The Cats that Broke the Spell

by Karen Anne Golden

  “In the meantime, it’s my day off and my wife and I are hittin’ the golf course.”

  “Thank you so much for your time. I’ll get back to you.”

  The sheriff hung up without answering.

  Chapter Four

  Katherine slid her cell back in her pocket, tapped the gas pedal and drove down the rented farmhouse’s gravel drive. A cloud of dust trailed after her. The curvy lane was flanked on both sides by the tall corn.

  Colleen leaned forward in her seat. “I don’t see the house. All I see is corn.”

  The Siamese became very active. “Raw,” Abra belted. It sounded like ‘hurry up, let’s just get there already.’

  Katherine drove to a clearing and parked next to a one-car garage. Jake’s Jeep Wrangler was parked inside with the garage door open.

  The farmhouse loomed like a giant limestone fortress. The two-story house was built on an elevated stone foundation, which made it even higher. A wooden front porch sported a porch swing, which made the house idyllic in Katherine’s mind. She loved porch swings.

  Jake sat on the top step. When he saw Katherine and Colleen approaching, he waved and hurried off the front porch to greet them.

  “Hey, Sweet Pea,” he said, opening Katherine’s door and helping her out of the vehicle. “How are you, Colleen? How’s my cousin Daryl doing?”

  Colleen glanced at her feet, then looked up, and said tartly, “I wouldn’t have a clue. I haven’t seen him for a bit.”

  Jake’s eyes widened in surprise. He started to say something, but Katherine nudged his arm. “Can you take Scout and Abra inside?”

  “Of course,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I’ve got their room all ready for them.”

  “Raw,” Abra, now happy their journey had ended, cried sweetly, rubbing her brown mask against the gate of the cat carrier. Scout did the same.

  “How are my baby girls?” Jake said in a soft voice. He carefully removed the carrier and walked to the house.

  After he was out of earshot, Katherine asked Colleen, “What’s going on? What do you mean you haven’t seen Daryl in a while?”

  Colleen waited until Jake walked into the house, then answered sadly. “I think Daryl is getting ready to dump me.”

  “What?” Katherine almost shrieked in disbelief.

  “He just doesn’t seem like the man I fell in love with. He’s distant. We go out to dinner and he doesn’t talk to me. Oh, he’s polite and everything, like all the Cokenberger men, but when I ask him a question and try to pull him into a conversation, he hardly answers back with yes or no. He’s like that all the time. It’s like he doesn’t want to talk to me.”

  “Have you asked him about it?”

  “It doesn’t do any good. If we go out to dinner with another couple, Daryl never shuts up, but as soon as we’re alone he becomes very quiet . . . I can’t explain it.”

  “I’m sorry to hear this. Let me know if I can be of any help.”

  “If that means, talking to Jake who’ll talk to Daryl, no thanks.”

  “Oh, I’d never,” Katherine began, then muttered under her breath, “Unless, Colleen, you wanted me to.”

  “Katz, where’s the bat room?” Colleen asked abruptly, changing the subject.

  Katherine laughed at her friend’s pronunciation. “Bat room is the first door on the left.”

  Colleen ran into the farmhouse, slamming the screen door behind her. “Oops, I didn’t mean to do that,” she called through the door.

  Jake came out of the house and met Katherine on the top step. “I was getting worried about you. What took you so long?”

  “Oh, the usual stuff. Nothing eventful,” Katherine said with a mischievous glint in her eye.

  Jake motioned to the swing. “My lady,” he said, bowing.

  Katherine walked over and sat down. She patted the space next to her, “Milord.” When Jake sat down, the chain chinked.

  “Whoa. This swing better not fall.”

  “It won’t. I double-checked it. Get back to why you were late.”

  Colleen came out and poured herself into a wicker side chair. “That’s quite a place in there,” she admired, then asked. “Did I interrupt something?”

  Katherine shook her head. “I was about to tell Jake our gut-wrenching story.”

  “Oh, I can do that,” Colleen said. “For starters, Katz came an inch from hitting a man dressed in a scarecrow outfit.”

