The Black Cat Knocks on Wood (13 page)

I woke the next morning feeling irritable and in the mood to confront Deputy Rosales.

You have a problem with me? Then face me like an adult, don’t involve my cat.

My logical mind told me confronting the woman could backfire. She had a serious chip on her shoulder.

And a vindictive personality.

And a badge.

I rolled over to check the clock. Way past the time I’d intended to get up and start writing. Next to the clock sat a plate of crumbs—what was left of the Texas Cowboy Cookies I’d baked during the night when I couldn’t fall asleep. I’d eaten a dozen of them around three and now felt slightly queasy.

I sat up and scanned the room. I didn’t see Hitchcock, and it was odd that he hadn’t come around to bite at my hair or tap my face with his paw.

“Hey, buddy,” I called out. “Where are you? Ready for breakfast?”

No answering meow.

I hoped he was simply enjoying the morning sunshine and not off on one of his journeys. I threw on shorts and a T-shirt and went outside to walk around my cottage. I didn’t see Hitchcock hanging out in any of his favorite spots. I strolled around the grounds to look for him.

Rita Colletti’s car sat outside the Paris cottage along with another car I didn’t recognize. The lawyer sure had been a busy bee lately, and I wondered what she was up to. I wished she would hurry up and head back to her office in Houston.

I kept walking, scanning the grounds and peering under bushes. As I neared Aunt Rowe’s house I noticed her driveway filled with vehicles. I looked at the cars for a moment and realized that her rodeo gal pals were here again. A timeworn green pickup I didn’t recognize sat amongst the cars. I heard laughter and followed it around the house to Aunt Rowe’s backyard. There was Hitchcock, sitting on the split rail fence under the shade of an oak tree, watching the action like an umpire following a ball game.

Aunt Rowe and two of her friends stood in the yard around a wooden four-legged figure that I supposed was meant to represent a goat. Hayden Birch, holding a rope, stood with them.

He held up the rope and said, “Adele, come on over and give this a try.”

Adele, dressed in a red T-shirt and denim capris, stepped reluctantly toward him. “Could you demonstrate for us one more time?” she said.

“I think someone’s stalling,” Hayden said with a smile. “How about this? I’ll stand behind you and guide the motion.”

Adele giggled as she turned toward her friends. I caught a glimpse of her waggling her eyebrows. Hayden put his arms around her from behind to demonstrate how she should hold the rope. I walked to the fence, and Hitchcock looked up at me.

“Mrreow.”

“I agree. No poor goat should be so mistreated.” I scratched the cat’s head, and he began to purr.

The back door of the house opened and Pearl emerged, but she didn’t join the others. Instead, she sat in a chair on the deck and moped. She watched her friends, but there was no joy in her expression. Guess I couldn’t blame her after the events of the past few days.

I watched as Hayden finished showing Adele the steps to taking hold of a goat and flipping it over. I cringed, even though they weren’t using a live animal. Normally, I liked to be supportive of Aunt Rowe in all her endeavors. Not this time. Now that I could rest easy about Hitchcock’s whereabouts, I’d head back to start my writing day.

Pearl looked up when I began to walk away, and I gave her a little wave. She returned a wan smile. Feeling sorry for the woman, I walked over to the deck.

“Good morning, Pearl.”

“Only if you’re close to solving the mystery,” she said. “Otherwise, my son isn’t bringing Julie for her visit.”

Uh-oh.

“He got wind that I’m being investigated by the sheriff,” she went on. “I don’t know who told him. Sure wasn’t me.”

Pearl’s son had grown up in the area. No doubt he had friends who still lived here.

“I’m so sorry, Pearl. That’s disappointing news.”

“Julie and Abby are out of their minds about this,” Pearl said. “They were
so
looking forward to their week.”

“I know.”

Pearl looked over the deck railing at me. “Are you getting anywhere?
Somebody
killed the woman, for crying out loud, and it wasn’t me.”

Even though I
was
hoping to figure out what happened to Crystal, I didn’t appreciate Pearl’s tone or the fact that she assumed I could solve everything and tie it all up in a great big bow. I didn’t want to get into it with her right here and now.

“I’m doing the best I can, Pearl, and I’m headed back to work.”

Work that wasn’t what Pearl had in mind, but if I stopped for every little thing, I’d never make progress with the book. I walked back to where Hitchcock was still fence sitting.

“I’m headed home, writing buddy. Wanna come?” I had turned toward the Monte Carlo cabin and taken a few steps in that direction with Hitchcock on my heels, when I heard a voice behind me.

