Black Cat Crossing

by Fitz Molly

  I started my car and pulled out of the angled parking spot in front of Dew Drops. “First of all, I don’t have any cheese in my car, and second, you’re such a dramatic familiar.

  He whimpered.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I lied. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

  He squeaked in mouse speak, then said, “If I said yes, would you give me some cheese?”

  I pointed to the tote on the floor of the passenger seat. “I’ve got cheese crackers in there. Is that acceptable?”

  He nodded, so I did a little wiggle of my hand, and the box floated out and opened for his snacking pleasure.

  Roland, my pet cat, sniffed the box and hopped into the back seat for another snooze.

  “Don’t get comfy back there, Ro. We’re getting out soon.”

  He ignored me like most cats do.

  John and Roland are both recent additions to my life. John is a small mouse—not that any mice are big—and is my familiar. He continues to tell me he’s small but mighty, and I’ve come to see the truth in that. I’ve also learned he has an alarming attraction to cheese. This week it’s Havarti. Last week it was Swiss. Goddess only knows what it’ll be next week.

  I question Roland’s supernatural status. He’s not given me any real indication of being supernatural, but I have a feeling he’s holding out on me. Witches don’t usually have two familiars, but maybe because I can see the dead, I need the additional help? Or perhaps he’s just a regular cat, and I’m thinking too hard.

  That’s been known to happen.

  * * *

  My tag-a-longs were useless in carrying decorations into the house, so they just went in and roamed around as I made four trips with the Halloween décor. Once inside, I gave myself a tour of the home. It really was stunning. Dark, wide-planked wood floors flowed through every room but the kitchen. The white and gray tiled floor in there went well with the gray granite and white backsplash. The great room had a lovely large window showing off the large brick and stone patio leading out to the new pool. I couldn’t understand why the Andersons would put so much money into the house to have it almost completely redone and then decide to move just a few months after the construction was completed. But when the cold air surrounded me, it became clear. I stepped away from the window and stood in the center of the empty room, slowly turning in a circle to examine my surroundings.

  John scurried in from the kitchen and skidded to a stop about a foot from me. He stood up on his hind legs and rubbed his little front paws together. “Brr. It’s cold in here.” His teeny eyes widened. “Oh, heck. Does that mean what I think it means?” His head shifted from side to side. “Maybe it brought some Havarti?”

  The cold was kind of a new thing for me, but I’d read about it happening to humans, so I was pretty sure it meant a spirit was close by. I couldn’t say how John made that connection. “Ghosts don’t feed visitors.”

  “This one should. It was his house before, right? It would just be a nice thing to do.”

  I shook my head. “You’re a trip, John.”

  Roland sauntered in, made a loop through my legs, and then stretched out in front of the large stacked stone fireplace. Not much bothered Roland. The cold air disappeared, but I shivered anyway. John dropped back on all fours and snuggled up next to Roland as I opened the decorations and began setting them up around the main floor.

  A minute later, he lifted his head and sniffed the air. “I smell Havarti. Can you at least check the fridge?”

  “The fridge is empty.”

  “You sure?”

  “One hundred percent. Maybe you got a piece of cheese stuck in your nasal cavity or something?”

  “That sounds painful. Mice have a powerful sense of smell. For example, I can smell those dirty socks you put on this morning.”

  “I’m not wearing dirty socks.”

  “Then, you need new laundry detergent.”

  Thankfully the home had built-in bookshelves or I’d have no place to put the stuff. I did find some clothes left in a small closet inside the master bedroom closet, and I used those to create a scarecrow, which was fun. The black suit had definitely seen better days, and it took a lot of leaves to stuff it enough to make it sturdy enough to lean against the wall, but it would do. I admired my creation, biting my nail, and smiling at my creativity.

  “That was the suit I wanted to be buried in.”

  I flipped around and tripped backward as I stared through the man standing in front of me.

  “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

  I caught my balance and adjusted my position so I wouldn’t fall. “No, it’s okay. I should have realized you were here.”

  “I’m surprised you can see me.”

  I waved my hand like seeing a dead warlock was no big deal. “You’re not my first ghost, and I’m pretty sure you won’t be my last.”

  “Your grandmother always said you were a spunky one. Maybe she knew you had a gift?”

  My grandmother knew a lot of things she’d never told me, so it was possible. “You’re Mr. Mayfield, correct?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I adjusted the scarecrow, so he wasn’t slumping. “I don’t want to sound disrespectful, but may I ask if you’re the reason the Andersons moved out so quickly?”

  He wandered around the room, examining the new wood flooring as he did. “I like the changes they made. Guess I could have done some of this myself, but I never much thought about it.”

  I waited to see if he’d have more to say.

  “The little girl, Bella? She could see me. She'd invite me to her tea parties, and we’d have a lovely time. She’s the one that got my suit out of the attic too. When her parents asked why she’d gone up there, she told them about me. “‘Course it was upsetting to them when they realized I wasn’t an imaginary friend, and the next thing I knew, they’d packed up and left. I said goodbye to the sweet girl, but she wouldn’t look at me. I think her parents told her I was bad.”

