The Black Cat Steps on a Crack

by Kay Finch

  More like her. That’s what she was getting at. I didn’t give her the satisfaction of responding to her ridiculous statement. Instead, I stood to leave.

  I picked Hitchcock up and faced Rosales. “I said what I came to say. Call the authorities if you think it’s worth checking. If you don’t, you can explain to Sheriff Crawford why you can’t find Jane’s family.”

  Rosales stayed in her seat wearing a smug expression. “Finding the killer is a bigger priority, and we’re narrowing the field on that just fine. Matter of fact, we’re closing in on him.”

  I felt my jaw drop. “You are?”

  “That’s why the sheriff rushed off. Somebody’s alibi got busted. Hard to understand how a man who’s ordinarily intelligent can look us in the eye and tell a bald-faced lie.”

  “Are you by chance talking about Cody Flores?” I said. “I heard he was harassing Jane in Emerald Springs recently.” I had meant to report that as well, until she got me too flustered to think straight.

  “Flores?” Rosales shook her head. “Not hardly.”

  “Then who?”

  “You’ll know when we make the arrest.” She stood and ushered me toward the door. “Should be soon.”

  I drove away from the sheriff’s department. Rosales was gloating about something, Lord knew what. Nothing to do with Luke, since I knew without a doubt he wanted nothing to do with the woman. Did she really know who the killer was? Someone who had lied to them about an alibi?

  I didn’t like being in the dark about what was going on—not one little bit. Coffee might help to clear my head, but rather than going to Hot Stuff I opted to head for the bookstore. Maybe I could talk things through with Tyanne. The store wouldn’t be open yet, but she was always there early.

  When I turned onto the street by Knead to Read, my breath caught. A sheriff’s department car was parked out front. It could be Deputy Ainsley, but my gut told me this was where Sheriff Crawford had been headed in such a hurry.

  I drove around to the lot behind the store and parked next to Tyanne’s SUV. There were no other cars around, so her staff hadn’t arrived yet. She might need some moral support. The sheriff, on the other hand, wouldn’t be glad to see me.

  “Let’s go in the back.” I picked up the end of Hitchcock’s leash.

  “Mrreow.”

  He jumped out of the car and strained at the leash. The cat’s eagerness, almost as if he were rushing to the rescue, made me feel more edgy than I already was.

  We reached the door, and I turned the knob slowly. Unlocked. I didn’t think there was a bell that would sound when the door opened—that only happened at the front door, to the best of my recollection. I stepped into the back storage room and closed the door carefully behind us. Zelda and Willis raced into the room as if an alarm had blared to announce Hitchcock’s arrival. I picked him up and sat him on top of a stack of cartons, then held on to his collar to keep him from joining the cat race and immediately giving us away.

  In the quiet store, I heard Tyanne’s voice. “Yes, I am absolutely certain.”

  “Is there anything else you’d like to add?” Sheriff Crawford said.

  “Yes, there is,” Ty said firmly. “If you think for one second that you’re going to come into my home and do something that will rip my family apart, you’d better be dead certain you know what you’re doing.”

  “I understand,” the sheriff said. “We’ll be in touch.”

  The bell over the front door sounded, then the door closed. I heard Tyanne burst into tears. Then she ran, sobbing, into the storage room and saw me.

  I help my arms wide, and she threw herself into them.

  We hugged briefly, then she backed away and swiped at her damp eyes.

  “What was that about?” I said, already guessing the worst.

  “He still thinks Bryan killed Jane,” she said. “He really and truly believes that’s what happened.”

  “The sheriff is a fair and reasonable man. He won’t do something crazy.”

  Tyanne’s eyes looked wild. “I have to talk to Bryan. Right now. I need to go.” She looked at her watch. “Crap. I can’t leave. It’s time to open the store.”

  “You have help coming in today?”

  “Ethan. He’s dropping packages at the post office first. My Lord, what am I going to do, Sabrina? I can’t think.”

