The Cats that Broke the Spell

by Karen Anne Golden

  “You know about this place?”

  “Everyone in town knows about the crazy woman who lives there. She’s nuttier than a fruitcake.”

  “You mean Elizabeth Howe?”

  “Yes, but people around here call her Lizzie the lunatic.”

  “That’s not a very nice nickname,” Katherine disapproved. “Jake said she’s well-educated, taught at the university until she took early retirement. He said she’s a bit eccentric, but not crazy. How do you know her?”

  “She sells candles and handmade soap at the flea market in Millbridge. She dresses up like a witch and sells soap called ‘Witch Soap.’”

  Katherine giggled. “Is it any good?”

  Margie winked. “Oh hell yes. It’s the best soap ever.”

  “Sounds likes she’s got a good gimmick to attract customers.”

  Margie added, “She always has a big black cat sitting on her table. The cat isn’t very friendly, and would rather bite you than let you pet it.”

  “Why would that make her crazy?”

  “There’s talk around town that she murdered her husband, Nicholas.”

  “Jake said that was a vicious rumor. How can she be accused of murdering her husband when his body was never found?”

  Margie shrugged. “Don’t know the answer to that.”

  “Maybe Nicholas left her and moved to another state. He could be in Hawaii right now drinking a Mai-tai.”

  “Lizzie had an affair with Nicholas who was married to Melinda.”

  “Melinda who?”

  “Melinda Howe, I mean Melinda Hudson. She took her maiden name back after the divorce. You know her, don’t you? She volunteers at your rescue center.”

  “I’ve run into her a few times. She seems pretty tough. I wouldn’t want to tangle with her, and I certainly wouldn’t want her to catch me having an affair with her husband.”

  “Me either,” Margie agreed. “Lizzie broke up the marriage. Nicholas divorced Melinda, Nicholas married Lizzie and Lizzie killed him. That’s what everyone in town says.”

  “You mean everyone in town or everyone at the diner?”

  “No, I mean ninety-nine percent of the people in Erie think she murdered Nicholas and buried him on her land.”

  “Who started this rumor? The ex-wife?”

  “Well, I don’t know exactly. Melinda Hudson wasn’t happy. She has a short fuse. We were afraid she’d take the law into her own hands and murder Lizzie. She threatened to and was put in jail to cool down. The case was investigated, but Sheriff Johnson never solved it.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Before you moved here. Four years ago, I think.” Margie cleared her throat, then asked. “So what happened when you stopped at her gate? Did Lizzie run out with a shotgun?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “A little birdie told me.”

  “Is he over six feet tall and lives with me at the pink mansion?”

  “You got it. Jake told Cokey who told me. You’re lucky Lizzie didn’t shoot you.”

  “After what Jake has told me about her, I don’t think she would have shot us.”

  “Did he tell you she used to volunteer at the old animal shelter, and when the time came to put down a cat —”

  “You mean to put to sleep? I hate the E-word.”

  “I don’t like it either. Whenever a cat hadn’t been adopted, after a certain amount of time, or the shelter was full . . . whenever that happened, Lizzie would freak out and throw such a hissy fit, the shelter folks would let her take the cat.”

  “How many times did this happen?”

  “I heard quite a few times.”

  “Wasn’t this kind of in-house rescue against the shelter’s rules?”

  “Hey, Kiddo, seriously? By letting Lizzie have the cat, the shelter didn’t have to put it to sleep. It made for happy employees who’d rather see Lizzie take the poor creature than having to do the deed.”

  “It sounds like Lizzie has an emotional problem —”

  “Or a big heart. Depends on how you look at it.”

  “I’m so happy I stepped into the picture and funded the no-kill center.”

  “You’ve paved your way to Heaven, I’m sure.”

  Katherine smiled, then returned to the subject. “I’m surprised no one at the Center has told me about Lizzie.”

  “Probably because Melinda is thick with everyone that works there, and they don’t want to upset her by mentioning the woman who stole her husband.”

  “Four years is a long time to be harboring a grudge. I take it Melinda didn’t remarry or find someone else.”