  “What?” Jake asked. “You two been hitting the margarita bar?”

  “I’m not drunk,” Colleen continued. “He ran across the road and Katz jammed on the brakes. A bit later, I saw this farm gate with witch symbols on it. I asked Katz to stop so I could take a picture.”

  Jake asked, “Where was this?”

  “The property on the left, just before you get to the farmhouse,” Katherine joined in. “Jake, a woman pointed a shotgun at us and accused us of vandalizing her property. She said she knows you.”

  “What?” Jake asked incredulously. “Professor Howe pointed a gun at you?”

  “Who is this woman?”

  “Elizabeth Howe. The locals call her Lizzie. Last year, she took early retirement from the university. She’s somewhat of an eccentric, but rumor has it that a lot of academics, including me, have taken a walk on the odd side one time or another.”

  “That’s not true,” Katherine defended. “You’re not odd.”

  Jake grinned. “How many other professors do you know who dress up like John Dillinger to teach their class on Prohibition?”

  Colleen interjected, smiling. “Or marry a woman with cats that surf the internet.”

  “Colleen,” Katherine scolded, looking shocked.

  “Well, it’s true. I’m not daft.”

  “This is —

  “Top secret,” Colleen finished. “I wouldn’t tell anyone. Who’d believe me?”

  Jake winked. “Colleen, I beg to differ. I married Katz for her beat-up Toyota.”

  “Yeah, right,” Katherine mused. “We hadn’t even started dating when the tornado flattened my car. Tell us more about Professor Howe.”

  “Even in the dead of winter, with a foot of snow on the ground, she’d walk around campus wearing her signature flip flops.”

  “She wore flip flops today,” Colleen noted.

  Jake continued, “It was embarrassing to the University’s powers-that-be because she’d attend high-level academic meetings dressed in a torn calico farm dress.”

  “I wouldn’t even know what a calico farm dress looks like,” Katherine said.

  “Google it, Sweet Pea.”

  “Sounds like the powers-that-be were snobs,” she added.

  “It wasn’t so much the ratty clothes but the fact she’d bring incense, light it, and wave it around the room before she sat down. After the meeting, she’d ask if anyone wanted their fortunes told.”

  Katherine brought her hand up to stifle a laugh. “Maybe we should hire her for our next Halloween party.”

  Colleen said, “I’m convinced the woman is daft.”

  “She’s eccentric, but not daft. She’s very intelligent and highly respected in her field.”

  “What field is that?” Katherine asked. “Ballistics? Did she write a textbook on how to shoot your neighbors with a double-barreled shotgun?”

  “Her expertise is early American history. She taught a very popular “history of witchcraft” class, and even held a mock Salem witchcraft trial.”

  Colleen and Katherine exchanged curious glances.

  “Is she married?” Katherine asked.

  “She met her third husband —”

  “Third husband!” Colleen interrupted. “I can’t even snag one,” she added with resignation.

  “Go on, Jake,” Katherine prodded.

  “Her third husband is, I mean, was an electrical engineer. He went missing several years ago. There was a thorough sheriff investigation but he just vanished off the face of the earth. Someone started a rumor that Elizabeth murdered him, and bu
ried him somewhere on her property.”

  “Who would say such a thing?” Katherine asked with disapproval.

  “I don’t know, but it caught on like wildfire.”

  Colleen asked, “Do people ever call her a witch? She does have black cats.”

  “Poor Elizabeth has been called a murderer and a witch. As for the black cats, she has always been a cat person.”

  “Historically, black cats are associated with witchcraft and evil,” Colleen instructed.

  Katherine countered, “Just because Lizzie has black cats doesn’t mean she’s a witch.”

  “If she’s not a witch, why would anyone put witch symbols on her gate?” Colleen inquired.

  Katherine shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe Lizzie put them there herself. I noticed the pentagrams were pretty rusty and looked like they’d been there for a while.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Colleen retorted. “She was truly angry and accused us of putting them there.”

  “I’d say whoever fastened the signs to the gate has a serious grudge,” Jake offered.

