open, allowing words to carry clearly down the hall. I slowed my pace, listening to the conversation.

“You were
right there
,” a man said. “How could you not see anything? Are you blind?”

“It happened before I came in,” a woman whined, “and you ought to treat me a little nicer. I could have been the one killed by those falling bricks, you know.”

Pearl. Stretching the truth.

“I don’t know much ’cause nobody’s telling me the facts,” the man said.

“Now, Mr. Devlin.” Aunt Rowe’s voice. “I think you’re being a little too harsh with Pearl. Can’t you see she isn’t well? We need to get her home.”

“The woman was found at the scene of my wife’s death,” he said. “Excuse me if I’m feeling a little
harsh
right now. If your friend’s not talking, then there’s somebody else I need to find. Maybe I can get some answers from
her
.”

“Who’s that?” Aunt Rowe said.

“Woman named Sabrina,” he said. “I’m told she was right there at the scene with this one. You know her?”

I froze and thought about going back to my car. Something creaked off to my right, and Sheriff Crawford came around the corner from the copy machine alcove holding a sheaf of papers.

He smiled and raised his bushy eyebrows when he saw me. “Sounds like you’re up, Sabrina.”