  “Nope, she said Nicholas was the love of her life. Here’s something you don’t know. Several months after you appointed Dr. Goodwin as the new director, Lizzie quit. She said that she’d rather be stabbed by an ice pick then be in the same room with him.”

  Katherine scrunched her face in disgust. “Oh, yuk. What a visual. Why doesn’t she like Dr. Goodwin?”

  “She told a friend of mine, that Dr. Goodwin made a pass at her on multiple occasions.”

  Katherine covered her mouth with one hand to refrain from laughing.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Margie, Dr. Goodwin is the homeliest man I’ve ever met. I couldn’t imagine him doing anything so harassing.”

  “Some women find ugly sexy.”

  “But he’s married.”

  “That doesn’t stop some men around here or some women. Lizzie is a local gal. She’s led a tragic life. Her first husband committed suicide; her second one took off with a married woman who was a maid at the Erie Hotel. Then, she decided to mess with Melinda’s husband.”

  “Wow, this sounds like a soap opera.”

  “I don’t know how Nicholas did it, but he convinced Melinda to move out and then Lizzie moved in.”

  “Wait, hang on a second. You’re saying that Nicholas owns the land Lizzie lives on?”

  “Yep, the Howe farmstead has been around for over a century. Nicholas retitled the property in his name and hers after they married. One of my drywall guys said some rich developers want to buy it.”

  “Why? How would they even know about it? It’s out in the sticks.”

  “It’s close to the interstate.”

  “What does that mean?” Katherine asked.

  “It means it’s close to an exit and would make an ideal place for a gas station, fast-food restaurant, or even a mini-grocery store.”

  Katherine reached over and tapped Margie on the arm. “Hey, thanks for the intel.”

  “No problem.”

  Chief London drove his Erie town police cruiser in front of the mansion and parked behind Margie’s truck. He got out, adjusted his black police ball cap, and walked up the steps. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said with a wide grin.

  “I’d offer you a seat,” Katherine said, patting the bale of hay, “but they’re all taken.”

  “Thank you kindly, but I’ve been sittin’ on my behind all day, plastered in front of the TV, watchin’ movies on demand. I’ll just lean against the railing.”

  Margie blurted, “Did Katz tell ya about that crazy Lizzie Howe woman pointing a gun at her?”

  The chief looked at Katherine and gave a conspiratorial wink.

  “Guilty,” Katherine said, putting her hands up. “I’m a bonafide trespasser.”

  The chief chuckled, then became serious. “Sheriff Johnson called me yesterday. I meant to stop by, but got tied up with something else.”

  Katherine began, “I called the sheriff’s department and told dispatch what happened. I kind of expected the sheriff would give me a call. What did he say?”

  “He said he’s up to his ears with complaints about Elizabeth Howe.”

  “You mean I’m not the only one she’s pointed a gun at?”

  “Among other things.”

  “Colleen and I didn’t mean to trespass.”

  “I know that, but Elizabeth Howe didn’t. Anyway, Sheriff Johnson drove ou
t there and checked it out. Elizabeth met him at the gate.”

  “Does she hang out at her gate all the time?” Katherine asked.

  “She’s got a wireless driveway alarm connected to her house. Whenever someone approaches, a chime sounds inside. That gives her a few minutes to walk to the gate to see who’s there.”

  “Did she have her shotgun?” Margie asked, tongue-in-cheek.

  “No, not this time. The sheriff said she apologized for her behavior, but she’s at her wit’s end to find out who is vandalizing her gate with supernatural —”

  “Witch symbols,” Katherine finished.

  “We want to hear more,” Margie probed, adjusting her seat on the bale.

  “Basically, Sheriff Johnson said it’s malicious mischief. He thinks it’s a bunch of kids playing games, but what he doesn’t want to happen is for one of the kids to get shot.”

  Katz asked naively, “You think children put those witch symbols there?”

  The chief took his cap off and scratched his head. Repositioning it, he said, “I meant teenagers. The sheriff said he saw lots of footprints, cigarette butts and some beer cans.”

  “But why would a bunch of teenagers target a woman living out in a rural area?”

