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

by Karen Anne Golden

  Katherine couldn’t get to the door fast enough. “Oh, no,” she cried, mentally counting the seconds before a feline Armageddon occurred.

  Scout and Abra stood tall on their hind legs, gazing at the lanky cat that dared to enter their territory. With their tails wildly thumping the wood floor, Abra broke the stalemate. She leaned forward and licked Isadora on the nose.

  Katherine lunged for the door, and opened it. Isadora backed out, then flew down the steps, racing across the yard, to join Lizzie and the other cats at the edge of the field.

  Colleen stepped in the door and was oblivious to what had just transpired. Instead, she focused on the blueberry pound cake, that was still wrapped up on the outside patio table. “Katz, what are we going to do with the cake?” she asked.

  “It looks delicious. I’ll get some plates.”

  “You’re not afraid it’s tainted in any way?”

  “Lizzie seems rather harmless —”

  “So did Patricia Marston when she tried to poison me.”

  “Ah, good point. Let’s not eat it, but the gesture was very kind. After what she told me about the cat sanctuary, I’m starting to warm up to her.”

  Colleen waved her hand in front of Katherine. “I think she’s cast a spell on you,” she said tartly. “Snap out of it!”

  Iris trotted into the room and collapsed in front of Katherine. “Yowl,” she cried in an “I’m starving” voice.

  Imitating Lizzie, Katherine said, “Iris, show Scout and Abra to the kitchen.”

  Iris jumped up and did just that. Scout and Abra raced after her.

  Katherine said, “See, I cast a spell on my cats.”

  “Pull the other one,” Colleen said. “It’s got bells on it.”

  Katherine took off her other shoe and walked behind the cats. She did a double take when she entered the kitchen. Her purse was lying on its side with the contents scattered about the room.

  “Okay, which one of you outlaws did this?” she accused, annoyed.

  Colleen stepped in, saw the mess, and snickered. “Maybe the cats think you should change bags.”

  “Ma-waugh,” Scout cried, leaping to the Hoosier’s zinc top counter. She pried the door open and found the treat container. Using two paws, she pulled it out. The lidded plastic bowl hit the counter, then fell to the floor. The other cats ran to it. Only Iris remained close to the purse.

  Katherine handed a treat to each cat, then said to Iris, “Don’t you want one, sweet girl?”

  “Yowl,” Iris answered, pawing the purse. She slipped her brown velvet paw into the side fold and clawed out a key.

  Colleen stepped back. “Did you see that?”

  Katherine nodded, leaned down and petted Iris. “Good girl. How did you know I wanted that key?”

  “Yowl,” Iris answered, reaching up to be held.

  “Not now, Miss Siam. Mommy needs to do something.” Katherine picked up the key and compared it to the one she had in her pocket. “They match,” she said excitedly.

  “Why are you so happy about it? I wouldn’t want a duplicate of my front door key in a hide-a-key rock out by the shed. That’s an invitation to the ax-murderer to come in.”

  “Will you stop?” Katherine asked, amused. “It’s not a key to my front door. It’s a duplicate of the shed key. When I first drove out here, I tried this key in the lock and found out it didn’t work. Now I know why.”

  “But why would Iris call your attention to it?”

  Katherine shook her head. “I don’t have a clue. She’s a cat. Who knows what’s going through that pretty little head.”

  “Seriously? You make her out to be an ordinary housecat. Katz, your cats are beyond ordinary.”

  “This is true,” Katherine agreed. “When Dr. Goodwin visited me, Iris stole something from his pocket. I couldn’t tell what it was. After he left, Jake and I searched the wingback chair and didn’t find anything. I think Iris took — I mean stole — his key.”

  “Why would Dr. Goodwin have a key to a shed at Bud Baxter’s farmhouse? Doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Yes, it does. Mr. Baxter must have called the Center about stray cats and Dr. Goodwin was working on trapping them.”

  “I haven’t seen any outdoor cats, except Lizzie’s that day I came out here with you.”

  Katherine tugged her phone from the back pocket of her khaki pants. “One quick phone call will solve this mystery.”

