Black Cat and the Accidental Angel (Black Cat Mysteries Book 3) (28 page)

“You can say that again.”

“He’s a very smart cat.” Cindy slid the butter into the refrigerator.

“I didn’t really mean that you should
say
…never mind. Go get dressed. I’ll run out and feed the Emus. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.” John smiled, picked up Peter’s backpack, shook his head and went out the front door.

Within the hour, their truck came off the hill onto Broad Street, into the heart of Nevada City. Miniature flags flapped on the streetlights in commemoration of the upcoming Labor Day holiday. Tourists strolled along the sidewalks, in and out of gift shops, book stores and coffee houses.

The sidewalk in front of the General Store displayed various tables with an assortment of unique household items. Hemp rope, garden hoses, wheelbarrows loaded with small pots of geraniums and marigolds, and odds and ends chosen from
end-of-stock
items displayed red half-off stickers.

“What luck. A parking spot right out front.” John checked the traffic on the street and climbed out. “Let’s find that hummingbird feeder you wanted.”

Cindy hopped out and slammed the door. “Can I put the money in the meter?”

“We won’t be here long. A quarter should be enough.”

Cindy dropped the coin into the meter and twisted the handle. The hand flipped up to twenty-five minutes.

John grabbed Peter’s backpack from the truck bed and pulled open the hardware store door. The bell tinkled as he stepped through the door. He paused and sniffed, once again enjoying the vintage ambience of the store.
Ahh.
The scent of floor wax, spices, and peppermint candy permeated the air.

A middle-aged woman left a customer by the work boots and approached. “Good morning. Can I help you with something? We’ve got a sale on aluminum dish drainers today. Fifty percent off if you purchase it with a rubber mat.” She nodded toward the stack of silver dish drainers stacked on the counter, most likely a result of overbuying and underselling.

John smiled and shook his head. “Thanks, not today.” He hefted the backpack. “I’m just here to drop this off for Peter. He left it in my truck a couple days ago when I gave—”

“Who?” The cashier shrugged.

John’s stomach tightened. A tingle ran up and down his arm. He thought back to the house outside Reno, where he had questioned the woman with the garden hose. The clerk had the same puzzled look on her face as the woman in the blue housedress.

“Who did you say?” The woman raised her eyebrows.

Déjà vu! All over again!
John sighed.
God help me.
“Your clerk, Peter. He just started working here. I spoke to him a couple days ago, right here.” John tapped the glass counter. His heart beat quickened. Now, he was getting mad. Peter popped in and out of his life like a Jack-in-the-box.
What’s going on?

The lady shook her head. “Mr. Egerton and I have owned this store for twenty years. I’m quite sure I’d know if we had a clerk named Peter. We’ve never had anyone by that name, as far as I recall.”

“That’s impossible. Wait. He just waited on us. Here, I’ll show you.” John pulled a receipt from his wallet. It would show the purchase of the hip boots, the gold pans and the scales. He slapped the receipt on the counter. “Take a look at this.”

Mrs. Egerton picked up the receipt and turned it front to back. “It’s our store receipt, #6045, but it’s blank. See for yourself.” She handed it back to him.

“What?” John flipped the receipt over, checking front and back. Blank! His mouth dropped open. “I…I don’t understand.”

The clerk pulled a receipt booklet from beside the register and thumbed through the pages. “Here it is. #6045. The original is torn out, but, see here? The carbon is blank. We account for every ticket. It is odd. You say you purchased items here?” She laid the book on the counter.

“Several things. Hip boots, a gold pan and a scale—”

“We don’t carry scales. Maybe you’re at the wrong store.” She grinned and stepped toward the door, pointing down the block. “Could it have been the Yankee Trader Store down the street?”

“Ma’am, I assure you, I was here. I bought hip boots, a gold pan and a scale. This is the receipt.” He shook the paper. “I don’t know how to explain this, but I’m sure of one thing. I bought items from Peter and he…” John scratched his head and stared around the store, then at the blank receipt. “Actually, I don’t know anything for sure right now. Sorry I bothered you. Come on, Cindy.”

“What about my hummingbird feeder?”

“We’ll go down to Yankee Trader where we didn’t go before.” John grabbed her hand, shoved open the door and tossed the backpack into the pick-up bed.

He hunched over the wheel, glaring through the windshield as he pulled away from the curb. They drove several blocks to the local park and stopped the truck in the shade of the aspen trees. “You can run over and play on the swings for a while, Cindy. I need to be alone for a few minutes.”

“Don’t you feel well, Daddy?”

His hand shook as he wiped it across his mouth. “I just need to figure out some things. Run on and play. I’ll call you in a little bit, and then we’ll take care of the rest of our errands.”

John’s gaze followed her as she skipped across the grass to the swing set.

What’s happening?
He dropped his head and rubbed his temples. He’d
thought Peter was an angel, the way they met on the road to Reno. Then he turned up at the General Store. Now, Mrs. Egerton said she never heard of Peter.
Did I imagine the whole thing?
Maybe I’m losing my mind.

John reached into his pocket and pulled out the blank General Store receipt. He scratched his head.
My checkbook! I wrote a check for the gold pan and the boots.

John’s hand shook as he retrieved his checkbook from the glove box. The last check should be for eighty-three dollars and change, for the General Store purchases. He flipped through the checkbook to the last check.

$39.62—Where he bought gas at the Seven-Eleven on his way home from Reno. He ran his hand through his hair.
Doesn’t make any sense.
No check in the checkbook. A blank receipt from the General Store. It looked as if meeting Peter at the General Store and buying the supplies had never happened.

Wait!

