The Black Cat Knocks on Wood (7 page)

“
I’m not here to talk,” I whispered. “I came to pick up Aunt Rowe and Pearl.”

The sheriff moved closer to me and spoke in a low voice. “If you don’t talk to Mr. Devlin now, he’ll be askin’ all over town about you. Is that what you want?”

“No, but there’s nothing I can say that will help. I have no idea what happened to his wife.”

“You can tell him what you do know,” Sheriff Crawford said.

A chair scraped along the floor, and I heard Aunt Rowe. “Mr. Devlin, if you’re not of a mind to help me with my friend, then could you at least get out of our way?”

I sighed. I wanted out of here as soon as possible even if it meant exchanging a few words with Lance Devlin first. I squared my shoulders and marched into the conference room.

Pearl had a grip on Aunt Rowe’s shoulder as she tried to stand. I could hear her heavy breathing from across the room. Her hair looked like she’d walked through a windstorm, and her glasses sat askew. A man, Lance Devlin I assumed, stood
between them and the door. He was dark-haired and tall, fiftyish, in jeans and a denim shirt. He held a felt cowboy hat in his right hand.

I walked up behind him. “Excuse me, Mr. Devlin.”

He turned around, and I offered a hand. “I’m Sabrina Tate. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

He switched his hat to his other hand and shook mine.

Aunt Rowe said, “Thank goodness you’re here. Pearl is having trouble getting her breath.”

“Should we call an ambulance?” I said.

“No,” Pearl said, “I have some medicine at home, and I’m sure I’ll be fine after I take that.” She rapped her fist on the table. “Knock on wood.”

There she goes again with that knock-on-wood business.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m ready.”

I looked at Devlin, who appeared to still be wrapping his mind around the fact that he’d uttered my name and conjured me up as if by magic.

“Hold on a second,” he said in a deep Texas drawl. “You need to answer some questions.”

“I already reported what I know, which isn’t much, to the deputy at the scene. When I arrived, the bricks had already fallen. I don’t know how it happened. There was nothing I could do to help your wife. I’m so sorry.”

Devlin said, “Did you see anyone else in the area?”

I glanced at Pearl. Her complexion was flushed, and sweat beaded on her forehead.

“Pearl was there,” I said. “She found Crystal. Before we could get help, the construction workers arrived and made the call. That’s all I know.”

“She had it in for my wife.” Devlin gave Pearl a long once-over.

“Granted, they weren’t best friends,” Aunt Rowe said, “but Pearl wouldn’t hurt an ant traipsing through her candy store.”

The sheriff came into the room and handed the papers he held to Devlin. “I’ve made copies, so you can take these back home. I’ll let you know if we find anything useful.”

Devlin said, “Sheriff, a word in private?”

Sheriff Crawford nodded. “Let’s go into my office. You ladies, see yourselves out. Pearl, stay close. We’ll need to speak in more detail.”

At least he didn’t say “don’t leave town,” but I was pretty sure that’s what he meant. I was surprised Pearl didn’t have a comeback to that statement even though she didn’t feel well.

Aunt Rowe took Pearl by her arm. I went around and supported Pearl’s other side. She stood, breathing even harder, and let out a low moan.

I looked down at the woman. Her antics were making me suspicious about the whole illness thing.

“You should go straight to a doctor’s office,” I said on our way to the door.

“I’ll be fine,” Pearl said, sounding weak.

“Let’s go to my house,” Aunt Rowe said. “I can keep an eye on Pearl there, make sure things don’t get worse.”

“Okay,” Pearl whispered.

The woman said she had medicine at home, but I’d rather get these two away from the sheriff’s office than raise the issue.

“Where’s your car, Aunt Rowe?” I said.

“In the shop,” she said as we stepped outside. “I was there talking to the mechanic when I got the call from Pearl, so I walked straight over.”

Pearl stopped short. “Good Lord, Sabrina,” she said in a normal tone, “what’s in your car?”

I glanced in that direction and saw Hitchcock sprawled on the dash above the steering wheel.

She leaned forward, squinting. “Oh my gosh, it’s your cat.”