“Sabrina, wait up.”

It was Hayden. I didn’t want to hear one word about the goat tying, and heaven forbid the man suggest that I give it a try myself. That wasn’t going to happen.

I stopped walking and picked up Hitchcock. Hayden approached me with a silly grin on his face. What was that about? Seemed to me this good-looking clown was enjoying the fact that the senior ladies were making complete fools of themselves.

“You get your kicks from making fun of elderly women?” I said when he joined me in Aunt Rowe’s side yard.

His grin vanished. “I’m not making fun, I’m coaching them.”

I nodded. “Sure.”

“What got your goat?” he said. “Pardon the pun.”

“I don’t like rodeos.”

“I can tell. Last I checked, no one needed your permission. The Lavender rodeo’s older than you.” He lifted his cowboy hat and ran a hand through his dishwater blond hair before replacing the hat. “It’s a legend, kind of like your cat here.”

He reached a hand toward the cat, and Hitchcock allowed the man to pet him.

“Hitchcock is
not
a legend. Any legend that has anything to do with a cat around here is about some cat who lived decades ago.”

Hayden grinned. “Whatever you say, Miss Sabrina. Didn’t mean to set you off.”

I flipped my hand in a no-big-deal gesture. “I don’t like my aunt being involved in dangerous activities. That’s what gets my goat. Best thing I can do right now is walk away and put this whole rodeo performance out of my mind.”

“How ’bout you and I go out for dinner sometime soon, and I’ll wipe the rodeo and everything else right out of your memory.” His hand drifted forward, and his fingers trailed down my arm.

Knock it off, mister. I barely know you.

I took a half step backward and ducked my head to hide the shock that must show on my face. “This isn’t a good time. I have a tight book deadline to meet.”

“Cool,” he said. “We’ll go out and celebrate when you’re done.”

I didn’t want to be rude, but I didn’t want to go out with the man either. He seemed like the type with a lot more on his mind than dinner. This was a good time for a change of subject.

I snapped my fingers. “Hey, what were you doing skulking around the sheriff’s department yesterday?”

Hayden frowned. “I was at home yesterday.”

“You were acting a little weird, then you got into that truck.”

He shook his head. “You must have me mixed up with somebody else.”

“Tyanne and I both saw you.”

“Wasn’t me,” he said.

Why was the man lying? “We saw the red truck drop you off at a house.”

His eyes narrowed. “You were tailing me?”

“We followed the truck,” I said. “Hitchcock was in the back.”

He looked from me to the cat. “Why?”

I shrugged. “Don’t know, ’cause he got a wild hair to jump in? We weren’t gonna let him take off in the truck by himself, so we followed.”

Hayden scuffed a toe in the dirt and glanced around nervously. “Glad you got him back,” he said. “Cats pull some crazy stunts, huh?”

He was trying to change the subject.

“Anyway,” I said, “Sheriff Crawford wouldn’t tell me what you and he were talking about.”

Hayden looked up. “You talked to Crawford about me?”

“I didn’t intend to, but he called me last night—”

“For what?” Hayden said.

“He’s a friend of my aunt’s.”

I noticed a white pickup coming down the drive. Pearl was involved in the goat tying practice now, completely uncoordinated as she tried to pick up the pretend goat. I looked at Hayden, who was watching the approaching pickup—Luke Griffin’s truck, I realized, when I saw the yellow Lab riding shotgun.

Hitchcock jumped to the ground. He’d seen the truck, too, and he looked excited to see his friend Luke Griffin again. I could relate.

“Tell me what you and the sheriff said about me.” Hayden turned his attention back to me.

“He wouldn’t talk about the case,” I said.

“I got nothin’ to do with any case,” Hayden said.

“If you say so. Sheriff didn’t tell me a thing. I saw you at his office. We followed the truck to a house where you got out. The truck went to the rodeo, so that’s where we went to get the cat. End of story.”

Luke Griffin climbed out of his truck and headed our way. I was glad to see him, but I wondered why he was here.

“You were at the rodeo last night?” Hayden said.

“Yes, that’s what I just told you.”

“Did you talk to anyone there?”

“Ace, Remy, Doc Jensen. Why?”

Hayden lowered his head and rubbed his forehead. “I seem to recall you owe me a favor, so don’t talk to anyone about
me, especially not about seeing me in town.” He looked up, his eyes hard and dead serious. “Promise me.”

“Or what?”

“Let’s just say I can’t afford to lose my job and leave it at that. We never had this conversation.”

