The Cats that Broke the Spell (The Cats that . . . Cozy Mystery Book 8)

by Karen Anne Golden

  “This isn’t good. Jake, do me a favor when the construction guys carry in the drywall, please make sure Scout and Abra are locked up in their playroom.”

  “Sweet Pea, I’ve got it under control.”

  “Sorry, I worry too much about our cats. So, when are you bringing Scout and Abra to the farmhouse?”

  “It’s back to the original plan. When Daryl and I leave for Ohio, he’ll drive to the first rest stop on the interstate and wait for me there. I’ll make a detour to the farmhouse and drop them off, then catch up with Daryl a little later.”

  “What time will that be?”

  Iris yowled again, this time impatiently.

  “Late. I’ll text you first.”

  “Alright then. I’ll be here, and probably up. Colleen is coming later. Girls night. Lots to talk about.”

  Jake joked, “Like how she’s going to murder Daryl.”

  “Something like that. Catch you later. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Stevie Sanders drove his red Dodge Ram onto a service road next to an abandoned concrete grain elevator. He drove up and parked behind his dad’s metallic gray Toyota Tundra. He wondered why his father chose such an isolated place to meet him. At first he’d declined, suspicious of his dad, but out of curiosity, shrugged off the notion that Sam Sanders would ever harm one of his own sons. It was a known fact that father and son didn’t see eye-to-eye on a multitude of things, such as cooking and selling meth or running prostitution rings throughout north central Indiana. But since Salina had entered the picture, dear old Dad was trying to be a good grandfather by keeping a close eye on where they lived and preventing bad things from happening to them.

  After prison, Stevie made a few bad choices. He regretted his father getting him involved with drug running, but he’d put a stop to that. He was clean now, and making decent money in his electrical business. He’d served his time for armed robbery and was on parole, so he minded his Ps and Qs. Besides, he had sole custody of his daughter. She meant the world to him. Someone else meant the world to him, but she must never know. He valued Katherine’s friendship too much to jeopardize it with a slip of the tongue or a cupid’s arrow.

  Stevie left the engine and the lights on. He walked up to the Toyota’s cab and found it was empty. “Hey, Dad, where are you?” he called, swatting at a mosquito that buzzed his head.

  Sam walked out from behind a concrete barrier. He was dressed in a crisp navy blue suit, with a white shirt. His designer loafers were buffed to a high sheen. “Glad you could make it,” he greeted, then reached in his pocket.

  Stevie stepped back, worried that his dad might be pulling out a gun.

  “Want a smoke?” Sam said, holding out a wrapped Cuban cigar.

  Relieved that it was a cigar and not a gun, Stevie declined. “No, I quit smokin’.”

  Sam put it back in his pocket, then lit up his own. “Sorry about your luck. You’re missing a great smoke.”

  “Not interested,” Stevie said impatiently. “So what’s up? Why did you ask me to meet you, at ten o’clock at night, in this god-forsaken place?”

  “I have good news for you.”

  Stevie gestured with his hands in the air. “What?” he probed.

  “I’ve met a woman online, and asked her to marry me.”

  Stevie’s facial expression went from doubt to amusement. He laughed. “Online? Where’s she from?”

  “She’s an Erie gal, but has spent most of her time in the city.”

  “What happened to that woman in Chicago?”

  “Nothing happened to her. She’s still around. What’s wrong with having more than one woman in your life?” he answered haughtily.

  Stevie shook his head in revulsion. “Have you ever tried monogamy?”

  “Nope, can’t say I have.”

  “Why are you so dressed up?” Stevie asked, changing the topic.

  “Every woman likes a sharp-dressed man. Haven’t you heard the song?”

  “What’s so special about the new woman?” Stevie gave a skeptical look. “Have you told her you’ve been married four times and have a son by each wife?”

  “We haven’t gotten to that part . . . yet.”

  The singing of the night cicadas reached a deafening crescendo. Stevie swatted another mosquito that landed on his arm. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

  “Her name is Elizabeth Howe.”