“Hitchcock and I just came from a visit with his vet.” I cast a glance at Cody and Mimi. The teenagers had moved
down to the other end of the porch and were engrossed in conversation.

“You shouldn’t bring him out in public like this,” Pearl said.

She sounded stronger, as if the hot outdoor air had rejuvenated her.

“Get in the car, please.” I opened the back door for the women and kept one eye on Hitchcock to make sure he didn’t try to escape.

Pearl slid across the backseat. “I didn’t say one word about the cat to the sheriff, I swear.”

“Why
would
you mention the cat?” Aunt Rowe said.

I closed the back door after them, then got in and turned around to look at Aunt Rowe. “Pearl thought Hitchcock was in the building where Crystal died, but he wasn’t and that’s that. Let’s drop the subject, please.”

Aunt Rowe didn’t comment. Pearl crossed her arms over her chest and looked out the window. I headed toward home, thankful that Pearl’s breathing had seemed to ease and pretty much convinced she’d been faking the whole breathing problem. Hitchcock settled onto the passenger seat for the short drive. I wondered what the papers were that Sheriff Crawford had handed to Devlin. A copy of the police report, maybe, or something more?

We arrived at Aunt Rowe’s house a few minutes later and Pearl climbed out of the car without assistance.

“I’m starving, but I need to make a call to the store,” she announced and headed inside.

“Shouldn’t she be resting?” I said to Aunt Rowe, wondering how long the two of them would keep up the charade.

“She will. C’mon in. You can join us for dinner.”

I shook my head. “I need to take Hitchcock home. He’s getting antsy in this harness the vet gave me.”

“Bring him inside,” Aunt Rowe said. “I have some of that smoked turkey he loves.”

I thought Aunt Rowe didn’t approve of feeding Hitchcock people food, but the cat’s ears perked up at the word “turkey.”

“Besides,” she said, “you and I need to visit. It seems like I barely get to spend time with you.”

“Okay, we’ll stay for a little bit.” I unfastened the harness, and Hitchcock couldn’t slide out fast enough. We both followed Aunt Rowe into the kitchen.

“Have you eaten?” she said as she pulled a container of turkey from the refrigerator.

“Not since breakfast, and I’m having a serious chocolate craving.”

“Glenda left a tortilla casserole for dinner.” Aunt Rowe picked up a piece of paper where Glenda scribbled instructions as she often did. “All I have to do is heat it in the oven.”

“How long will that take?” I said.

“Thirty minutes,” she said.

“So long as you have the oven going, I’m going to mix up a batch of black bottom cupcakes.” Luke Griffin’s belated birthday treat.

Aunt Rowe turned on the oven to preheat, then chopped turkey into small pieces for Hitchcock. When she finished she placed a bowl of meat on the floor, and Hitchcock attacked it with gusto.

I got out the mixer and the cupcake ingredients. “Pearl seems to feel a lot better.”

“Uh-huh.” Aunt Rowe opened the refrigerator and took out the tea pitcher.

I made these cupcakes so often that I could practically mix them up with my eyes closed. I measured ingredients for the batter in one bowl and the cheesecake filling in another. Chocolate chips sprinkled on top added the perfect amount of sweetness.

“What did the sheriff say about Crystal?” I said.

“He wouldn’t tell us much, but I heard him on the phone. He says she was dead before the bricks fell. Blow to the back of her head.” Aunt Rowe filled tea glasses. “He’s definitely looking for a murderer.”

“It’s awfully quick to know that for a fact. They’ll have to
do an autopsy, cross all their t’s and dot the i’s.” I lined two cupcake tins with paper liners. “Any idea what those papers were that he handed back to Devlin?”

“Crystal’s calendar, I think,” she said.

“Huh.” It made perfect sense for the sheriff to investigate the woman’s recent activities and appointments. Hopefully, he wouldn’t find derogatory notations about Pearl.

I looked at Aunt Rowe. “Things might not look great for Pearl, but I can’t imagine he seriously suspects her.”

“I hope you’re right.”

We worked in silence for a minute before Pearl walked into the kitchen and hopped up on a barstool at the island. She’d combed her hair and looked perky. “The store is running smoothly without me. Knock on wood.” She tap-tapped the counter with a knuckle.