His statement insinuated that someone with the power to fire him wouldn’t like him talking to the sheriff. Had he passed on incriminating information about Lance or Ace?

Before I could ask another question, Griffin walked up to us. “How do.” He tipped his head to me and Hayden before checking out the women practicing their roping skills.

“I see you got one of those goat dummies,” Griffin said. “That helping?”

“Not much, doesn’t look like,” Hayden said. “Ladies have no experience, so it’s gonna take a while. Something I can do for you, Warden?”

“Nope.” Griffin shook his head. “I came to see Sabrina.”

“Oh?” Hayden looked at me. “Are we clear?”

“Perfectly,” I said.

Hayden strode toward Aunt Rowe and friends.

“Mrreow.” Hitchcock jumped up on a decorative fence by Aunt Rowe’s rosebushes and perched on the end post where he could rub against Griffin’s elbow.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to ignore you.” Griffin rubbed the cat’s head, then looked at me and lowered his voice. “What was that smarmy son of a gun cozying up to you about?”

“I’m not sure. Wants me to keep quiet about something, so I will. For the time being.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Griffin said.

“It’s not a big deal, but I do have news that’s a very big deal.”

“What’s that?”

“Let’s walk,” I said and motioned for Griffin to follow me around to the other side of the house, where we wouldn’t be overheard. Hitchcock jumped down from the fence and
followed us. I led Griffin to the front porch bench, and we sat. Griffin put his arm on the bench behind me and crossed one ankle over a knee.

“Your
friend
, Detective Rosales, took a sample of Hitchcock’s hair to test his DNA,” I said.

Griffin faced me. “For real?”

“She claimed the hair was needed for the murder investigation, but Sheriff Crawford seemed pretty darn surprised when I mentioned it to him.”

“Why’d she do it?”

“To annoy me, I’m afraid.”

“Why?”

“Because she doesn’t like me.”

“She doesn’t like a lot of people.”

“But me especially,” I said.

Griffin’s eyes met mine. “She’s a very poor judge of character.”

“Except for the fact that she likes
you
, because you’re very likeable.”

He grinned. “I’m glad you think so.”

“We have a mutual admiration society going on here, don’t we?”

“Mrreow,” Hitchcock said.

We looked down at him, sitting on the porch in front of us, and burst out laughing.

When our chuckles subsided, I said, “Did you have a special reason for coming over this morning, Warden Griffin?”

“I came to check on you,” he said. “Saw your car parked at the sheriff’s department last night. When I noticed it’s still sitting there this morning I started to worry Rosales had arrested you and threw away the key.”

“Did you go inside to see?”

He shook his head. “Rosales’s car was there, too, and I didn’t want to get into anything with her. Besides, it’s not such a long drive out here to check on you in person.”

“You could have called.”

“Then I wouldn’t have gotten to see you.”

I felt the heat of a blush creeping up my cheeks.

“I have a question for you, Luke.”

“What is it?” he said.

“Have you ever come out and told Rosales to back off?”

“Sort of,” he said. “Guess I wasn’t clear enough.”

“Have you ever told her how you feel about me?”

As I turned to look at him, he put his arm around me and pulled me closer. “Not yet. I figured it’d be best if I told you first.”

Luke had to get back to work, but not until after he’d convinced me with a kiss that he wanted us to spend more time together.

A lot more time.

We planned to meet for a late dinner to delve into the relationship discussion a little further. I couldn’t quit grinning as I walked back to my cottage. The thought of a future with Luke appealed to me, but I was letting my imagination jump way ahead. Maybe that was normal for a woman closing in on forty. The same advice applied, though, no matter what a person’s age. Follow the path, slow and easy, and see where it leads.

Hitchcock had somehow returned to the Monte Carlo cottage ahead of me. I’d been so distracted thinking about Luke that the cat could have ridden home on my shoulder and I probably wouldn’t have noticed. He was sitting on the porch and meowed when he saw me.

“Bet you’re ready for your breakfast, aren’t you?” I said.

He darted in through the kitty door, and I took that as a yes.

I hit the “Power” button on my laptop on the way to filling Hitchcock’s food dish. Time to turn my brain dial to fiction, if I could manage that with this warm fluttery feeling I had going on.

Fifteen minutes later we’d finished breakfast, and Hitchcock lay on the desk next to the laptop as I tried to concentrate on writing. My thoughts kept drifting back to Luke Griffin. As often happens after a divorce, I went through a period of swearing off men. Until I’d met Luke a few months ago, that hadn’t been a problem. Now that he’d made the first move, I couldn’t help daydreaming about what his second move would be like.

