Black Cat Crossing

by Fitz Molly

  His eyes widened. “My daughter?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I guess it’s possible, but I don’t see why she would. Grace’s never been a nice person, but I’m her pa.”

  Many bad witches don’t let biology get in the way of what they want. “Did you two argue a lot?”

  “Not toward the end, but only because we didn’t see each other much. She stopped coming around often after Rebecca and I had our falling out. Took her daughter’s side and left me to fend for myself.”

  Grace hadn’t mentioned that, but I’d forgotten what Esmerelda said earlier and hadn’t brought up Rebecca in our conversation. “What happened with you and Rebecca?”

  “That witch is a lot like her momma, only worse. Meaner than a snake, she is. We stopped getting along when she was a kid. I tried.” He walked over to the window framing the front door and stared outside. “But no amount of love or kindness can make a witch good.”

  “When was the last time you saw her before you passed?”

  “Day I told her I’d taken her out of my will. She swore I’d pay and tried to throw me out of her house magically, but I’d put a protection spell over me before ringing her bell so she couldn’t hurt me.”

  Most spells are temporary unless they’re specifically created to be long term, and those usually require a lot of front end work. I doubted Mr. Mayfield had the energy for that kind of work. “Do you remember how long before you passed that you saw her? A day, a few days? A week, maybe a month?”

  He pursed his lips. “I’m not clear on time anymore, but I think it was about a week.”

  I reiterated all of that to Abershama, who’d been surprisingly patient and quiet through the last half of the conversation.

  “Looks like we’ve got ourselves three potential suspects.”

  John dashed down the stairs with Roland on his tail, though not literally. “Help!” He screamed as he ran through Mr. Mayfield, up to my leg and down the sleeve of my shirt. He popped out through the cuff and landed in my flattened hand.

  Roland stopped at my feet and stared up at me as John caught his breath.

  Abershama laughed. “Don’t see that every day.”

  I held John at my eye level. “Help?”

  He took several quick breaths as his little chest pushed in and out. “He…he was chasing me. He could have swallowed me up in one gulp.”

  I blanched. “Roland would never swallow you up in one gulp. You’re his best friend.”

  “You don’t know Tom and Jerry, do you?”

  I shook my head. “It’s Ben and Jerry’s, and it’s ice cream.”

  “He means the cartoon,” Mr. Mayfield said. “It’s about a cat and a mouse. The cat’s always chasing the mouse, and all these terrible things happen, but neither ever die.”

  I blinked, then waggled my finger at my familiar. “I’ve told you to stop watching TV in the middle of the night! You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”

  Abershama shook her head and chuckled. “I can’t hear all of you, but from what I can, I’m pretty sure y’all are crazy.”

  I set John back on the floor, pointed my finger at Roland, and said, “Don’t swallow him in one gulp.” Then I smiled at John and winked. “Chew him first, so you don’t choke.”

  John’s little eyes popped open. “I get no respect.”

  The two took off exploring again while I finished my conversation with Mr. Mayfield. “I’ll see if I can find this Jacob Cardinal person and talk to him, and I think I’m going to stop by Rebecca’s and then have another chat with your daughter.”

  “I know you want to get this house sold and send me packing, but I appreciate you doing this for me.”

  It was less about selling the house than he thought, and I made sure he knew that. “Mr. Mayfield, I’d like to find the person or supernatural that did this to you. Your life was more important than selling a home.”

  Chapter Seven

  I called into work the next morning and said I’d be running some of Iris’s errands and might not make it into the office at all. Maggie was disappointed but happy I’d have a break from bosszilla.

  “If only I could be a receptionist remotely,” she whined over the ether.

  “Anything’s possible.”

  “Right. So, what about tonight? Pizza?”

  “I’m really trying to get this house sold, and I’m trying to figure out a few things to be able to help it show better. Once I’ve got it under control, I’ll buy pizza and ice cream. Deal?”

  She groaned. “Fine. Deal.”

  I headed out with my animal crew.

  “I’ve been thinking about you offering me as a sacrifice to Roland.” John perched on my dashboard—as always—and gave me a verbal lashing. He held out his little clawed arms. “I know, I know. Technically, I’m here to keep you safe. Let’s say we’re walking down the street and out of nowhere, a truck comes barreling toward you. I’d willingly and without thought, throw myself in front of it to stop it from hitting you.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  His teeny shoulders sank. “That might not be a good example, but you know what I mean.”

  “You’re my familiar. It’s your job to protect me. I understand that.”

  “And I can’t do my job if you’re sacrificing me to the sharp, knife-like prongs of the Felis catus.”

  His sweet brown eyes were sad, and I felt bad for teasing him earlier. “I would never sacrifice you to any Felis catus, John. I’m sorry if you thought I was serious, but you have to know Roland would never hurt you.”

  Roland had been snoozing on the passenger seat but lifted his head to us, then promptly went back to snooze land.

  I flicked my head toward him. “See?”

  John plopped down onto his backside and squeaked. “It hurt my feelings.”

  “And I apologize for that, honestly.”

  “With a slice of Havarti? And not the prepacked stuff. The fresh stuff from the deli counter.”