  Katherine called the Rescue Center. Harriet, the intake coordinator, answered.

  “Hello, Harriet. This is Katz.”

  “Oh, how are you?” Harriet’s voice boomed over the phone.

  Colleen mouthed the words, “I can hear her.”

  “Can you check your files and see if Bud Baxter reported stray cats on his property?”

  “Give me a second. Searching right now,” Harriet said, then a few moments answered, “Yes, he did.”

  “Do you know who took the Havahart traps to Mr. Baxter?”

  “Dr. Goodwin.”

  “Did he return with any cats?”

  “No, as a matter-of-fact he didn’t. How are you liken’ it out there?”

  “Just moved yesterday. We like it just fine. Thanks, Harriet. Oh, by the way, there aren’t any stray cats here, so I’ll bring the traps back as soon as I can.”

  “That would be great. Take care!” Harriet said, hanging up.

  Katherine held her hand against her ear. “Wow, she was so loud.”

  “Wait a minute,” Colleen said, confused. “This doesn’t explain the duplicate key in the fake rock. Why didn’t Dr. Goodwin just use that one? I mean, why did he have to have his own key?”

  “I don’t know, except both keys are staying with me until I can return them to Bud Baxter.”

  Iris crashed into her legs. Katherine picked her up and kissed her on the head. “Miss Siam, I’ll have to find another toy for you. Mr. Baxter will want that key back.”

  Iris struggled to be put down, trotted over to the treat bowl, and tried to pry the lid off.

  Katherine moved over and gave Iris a treat. The other cats immediately wanted more and were loudly asking.

  “Okay! Okay! Inside voices, please,” she said, handing them more.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Later that night, a loud clap of thunder jolted Katherine out of a deep sleep. A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the room from the west window, and another crack of thunder rumbled through the night. She sat up and leaned against the tall oak headboard. The room was pitch black. She patted the quilt for the cats. Finding none of them in bed with her, she called, “Scout? Abra?” Of her seven felines, she knew the Siamese sisters would be the first to come in and check out what she wanted. This night, however, she was wrong.

  The bedroom door creaked on its aged hinges, and Iris trotted in with Dewey behind her. “Yowl,” Iris cried nervously. “Mao,” Dewey bellowed in his booming voice.

  “No worries. It’s another storm rolling through. Where are the other cats?” Katherine asked, not expecting an answer, but hoping her voice would summon the other felines to the room. Iris surprised her by jumping on the bed, standing on her hind legs, and biting her on the ear.

  “Ouch, that hurt. Are you confessing to something, Fredo? Are you the one who opened the door and let the cats out?”

  “Yowl,” Iris cried, head-butting Katherine’s arm.

  “Move over and let me get up, so I can see where the other cats are.” Katherine kissed Iris on the head, then climbed out of bed. She stepped into her flats and walked into the hallway. Switching on the light switch, she was surprised the light didn’t come on. She moved to the next bedroom and toggled the switch. It didn’t come on. When she tried the hallway light and it didn’t come on, she got annoyed. Great, the power’s off, she thought. That’s just what I need right now, is to grope my way downstairs and find the electric panel.

  Walking back into her bedroom, she removed the small flashlight off the lamp table. Switching it on, she was relieved
that Iris and Dewey, on the bed, had been joined by Lilac, Abby and Crowie. They were busy burrowing underneath the quilt. “Thank you, my treasures,” she cooed in a soft voice. “You stay in here for a little bit while I find Scout and Abra.” She closed the door, then moved back into the hall.

  Colleen opened her door and stepped out. She beamed her flashlight down the hall. “I thought I heard something downstairs. Did you?” she asked in a frightened voice.

  “Scout and Abra are up to something. They’ve probably got an innocent mouse treed and knocked over something trying to get it. I’ll go down and check it out.”

  “A mouse?” Colleen cowered.

  “We’re in a farmhouse. It’s probably a field mouse that got in.”

  “Katz, I think we got hit by lightning. That’s why the power’s off.”

  “Hope not. I’ll check on that too.”

