The Black Cat Steps on a Crack

by Kay Finch

  “Anything happen while I was gone?” I said softly.

  “Like what?”

  “No deliveryman?”

  “Nope. I’ve been burnin’ up the keyboard the whole time.” She glanced toward the laptop. “Might even make my deadline if the kids stay down another thirty minutes.”

  “I’ll keep my fingers crossed.” I debated about mentioning Mr. X. If I alarmed Kylie—possibly for no good reason—she’d probably be at the window every two seconds, checking the street. Distractions from work are what had brought me here to Emerald Springs when I should have been writing a book.

  If I were her, I decided, I would want to know. So I told her about the man I saw in the car.

  “He’s gone now?” she said when I finished.

  I nodded. “I didn’t spot his car anywhere.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “He might come back.”

  She waved a hand. “Girl, I got a game plan for handling shady characters. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “Still, if he was the man at the library—”

  “Quit your worrying,” she said. “You’ve helped me enough for one day, and I appreciate it. Now I gotta work.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. “I’m running a little short on time myself.”

  We exchanged phone numbers. I said I’d let her know if arrangements were made for a memorial service. She promised to keep her doors locked and be on the lookout for strange deliverymen.

  At the edge of town, I stopped to fill my gas tank and watched the traffic whiz by. No sign of the charcoal gray car driven by Mr. X. Traffic was heavier here on the county road leading to the freeway, and it would be a major coincidence to spot him again.

  Back on the road, I thought about what I had gained, if anything, in making this trip. Doreen Krenek and friends would expect news about the next of kin search, and I had nothing along those lines. I could have canvassed the neighbors to see how well they knew Jane and to ask about relatives. That would have taken more time than I could afford. It seemed strange that Jane’s former coworkers had heard nothing from her about family. I talked about Aunt Rowe all the time. Then again, she was an extraordinary example.

  Maybe Sheriff Crawford had had better luck. It would be a relief to find out he had solved the whole case, had a killer behind bars, and had located Jane’s family to boot. I hesitated to call him directly and decided to put in a call to Tyanne and see how she was holding up.

  “Call Knead to Read,” I told my car, and the magic hands-free dialing took over. The phone rang four times before the call was picked up.

  “It’s a great day at Knead to Read, this is Ethan, how may I help you?”

  The boy’s enthusiastic greeting always made me smile.

  “Hi there, Ethan. It’s Sabrina. How are y’all doing today?”

  “Good,” he said. “Busy. Lots of tour buses. I’m finally taking my lunch break. Kind of. Except I’m the phone backup.”

  “Nice to know people still love the feel of a real book,” I said. “How’s Tyanne?”

  “She’s okay. Bummed about Jane like we all are, but better than yesterday.”

  “Have you seen Bryan?”

  “Mr. Clark? Yeah. He brought her flowers early this morning. It’s not her birthday, is it?”

  “No, that’s in September.”

  “Good. She always makes a big deal about everyone else’s. Didn’t want us to miss hers. Need to talk to her?”

  “Not if she’s busy,” I said. “I’m on my way back to Lavender, and I can catch up with her later.”

  “Say . . .” He hesitated, and I heard the crinkling of something that sounded suspiciously like a potato chip bag. “About Jane. I heard they can’t find her family. That seemed really weird. I mean, everything is on the computer. Except when it’s not. I was curious, so I spent a few hours.”

  The boy had my attention. “Tell me more.”

  “I searched all the social media sites,” he said. “I know she was into all that.”

  “She wanted me to be on them, so I assumed she was, too. Go on.”

  “Found more than one Jane Alcott. Decided which one was her ’cause she posted about Lavender and the Hill Country. No picture of her, though. Nothing personal.”

  “Not everyone wants to advertise their private business to the whole world.”

  “I get that,” he said, “but Jane seemed so over-the-top. I imagined her having a thousand friends, talking books, and art, and Broadway like she does in person. Only she’s not. She didn’t.”

  “She talks with you about Broadway?” I said. “Like the Broadway in New York City?”

