by Kay Finch
Marge hit my arm with the tip of the cutter, and I felt the blade slice through my coat. She kept pushing me.
“You planted the button, too, right? If I can figure that out, so can the sheriff. Big goof there, Marge, because if Fred Costello had killed Jane, he sure as hell wouldn’t have left a button from her clothing right there in the place he was staying. That would be completely stupid.”
“Everybody already thought that man was up to no good,” Marge screamed. “My idea should have worked fine.”
“No, it could not have worked. Admit it, Marge. That was a lame idea. Why did you even have that stupid button?”
Marge spun me around and looked me in the eye. Behind her, Hitchcock ran up a tree trunk faster than I’d ever seen him move.
“They were really special buttons,” she yelled. “I needed to find matching buttons to use in a project.”
“Marge, you are certifiable.” I was angry now, too, and I couldn’t let this crazy woman who saved buttons kill me. I shoved her hard with my free hand. Marge lost her hold on me and fell back into the brush. As she scrambled to regain her footing, I yanked a piece of a fallen tree limb from the tangled vines. I swung the limb like a ball player who needed a home run to win the game.
Marge ducked and the limb hit the tree behind her and broke apart on impact. Before I could recover, her left hand snaked out and grabbed me while her blade-wielding hand came around fast and aimed at my midsection.
Her face contorted with rage. “You bitch—”
Her words cut off when Hitchcock launched himself out of the tree and landed on her head with claws extended.
Marge screamed and dropped her weapon. While she struggled to rid herself of the cat on her head, I grabbed the box cutter and sliced through enough of those danged vines to wrap a dozen loops around her legs. I kicked her behind the knees to knock her over. Then I tucked Hitchcock under my arm and ran toward my car as if our lives depended on speed, because they probably did.
Chapter 35
The paramedics had wanted to take me to the hospital to treat my scratches, the ankle I twisted on my race to the car, and the relatively minor wound Marge had inflicted on my arm. I refused to go anywhere without Hitchcock, and I figured the hospital would have nixed a cat staying in my bed.
I was fine and dandy propped up in my own bed in the Monte Carlo cottage with Hitchcock nestled by my side. Aunt Rowe, Glenda, Thomas, and Luke stood around the bed, and I felt like Dorothy when she woke up back in Kansas.
Aunt Rowe tended to my scratched face with antibiotic ointment, and Glenda placed a fresh bottle of water on my nightstand.
“Why did you go up to that trail in the first place?” Luke asked. “Did you know Marge Boyd was up there?”
“Of course she didn’t,” Glenda said.
“Then why?” Luke said.
“I thought Aunt Rowe was hiking on the trail. The note on my door said that’s where the group went.”
Glenda patted my uninjured arm. “Marge might have been a nutjob, but she knew this one. If she thinks her Aunt Rowe might be in danger, or might need help, or any little thing, she’s right there. Only she didn’t know Rowe and the crew decided to take it easy on a rainy afternoon and went to a movie.”
“Going up to the trail feels kind of dumb now that I’m capable of sane thought.”
“Mrreow.”
I laughed. “We can do without your two cents, Mr. Hitchcock.”
Aunt Rowe finished with the ointment and put the lid on the tube. “Nothin’ that a little lovin’ won’t fix up, right, Warden?”
A red flush crept up Luke’s cheeks. I’d never seen him blush before. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.
We all turned at the sound of a knock on the doorframe. Sheriff Crawford entered the room. “I’d ask if I can come in, but I am the sheriff around here and the door was open.”
I smiled at him. “C’mon in then, Sheriff.”
Glenda and Thomas excused themselves to make room for the sheriff.
“Glad to see you survived your ordeals, Sabrina,” he said. “Thought I’d fill you in on the latest. We had to transport Marge Boyd over to the jail in Emerald Springs. Ours was plumb filled up, thanks to you.”
“Is this where I say aw, shucks, Sheriff, it was nothin’?”
He grinned. “Something like that.”
“Is Marge talking?” I said.
“Enough for me to get the gist that she committed the murder in a fit of rage, then tried to cover her tracks by making it look like the dead woman left town of her own volition.”
“What’s the latest on the Russos, Jeb?” Aunt Rowe said. “I’d like to know if people I had staying under my roofs were hardened criminals.”
“Not exactly,” he said. “We finally persuaded Costello to talk—after we told him the cops nabbed Celeste Russo at the Austin airport and she’d blabbed the whole story.”
“Did she really blab?” I said.
The sheriff grinned. “Not exactly, but Costello was ready to break. Told us the Russo family hired him to find the missing Natalie. After nearly a year of trying, he came up with the brainstorm to track her through her wine-of-the-month-club deliveries.”
“The wine Mrs. Honeycutt’s been getting,” I said.
“Yep,” the sheriff said. “Costello reported back to Anthony as soon as he located Natalie, then he feared Anthony had strangled his stepmother in a rage when he finally caught up to her. Of course, that would have been foolish given he didn’t have what he really wanted yet.”
“The flash drive,” I said.
The sheriff nodded. “We watched the video, and since we’ll no doubt be fending off news reporters eager for the whole story, I may as well share.”
“Thank goodness,” I said. “The suspense is getting to me.”
“The video is a film of Lorenzo Russo stating in no uncertain terms that he was of sound mind and body and that he was giving only five million dollars each to his son and daughter. The balance of his estate was left in full to Natalie Russo for her to do with as she wished.”
“Five million isn’t chump change,” Aunt Rowe said.
“I guess the greedy step-siblings thought different,” the sheriff said. “Their father went as far in the video as to describe how he’d instructed his wife to move all of the money upon his death so the kids couldn’t get their hands on it. He knew they wouldn’t let it go without a fight.”