  “Wait a second. You’re not leaving me up here. I’m coming too.” Colleen went back to her room and put on her robe. She returned with her cell phone. “Just in case,” she said nervously.

  They both startled when they heard a loud thud on the floor below.

  “What was that?” Colleen asked, frightened.

  “The noise came from the kitchen. I think it’s the damn dumbwaiter cover. Come on, let’s do some midnight cat-wrangling —” Katherine wasn’t able to finish her sentence. The sound of angry Siamese had reached an ear-splitting level.

  “Waugh . . . kill waugh,” Scout shrieked.

  Colleen said apprehensively, “That doesn’t sound like a mouse hunt to me.”

  “It’s not. I need my gun,” Katherine said, running back to her bedroom. She quickly opened the door and retrieved her Glock from the top dresser drawer. The cats were startled when she flew into the room.

  “It’s going to be okay,” she said, faking a calm voice. The Siamese didn’t buy it, but remained silent until Iris growled.

  Katherine rushed out of the room, closed the door, and then hurried down the stairs.

  “Be careful,” Colleen called from the top landing, now too scared to go down. She clutched the newel post.

  Katherine beamed the flashlight down the hall toward the kitchen. She heard the refrigerator door open and close, then the loud distress shriek of cats attacking something or someone.

  Gripping the Glock, she moved to the kitchen. The floorboards creaked noisily with every step. Entering the kitchen, she could see the back door was standing open. The emergency back-up light outside on the service pole was on, but it didn’t cast any light into the room.

  A flash of lightning lit up the kitchen. Katherine heard movement in the corner. She flashed her light in that direction. She heard the muffled scream of a man backed into the corner with two angry Siamese at his feet. He was dressed like a scarecrow. His face was covered with a burlap bag with holes cut out for his eyes and mouth. He wore denim overalls over a red plaid shirt with tufts of straw sticking out of the cuffs. It was the same scarecrow she’d nearly hit when she first brought Colleen out to the farm.

  Katherine beamed the light on the scarecrow’s face. “I’ve got a gun pointed at you. You move, I shoot.”

  A barely audible voice inside the hood said, “Get those freakin’ cats away from me.”

  “Scout! Abra! Stop. Go upstairs,” she commanded.

  The Siamese ignored her. Instead, they continued growling and doing figure eights in front of the man, ready to attack him again.

  “Cadabra!” she shouted, using Scout’s stage name when the Siamese was a performer in a magician’s show. It was the only word Katherine knew that got immediate results from Scout.

  This time it didn’t work.

  Abra backed up, padded toward Katherine, then sat down. She extended her claws and began licking them. Scout stood her ground, then swiveled her ears toward the open door.

  Katherine picked up on Scout’s body language, and warned, “Don’t you dare go out there.”

  Scout flicked her pencil-thin tail on the floor, thumpity-thump-thump, in intense feline concentration, then lunged out the door.

  “Scout, no-no-no,” Katherine yelled. “Abra stay!”

  Abra cried a loud “raw” and fled out the door too.

  Colleen came into the room, carrying a baseball bat. When she saw the intruder dressed in the scarecrow costume, she screamed.

  “Colleen, I’ve got it under control. I want you to do something for me. Go back down the hall and find the electric service panel on the wall. It’s that gray box. Flip the main lever up.”

  “Are you going to be okay?” Colleen asked, her voice quivering. “What about that . . . that . . . creature over there?”

  “If he’s smart, he’ll stay put, because a Glock doesn’t have a safety, and my finger is itching to pull the trigger,” Katherine lied. The last thing she wanted to do was to shoot, especially at an unarmed scarecrow with straw poking out of his sleeves.

  Colleen left, found the electric panel and turned on the power. Returning to the kitchen, she flicked the light switch. The two naked bulbs of the overhead light fixture bathed the room in bright light.

  When Katherine glanced over her shoulder to see what Colleen was doing, the scarecrow tried to escape. He moved a foot toward the back door; the straw in his sleeve made a dry, rustling sound.