  “This I don’t know, but the sheriff and one of his deputies picked up the debris the best they could. He suggested to Ms. Howe that she install a security camera. He even said there’s a convenient telephone pole near her entrance.”

  Katherine nodded, “If I lived out there by myself, I’d definitely have a security camera.”

  “Sheriff Johnson is stepping up patrols past her house to find out who’s doing this. When I mentioned that Jake and you are moving out that way, he said he might even stop by and introduce himself.”

  “Tuesday is moving day,” Katherine said cheerfully.

  “I heard it this morning at the diner. Went in for a cup of coffee, and the place was hoppin’ with information, misinformation, and downright gossip.”

  Katherine was amazed at the communication network in the small town. Everyone knew everyone else’s business.

  Margie laughed, but Katherine thought, Sometimes I wish people would mind their own business.

  “Question to you, Katz? Will the monthly meeting be here or at the Baxter farmhouse?”

  “Let’s have it at the farmhouse. I’ll text the two of you the date and time.”

  “That settles that,” the chief said, then added, “I’ve got to go home before the wife has a canary. She doesn’t like it when I’m late for dinner.”

  Margie said, “Chief, you’re pulling our leg. Connie is the wife of a police chief. I’m sure your official police business has interrupted dinner quite a few times.”

  “You got it!” He tipped his cap, then looked at Katherine. “Katz, could I have a private word with you. No offense, Margie.”

  Margie pursed her lips. “None taken.”

  “Of course,” Katherine said, getting up.

  “Walk me to my car,” the chief suggested.

  When they got to the cruiser, the chief’s cell rang. “Just a second, Katz.” He answered the call, spoke for a moment, then hung up. “There’s more to the Elizabeth Howe story,” he said in a low voice.

  “What?”

  “What I’m about to tell you is for your ears only.”

  “Understood.” Katherine imitated zipping her lip.

  “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re going to have to hire a new director for your rescue center.”

  “Why?” Katherine gasped, fearing bad news.

  “Dr. Goodwin is dead.”

  “Dead?” Katherine asked, shocked. “He can’t be. He was just over here this morning.”

  “He was found shot in his car.”

  “Where? At the Center?”

  “In front of Elizabeth Howe’s property.”

  “Oh, my god! She shot him?”

  “I don’t know the answer to that. The case is being investigated by Sheriff Johnson. By the way, what was Dr. Goodwin’s mood when you saw him?”

  “He went from being pleasant to biting my head off. He accused Elizabeth Howe of cat hoarding, and he was adamant to go to the prosecutor for a warrant.”

  “Interesting.”

  “But during our conversation he was interrupted by a text message.”

  “From who?”

  “He said one of the Center’s volunteers had a problem. When I offered to help, he said he had it under control.”

  “Do any of the volunteers have it out for Dr. Goodwin?”

  “No, not that I know of. Margie said that Elizabeth Howe was a volunteer and quit because Dr. Goodwin made a pass at her. She said that Lizzie despised him.”

  “Okay, then, I think the sheriff should know about the text message. It’s possible that it could be the last message Dr. Goodwin read before he was murdered. Maybe the person that sent the message was the one who shot him. I’ll pass that info on to the sheriff as well as what Margie said about Elizabeth. Also, I have more bad news.”

  “How could it get any worse?”

  The chief glanced over at the Foursquare. “Salina’s grandmother is in town. She’s been spouting some pretty defamatory remarks about Stevie at the Erie Hotel restaurant.”

  “What’s she doing in Erie? I thought she lived in Kentucky.”

  “Seems she’s here on business, but she’s also saying she wants custody of Salina.”

  Katherine’s jaw dropped in shock. “No, she can’t take Salina. If half of what I’ve heard is true, the woman is a crim.”

  “You’re right about her being a criminal, but she hasn’t broken any Indiana laws. Just thought you should know she’s in town. In the event something goes south, can you make sure Salina is okay?”

  “Yes, by all means. It bogles my mind, that she’d want to take Salina away from her dad. Stevie has gone clean. He’s a very good father. Besides, I haven’t had a chance to tell you, but Jake and I are Salina’s legal standby guardians. We signed the documents at the courthouse.”