  “Yeah.” I heard crunching coming from his end. “She’s mentioned it.”

  “Huh. Were you able to see who she chats with?”

  “Yeah, and I knew most of them. They’re all from here, or at least from Texas. Nobody’s from another state, much less another country. That’s not normal.”

  “And I suppose you didn’t find any clues about relatives.”

  “Nope,” he said. “Weirdest thing is she doesn’t appear at all until last February, as in thirteen months ago. Before that, nada.”

  Since I wasn’t on social media yet myself, I wasn’t sure what he was trying to say. “Maybe she was always an introvert, and that’s when she decided to turn over a new leaf.”

  “You met Jane, right?”

  I could imagine the get-serious expression on his face.

  “Okay, I’m with you,” I said. “What have you concluded after all this research?”

  “She must have used a different name for the personal stuff,” he said.

  A distinct possibility. “Then we won’t find anything useful unless we guess her fictional name.”

  “Or her page name,” he said.

  “Well, that’s kind of impossible. I think we’ll have to leave this ID process to the sheriff.”

  “I’ll keep looking,” he said. “Gotta run.”

  He clicked off. The boy must have tons of patience, too much spare time on his hands, or both. And he was working with the theory that Jane Alcott had wanted to share herself with the world, a questionable assumption.

  I sped toward Lavender, running short on time to make it to Luke’s house by seven. With luck, I could manage a shower and a change of clothes when I picked up Hitchcock. I had missed the cat’s company on this little trip and was eager to see him.

  When I got to the Around-the-World Cottages, it almost seemed like Hitchcock was watching for me from a perch above the driveway. He was a noticeable black spot on a low-hanging branch of a live oak near Aunt Rowe’s house. Maybe he was only avoiding the oscillating lawn sprinkler, an uncommon sight at this time of year. Maybe Thomas had put out some fertilizer that had to be watered in.

  A hundred yards farther down the lane, though, my thoughts turned in a different direction. A group of women, including Aunt Rowe, clustered on the front lawn around a figure sitting in the grass. All of the women appeared to be dripping wet. What on earth?

  I pulled into Aunt Rowe’s driveway, parked, and hurried over to the group. The sitting woman rested back on her elbows as the only dry person in sight—aside from me—appeared to examine her ankle. I went to Aunt Rowe’s side.

  “What happened?” I took in her drenched shirt and jeans.

  She grinned at me. “The bucket list gets crazier and crazier, huh? It all started with some innocent cartwheels.”

  She continually surprised me. “Cartwheels?”

  “Yup. Naomi wanted to reclaim her wild and crazy youth, and it started with cartwheels.”

  I stared at her. No comment was better than saying what I thought of the idea.

  “Of course, I didn’t attempt the gymnastics myself,” Aunt Rowe said, “but most of these gals are younger than me. One of them saw the sprinkler setting in the bushes and mentioned how she used to love running through the sprinkler as a kid. That sounded like fun, and we all joined in.”

&nb
sp; “Obviously.” I eyed her dripping hair. “What went wrong?”

  “Naomi did the first cartwheel fine, but then she got all wet and slippery. Next thing you know, she tripped over the hose and went down.”

  “It was all because of that danged bad luck cat,” the fallen woman hollered. “I watched that creature purposely step on each and every crack on the sidewalk, like he was daring the bad luck to come. Only nothing happened to him. I’m the one who got hit with disaster when he darted across the lawn and made me fall.”

  My anger meter shot straight to the top. I opened my mouth, but words failed me. I couldn’t believe I had heard her right. Aunt Rowe put a cautioning hand on my arm.

  “That’s not right, Naomi,” she said. “You can’t blame your dwindling athletic ability on a defenseless cat. Right, ladies?”

  Of the half dozen women in the group, I heard one measly agreement with Aunt Rowe’s statement.

  “I need to get out of here,” I said. “We have to get out. I’m taking Hitchcock away from this, this—”

  “Now, Sabrina,” Aunt Rowe said, “don’t get all riled up.”

  “I’m not,” I snapped. “I have dinner plans.”