  “Elizabeth Howe,” Stevie pondered, then asked, shocked. “You mean Lizzie the crazy cat lady? She’s not exactly your type.”

  “She’s not a crazy cat lady,” Sam said indignantly. “That’s a damn lie.”

  “What do you see in her? Isn’t she nuts?”

  “How would you know?”

  “People in town are calling her a witch. They say she uses her black cats to cast spells on folks she doesn’t like.”

  “I guess I better not piss her off,” Sam smirked, then added, “You don’t believe in that witchcraft crap, do you?”

  “No, I don’t, but most of the town does. They want to ride her out of town on a rail.”

  “She’s already out-of-town,” Sam said sarcastically.

  “I mean out of the state of Indiana.”

  “I’m not going to let that happen. Elizabeth is a beautiful woman and I enjoy her company.”

  “I thought you just chatted online?”

  “I’ve just spent part of the night with her, and trust me, we didn’t chat.”

  “Enough,” Stevie put up his hand in the stop gesture. “I’ve got to get back home. I don’t like leaving Salina alone at night.”

  “Oh, you worry too much. She’ll be okay.”

  “You don’t know that, Dad. I thought you had some kind of crucial business. Instead, you drag me out here so you could talk about your love life,” Stevie said, frustrated. He started to walk back to his truck.

  “No, you idiot, I had you meet me here because I think I’m being bugged.”

  “Bugged?”

  “Yeah, like by the law. Surveillance.”

  “If you’re carrying your cell phone, the feds know your exact location.”

  “I’m not stupid. I keep switching burner phones.”

  “I don’t think you lured me out here to talk about Lizzie Howe,” Stevie said suspiciously. “You want me to do something for ya, right? Something against the law? That’s your MO. You don’t give a crap that your son’s still on probation. Gee, thank you very much, Pop!” Stevie’s face reddened in anger.

  “Wait. One second. I’m trying my best to go legit, but it will take time. I’m selling off my businesses. I’m running a legitimate windmill operation and making a good profit from the utility company.”

  Stevie stopped and turned to face his father. “You’re going to give up your dope business? I don’t believe you.”

  “I got a buyer for my meth operation. Son, I’m afraid you’re not going to like who I’m selling it to.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Okay, then, have it your way, but I’ve got a problem.” Suddenly Sam became anxious.

  “Judging from the look on your face, it must be a whopper.”

  “See that land across the road? That tract also belongs to Elizabeth. It’s over a hundred wooded acres. I want to buy it.”

  Stevie laughed ironically. “Oh, so that’s why you’ve taken up with Lizzie. You want her land, but correct me if I’m wrong, she doesn’t own it. That’s her husband’s land. And if both of their names are on the deed, she can’t sell it by herself.”

  “I know that,” Sam thundered.

  “I hate to tell ya this, but Lizzie will have to wait several years before she can legally declare her husband dead. Isn’t that about five or seven or ten years?”

  “That’s about right,” Sam shrugged.

  “What if he’s not dead and comes back? She’ll have to divorce him, and guess what? I’m bankin’ she gits nothing.”

  “I
don’t think that will happen.”

  Stevie continued without comment to his father’s last remark, “This means you can’t marry her. Wake up, Dad, the Howe land isn’t fit for windmills. Doesn’t the land have to be flat?”

  Sam threw his cigar down and stepped on it. “A land development firm wants to buy it.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Elizabeth’s land is the only one around these parts that connect a state road to the interstate.”

  “You could have told me this crap on the phone.”

  “Dammit, I’m being investigated. I’m sure of it. I don’t want anyone but my sons to know my business.”

  “Why should you care if Lizzie sells the land to this business? What’s it to you?”

  “Remember that Russian guy your dear old dad put on a plane back to New York?”

  “Yeah? What of it?”

  “He never made it.”

  Stevie leaned up against the Tundra and shook his head in doubt. “You murdered him?”

  Sam put his hands in the air. “I didn’t do it,” he answered irritably. “One of my guys acted in self-defense.”