  “Go,” I said. “I’ll watch the store until Ethan gets here.”

  “But you don’t know how—” She put a hand on her chest as if to control her breathing.

  “I’ll figure it out. Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

  Ty took a breath and nodded. “I’m good.”

  “Okay. Take care.” Another hug and she was gone.

  I looked down and counted cat heads. All three of them were staring at me with a “now what do we do?” expression.

  “Let’s man the store,” I said. “She’ll be back, and everything will be okay.”

  I smoothed my hair and headed into the bookstore as the bell over the front door tinkled again. I hoped the sheriff wasn’t returning.

  I heard someone humming. Not the sheriff. I rounded a set of bookshelves to come up behind the sales counter. Hitchcock, who had stayed on my heels, leapt up to land on the counter.

  “Mrreow,” he said.

  Twila Baxter, wearing one of her long black dresses, stood on the other side. She gave him one of her creepy smiles, then turned to me.

  “Hello, dear. I knew I’d run into you and your special friend today.”

  I could ask how she knew, but I wasn’t in the mood to give her the opening she probably wanted.

  “What can I help you with?” I said, all business.

  “I made a special order and got a call that my book has arrived. None too soon, since it might hold some helpful information I could share with the sheriff.”

  What kind of book could that be? As usual, she knew how to pique my interest.

  “If your cat could talk,” she continued, “he might impart some helpful wisdom as well.”

  “About what?” I said.

  “Living multiple lives,” she said, “like the poor dear woman who was found at the library.”

  “You think Jane Alcott lived more than one life?”

  “She insinuated as much to me,” Twila said.

  This woman was full of baloney. Next thing I knew she’d be talking about her deceased husband. Though I’d like to call her on the lies she was telling about a séance that never happened, I was too worried about Tyanne at the moment to get into that subject.

  “What’s the name of the book you’re picking up?” I turned toward the shelf behind me, where I knew they held books for customers.

  “Reincarnation—The Untold Story.”

  Chapter 15

  I wished that I could leave and go to Tyanne right now. Ask her what the sheriff had said that sent her running off in a panic to talk with her husband. Dissolve her worries and solve her problems. For now, she needed me to take care of the bookstore. I was stuck here to deal with Twila, who’d come to pick up a book about—of all things—reincarnation.

  Oh, boy.

  I scanned the shelf of pre-ordered books to hide my reaction to Twila’s choice. The book marked with her name had a receipt stuffed between the pages. Thank goodness she’d paid in advance. I wouldn’t have to figure out how to collect a payment. This should be as simple as bagging her purchase and sending the woman on her way. Except things with Twila were never simple. Her statement about Jane Alcott had roused my curiosity. What if she knew details about Jane that no one else knew? Twila had an unusual take on reality, and this was my perfect opportunity to ask questions.

  I turned to the woman with her book in my hand. Hitchcock had moved to the end of the counter, putting distance between himself and Twila. He sat tall with his eyes pinned on her. His tail thumped against a stack of books beside him.

  “How did you and Jane Alcott meet?” I said.

  “Dear Jane was one of my best c
ustomers. She adored antiques.” Twila stared into space for a moment, as if reliving a special memory. “On her last visit to my store she bought an intricate ice blue glass plate. A gift for Doreen.”

  I paused for a moment. “The mayor’s wife?”

  “The very same.” Twila nodded. “Doreen collects rare glass. It’s very difficult these days to find a piece in ice blue.”

  “You’re saying the plate Jane bought for Doreen Krenek was rare?”

  Twila nodded. “Very much so.”

  “Sounds expensive.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “They must have been close.” I wondered if the sheriff had quizzed Ms. Krenek about Jane’s personal life.

  Twila shrugged. “All I know is Jane enjoyed buying for others.”

  “Did she ever have you ship a gift to someone?” I was thinking birthday gifts sent to family members.

  Twila shook her head. “She liked to deliver her gifts. See the person’s reaction.”

  “Everyone likes that, but it’s not always possible.”

