The Black Cat Steps on a Crack by Kay Finch

Author:Kay Finch
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
Publisher: Beyond the Page
Published: 2019-05-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

I drove home faster than usual, regretting my bad decision to take Hitchcock into the craft store. What had I been thinking? Lord knew the cat got himself into enough scrapes on his own. This one was on me. I should have walked out the moment I spotted the superstitious Naomi inside. But no, I kept right on going and ignored the potential for disaster. And then I left Aunt Rowe behind to clean up after us. I knew she could handle the situation, but I felt like such a coward.

Stop beating yourself up, Sabrina.

I glanced over at Hitchcock on the passenger seat. The cat looked unperturbed, as if nothing had happened. Of course, my need to get him away from any possible danger overruled everything else. Aunt Rowe understood that. And now I was headed back home—to the very place where Naomi, unfortunately, was staying.

You’d think the woman would have chosen to cut her trip short after she injured herself. Was her bucket list so all-fired important she had to stay until every last item was crossed off? I toyed with the idea of suggesting a new bucket list activity for the Crop Shop Crew—face your fears and embrace a black cat. The idea made me laugh.

We arrived at home, and I jerked the car to a stop in the driveway beside the Monte Carlo cottage. I shifted in my seat to look at Hitchcock. “You need to go into hiding for a while—at least until Naomi leaves. You know that, right?”

“Mrreow,” he said.

“Let’s go grab a bite to eat before they get back.” I opened my car door, and he bolted across me and jumped to the ground. I’m not sure how the cat knew I meant to get my lunch at Aunt Rowe’s house, but he headed in that direction straightaway. I caught up with him at the back door and we went inside.

The kitchen was quiet. Nothing cooking at this time of day—Glenda often went home to join her husband for lunch and stayed until it was time to come back and begin preparing dinner. I refreshed the water in Hitchcock’s bowl, then checked the refrigerator. I pulled out leftover sliced roast beef, a package of Swiss cheese, and the mustard to make myself a sandwich. Between bites, I cut beef into bite-size pieces for Hitchcock. He attacked the treat with gusto.

Preoccupied with my thoughts, I ate standing up. I would lock Hitchcock inside our cottage—with prayers that he wouldn’t find a way to break free and get himself into more trouble—and then go in search of Sheriff Crawford. I’d show him Jane’s comment about feeling threatened. See if I could worm any new information out of him. Did he have other suspects on his list besides Bryan? Maybe by now Bryan had turned over evidence to support his alibi. Lord, I hoped so.

As I cleaned up after myself, Hitchcock stood by the back door, probably itching to go out and roam. “Okay,” I told him, “we’ll go for a walk.

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