“Quit that,” I said.

Pearl looked confused. “Quit what?”

“Saying the words ‘knock on wood’ changes nothing,” I said.

“It makes me feel better.” Pearl turned her attention to the stove. “What’s for dinner?”

I rolled my eyes behind her back.

Aunt Rowe told Pearl about the casserole and handed her a glass of iced tea. I watched Pearl from the corner of my eye while I finished readying the cupcakes for baking and saw not one sign of trouble with her breathing.

Pearl took a sip of tea and sighed. “I hope this murder business gets cleared up before my little Julie gets here.”

“When’s she coming?” Aunt Rowe said.

“Supposed to fly into San Antonio day after tomorrow,” Pearl said.

“Who’s Julie?” I said.

“My granddaughter,” Pearl said. “She’s eight. Cutest little thing. Her parents are spending a day with her at SeaWorld before they head to Lavender. Then she’ll be with me for two weeks.”

“That’ll be nice,” Aunt Rowe said. “Reminds me of when Sabrina was a little girl. She came here to visit often, and I loved every minute.”

Smiling at the memory, I slid the cupcake tins into the oven on the shelf below the casserole.

“Be a shame if I was locked up when Julie gets here,” Pearl said.

“Don’t be silly,” I said. “They wouldn’t lock you up unless they had evidence against you.”

Pearl and Aunt Rowe exchanged a glance.

“
Do
they have evidence?” I said.

Pearl’s face scrunched up. “I might have left a couple of, uh, not-so-nice voice messages for Crystal.”

“You
might have
?” I said.

“She had me riled up about the real estate deal,” Pearl said. “I blew off some steam on the phone. That’s not what I’m most worried about, though.”

I looked over at Aunt Rowe and shook my head.

“What worries you most?” Aunt Rowe said.

Hitchcock jumped up to the stool near Pearl and looked at her as if he was just as interested in hearing her next statement as the rest of us.

“What if the killer comes after me?” she said.

“The killer wasn’t after you, Pearl,” I said, “least not if what you told me was the truth.”

“I’m not a liar,” she said petulantly.

“You didn’t see anyone,” I said, “and chances are no one saw you in that building. No one knows you were there, except for me.”

“A lot of loose lips in this town,” Aunt Rowe said. “The killer might hear Pearl was there, think that she saw him, and come after her to shut her up.”

“Good way to make your friend feel worse, Aunt Rowe,” I said.

“It’s a fact,” Pearl said. “I already figured that out for myself.”

I turned on the oven light and looked in the window to check the cupcakes. “What’s with you two? I’m usually the one who comes up with all the weird plot ideas.”

Aunt Rowe cleared her throat. “That’s exactly why you should solve this case, Sabrina, before things get out of hand. You can think like a criminal, and you did a great job solving the last murder in Lavender.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” I backed away from the oven, away from the women staring at me. “I’m not getting involved in a murder investigation.”

“But you have to,” Pearl whined. “How else will I get off the hook for good?”

I looked at her, my eyes narrowed. “How are you feeling, Pearl? You seem to be breathing with absolutely no problem.”

She ducked her head and cut her eyes to Aunt Rowe. “She’s onto us.”

“Good grief, Aunt Rowe, you were in cahoots with her and the whole oh-I’m-so-sick-I-can’t-breathe act?”

“I wasn’t gonna stand by and let Devlin railroad Pearl straight into a jail cell.” Aunt Rowe went to the pantry and stepped inside, possibly to avoid the conversation.

“I
did
feel bad,” Pearl added. “Who feels fine when they’re being questioned about a murder?”

I raised my hands. “I am not touching this case, it’s not my job, I am no detective.”

“You know all the tricks.” Pearl set her glass down with a thump. “You write about them in your books all the time.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s not. I’m counting on you. Little Julie is counting on you, too. You wouldn’t want her to see Grandma Pearl behind bars, would you?”

I shook my head. “There’s nothing you can say to make me change my mind. Don’t even try.”

“Mrreow,” Hitchcock said.

