The Black Cat Breaks a Mirror by Kay Finch

Author:Kay Finch [Finch, Kay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 1950461602
Google: 6-7rDwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B08BCSQZWC
Publisher: Beyond the Page
Published: 2020-07-20T23:00:00+00:00

• • •

I tried to sleep that night but I couldn’t get comfortable. The cottage’s air conditioner fought hard to cool the humid air. My gown stuck to my clammy skin. After the first dozen times I flopped around and switched sides, Hitchcock gave up on me and left the bed.

I had missed a call from Luke earlier, and I wanted to be awake when he came to pick up the guys in the morning. That was looking less and less likely the longer I went without sleep, but I couldn’t quit thinking about Marty Dixon. What had he done to make someone decide to kill him? Who had the opportunity to do such a thing?

Gary Weber, for instance. Where was he at the time of the murder? I felt sure he had a lot of money at stake, as did Colt Jamison. Dixon might have had something up his sleeve—something that would harm Jamison’s reputation and Weber’s wallet.

And what about Charlotte from the pizza shop? Why was she crying as she left the sheriff’s office? Had he accused her of something or did she, like Rosales, have some unfounded fear that someone might accuse her?

I couldn’t forget Tracey. Did she honestly think her brother had wandered into the woods and killed a man? Then there was that scruffy singer—Zeke—who’d met Jamison down by the river. There had to be a country music lyric in there. Down by the river . . .

I flipped over again and yanked the sheet with me. Ten seconds later I knew it was no use. I got up and threw on some clothes, then slid my feet into flip-flops. I dragged myself into the living room and turned on a lamp.

“Hey, Hitchcock?” He wasn’t on the sofa where I expected to find him. I turned in a circle, scanning the room. “I’m going to bake. Wanna come?”

No answering meow.

I sighed. One day Hitchcock and I might have our own house with our very own kitchen. Baking at Aunt Rowe’s during the night was an awkward habit, one that kept her from having complete privacy in her own home. Not that she minded me taking advantage of the space. Still, a woman should be free to run out to the kitchen in her underwear if she wanted to. That wouldn’t happen so long as I popped in at odd times of the day or night.

I didn’t see Hitchcock and decided he must already be out and scouting around. I opened the door and the heat of the night enveloped me. Using the flashlight app on my phone to guide me, I checked around my cottage for Hitchcock and didn’t find him. His feline instinct would probably guide him to Aunt Rowe’s house before I finished. We’d done this many times before.

I hadn’t made it very far when I heard music. I stopped walking. Someone was singing. I waited for a few seconds, then walked in the direction of the sound. I spotted the outline of a man seated on the rock where I often go to sit and think.

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