And the third.

My cheeks warmed as my thoughts turned racy. I shook my head to bring myself back to the present.

You’re a professional writer, Sabrina. Act the part.

The book. The publisher. The revisions.

“This is what I’ve looked forward to my whole life,” I told Hitchcock. “Being an author, I mean.”

He lifted his head. “Mrreow.”

Bolstered by the cat’s support, I moved to the part of the manuscript where I’d left off the day before. After a few minutes, I knew the good luck Hitchcock brought to my writing was working big-time today. I checked off numerous items on the requested revision list, then planned out a critical scene the editor had suggested adding.

Scarlett Olson, my protagonist, had managed to outrun the killer thus far. At this point in the book, Scarlett didn’t know the killer’s identity, but she had suspicions about three people. A reader would have the benefit of knowing Scarlett’s point of view, which provided valuable clues in figuring out the villain’s identity.

I stopped typing and looked out the window. Too bad no one could know what was in Crystal Devlin’s head before she
was killed. Would knowledge of her thoughts—if we could read her point of view on a page—solve the crime?

I tipped my head to one side, thinking that through.

So what was the next best thing to knowing what Crystal thought?

Asking someone she confided in. Either that or someone who spent a lot of time with her. I’d already talked with Paloma Morales, but hadn’t gotten enough useful information from the woman.

You don’t need to solve the crime. That’s the sheriff’s job.

Sooner or later, the killer would be caught. Pearl would be back to working in her candy store with nothing bigger to worry about than how many cartons of Reese’s to order. Pearl sure had known where to stick the knife, though, by mentioning Julie and Abby. I had such fond memories of summers spent visiting Tyanne, back in our girlhood. If Crystal’s murder was solved—soon—the girls’ fun summer vacation might be salvaged.

I have to do something—for the girls’ sake.

What was the harm in asking a few questions of the appropriate people?

I clicked “Save” on the laptop and closed my document. Then I said bye to Hitchcock and headed into town. Jordan Meier had spent a lot of time—more than she wanted to, I’d bet—with Crystal Devlin. She
had
to know things about the dead woman that no one else knew.

*   *   *

A bell tinkled over the door when I walked into the real estate office. A fresh bouquet of flowers sat on the reception desk. Easy-listening music played in the background. The phone trilled a soothing ringtone, and the young lady behind the desk answered “Good afternoon, Devlin Realty” in a melodious voice.

She wasn’t Jordan, and I looked twice when I realized it
was Cody Devlin’s girlfriend, Mimi. Wearing a simple black dress with her blond hair tied back in a ribbon, she looked more mature than she had when I saw her before.

“Ms. Meier is with clients,” she said into the phone. “May I take a message?”

I glanced toward the office Crystal Devlin had entered the other day. Through half-open blinds on the glass office wall I saw Jordan seated behind the desk, across from a man and woman. The man looked none too happy, almost like he was shaking a fist at Jordan as he talked. The office door was closed, so I couldn’t hear their discussion.

“Closing is set for next Wednesday.” Mimi ran a finger across a spreadsheet on the desk in front of her. “You’ll get a call from us the day before.”

I was surprised at the business-as-usual routine, but people had contracts to deal with and deadlines to meet.

Mimi ended her call and turned toward me. “Welcome to Devlin Realty. How may—” She stopped short when she focused on my face. “Oh, hi.”

I smiled. “Hi yourself.”

I felt awkward, having come here to nose around for information about Crystal, her boyfriend’s mother. I glanced at the real estate papers lining the desk in front of her. Turning around and leaving would be more awkward, and I hated making a wasted trip.

“You work here now?” I said, “Or maybe you’ve always worked here and I didn’t know.”

She shook her head. “I came to help Jordan. She’s kinda overwhelmed.”

“I was curious what would happen,” I said. “Who’s handling the properties?”

“Jordan is,” Mimi said.

“I thought she was an assistant, but then I heard she’s a licensed agent.”

“Right. She is.”

“Good for her.” The fact made me more curious about the way Crystal had treated Jordan. “This will be a rough patch for a lot of folks. Nice of you to help out.”

Mimi shrugged. “I’d gag if I had this job full-time, but I can answer phones for a little while. The other day when we were in here, it was ringin’ off the hook, Jordan was meeting with like three customers at once. Looked like she was gonna lose it.”

“I guess Mr. Devlin isn’t involved in the business,” I said.

Mimi wrinkled her nose. “He’d rather spend all his time on that smelly old ranch.”