I stayed at Aunt Rowe’s house long enough to grab a bite of dinner and finish making the cupcakes. Then I was out of there, without making any promises to investigate a murder. Not that I wished Pearl any ill will. My hope was she’d never be charged with anything. I mean, who indicts the candy-store lady for murder? I would mind my own business and hope for the best where Pearl was concerned. If all went well, my cat—or any cat for that matter—would never be mentioned in connection with this morning’s events. The sheriff wouldn’t even give the presence of a cat a second thought, would he?

No matter. Steer clear of the whole mess.

I carried a plate of slightly warm cupcakes into my cottage and found Hitchcock sitting by his empty food dish. He’d made it home ahead of me, and I didn’t know if he’d stayed to hear the last of my conversation with Aunt Rowe and Pearl.

“I turned them down, Hitchcock,” I told him as I doled out
his cat food. “We’re not getting involved in any investigation. You’re
not
already involved, right?”

He looked up from the bowl briefly before diving back into the food without responding.

Next on my agenda—how to go about getting these belated birthday cupcakes to Luke Griffin? I’d never been to his place, and it felt a little forward of me to assume he’d be okay with an impromptu visit. Invite him here? I’d rather not stay myself—not with Rita Colletti living practically next door. Her car was parked at the Paris cottage when I passed, and she was bound to hit me up again to do her typing.

First, see if Griffin’s free tonight.

I picked up my phone and hit the button programmed to call the game warden.

Griffin answered on the second ring.

“Hey, remember those cupcakes we talked about?” I said.

“How could I forget?” he said with a smile in his voice.

I paused, thinking how to phrase this without sounding like I was asking him out. “They’re ready, and I’m calling to see when and where you’d like to take delivery.”

That sounded awkward—like I was calling from some cupcake shop.

“As soon as possible,” he said. “I’m free after eight tonight. Heading out now to speak at a Boy Scout meeting.”

“Really? About what?”

“Safety on the water, boating safety in particular. Scouts have a camping weekend coming up.”

“Interesting,” I said. “Is this part of your job?”

“Not exactly, but I’m a multifaceted kind of guy.”

One of the things I liked about him.

“Where’s the meeting?” I said.

“Eugenia Banks Middle School. You know it?”

“I do. Meeting ends about eight?”

“Right. You want to meet somewhere afterward?”

A thought came to mind, and I decided to go for it. “Is there by chance a place inside the school where I could sit
and write while you’re meeting?” I said. “This morning I knew exactly where the chapter I’m writing was headed, but things here right now aren’t at all conducive to writing. I need to get the words down before they vanish.”

“You want a hideout,” he said.

“Exactly.”

“There’s cafeteria seating down the hall from the auditorium where we meet. Anyone sees you, they’ll assume you’re one of the moms waiting on the meeting to end.”

“That sounds perfect, if you’re sure it’s not a problem,” I said.

“I’ll tell the security guy you’re with me.” He paused for a second. “I’ll be glad to see you.”

“For the cupcakes.”

“Not only them,” he said.

My cheeks felt warm as I disconnected the call, and I bustled around my kitchenette, gathering things to take along. Laptop, chapter notes, the cupcakes, something to drink. I started a pot of coffee and took out a thermos. While the coffee brewed I darted into the bedroom and changed into a fresh pair of khaki shorts and white eyelet top. By the time I ran a brush through my hair and put on some lipstick, Hitchcock was curled up and asleep in the center of my bed.

“I’m going out for a little while,” I told him. “You stay inside and be a good boy, okay?”

He slitted his eyes at me for a moment before they drifted shut.

I smiled at the cat, then loaded up my things and took off for the school.

Eugenia Banks Middle School was located about five miles outside of town, halfway between Lavender and Emerald Springs. The school property was dotted with live oaks. A baseball diamond sat in the field next to the tan brick one-story building. A game was in progress when I pulled into the crowded parking lot, and the bleachers were filled with cheering spectators. I guessed the ballplayers weren’t Boy
Scouts or, if they were, they’d chosen the game over the meeting tonight.

I left the cupcakes in a small ice chest in the car for fear I’d eat all of them before Griffin’s meeting ended if I had them close at hand. A couple of boys in Scout uniforms, twelve or so years old, were dropped off near the building and headed inside. I looped my laptop case over my shoulder and followed them through a side door that took us straight to the auditorium.