  “I remember one day she and Rita came in together,” Twila went on. “Rita admired some framed prints from the thirties. Next day, Jane bought her the whole set. Carried them over to her office.”

  “Are you talking about the lawyer?”

  “Yes, Rita Colletti.” Twila nodded solemnly.

  I had worked for many years as Rita Colletti’s paralegal in Houston and thought I knew the woman pretty well. I couldn’t imagine her going into an antiques store, shopping with a bouncy woman like Jane, or sharing her personal interests.

  “I wonder how those two knew each other,” I said.

  “Small town,” Twila said.

  She had a point, but this was Rita Colletti she was talking about. Rita didn’t go out to chat up the neighbors. She mainly came in contact with people who sought her out—people who needed legal help.

  This possibility set off a volley of questions in my head. Had Jane needed a lawyer? If so, for what? Did Rita have personal records about Jane, possibly including next of kin? Had Sheriff Crawford talked to Rita about Jane—or had Rita offered information to the sheriff after learning of Jane’s death?

  Twila cleared her throat, bringing me back to the present. I opened a sack and put her book inside, then wondered why Twila thought information in this book might help to provide a clue for the sheriff.

  “Did you and Jane have a discussion about reincarnation?” I said.

  “Not in so many words,” Twila said.

  “What were her words? Did she say she had a life before this one? I mean, her last one?” I could imagine Twila interpreting a statement of Jane’s incorrectly. Even if Jane had a past identity—as a person in the witness protection program—that didn’t mean she had a past life or believed in reincarnation.

  Twila’s forehead wrinkled. “I can’t remember every word, dear. You can’t expect an old woman to have a perfect memory. She said she loved living here in Lavender—I remember that.”

  Twila walked over to Hitchcock and raised a hand to pet him. He darted away from her and came to stand by me. I put my arm around him. Twila wasn’t telling me everything, and I didn’t believe the memory problem act.

  “Did Jane say where she lived in the past?”

  Twila turned to me. “She came here from Emerald Springs.”

  “Yes, I know that. What about before?”

  “You mean before her soul was born into Jane Alcott’s body?”

  I didn’t want to explore that statement. “Never mind.”

  “I must go now and tend my store.” Twila came back to me, and I handed over the sack containing her book. She and Hitchcock had a staring contest for a few seconds before Twila gave in and turned to go.

  “Thank you for shopping at Knead to Read,” I said.

  “You’re welcome,” Twila called over her shoulder. “After I finish reading my new book, you and I can discuss where your soul originated.”

  “Mrreoooooooow,” Hitchcock practically growled, which I took to mean “good riddance.”

  Twila was shuffling out the front door when I heard someone come in the back. I expected Ethan, but it was Tyanne’s grandmotherly employee, Billie Spengler. The frown lines deepened between her brows when she looked at me.

  “Sabrina, is everything okay here? Tyanne called and asked if I could come right away. She didn’t explain.” She looked around the store as if expecting to find a crime being committed.

  “The store is fine,” I said. “I’m standing in because I happened to be here when Ty had to leave. I don’t know how to operate the cash register or anything, so I’m very glad to see you.”

  “I was happy to come. March Madness is driving me crazy at the house. Jim records these basketball games and watches them morning, noon, and night. Why the man can’t sit quiet and read a book I’ll never know.”

  I grinned behind her back as she took off her cardigan and hung it over a chair behind the sales counter. Under the sweater, she wore a floral short-sleeve blouse over royal blue slacks. She fluffed her gray curls while she surveyed the store. She spotted Hitchcock belatedly.

  “Are the children coming in again today to read to the cats?” She stroked Hitchcock’s head, and I could hear him purring from where I stood.

  “I don’t think so. I’m steering clear of a cottage guest who believes Hitchcock caused her bad luck.”

  “Some people have no sense.” Billie rolled her eyes, then her expression sobered. “I hope Tyanne isn’t having more trouble with the sheriff.”