  Katherine wanted to fire a warning shot but didn’t know the exact location of Scout and Abra. What if they came back in at the exact moment she fired a shot? What if she accidentally shot one of them?

  Katherine shouted at the man, “Stop or I’ll shoot. Trust me, I know how. Lie down on the floor on your stomach.”

  The man took several steps, then slowly got down on his hands and knees. He groaned, then laid down. He mumbled something inside his hood.

  “What did you say?” Katherine asked.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Put your hands behind your back,” Katherine ordered, then to Colleen, “Put the bat down and grab Scout’s cat leash off the chair. We’ll tie him up with that.”

  “Let me do it. My brothers taught me how to tie a perfect knot,” Colleen said, reaching for the leash.

  Katherine gave her a quizzical look. “A perfect knot. What’s up with that?”

  Colleen caught the look. “My motto is ‘be prepared.’” She leaned down to tie the scarecrow’s hands but stopped.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “He’s got that straw sticking out. It’s in the way.”

  Katherine moved to the man and shoved the gun in his back. “Sir, pull the straw out, and then put up your hands where Colleen can tie them.”

  The man began to tug the straw out of his sleeve until his bare hands showed. Colleen wrapped the leash around them, then tied the knot. She moved back to a safe distance, extracted her cell phone and dialed 911. “Hello, my name is Colleen Murphy. A scarecrow broke into my friend’s house. Please send the sheriff as soon as possible. What’s that? No, seriously a scarecrow. I’m not breaking the law!” Colleen said indignantly. “This isn’t a prank call. I’m serious. Don’t you want to know where we are? Hello? Hello?” Colleen asked angrily. “Katz, she hung up on me. Now, what are we going to do?”

  Katherine shot Colleen a frustrated look. So far she hadn’t been impressed by the sheriff’s department. “Give it a few minutes, then I’ll call it in, but I won’t mention the intruder is in costume.”

  “Lookie there,” Colleen said, pointing to the Hoosier’s zinc-topped counter.

  The foil cover over the blueberry pound cake had been removed, and a large slice had been cut out.

  Katherine said, “In normal circumstances, I’d suspect Abby did this, but if she did get into it, the entire pound cake, pie tin and all, would be on the floor.” Returning her gaze to the prone man on the floor, she added, “Colleen, he looks very thin.”

  “So?” Colleen asked.

  Katherine asked the scarecrow, “Are you hungry? Did you break in to find food? I thought I heard my refrigerator door open.�
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  The scarecrow didn’t answer.

  Katherine said to Colleen, “We need to come up with a plan.”

  “Plan? Feed him a prime rib dinner?” Colleen answered incredulously, not understanding Katherine’s intention.

  “Colleen, I meant, we need to come up with a different plan . . . than me standing here . . . holding a gun on him.”

  “Let’s lock him in this room, find the cats, and get the hell out of here. We’ll drive to the sheriff’s office, wherever that is, and report it then.”

  Katherine shook her head. “Not a good idea. Gimme a second to think,” she paused, then after several seconds, added, “We’ll lock him in the pantry. Go over and toggle that wood latch.”

  Colleen stepped over and opened the pantry door. She quickly began removing cans of food and snack items. When finished, she asked, “Now what?”

  “You’ve gotta take the shelves out. Lift them up and pull them out. They’re not nailed down.”

  “Got it.” Colleen removed the painted wood shelves one at a time and leaned them against the corner.

  Katherine said to the man, “I want you to get up on your knees and as slow as you can, crawl to the pantry.”

  The man murmured something unintelligible and refused to move.

  “Borrowing a line from Stevie, Katherine said in a menacing tone. “I ain’t askin’ you a second time. Now!” She nudged the man in the back with her shoe.

  The man quickly twisted his hands and untied Colleen’s perfect knot. Scout’s leash went flying across the room. He turned and punched Katherine’s right ankle.

  The force of impact made Katherine lose her balance and she fell to her knees. The Glock dropped out of her hands, landed, and slid down the sloped linoleum floor. It came to rest against the base of the sink cabinet. The man lunged for it and with one fluid scoop snatched the gun and ran outside with it.