I peered into the large room where other Scouts milled around, talking excitedly. Griffin stood near the stage, arranging handouts on a table. He wore his game warden uniform and looked very official next to a screen that showed a picture of a body of water with the heading “Boating Safety.” As if he’d felt my presence, he looked up, met my eyes, and pointed—in the direction of the cafeteria, I surmised.

I gave him a thumbs-up, headed that way, and found the cafeteria without seeing any security guard. Maybe he was outside watching the ball game.

A sense of euphoria flooded me simply because I was alone in the relative quiet of a darkened building. A place to write. Alone at last. I booted up the laptop, which provided all the light I needed. I sat down and reviewed what I’d written first thing in the morning, before the interruption that had led me to Crystal’s body.

Focus, Sabrina.

I forced thoughts of the morning’s gruesome events aside. A few minutes later, I was writing at a steady pace. My FBI agent was sweating over the interrogation of a key witness—a young, frightened woman with no idea whom she could or could not trust.

My mind was completely wrapped up in the story, when I heard a murmur of female voices in the hallway about ten yards away. Maybe Scout mothers waiting for their sons’ meeting to end. The top of a soft drink can snapped open. My laptop keys didn’t make much noise, but I stopped typing and listened.

“I don’t agree,” a woman with a raspy voice said. “The husband’s always guilty. You watch TV, right?”

“Happens a lot,” said a second woman. “Saw on the news one time where this groom threw his wife off a cliff on their honeymoon.”

“Yeah, I saw that. Hope he’s sittin’ in a jail somewhere.”

“Me, too.”

“The man must’ve had a cold, cold heart,” the first woman said, “just like whoever committed this crime.”

“I don’t see Lance bein’ that person, even if he did have a dozen reasons for wantin’ her gone.”

A sigh. “Could just as easily been one of her other men.”

What other men? I took my hands away from the computer and leaned toward the voices.

“Ace McKinney’s ’bout as cold as they come,” raspy voice said.

“That’s ancient history.”

“To us, maybe not to him.”

The women began walking, their footsteps on the tiled floor and their voices fading away from me.

Dang it. I had good intentions of ignoring this topic, but now my curiosity had kicked up. I stood to follow the women and keep up with their conversation, then stopped myself.

Write, Sabrina. Ignore the gossip.

I turned back to the computer, but couldn’t quite grasp the rhythm of the story. My thoughts kept going back to what I’d heard. Did Lance Devlin have a dozen reasons for wanting his wife gone? Did Crystal have other men, as in lovers? What kind of ancient history did she have with Ace McKinney?

As I struggled to get more words on the page, eight o’clock came quickly. I had managed to write several pages and was glad for the draft to work on later. A buzz of people in the hallway alerted me to the end of Griffin’s meeting. I packed up my laptop and returned to the auditorium, where I scanned Scouts and grown-ups who had either attended the meeting themselves or come to pick up the boys. Several women, but
none were paired up. I had no way of knowing if they were the same women I’d overheard. I didn’t recognize anyone.

As the last of the Scouts filed out the door, Griffin said his good-byes to a man I presumed was the Scout leader and headed my way.

“How’d it go?” I said.

“Pretty well until the kids veered off topic a bit, talking about safety in general and the lady who got killed. Whole town’s gossiping, and the kids are no exception.”

“Yeah, I heard some gossip, too.”

“Let’s go somewhere, and you can tell me all about it,” he said.

Outside, Griffin retrieved his yellow Lab, Angie, from a friend who dog-sat for him while watching the baseball game. I’d seen Angie with Griffin many times, but had never met the dog up close and personal. Angie sniffed my hands and must have decided I was okay because she trotted by my side as we walked toward my car. I told Griffin I’d brought coffee and milk, in case he preferred one or the other.

“I know a perfect place for our cupcake break,” he said. “A place we won’t hear any more gossip, and it’s one of Angie’s favorite spots.”

“Sounds great,” I said.