  “Of course.” I whipped up a double slice to show him how much I appreciated him.

  He moaned as he ate it on our drive to Jacob Cardinal’s home.

  The best thing about being a witch is convenience. While humans often have to search for addresses and then use a map to locate their destination, witches can just snap their fingers and get the info. So when I’d told my car to take me to Jacob Cardinal’s home, it did.

  It was obvious the man was in lawn maintenance. His yard was the only one on his street with luscious green grass, and his shrubs were vibrant and perfectly trimmed. I wasn’t sure any magic could do a better job than he had.

  I pulled to the side of the road and asked the powers that be to provide me with the information I needed to help Cornelius Mayfield. It wasn’t often an ask, and you shall receive deal with the powers that be, but I figured it was worth a shot.

  John had eaten both slices of cheese and fallen into a cheese coma when we’d turned onto Cardinal’s street. His fear of cat teeth must have subsided because he’d curled up next to Roland, and the two snored in unison. I got out of my car quietly so I wouldn’t wake them.

  A tall skinny man with graying hair and the start of a belly stepped out of a detached two-car garage on the right side of the home. He wiped his hands on a blue cloth and flung it over his left shoulder. As he did, I noticed the gun attached to the right side of his belt. “Whatever you’re selling, we’re not interested,” he said as I walked up the drive.

  “I’m not selling anything.” I dug into my bag for one of the new business cards Iris had me make for myself a few weeks before. I kept forgetting I had them. I handed it to him. “My name is Alyssa Grey.”

  He read the card and handed it back to me. “Like I said, not interested.”

  “I’m not here about your home, Mr. Cardinal. I’m here about Cornelius Mayfield.”

  He grabbed the cloth from his shoulder and wiped his hands again, staring down at the cracking driveway as he spoke. “What about him
?”

  “The people who purchased his home after he passed have listed it with my company.”

  He didn’t let me finish. “What’s that got to do with me? I ain’t done the yard since before the old man kicked the bucket.”

  “I’m not here about the yard, Mr. Cardinal.”

  “Then, why are you here? I got things to do and don’t have time for small talk.”

  “Then, maybe you’ll let me finish before you interrupt me again.” I steeled my eyes at him and waited for him to say something as he twisted the cloth in his hands. When he didn’t, I continued. “The family moved out quickly, after having done a lot of work to the home. I’ve been unable to talk to them personally as they’re on an extended trip overseas, but there are rumors about the home.”

  He nodded. “I heard them. People think the place is haunted. Still don’t know what that’s got to do with me. Don’t know what it’s got to do with you, either.”

  “Rumors aren’t good for business, Mr. Cardinal. Just as I’m sure they’re not good for your business.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “It means I’ve heard that you had some conflict with Mr. Mayfield prior to his passing.”

  “He owed me money. I tried to get it, but he refused to pay. You think he’s haunting his place because of that?”

  “I think there’s more than one rumor about the house.”

  He put his hands on his hips. “Yeah?”

  “I’ve heard some people think Mr. Mayfield didn’t die of natural causes. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that rumor, would you?”

  He dropped his hands, and the cloth fell to the ground. He leaned down toward me as he spoke, gripping the gun at his side with his hand. “You accusing me of something, little girl?”

  I licked my lips. My magic could stop a bullet, but I’ve never had to do something like that, and when I get nervous or excited, I have trouble controlling my magic. The gun intimidated me, and so did the human. “I’m asking what happened between you two.”

  “I told you he owed me some money. I tried to collect, but he wouldn’t pay. You think the old man didn’t die in his sleep, then you need to start with his daughter. Never saw any love lost between those two.”

  “I understand you tried to collect what her father owed from her.”

  “And she’s still alive, right?”

  “Why did Mr. Mayfield find you going through his desk? Was it for the money he owed you?”

  He blinked. “I think it’s time you leave.”

  I smiled. “Okay. Just one more question, though.”

  He shook his head and kept his hand firm on the gun. “What?”

  “Where were you the night he died in his sleep?”

  “I was with my wife just like every night.” He flicked his head toward the road. “Now I think it’s time you move along, little girl. I don’t like what you’re accusing me of.”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything,” I said. I adjusted my bag strap over my shoulder. “Have a nice day, Mr. Cardinal.” I walked quickly back to my car without looking behind me.

  John sat propped up on Roland’s head and watched from the passenger window as I hurried to the car. I got in, turned the ignition, and took off, practically hyperventilating from fear.

  John made his way up to the dashboard. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “I didn’t know he’d have a gun.”

  His eyes widened. “He had a gun?” He stood up on his back legs and yelled, “He could have shot you!”

  I let out a long, relieved breath. “I know.”

  He crawled down the steering wheel onto my leg and up my side to my shoulder, where he sat and nuzzled his tiny face into my hair. “You okay?”

  “I’ve been better, but I’m okay.”

  “So, did he kill the guy?”

  “I don’t know. He said he was with his wife the night Mr. WayfairMayfield died.”