  I headed toward the tree and Hitchcock, trying not to notice the women attempting to pick up Naomi. She was overweight, and I doubted they’d be able to budge her without someone much bigger and stronger to help. With my adrenaline rushing from hearing the woman’s ridiculous accusation, I might be able to lift her with my pinky finger—but I wasn’t helping. No way.

  As I neared the tree, I realized the woman who’d sided with Aunt Rowe was coming after me. I wasn’t feeling the least bit friendly, but I stopped under the tree and turned to face her. She was thin and fiftyish, her hair straight and dark with gray streaks.

  “What is it?” I said.

  “I’m Megan,” she said. “We haven’t met. I’m staying in the Paris cottage.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to chat right now.”

  “I understand,” she said. “Let me help you with Hitchcock. He and I had a nice little visit earlier this afternoon.”

  “That means you don’t think he causes bad luck?”

  “Not for a second,” she said.

  I raised my brows, then looked into the tree. “C’mon down, Hitchcock. We’re going to see Luke and Angie.”

  Megan held her arms up toward the lower branches and made kitty-calling noises. “I’m so sorry about what Naomi said. I’m afraid her attitude might be all my fault.”

  I turned back to her. “How’s that?”

  “It all began yesterday,” she said, “when I went antiques shopping in town. I found the lady in the store simply fascinating, and I told some of her stories to the others.”

  “Stories about what?” I said with a suspicion of exactly where and from whom she’d heard the stories.

  “She told me all about her husband who died ages ago, and his spirit, and how he comes back every year at Halloween, and about the séance that y’all had last October.”

  “We did not have a séance,” I said.

  “She said you and your cat came to dinner on Halloween.”

  “I knew going there was a mistake,” I said, “but Twila has a way of not taking no for an answer. Plus, she’d done me a favor and wanted us to come to dinner in exchange for helping me. I never agreed to take part in any séance.”

  Megan watched me dubiously. Hitchcock was walking down the lowest branch toward us.

  “Mrreow,” he said as I reached under his belly and took him from the tree.

  “We’re running late,” I said, but Megan wasn’t finished talking.

  “Twila told me you and Hitchcock called her husband’s spirit back from the grave.”

  I looked at her in disbelief. “We did no such thing. Twila wanted to have a séance, but I refused. I don’t even believe contacting the dead is possible.”

  “She tells a pretty convincing story.”

  “Please don’t repeat that nonsense to anyone ever again,” I said. “Twila’s imagination gets out of hand, and unfortunately, she drags Hitchcock into it.”

  “I see that now,” Megan said. “I only wanted to explain why Naomi was keeping such an eagle eye on the cat. She’s scared to death of him and then he stepped on those sidewalk cracks and she went ballistic. I’m so sorry.”

  “What’s done is done.”

  I turned and walked toward the house in time to see a car pull in and park. When the driver got out, followed by a fluffy white dog, I realized the newcomer was Marge Boyd. I held Hitchcock close to my chest and breathed a sigh of relief when both Marge and the dog headed straight to the group without paying us any mind. A glance over my shoulder confirmed Megan had veered off in that direction as well.

  “Y’all don’t look like you’re ready for class,” Marge called out. “You ladies might need to rethink the bucket list. Case you haven’t looked in a mirror lately, you’re not youngsters anymore.”

  You tell ’em, I thought as I jumped into my car. Backing out of the drive, I took one more look. Marge had gone to stand behind Naomi, then placed her hands under Naomi’s armpits and lifted her to an upright position. With my temper still simmering about the sidewalk remark and the talk of a séance, I looked at Hitchcock. “I wanted to freshen up, but let’s go straight to Luke’s. I’m not in the mood to stick around here for one more second.”

  “Mrreow,” Hitchcock said.

  Chapter 13

  I considered it a minor miracle that we got to Luke’s house by seven ten. I found a brush and a lipstick in the console to do a super-quick touch-up while parked in front of the house. I was eager to vent my frustration about the ongoing bad luck cat legend. Why couldn’t people keep their darn opinions to themselves? I looked over at my sidekick on the passenger seat looking as harmless as, well, a cat. Because cats are harmless, wonderful creatures.