  “You’re a good soul. Now, excuse me, been a long day doin’ nothin’, I’m headin’ home.”

  “Okay, chief. Thanks for stopping by.”

  “Oh, turn on your TV. I’m sure Dr. Goodwin’s murder will make the five o’clock news.”

  “Yes, thanks.” Katherine frowned, waited for the chief to get in his cruiser and drive away before she joined Margie back on the porch. She was worried — very worried. Salina’s grandmother was a criminal, so was Stevie’s dad.

  Poor Salina. What a pair of grandparents she had, Katherine thought. The last person on earth she wanted Salina to live with was her criminal grandmother. She considered Stevie her friend. She wanted to warn him, but couldn’t. If she did, and the chief found out, he’d never divulge information to her again. She relied on the chief’s friendship as well.

  And, now Dr. Goodwin was dead — murdered close to the farmhouse where Jake, she, and the cats would be staying for two months. Whoever killed him was at large. I’m not going to feel safe living out there until the murderer is caught, she worried.

  Chapter Eight

  Melinda Hudson sat on a gurney inside an Erie County ambulance. An EMT had placed a gauze pad over her left eye and taped it to her cheek and forehead. She lightly tapped it with her hand and asked, “Am I goin’ lose my sight in that eye?”

  The EMT answered, “No, Ma’am. Your eye wasn’t scratched but you’ve got quite a gash on your upper eyelid. I’ve stopped the bleeding for now, but we’re going to take you to the hospital so they can check you out. They might want to put in sutures.”

  “You mean stitches?” she cried, dabbing the tears flowing from her right eye. “Can’t you do that right now?”

  “I applied three butterfly stitches, but they’re temporary.”

  Melinda continued to cry in frustration, and deep grief in losing the only man in her life since Nicholas.

  “I know it hurts, but Ma’am, stop cryin
g. Your tears might make the wound start bleeding again.”

  Looking out her right eye, she saw flashing lights through the corn plants. She assumed it was the sheriff and deputies investigating the scene.

  “Am I going to have a scar?” she asked, returning to the topic of her injury.

  The EMT empathized, “I’m sorry. I really can’t answer that. You might want to go to a plastic surgeon and discuss that with him.”

  “Plastic surgeon!” she shrieked. “I’m not paying for that! That witch Lizzie is goin’ to. It was her cats that scratched me.”

  A large black cat jumped up onto the tailgate. “Roooahh,” the cat cried.

  “Get out of here,” the EMT yelled at the cat.

  The black cat didn’t move and answered with a hiss.

  Melinda screamed. “Get that animal away from me.”

  Lizzie hurried up to the back of the ambulance and said to the cat, “Go home, Amara. Take the other cats and go home.”

  Amara meowed and jumped down.

  Lizzie moved closer to Melinda and threatened. “My cats didn’t attack you. Stay away from my property.”

  “You freakin’ witch. I’m going to sue you!”

  “Now ladies,” the EMT said, holding Melinda’s arm so she couldn’t get up.

  One of the deputies heard the altercation and came over. “Is there a problem here?” he asked.

  The EMT pointed at Lizzie. “Can you take this woman away from here?”

  The deputy put his hand on Lizzie’s arm. She shrugged it off. “I’m leaving.” Adjusting her shawl over her sundress, she walked back to her farm gate.

  Melinda said to the deputy, “Look, Sir, I’ve been detained long enough. The sheriff can ask me questions at the hospital. I demand to go to the hospital NOW.”

  Sheriff Johnson was standing nearby, talking to the coroner. He was ruggedly handsome — a dead ringer for the movie actor Ed Harris. When he heard Melinda, an annoyed expression swept over his face. He walked over to the ambulance.

  “Ms. Hudson, you’ll stay here until I say you can leave. Got that?”

  “My eye hurts.”

  “I’m sorry. I assure you I only need to ask you a few more questions. I want you to rethink what you told me earlier about the shooter.”

  “Are you trying to make me recant my statement?” she accused belligerently.