  “Who could that be? Why would anyone want to deface someone’s property with that stuff?” Katherine asked.

  “When I drove by, I didn’t look at Professor Howe’s gate. I’ll check it out when I drive home. However, I’m concerned that this sort of vandalism can accelerate into something violent, especially since Elizabeth feels compelled to protect her property.”

  Katherine touched Jake on the arm. “Go back to the part about her third husband going missing.”

  “When her husband disappeared, she retired, and moved out to the country.”

  “Why here?” Colleen asked.

  “This property belonged to her late husband, assuming he’s dead.”

  “What’s his name?” Katherine and Colleen asked at the same time.

  “Nicholas Howe. When they first got married, Nicholas and Elizabeth would drive out here to their cabin for weekend retreats. The house is very primitive looking on the outside —”

  “You’ve been there?” Katherine asked quizzically.

  “Several times.”

  Colleen gave an “Uh-huh, I told you so” glance to Katherine.

  Jake saw the look. “Professor Howe hosted several faculty picnics there. On the inside, the cabin is very modern.”

  “How can a cabin be modern?” Katherine asked, remembering the cabin she’d rented for a long weekend where everything appeared to be out of a rustic furniture catalog.

  “The walls were smooth and painted gray. The kitchen had stainless steel appliances with granite countertops. There was a big screen TV over the fireplace mantel. Nicholas used solar panels, and some pretty sophisticated gadgets, to provide electricity and to heat the place in winter. Elizabeth preferred to stay in their apartment close to campus, and not live out here full-time. She’d join Nicholas on the weekends.”

  “I wonder what changed her mind?” Katherine asked.

  “Peaceful country livin’,” Jake said in an exaggerated Hoosier twang.

  Katherine wrinkled her nose in amusement.

  “Reckon I best be leavin’,” he continued the fake accent. He got up from the porch swing. “Well, ladies, I must head back to Erie. Nice seeing you, Colleen.”

  Colleen smiled. “You too, Jake.”

  Jake leaned over and kissed Katherine on the forehead. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

  “We probably won’t stay long. I’ll text you when we’re heading back.”

  Jake descended the steps and walked down a dirt path to the one-car garage. He backed his Jeep out, honked, then drove down the lane.

  “Okay, let’s get the show on the road,” Katherine said, getting up and making her way to the door. Colleen got up, stretched and followed.

  Katherine walked to the room where the Siamese were and opened the door. The cats sat on a wide windowsill and swiveled their brown-pointed ears in the direction of the door. “Raw,” Abra cried with apprehension. She made a beeline to escape.

  “Abra, stop! Not yet. Quick, Colleen, shut the door before the two of them get out and go running amok.” Katherine reached into her bag and removed two leashes. She leaned down and attached the leash to Abra’s rhinestone-studded collar, picked the Siamese up, and gently handed her to Colleen.

  Colleen took the cat in her arms and started to talk to her in a gentle voice, “You’re a sweet little lass.”

  Katherine walked over and fastened the leash to Scout’s collar. She was surprised that Scout didn’t move an inch. The Siamese was gazing intently at something outside the window and wasn’t in the least bit interested in taking a walk.

  “At-at-at-at-at!” Scout clucked.

  “Scout, what are you looking at?” Katherine asked, squinting through the window. She leaned forward and scanned the cornfield that bordered the west side of the house. She thought she saw someone standing at the edge of the field, past a dilapidated shed, but when she did a double take, whoever it was had vanished into the corn rows.

  “What the hell?” she asked, frightened.

  Scout began swaying back-and-forth on the wide windowsill, clearly agitated. Abra leaped out of Colleen’s arms and joined Scout on the window sill.

  Colleen moved over and looked out. “What’s the matter?”

  “I thought I saw someone standing in the field.”

  “Shut the door? The scarecrow?”

  “No, not a man, but a woman.”

  “All I see are corn plants.”

  “Look. Right there,” Katherine pointed. “Past that red-painted shed.”

  “I see it, but it’s not a person, it’s a very large cat.”