We decided to take both vehicles, and I followed Griffin a few miles down the road to a turnoff I wouldn’t have noticed just driving by. The dirt road led off the main highway to a pond next to a grove of trees. A rowboat tied to a small dock rocked slightly in the evening breeze. Griffin pointed out a picnic table shaded by the trees, and I brought out the cupcakes and drinks. Angie took off after a bird sitting by the pond.

“How do you know this spot?” I asked after we’d settled at the picnic table and I’d poured us each a cup of coffee.

He smiled. “Property’s part of my late stepfather’s ranch. Won’t be able to enjoy it much longer, though. His kids decided to sell. Claim they love the place, but nobody’s in a position to buy out the others.”

“What a shame.” I sat sideways on the picnic table bench and put my feet on the bench to hug my knees. “Sunset must be spectacular from here.”

“You’re about to see for yourself.” Griffin peeled the paper off a cupcake. “These look great. You having one?”

“Probably, but trust me, I’ve already taste-tested my share.”

He took a bite and made appreciative noises.

“So you’ll have to move,” I said. “Away from the ranch.”

He wiped his mouth with a napkin and shrugged. “I knew that would happen, and Mom’s ready to find a smaller place of her own. I’m hoping she’ll stay close enough for me to keep an eye on her.”

I grinned. “She probably says the same about you.”

Angie must have realized there was food at the table and came back to sit by her master. I was about to apologize for not having a treat for the dog when Griffin produced a rawhide stick from a pocket.

“Grabbed it from my truck. ‘Always be prepared’ isn’t only for the Boy Scouts.” He finished the cupcake and took a swig of coffee. “Tell me about the gossip you heard back at the school. Were you outside at the ball game?”

“No, I stayed in the cafeteria writing.” I told him what the women had said. “You hear any of this around town?”

He shrugged. “I try not to listen too hard. Crystal Devlin was out there in the public eye, of course people are gonna sling dirt. I hear she was a shrewd businesswoman. Probably wouldn’t have won any popularity contests.”

“Doesn’t necessarily sound like the type who’d have the spare time to run around on her husband.”

“Some women make the time,” Griffin said, then hurriedly added, “but I know nothing about Crystal’s private life.”

“What about Ace McKinney? You know him?”

Griffin finished another bite of cupcake. “Unfortunately, yes. We had a showdown soon after I took over this territory. He and I didn’t see eye to eye about the starting date of hunting season.”

“You mean he’s a poacher?”

“I don’t know what he is today. That episode was over a year ago. Man was drinking, quite a lot judging from the smell of him. He definitely doesn’t like other people telling him what to do.”

“Or not do,” I said.

Griffin nodded. “You get the picture. I backed down that day. Figured it was either let it go or risk being shot.”

“He was that angry?”

“It was a bad scene. I wrote him a ticket. Made a report to my boss about the guy. Hate to come across as a coward, but there was no way I was gonna stop him from doin’ whatever he felt like doin’.”

“So you’d say Ace McKinney’s the type of guy who could kill someone?”

Griffin turned his head toward the sun, still brilliant and surrounded by gorgeous shades of pink as it lowered toward the horizon. After a moment, he faced me. “I can imagine him killing. What I have trouble with is seeing a man like Ace climbing up on that scaffolding to patiently rig the bricks.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sorry. I forgot that’s not common knowledge.” Griffin wiped his hands on a napkin. “The bricks were rigged to fall. Set up so they’d go off quick and easy as soon as Crystal was in the right spot.”

His statement contradicted what Aunt Rowe had said. “Who’d you hear this from?”

“Deputy Rosales.”

“Who shouldn’t be talking about such facts to anyone,” I said, “no matter how much she craves your attention.”

He gave me a palms up. “Let’s not get sidetracked on that crazy woman.”

“Okay, back to poor Crystal. I don’t think Rosales had the latest information when she talked to you. Either that or she didn’t tell you everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Aunt Rowe heard the sheriff say Crystal was killed by a blow to the head before the bricks hit her.”

Griffin nodded. “Makes more sense than someone setting up bricks and hoping Crystal would show up and stand in the exact spot for the bricks to kill her.”

“They could have been rigged,” I said, “for the purpose of covering up the actual cause of death.”