“Guess he knew them pretty well,” I said.
“Indeed,” the sheriff said.
I shifted in the bed. “Did he tell Natalie to change her identity and disappear?”
The sheriff shook his head. “I’m guessing she came up with that idea on her own. Set up the Costa Rican entity you mentioned to hold the bulk of her money and the real estate.”
“She wanted away from those step-kids,” Luke said.
“As badly as Pauline Boyd wants to put distance between herself and Marge—and Lavender,” I said. “She doesn’t like our crime statistics.”
“I’ll see if I can improve upon them.” Sheriff Crawford moved to go, then stopped. “By the way, I found plenty of stolen lumber and tools at Cody Flores’s place, so I think we’ve solved the case of the construction site thefts.”
“So my husband is a free man?” Tyanne said, walking into the room.
“Absolutely,” the sheriff said. “Sorry I had to look at him so closely, but I was following the evidence. And now if you folks will excuse me, a sheriff’s work is never done.”
When he left the room, Tyanne came over to the bed and gave me a hug. “I had to see for myself that you’re okay. Abby sends her love and says thanks for helping us solve the mystery. And there’s someone else who wants to see you.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I suspect Hitchcock is the real attraction.” Tyanne looked toward my bedroom door and motioned with her hand. “C’mon in, Ella. Hitchcock is in here.”
The little girl walked into the room and beamed when she saw my cat. “I
missed you at the bookstore, Hitchcock,” she said as she stroked his fur.
Aunt Rowe gave Tyanne a hug, then zeroed in on Tyanne’s left hand. “Look at that sparkle,” she said. “Something new?”
Ty glanced at me and grinned. “Yes, it’s a month early, but after all we’ve been through lately, Bryan couldn’t wait. He had to get it off his chest and tell me the truth about the receipt he used as an alibi.” She held out her hand, and we all admired her new ring, an oval ruby surrounded by tiny diamonds.
“Congrats for making it to fifteen years,” I said. “The ring is lovely.”
Luke came closer and bent over to kiss my forehead. “Not the only lovely thing in the room.” He took my hand and kissed it, too. “You scared me silly, woman. Please try not to do it again.”
I smiled at him. “I’ll try my best.”
Ella looked at me with her earnest blue eyes. “Miss Sabrina, my school’s having a book fair. Do you think Hitchcock could go with me so I can show everybody how good I read to cats?”
I pretended to think hard. “You’d have to get permission from your teacher.”
She nodded eagerly. “I can ask her.”
“And I’d have to go along to supervise my cat,” I said.
Ella kept nodding. “Okay.”
“But there’s a more important thing to consider.” I turned to Luke. “I have to make sure the book fair date doesn’t conflict with the weekend getaway I’m taking with my special guy.” I squeezed Luke’s hand.
“Mrreow,” Hitchcock said.
Recipes
Peanut Butter Crunch Cake
1 package yellow cake mix
½ cup packed brown sugar
1 cup creamy peanut butter
1 cup water
¼ cup vegetable oil
3 eggs
1/3 cup chopped nuts
1 (6-ounce) package semi-sweet chocolate chips
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour a 13-by-9-inch pan. Beat the cake mix (dry), brown sugar, and peanut butter on low speed until crumbly. Save 2/3 cup of the crumbs. Beat the rest of the mix, water, oil, and eggs on low speed. Beat at medium speed for 2 minutes. Pour into the pan. Stir nuts into reserved crumbs; sprinkle over batter. Sprinkle with chocolate bits. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes.
Rocky Road Brownies
1 (6-ounce) package semi-sweet chocolate chips
½ cup butter
1½ cups flour
1 cup sugar
½ teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon vanilla
½ teaspoon salt
2 eggs
2 cups miniature marshmallows
1 cup nuts, chopped
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Heat ½ cup of the chocolate chips and the butter over low heat until melted; cool. Mix the chocolate mixture with the flour, sugar, baking powder, vanilla, salt, and eggs. Spread in ungreased 9-by-9-by-2-inch pan. Bake for 15 minutes.
Sprinkle with marshmallows, nuts, and remaining chocolate chips. Bake until marshmallows are golden brown and wooden pick inserted in center comes out clean, 15 to 20 minutes. Cool completely; cut into 2-by-1-inch bars. Makes 36 brownies.
Mrs. Honeycutt’s Pound Cake
1 cup butter
2 cups sugar
4 egg yolks (reserve the whites and beat until stiff)
2 teaspoons vanilla
3 cups flour
3 teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup milk
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour a 2½-quart tube pan. Combine all ingredients except egg whites, then fold in the stiffly beaten egg whites. Pour the batter into the tube pan and bake 1 hour. Sprinkle cake with confectioner’s sugar, if desired.
Books by Kay Finch
The Bad Luck Cat Mysteries
Black Cat Crossing
The Black Cat Knocks on Wood
The Black Cat Sees His Shadow
The Black Cat Steps on a Crack
The Corie McKenna PI Mysteries
Final Decree
Final Cut
Klutter Killer Mysteries
Relative Chaos
About the Author
Kay Finch is the national bestselling author of the Bad Luck Cat Mysteries. Though her character, Sabrina Tate, is a mystery writer who’s left the paralegal profession behind to move to the Texas Hill Country, Kay still works as a paralegal at a Houston law firm. A country girl at heart, Kay grew up on a farm in Pennsylvania, and she loves the huge cattle-filled fields near her Texas home. She resides in a Houston suburb with her husband and rescue pets. Visit her at www.kayfinch.com.