  The black cat turned and disappeared into the cornfield. Several other black cats sprung out from behind the shed and followed.

  “I see them now.”

  “At-at-at-at-at!” Scout repeated.

  “Is that Lizzie’s cats?” Colleen asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “The big one looked like Amara.”

  “Your memory amazes me. I was too worried about being shot to remember all the cat’s names. I’ll ask Jake to call the Baxters to see if they left their cats behind. I pray they didn’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’ve been away for a while. If those cats belong to them, who’s been feeding them?”

  “But, Katz, the cats were black. What are the odds of the Baxters having black cats as well? Maybe it was Lizzie you saw walk into the cornfield.”

  Katherine shook her head. “I couldn’t tell.”

  “Would she have time to walk over here? I know she lives next door, but that’s quite a hike, and why would she be trespassing on this property?”

  “I have absolutely no idea.”

  Colleen’s brows arched with concern. “Maybe we should go.”

  Suddenly spooked, Katherine asked, “Did you lock the front door?”

  “I can’t remember if I did or not,” Colleen said warily.

  Katherine, always concerned about security, bolted out of the room to the front door. She engaged the antique latch, then moved to the front west parlor to take a look again. This time a gentle breeze made the corn plants sway.

  Colleen asked, uneasy. “Are you sure you saw someone?”

  “I know I’m not seeing things. Scout saw it too.”

  “So what’s the plan now? The cats are freaked out. Don’t you think we should stop the cat-proofing mission and just go home?”

  A muffled voice sounded from a room deeper in the house. Katherine reached in her jacket and pulled out her Glock.

  Colleen said hurriedly, “You were packin’ the entire time and didn’t let that crazy Lizzie woman know it?”

  Katherine put her finger to her lips to quiet Colleen and motioned for her to stay behind.

  Cautiously moving down the narrow hallway, gripping her pistol in both hands, Katherine noticed the storage room door standing wide open. She glanced at the deadbolt and realized
Jake had installed it too low on the door. She instantly suspected Scout had stood on her back legs, turned the twist knob with her paws, and then pried the door open. Maybe it was a two-cat operation with Abra helping.

  Before entering the room, Katherine called the cats. “Scout . . . Abra.”

  “Waugh,” Scout cried.

  Walking through the door, Katherine noticed the Siamese were perched on an office desk beside a vintage reel-to-reel tape recorder with a microphone plugged into it. Abra had stepped on one of the machine’s buttons and was vocalizing. “Raw! Raw! Raw!” she cried in rapid machine-gun intonation.

  “Waugh,” Scout replied, annoyed, pawing the stop button.

  Katherine laughed, put her gun back in its side holster and called to Colleen, “It’s okay. The cats found an old tape recorder.”

  Colleen cautiously joined Katherine in the room. “What did you say?”

  Katherine walked over to the machine, pressed reverse, then the play button. The recorded voice of Abra rang loud and clear.

  Abra looked up proudly and crossed her deep blue eyes.

  Katherine praised, “Abra, you’re such a smart girl.”

  Scout, not liking Abra getting all the attention, boxed Abra’s ears, and then jumped down.

  “This place is giving me the nervous nellies,” Colleen said, relieved. “How did Abra know to do that?”

  “Probably something she learned from the magician’s show. Maybe it was part of one of the acts.”

  Abra sat on her haunches and slowly blinked an eye kiss.

  Katherine patted her on the head and reached over to pet Scout as well, but Scout was gone.

  “Colleen, where’s Scout?”

  “She flew out the door. She won’t be hard to find dragging that leash around.”

  “You probably just jinxed it?”

  Something mechanical came to a screeching halt at the far end of the house.

  “Where’s that sound coming from?” Colleen asked.

  “I think Scout’s in the kitchen.”

  Katherine and Colleen rushed into the room to find Scout sitting inside a wood-sided dumbwaiter; her leash dangled over the edge. The insert door to the dumbwaiter lay on the floor.

  “Ma-waugh,” Scout cried, assuming her meerkat pose. She rubbed the side of her jaw on the opening.