I laughed. “You’re a city girl, like me.”

“You call this a city?”

I didn’t consider Lavender the city, but before I could respond the phone trilled again. Mimi rolled her eyes and held up a finger while she answered.

I strolled to a wall that held assorted pictures of people in front of houses, standing next to Sold signs with big smiles on their faces. Crystal Devlin was in many of the photos with the new homeowners.

A door opened behind me, and I turned to see Jordan emerge from the office with the couple.

“Don’t you worry,” Jordan said. “We’ll have the inspection report by tomorrow, and we’ll close in time. Trust me.”

“We’d better,” the man said.

Jordan walked them to the door and said good-bye, then let out a loud sigh when she closed the door behind them. She glanced my way and smiled. Like Mimi, she looked like a different person today, dressed in a navy skirt with a white blouse and heels.

“Good to see you.” She came over to me and offered her hand. “What can I do for you today?”

We shook, and I glanced at Mimi. The girl’s chair was turned toward the wall, and she was hunched over with the desk phone tight to her ear. A personal call, I guessed.

I looked at Jordan. “Could I ask you a few questions about Crystal? If you have a moment.”

Jordan’s smile vanished. “What kind of questions?”

“Just a few things about her acquaintances.” I lowered my voice a notch. “Better done in private.”

“Sure. Come on in to my office.” She headed that way. “Crystal’s office, I mean. This is very awkward, but there’s so much to do and someone has to get these deals put to bed.”

We entered the office, and I settled in a chair across the desk from her.

“I understand my Aunt Rowe and that lawyer paid a visit. Hope they weren’t too much bother.”

Jordan waved a hand. “No, no. They were fine. Well, the lawyer was aggressive as all get-out.”

“Don’t I know it. I used to work for her in Houston.”

“Poor you.” Jordan made a face. “I know how it feels to work for someone less than nice, but no worries about that property Pearl Hogan wants to buy. I think I can make it happen for her.”

“I didn’t realize until Aunt Rowe told me you’re licensed. The other day you were—”

“I know, mopping the floor,” she said, “acting more like the janitor.”

I nodded. “Right.”

“Crystal liked to pretend I wasn’t official,” she said. “I hired on as a company employee, partly so I could get the company benefits even if I had to do all the clerical stuff.”

“I see. You did the behind-the-scenes work and Crystal took all the credit.”

Jordan smiled grimly and nodded. “And the money.”

“None of the listings were yours,” I said.

“Nope. Crystal made the commissions. I’m paid a salary, plus I get the health insurance.”

“You could have purchased health insurance elsewhere,” I said.

“Sure I
could
,” Jordan said, “but I wanted the real estate experience. There isn’t a better place in town, and I had to stay in Lavender because of my mom.” Jordan glanced fondly at a picture of an elderly couple perched on the edge of the desk.

“I guess things have changed for the better, now that Crystal isn’t in charge anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Jordan said.

“You’re the licensed agent in charge,” I said, “so you can make the commission.”

Jordan frowned. “I hope that’s what will happen, but I’m not bothering Mr. Devlin with questions right now.” She straightened some files that sat on the desk, then looked up at me. “You wanted to ask me about Crystal’s acquaintances, and here we are talking about me.”

The girl had to realize I was suspicious, but she didn’t call me on it.

“You’re right,” I said. “Since you began working with Crystal—how long ago was that?”

“Four years and ten months,” Jordan said without consulting a calendar.

“In all that time, did you notice if Crystal made any enemies?”

“You mean someone who’d want her dead?” Jordan said, straight-faced.

“Exactly.”

The desk phone bleeped, and Jordan glanced down. “Excuse me.”

She punched an intercom button. “Yes, Mimi.”

“That woman is on the phone again,” the girl said.

Jordan’s complexion seemed to pale. “Tell her I’m in a meeting.”

“I tried that. She’s acting, um, kind of nasty—”

Jordan’s hand hovered over the phone. “Sabrina, would you mind if we do this later?”

I stood. “Not a problem. I know you’re busy.”

“Thank you.” Jordan smiled. I took note that she didn’t pick up the phone until I was out the door and closing it behind me.

Mimi appeared to be sorting the papers on her desk and looked up at me. “Have a good day.”

“I guess this can be a nasty business sometimes,” I said. “I hate to see clients treating Jordan badly when she’s clearly trying to help.”

“That woman on the phone’s beyond nasty,” Mimi said. “She’s from some place called Manor House, not a client. Something about a bill that needs to be paid or else.”