The guy from the television crew yesterday said the clerk from the General Store told them about the cats finding the gold. Said the clerk got his address off his check! That would be the check that doesn’t exist?

He had almost convinced himself that he’d imagined the whole thing, but he sure hadn’t imagined fourteen guys crawling all over the yard with trucks, lights and cameras…or had he? Was reality slipping away? A trickle of perspiration slithered down his forehead, past his eyebrow.

John leaned out the window. “Cindy! Come here a minute.”

Cindy jumped off the swings and ran to the truck. “Is it time to go?”

“No…well, maybe. Get in. I need you to help me with something.” He put the checkbook back into the glove box.

Cindy climbed in and closed the door. “What is it?”

John took a deep breath. A warm glow crept up his neck into his hairline. His head itched and the dampness under his arms was certainly real enough. “How many men from the television station came yesterday to talk about Black Cat and Angel?” He gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. What would she say? Was he going to hear that
who
again? The word he’d learned to hate every time he mentioned the name
Peter
to a female?

He closed his eyes and held his breath. Come on Cindy. Don’t tell me there wasn’t a television crew at the house. Don’t tell me I’m losing my mind.

The cushions on the seat squeaked as Cindy squirmed. “
Umm
…Why do you ask? Did somebody call about Angel and Black Cat?”

John’s heart did a twist, as though it might beat right out of his mouth and tumble into his lap. Cindy hadn’t even tried to pretend he wasn’t going
loony-tunes
. She’d changed the subject completely and asked about the cats.
Poor kid must not want me to feel bad about losing my marbles.

“The cats aren’t important. They—”

“Yes, they are important, Daddy. I love Black Cat and Angel. I don’t want anyone to take them away.” Tears puddled in the corner of her eyes and spilled over the edges.

Now, he had a weeping female to deal with and he still didn’t know whether he’d imagined meeting Peter on the road, in the store, or for that matter, if he’d imagined the whole last week. Maybe he never even went to the Reno airport. Maybe he still had seventeen, foot-tall baby Emus stalking around the bird enclosure, eating him out of house and home.

The specter of foreclosure and disgrace loomed its ugly head. Again! Now he’d not only be homeless and broke, he was mentally ill as well. It wouldn’t take long for the authorities to learn of his insanity. They’d take the ranch. They’d sell the birds and pay off the light bill or the water bill, whichever came first. He’d be pushing a grocery cart down the street, loaded high with every stitch he owned.

Carolyn would get Cindy, after all. She’d probably drop out of school and marry a guitar player at sixteen—

“Fourteen!” Cindy rolled down the window and leaned on the ledge.

“Fourteen?” She won’t even make it to sixteen? Oh, God help me!

“There were fourteen people in the yard. The man with all the teeth talked about Angel on the TV—”

John threw his arms around her shoulders and shook her from side to side, raining kisses on the top of her head. “Thank you, thank you. You’re right. It was fourteen.”

Cindy tilted her head and bit her lip. “I might be wrong. There might have only been thirteen. Does it make much difference?”

John patted her cheek and shook his head. “Are you ready to go? I think we should stop for ice cream sundaes and then find that hummingbird feeder before we go to the bank. What do you say?”

Chapter Thirty

G
uardian of all who dwelt within, Black Cat paced the living room. The full moon cast a warm glow through the windows. He passed Angel’s blanket where she lay curled with the children. All was well. As the protector of the household, it was his job to keep intruders at bay. John and Cindy were fast asleep, as he would be in a few minutes. Satisfied that all was well, he yawned and jumped onto the sofa, turned in a circle and flopped on the Indian blanket. He closed his eyes. Confusing thoughts plagued his mind, making sleep impossible.

What quirk of destiny had brought them here to John’s ranch, anyway? Or had the car accident been inevitable and God just made the best of it to help the most people? Was finding the gold a coincidence? All profound issues to ponder.

Perhaps everything that had happened
was
part of God’s divine plan. He and Angel were sent here to find the gold nuggets. Without the gold, John would lose the ranch either to the bank or whoever was trying to take advantage of his financial troubles.

With the birth of the kittens, Mrs. Stubblefield had found a way to repair her broken heart and Miss Bubblekins would replace her beloved Miss Boopkins.

Little Muffins would brighten Officer Nina’s lonely life.

The lives of Nina, Mrs. Stubblefield and John had been enriched as a result of their coming to Nevada City.

With his memory nearly restored and the kittens finding good homes, even Angel had nearly fulfilled her assignment here in Nevada City.

Everyone gains but me.
What good had come to him from all this? He was still lost, still with some memory loss, and about to lose his soul-mate when God called her home.
Am I just a cog in a cosmic wheel?
If all this was some kind of great celestial plan, he just didn’t get it.

Black Cat closed his eyes. His muscles relaxed. His tail drifted from side to side as he began to dream. He and Angel stood outside the gates of Heaven. A dozen angels hovered overhead. The great gate opened and Saint Peter stepped out. “Welcome home, Angel. It’s time. Come on in.” She walked through the gate.

Black Cat hurried after her, but the door slammed with a clang before he could enter. He clawed at the latch. “Angel, Angel! Let me in!” There was no answer. She was gone.

Clang! Clang!

With the sound of Heaven’s gate clanging in his ears, he awoke, his heart pummeling his chest. The house reverberated and shook at the sound of the blast. He leaped to his feet.
That’s not a dream.
The blast had come from outside, near the Emu enclosure.

John rushed from his bedroom, barefooted, still zipping up his jeans. He strapped on his holster. He glanced toward Cindy’s bedroom and then bolted out the door, leaving it ajar.

Angel hunkered on the blanket, pulling her kittens close to her body. “Black Cat! What was that?”