  “Yeah, right! Where’d you bury him?”

  Sam shrugged his shoulders, looked away, and didn’t answer.

  Putting two-and-two together, Stevie asked, “Why did you bury the dude on Lizzie’s land where the body could be found? Have you lost your mind?”

  “That’s my point. If Elizabeth sells to the land developers, they’ll have their bulldozers dig up the area so they can build. If you remember, the Russian was killed in a snow storm. Wasn’t exactly great weather to dig the grave. The body is buried close to where the prime development area is. I’m sure it’ll be found. Then my ass is up a creek without a paddle.”

  “I don’t know how the law would point it at you. Unless you left your business card in the guy’s jacket. Come on, let’s hurry this along. What is it you want from me?”

  “I did you a service, now you need to do me a service.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I got rid of the threat to your love interest, so help me with mine so I can get married.”

  “I know who you’re referring to. Katherine Cokenberger is just a friend.”

  “You must think your dear old dad is stupid. You don’t have much of a poker face, son.”

  “That’s none of your business. What is it you want me to do?” Stevie asked a second time.

  “There’re other bodies buried there as well.”

  “I ain’t a grave digger,” Stevie said with disgust, pouring over his face.

  “Forget the grave digging, there’s something else I want you to do. I got rid of that low-life who was messing with my business —”

  “Who are you talkin’ about?”

  “That big shot director who drives the Mercedes.”

  “You shot Dr. Goodwin? Geez, dad, why did you do it right in front of your girlfriend’s property?”

  “Because the idiot stopped his car there. I’d planned on doing it a little bit farther up the road.”

  “What was he to you?”

  “He was our main source for angel dust —”

  “PCP?” Stevie cut him off, and then asked incredulously, “So now you’re dealing in meth and PCP?”

  “Well, son, the opportunity came about when Dr. Goodwin moved into town. Your girlfriend hired him as the director of the animal shelter, but the salary didn’t exactly pay for his lifestyle.”

  Stevie threw his father a dirty look. “Katherine Cokenberger hired him at the Animal Rescue Center. It’s a no-kill shelter.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. I understand he’s a damn good vet, well, was. He came to me and said he had a means to get PCP, and that we’d be able to do a little business together. Doc needed money. I helped him out. It’s simple. Supply and demand. Where do you think he got the money to buy his Mercedes?”

  “I don’t see how it’s good for business to kill the guy who’s your main supplier.”

  “He screwed up a deal. I won’t bother you with the nitty-gritty, but here’s my dilemma. A woman friend of mine in the sheriff’s department told me there was a witness.”

  “A woman friend? Damn, Dad, how many women do you have?”

  “Not sayin’. Just that there was a witness. She’s as stupid as stupid can be. We’ve got to take her out before she changes her story to what really happened.”

  “What’s she saying happened?”

  “Here’s the joke. She said Elizabeth cast a spell on a scarecrow and he shot Goodwin.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Who are you talking about?”

  “Melinda Hudson.”

  “What the hell was she doing out there?”

  “She was having a fling with him.”

  “The scarecrow?”

  “No, you idiot. Doc Goodwin. You need to shoot her before she brings the house down like a stack of cards.”

  “No one is going to believe her stupid story. Where was she when you shot him?”

  “Parked in Bud Baxter’s service lane.”

  “Did you see her?”

  “No, and I really scanned the scene before I left.”

  “Then don’t worry about it. Like I said, no one will believe her.”

  “She works at the diner. You can wait for her to get off work, then shoot her.”

  “I ain’t a murderer,” Stevie stormed. “I ain’t doin’ it! Case closed.”

  “You could make a great deal of money off of this land deal. I want to set you and Salina up for life, so she’s got the best things in life.”

  “What?” Stevie shook his head in confusion. “In one minute you’re discussing your son killing someone, then in the next, you’re talkin’ like a typical grandfather concerned about the welfare of his grandchild.”

  “That’s it in a nutshell. Don’t forget, son, Elizabeth’s land is worth millions.”

  “You didn’t just meet Lizzie on the internet. You set her up.”