  My heart hurt for him. “You don’t look bad to me.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t figure they knew I was a warlock, but that would have thrown them for a loop, don’t you think?”

  I laughed. “I bet so!” I bit my bottom lip, worried my next question would get me an answer I didn’t want to hear. “May I ask why you’re still here?” Call it fate, destiny, karma, whatever, just don’t call it a coincidence. Coincidence isn’t real. I’d been given this house by my boss because the Universe needed me to help a dead warlock. I just hoped the reason wasn’t one that could put me in danger.

  “They say a murderer always returns to the scene of the crime. Guess I’m waiting for mine to return.”

  “I thought you died in your sleep?”

  “I did, but because I was poisoned.”

  I slumped against the wall and pulled my knees to my chest. “Great.” I wrapped my long blonde hair into a bun and secured it with a hairband. “I was hoping you’d say something else, but I knew the odds of that happening were slim.” I stood up, wiped my sweating palms down my jeans, and plastered a smile on my face. “Okay, then, let’s get started.”

  Roland stretched his long black legs behind him as John woke from his nap and scuttled over, climbing up my leg, then twisting around to my back and coming up to rest on my shoulder.

  Mr. Mayfield stared at John. “You have a mouse on your shoulder.”

  “He’s my familiar.”

  He chuckled. “And I thought my pig was an interesting pick.”

  “Your familiar was a pig?” I couldn’t imagine how that worked.

  “Sure was.” He stared off for a moment, then smiled. “Honey was her name. Black haired potbelly with the pinkest snout I’ve ever seen. Sure miss that girl.”

  “Where is she now?”

  He shrugged. “Wherever familiars go when their supernaturals die, I suppose.”

  Familiars are responsible for helping to keep the supernaturals safe, but they’re not always successful. Fate plays
a part in what happens, and no magic can beat fate. It made me sad to know that this warlock was killed, and his pig couldn’t help. “Do you know who poisoned you?”

  “If I did, you think I’d be sticking around here?”

  “Good point. How ‘bout this. Do you have any idea who might have wanted you dead?”

  “I had me my disagreements with people, supernaturals too, but none seemed bad enough to send me packing like this.”

  I was going to need a little more help than that, and I’d have to go elsewhere to find it. “Okay, I’ll do what I can to help you, but I’m going to need something from you.”

  “You’re going to want me to stay out of the way when someone’s here, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir. Is that too much to ask?”

  “I think I can do that.”

  I smiled. “Great, because I think my boss wants me to have an open house this weekend.”

  “What day is it? I don’t keep track of that stuff these days.”

  “It’s Wednesday. And I promise I’ll do my best to figure this out, but I need you to think hard about the people in your life and who you think might have had reason to ki—end your life. I’ll be back later to talk to you some more, okay?”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  Chapter Three

  John climbed onto my dashboard, and stared at me as I sped down the street, headed back into the heart of town. “We got a hot one?”

  I groaned. “And two and a half days to figure it out.”

  “Why so quick?”

  “Because we’ve got an open house this weekend, and I feel Mr. Mayfield isn’t going to rest until his killer’s found. I don’t want him creating a stink.”

  “That old man? He’s not going to create a stink.”

  “Maybe not, but just in case, I need to move on this. Besides, I have things to do that don’t include finding dead warlock’s killers.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like setting mouse traps around my house.” I winked.

  He squeaked. “That was harsh.”

  “Yes, and I can tell you’re so upset.”

  He crawled onto the steering wheel and balanced on his back legs. “Spin me!”

  “For the love of Goddess, John! I’m not spinning the steering wheel. You know what happened last time.”

  He dropped back and hopped over to the dashboard again. “You’re no fun.”

  “Fun isn’t swerving into a ditch from hitting a rock and blowing a tire because you wanted me to send you spinning on my steering wheel.”

  “Maybe not for you.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  I parked in front of Calloway Hardware. “You two want to come in or stay out here?”

  “Deprived of oxygen? We’ll come in.”

  “You were not deprived of oxygen. I had the window open. You could have hopped out any time you wanted.”

  “It’s a scary world out there. We preferred to stay inside.”

  “I can’t win with you, can I?”

  He laughed. “You sound like a parent.”

  “I feel like a parent with you sometimes.”

  He crawled onto Roland’s back and rode his way into the hardware store.

  “Well, lookie here!” Lysander Calloway popped up from behind the counter, sending me back two steps. “Oh, did I scare you?”

  I caught my breath. “It’s okay. I scare easily.”

  “What can I get for ya, honey? If it’s decorations, you’re outta luck. Sold out just an hour ago.” He straightened a stack of battery boxes on the counter. “Not that any of the good stuff was still here then. You know how it is.”

  “I do. But I don’t need decorations. I actually just wanted to ask you a question.”

  He pulled a cloth from under the counter and swiped it across the old Formica. “Shoot.”

  “You know Mr. Mayfield? The man that died a few years ago?”

  “Cornie? ‘Course, I know him. So sad, losing him suddenly like that. Don’t matter how old they are, it’s always tough to see someone you like die.”