  “I’m so sorry you have to be subjected to such verbal abuse. I mean, seriously, what person in their right mind would believe you purposely stepped on the sidewalk cracks?”

  Hitchcock looked at me with his kitty smirk and didn’t respond.

  “Maybe you did, but I don’t even care. I wish I could let everything roll off my back the way you do.” I picked up his harness from the floorboard, and he cooperated with my putting it on him. I attached his leash and grabbed the end—to be on the safe side, in case he and Angie started out being too rowdy. I knew the dog and cat would settle down and exist peacefully in the same space after the breaking-in period. They always did. I grabbed my phone from the cup holder and stuffed it in my jeans pocket.

  When we got out of the car, the tantalizing scent of grilling meat lightened my mood a bit. The smell hadn’t escaped Hitchcock’s notice, and he walked beside me with his nose held high. I heard voices and took the sidewalk around to the back of the house.

  Luke had found a gem in this place—a one-story brick ranch on five acres with pecan and oak trees and a pond that his Lab enjoyed more often than he wanted her to. As I rounded the corner, eager to see Luke, I expected to find him on the phone. When I saw a pickup that wasn’t his parked out back, I realized he had company. Luke and another man were stooped over and measuring around the concrete slab that held a smoking gas grill, the source of the delicious aroma permeating the air.

  Luke saw me coming and stood, leaving the other man to retract the tape measure. He greeted me with a quick kiss. “Hey, good to see you two.” He stooped to pat Hitchcock’s head, but the cat barely paid attention. He’d spotted Angie as the dog trotted toward us. I picked Hitchcock up to facilitate a calm meet-and-greet between the animals.

  Angie came over to me, and I scratched behind her ears as she stretched up to sniff at Hitchcock.

  “Mrreow,” Hitchcock said in greeting.

  Angie made an excited noise in her throat that was neither a bark nor a growl.

  The man with the tape measure approached us. “Don’t let me horn in on y’all’s plans,�
�� he said. “I can draw something up, Luke. Get back with you in a day or so.”

  “Sounds good,” Luke said. “Sabrina, you remember Keith?”

  It took me a moment to place the man. “Yes, from the library the other night.”

  “Heck of a thing over there,” Keith said. “That building had me booked for the next couple of months at least. Now we’re playing a waitin’ game. Good news is, I have time to help Luke out with his deck.”

  “And here I thought you were done with the reno,” I teased.

  Angie rested calmly near my feet, so I put Hitchcock on the ground while keeping hold of his leash.

  Luke grinned. “I keep getting more ideas. That’s the story of home ownership.”

  I turned my attention back to Keith. “When do you think you’ll be able to continue work on the library?”

  He shrugged. “If Ms. Krenek had her way, I’d be over there working by moonlight tonight. She’s hell-bent to get that gazebo finished if nothing else.”

  “I wondered about the gazebo,” I said. “What’s the rush?”

  “Only things outside on the original plans were the sidewalk, some shrubs, and two flagpoles,” he said. “Then she got a wild hair and all of a sudden there has to be a gazebo. Wants to use it for weddings, or something.”

  “Huh,” I said. Sounded like a problem waiting to happen since events held on the public library property would be open to the public. Maybe the mayor’s wife had overlooked that little issue.

  Keith ran a hand through his hair. “From what I hear she has a niece who wanted to get married like last week. Guess that’s why Krenek’s in such a goldarned hurry for the thing to be built. But that’s between her and the sheriff. I’m not gonna cross him, and the word now is to keep out.”

  My brain had gone back to my conversation with Ali at the Emerald Springs library. “How’s your boss taking the delay? I hear he has a short fuse.”

  Luke gave me a quizzical look, but Keith didn’t seem to think anything of my question.

  “Yeah, Shane goes off on us all the time. Likes to stay on a strict schedule, but that’s out the window now. Jane could set him off, too, with all her talking.” He gave us a wry grin. “The woman sure could talk, rest her soul.”