  I stopped at a red light and waited for it to change while John worked through his thoughts out loud. “His wife could lie for him. Maybe I should use some of my fancy scare tactics to get her to tell us the truth?”

  “Scare tactics?”

  “Mice are very powerful weapons of fear. Of course, we’re not spider level, but we’re pretty darn close.”

  He had a point. Spiders, even given their relationship to witches in general over thousands of years, scared me something fierce. I wasn’t scared of mice, at least not since discovering John, but groups of them could easily send me screaming. Scare me into telling the truth, though? I wasn’t so sure about that, but only because I wouldn’t stick around to be questioned.

  John lectured me on better protecting myself, so before driving out to Rebecca’s, I decided to stop at Esmerelda’s for a boost of protection in the form of magical tea.

  Chapter Eight

  “What in the devil made you go there?”

  Esmerelda wasn’t one to mince words. I hated having to lie but telling her the truth wasn’t an option. And I wasn’t sure she’d believe me anyway. “I just want to give the dead man peace so we can sell the house.”

  She sprinkled a blue powder into a cup of hot water. It sent little sparkles flying from the cup. She added a dash of something pink, then dipped a small bag of ground-up leaves, and Goddess only knew what else into the mix. She let it sit for a minute, then slid the cup toward me. “This should do you up just right.”

  I removed my wallet from my bag and set a five-dollar bill on the counter. “Thank you.”

  She stuffed the bill into the March of Dimes donation jar next to the cash register. “You’re welcome.”

  John crawled up onto the counter, stood on his back legs, and clasped his front paws together in a praying position.

  “Goddess bless your little cutie.”

  “He’s trying to charm you for a slice of cheese.”

  She smiled. “Be right back.”

  I narrowed my eyes at my familiar. “You are so pushy.”

  He fluttered his little eyelids. “A familiar’s got to do what a familiar’s got to do.”

  “She better be right.”

  “About what?”

  “About the Goddess blessing you because you sure need it.”

  Esmerelda returned with a piece of yellow American cheese. I bit my lip. John’s recent favorite was Havarti. His second Swiss. I had no idea where yellow American sat on his list and worried he’d refuse to eat it.

  I shouldn’t have worried. He snatched the cheese from her and scurried to the other side of the cash register and proceeded to scarf it down like it was caviar or something. I just shook my head at his strange fascination with all things cheese.

  The door to the café opened, and a familiar face smiled at me. One I found quite attractive but hadn’t seen in a few weeks.

  “Oh, Mr. Hottie,” Esmerelda whispered. “He’s got a little crush on you. Asks about you all the time.”

  I shushed her.

  “Alyssa, nice to see you,” Officer Tyler Raines said. His eyes sparkled as he spoke. It was magical, just not in the literal sense.

  “Officer Raines.” I kept my tone casual though my heart was about to beat out of my chest.

  “I left you a message the other day. I’ve made some changes to my house. I’d love for you to stop by and have a look.”

  Esmerelda’s eyebrows shot up toward her hairline.

  “Oh, I uh…I have been…I meant to…” I grabbed my tea and rushed out without another word.

  John climbed into the car when I opened the door. “Dude. You’re pathetic.”

  I sipped my tea, wishing Esmerelda would have added a little magical bravery into its mix. “I…he…he caught me off guard.”

  “Ya think?”

  I started the car and did an illegal U-turn. “Just because you’re my familiar doesn’t give you the right to have an opinion on my personal life.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  I pursed my lips. I wasn’t
, but I knew I’d said something ridiculous. “He just makes me uncomfortable.”

  “You mean sweaty palms, heart racing, butterflies in your stomach uncomfortable, or creepy stalker uncomfortable?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  He held up his front claws. “Fine, whatever, but you could have used him, you know.”

  “For what?”

  “Research. He could probably help you figure out what really happened to our friendly dead warlock.”

  “He’s a human police officer, not a supernatural.”

  “Doesn’t mean he doesn’t know something or know how to find out something.”

  He had a point, but I’d already blown my chance to talk to him, at least for the time being. “If I can’t work through this on my own, I’ll talk to him.”

  “You can always go see his house. He invited you anyway.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Trying to push me toward a hot cop. It’s so stereotypical.”

  “Stereotypical? How many mouse familiars push their witches toward relationships with hot, human law enforcement officers?”

  I switched on the radio to end the conversation.

  “Wimp,” he hollered from my steering wheel.

  I had to turn right and might have yanked a little hard on the wheel. He went flying on top of Roland, who was yet again snoozing in the passenger seat.

  * * *

  I’d dealt with Rebecca Mayfield in one of my many previous jobs, and I didn’t like her. In fact, no one at that previous job liked her. She was rude, pushy, and a know it all. Plus, she spits when she speaks, and that was just plain gross.

  I hadn’t even knocked when the door opened. “I figured you’d show up.”

  “Rebecca, how are you?”

  “Don’t try to appease me with small talk. You think I killed my grandfather, don’t you?”

  That was a big step forward in the conversation. I hadn’t once said anything to her mother about Cornelius Mayfield being murdered. I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was an “Uh.”

  “I talked to my mom.”

  “I didn’t imply your grandfather was murdered.”