  I wouldn’t have said one word to her about the sheriff’s talk with Tyanne. Now that Billie had mentioned him, I wanted to know why.

  “What have you heard?”

  “I knew he was following up on the thefts,” she said, “but Tyanne’s Bryan isn’t a thief, so I don’t know why the sheriff is all hepped up about him.”

  I was glad to know Billie wasn’t connecting the sheriff’s interest in Bryan to the murder.

  “What thefts?” I said.

  “Supplies going missing from the construction site over at the library,” she said. “Practically since the job started. Sheriff went out to the high school a month ago and questioned some kids. If he learned anything useful, I didn’t hear about it.”

  No wonder Shane Wilson, the guy in charge, was in a bad mood. Disappearing supplies would be a hit to the budget and shed a bad light on him. I thought back to the night Luke and I waited at the library for Jane to show up and ran into Keith Barker. We probably wouldn’t have noticed if he’d stolen a truckload of supplies. Not that I wanted to accuse him of wrongdoing—he seemed like a good guy and was a friend of Luke’s. He knew about the thefts and came back for his tool so it wouldn’t get stolen.

  This information about the thefts, though, gave me a different slant on what might have happened to Jane. If she made a habit of going to the site at odd hours—as it seemed she did—she could easily have caught a thief in the act. It might be a stretch, but I could imagine a crook being spotted and taking desperate action to shut up the person who saw him stealing. But how would the sheriff ever identify the culprit?

  “Look at your boy,” Billie said as she puttered, straightening books and swiping at dust. “He’s making himself right at home.”

  I followed her gaze to the front windowsill, where Hitchcock sprawled next to Willis and Zelda. “If only we could relax like they do, but they’re not worried about Jane Alcott’s murder.”

  Billie sighed. “I cannot imagine who would hurt that delightful woman.”

  “How well did you know her?” I said.

  “She came here often over the past few months, book lover that she was. Always had a kind word.”

  “Did she ever buy you a gift?” I said impulsively.

  Billie straightened from the bookshelf she was rearranging and looked at me. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious. I heard she was big on gift giving.”

  “As a matter of fact, she b
rought me quite a load of supplies from Get Crafty. I happened to mention how my grandkids love to make things. Next time I saw Jane she came bearing gifts. I planned to ask her over to the house the next time we all got together so she could meet the grands.” Her expression turned wistful, and she bit her lip. “Missed my chance.”

  “A lot of us have missed a chance to know Jane better,” I said. “Some probably won’t miss her at all, like the guys at the construction site. I heard she was on them about every little thing at the new building. I’m pretty sure Ms. Krenek will take up the slack.”

  “That woman is a piece of work,” Billie said, her tone sharp. “She was bossy before she married the mayor. Now she’s into the power, which if you ask me is all in her head, because—”

  She stopped abruptly and looked at me. “I’m sorry for being so vocal. Some people push my buttons, and I guess she’s one of them.”

  “I won’t tell a soul. I barely know Ms. Krenek, but I can tell you she’s not one of my favorite people.”

  Billie huffed. “I’d rather sit through a straight week of March Madness than deal with that woman, and now she’ll start up the big hullaballoo all over again about who’s getting the head librarian spot.”

  “There was a competition?” I said.

  Billie nodded. “Of ridiculous proportions.”

  “I’d rather not get into the middle of all that,” I said.

  “You’re a smart woman,” Billie said, “and too busy to deal with the likes of Doreen Krenek. Speaking of busy, you can go if you like. Ethan will be here momentarily, and you’re probably itching to get to your writing.”

  “That’s what I should be doing, but I’m so distracted by the murder.” I walked over and leaned against the windowsill, where I could pet a cat with each hand.

  “We’re all distracted,” Billie said, “especially my friend Ruth Honeycutt. She’s worrying herself silly about break-ins.”

  “I happened to be over there talking with her the morning after her break-in,” I said. “That was before we knew Jane had been killed.”

  “You’re talking about the first break-in,” Billie said. “I’m talking about last night.”