  “No shit, Sherlock,” Sam said, then changed gears. “Look, do this one thing for me and I’ll never ask you to do anything else. Scout’s honor.”

  “Yeah, that’s because I’ll get caught and be sent up for the rest of my life. I’m goin’ now. I don’t want to talk to you for a while. Just leave Salina and me alone.”

  “Are you sure this is what you really want to do?” Sam said, removing his phone from his suit jacket. “With one call, I can stop what’s going to happen.”

  “What do you mean? Stop what from happenin’?” Stevie asked.

  “You gotta understand, son, this is strictly business. With Dr. Goodwin out of the picture, I’m selling his last batch of PCP, and then I won’t be in the angel dust business anymore. I’ve also got an interested buyer who wants the meth lab over by Chester’s Snow Angel farm —”

  “You mentioned the meth lab before. Who are you selling it to? Now I want to know.”

  Sam didn’t answer, but looked irritated. He punched in a number and spoke into the phone. “Hey, sorry for my delay in getting back to you. Look, give me a few minutes. He hasn’t said yes yet.”

  “Does No mean Yes to you?” Stevie asked bitterly, heading back to his truck.

  Sam Sanders followed, and grabbed Stevie’s door handle.

  “Hey, let go,” Stevie ordered.

  His father’s face took on a murderous expression. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Who are you talking to on the phone?” Stevie demanded in exasperation.

  “That’s none of your business, but in answer to your question: Your ex-wife’s mother,” Sam said, slowly enunciating each word, “is buying my meth business.”

  Stevie became highly upset. “Big Mama? Get your hands off the door,” he exploded. Instantly, Stevie worried about Salina. “Where’s Big Mama now?” he implored. His ex-wife’s mother was a force to be reckoned with. She’d already said she’d take Salina away from him if he screwed up. So far, he hadn’t screwed up, but he neve
r trusted her to keep a promise.

  Sam let go of the door, and answered with a question, “Why, son, I’m not sure why you’re getting so overwrought?”

  “Because that woman wants custody of Salina!”

  “What? I didn’t know.”

  “Where is she, dammit?”

  “In Erie. She’s staying at the Erie Hotel.”

  Stevie put his pickup in reverse, backed up, turned around and sped down the muddy gravel road. He hit a bump and nearly lost control of his truck. Speeding down the country road, he dug out his cell from his jeans’ back pocket. Even though it was late, he called Salina’s phone anyway. It rang five times, then went to voice mail. He panicked and drove even faster. He had to make sure his daughter was okay and not in the clutches of his evil ex-mother-in-law.

  Rounding a bend, at a speed too fast for the gravel road, Stevie met an ongoing car full of teenagers. He recognized the older model Chevy Nova as one belonging to his younger half-brother’s friends. He hoped Jerry wasn’t in the car.

  The glare of the car’s headlights blinded him, so he swerved to avoid a head-on collision. He hit a deep mud puddle, and the truck started to skid. He struggled to stay on the road, but the truck veered to the right and glanced off a utility pole, then drove straight into a cornfield.

  “Holy crap,” Stevie cursed, terrified that he’d be badly injured and not be able to get to Salina. “Damn . . . damn . . . damn, not my new truck,” he yelled. Gripping the steering wheel, in an attempt to stabilize the truck, Stevie jammed on the brakes, then he tapped them lightly to avoid a skid. The truck skidded anyway. The truck slid through the cornfield, hitting row after row of tall corn stalks that were nearly ready for harvest. The sound of the hardened corn husks hitting the truck was very loud. Stevie’s worst fear was that he’d hit a dip in the field and flip the Ram over.

  “Stop already,” Stevie yelled at his truck. “What’s taking you so long?” When the truck finally stopped, Stevie quickly turned off the engine. Corn stalks were flammable. He didn’t want the stalks underneath the chassis to catch on fire from the hot catalytic converter, hit the gas line, and blow up.

  He exhaled a sigh of relief that the airbags didn’t deploy. Lucky me, he thought.