  “I can imagine. I’m selling his home, and I was just wondering, you know, because he died there, if you know anything about how he died. You know, in case someone wants to know the history of the home.” Georgia law didn’t require purchasers to be told when someone died in a house. Still, given the abrupt move of the previous owners, I suspect the rumors spread far and wide through the real estate agent community.

  “I’ve heard the rumors. Even talked to Mr. Anderson a few months before they up and moved. He came in here asking about Cornelius. Said strange things had been happening in the home, and he wanted to know what happened to the previous owner.”

  “Did you tell him he passed away in the house?”

  “Thought he already knew, so I mentioned it. Seemed to upset him.”

  “I can imagine.” I grabbed a pack of wintergreen Tic Tacs from under the counter and set it on the counter to purchase.

  “We’re the lucky ones, not seeing ghosts the way humans do. I think I’d have to get me a box of them man diapers if I saw a dead person hanging around.”

  “You have no idea,” I mumbled under my breath.

  He placed my candy in a small bag. “You have a good day now, you hear?”

  As I headed toward the door, I turned around and asked, “Do you think someone could have done something to Mr. Mayfield that caused his death?”

  He blinked. “What makes you ask that?”

  “I read that spirits sometimes hang around to find out what happened to them. Closure, I guess?”

  “Can’t imagine anyone would do that to the man. Sure, he had some issues with his daughter and granddaughter, but I can’t imagine they’d hurt him. Can’t imagine anyone hurting him. He was good people.”

  Unfortunately, good people are killed all the time. “Yes, he was.” I opened the door to leave and walked into his granddaughter, Abershama.

  “Hey!” She glanced down at my entourage. “See you’ve got your posse with you.”

  “Never leave my side.” I grabbed her arm and yanked her beside me. “Walk me to my car.”

  Two steps later, we were in my car.

  “Thanks for the walk,” she said. “Now, what’s up?”

  I leaned toward her as I held my passenger door open for my posse. “I’ve got another one.”

  “Bless your heart. How many of these things are going to come to you?”

  “I don’t think anyone’s planning on giving me an exact number.”

  “Do you know who it is?”

  “Cornelius Mayfield.”

  “If I were human, I’d say a prayer for that sweet man’s soul.”

  “He needs it.” I whispered, “He says he was murdered. Poisoned.”

  “As my grandma used to say, slap some butter on me and call me a biscuit.”

  I laughed. “He wants me to find the person who killed him.”

  She clapped. “Yay! I’ve been looking for something spooky to do for the holiday!”

  I groaned. “I’m fine with seeing the—” I flicked my head to the left. “You know whats. I’m just not cool with finding murderers.”

  “You’re a witch. You can take them down with the wave of a hand.” She winked. “And if you can’t, I’ll shift and bite their head off.”

  “I think that’s what people would call TMI. Too much information.”

  “Good thing we’re not people then, huh?”

  I was grateful for Abershama, but her lack of fear worried me. “Your grandpa said something about Mayfield’s daughter and granddaughter. Do you know what he’s talking about?”

  “No, but I’ll find out and get back to you. Meet me at the Anderson house in an hour? That’s where you saw him, right?”

  “You’re one smart shifter.”

  “It’s just one of my many gifts.”

  I rolled down the window and told my buddies I needed to go back to Dew Drops for a quick second. They chose to follow
along, John hopping on Roland’s back for the short walk.

  Esmerelda pushed back her shoulders. “Okay, now I know something’s going on. Twice in one day?”

  “I just don’t want people to get a creepy vibe for this open house at the Andersons, and I’m hoping you can tell me about Cornelius. Mr. Calloway told me he had some enemies.”

  “You think humans are seeing him because he’s got enemies, and his ghost is out for revenge or something?”

  “I’m just covering my bases so I can explain if the question comes up.”

  “Sounds fair.” She finished pounding the last lumps in a bowl of white powder. “I wouldn’t say he had enemies. You know his daughter, right?”

  “Not personally. I’ve seen her around town.”

  “When they created the image for the evil witch in The Wizard of Oz, they modeled it after Grace.”

  I laughed. “I don’t think she’s old enough for that.”

  “She’s not a nice woman, and that daughter of hers is just as nasty.”

  “I know Rebecca. I don’t like her.”

  “Then I suggest that’s where you start. If Cornie is haunting his home, he’s doing it because of something one of those two did. I feel for the people that buy the house if that’s the case. Sure wish we could help him.”

  Chapter Four

  Iris barked at me as she sashayed past my office. “Get those decorations up yet?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I hollered back. “And I updated the listing description, too.”

  She appeared at my door. “You updated the listing?”

  I nodded while stacking a pile of file folders neatly on the top left side of my desk. “I had a few thoughts after walking through the home, and I thought it would be good to mention them.”

  She leaned her left shoulder against my door frame. “I wrote that description myself. I’m not sure what you could have added that would improve it.”

  I considered pulling it up and reading it to her, but Iris didn’t think anyone could do anything better than she could, so it wasn’t worth it. “Would you like me to change it back?”