The Black Cat Steps on a Crack

By Kay Finch

With construction on the town’s new library nearing completion, mystery writer Sabrina Tate is thrilled that local book lovers, and her own forthcoming novel, will soon have a fresh new home. But tensions are rising at the site as the headstrong new librarian insists on telling the construction crew how to do their jobs, bringing work to a standstill. When Sabrina’s cat unearths the dead body of the librarian not long after—and a good friend’s husband is named as the main suspect—she finds herself being pulled into a murder investigation yet again.

While virtually all the workers at the site had a motive to commit the dark deed, Sabrina turns her attention to the victim’s background looking for clues, but hits a dead end when she can’t locate any of the woman’s family. As a string of planted evidence and a murky collection of malicious characters starts to surface, Sabrina knows she and Hitchcock will have to tread carefully, before the library killer decides to check them out for good . . .

Includes delicious dessert recipes!

Praise for the Bad Luck Cat Mysteries:

“I loved every page of Black Cat Crossing, and I can’t wait for a return visit to Lavender.”
—Miranda James, New York Times bestselling author

“Black Cat Crossing has everything a cozy mystery reader could want—intrigue, memorable characters, a small-town setting, and even a few mouthwatering recipes . . . A purr-fectly cozy read.”
—Ellery Adams, New York Times bestselling author

“Finch has, yet again, offered a great tale of female and feline that cozy readers will love.”
—Suspense Magazine

About the Author:

Kay Finch is the national bestselling author of the Bad Luck Cat Mysteries. Though her character, Sabrina Tate, is a mystery writer who’s left the paralegal profession behind to move to the Texas Hill Country, Kay still works as a paralegal at a Houston law firm. A country girl at heart, Kay grew up on a farm in Pennsylvania, and she loves the huge cattle-filled fields near her Texas home. She resides in a Houston suburb with her husband and rescue pets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beyond the Page Publishing
• Release date: Jun 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9781950461080

Book preview

Chapter 1

My cat’s ears pricked up when a trio of second graders entered Knead to Read for the first read-to-the-cats day. I had agreed for Hitchcock to join my friend Tyanne’s bookstore cats, Zelda and Willis, for the event with the intention that each child could focus on telling a story to a particular cat.

I’m not sure how long he’ll sit still, I whispered to Ethan, Tyanne’s teenage employee. He was the one who’d suggested the idea when a teacher mentioned students who had trouble with reading and were shy about reading aloud in the classroom. Hitchcock perched on the arm of a cushioned chair beside Ethan, the cat’s gaze fixed on the front of the store.

Don’t worry, the boy told me. We’ll keep his harness on, and I have a death grip on the end of his leash.

I heard Tyanne address the newcomers. You can go on back to the reading nook. Ethan and the cats are waiting for you. She and the teacher who’d brought the children to the store exchanged a few words, then a little brunette girl came into view. I recognized her as Ella Davis, the granddaughter of my Aunt Rowe’s friend Adele.

Ella spotted the cats and skipped toward them. She bypassed the orange- and tabby-striped cats and came straight to Hitchcock.

"I want to read to this kitty," she said earnestly.

Mrreow, Hitchcock said.

I grinned like a proud parent. The girl was probably attracted to the fact that my cat wasn’t inside the big wire crate with Zelda and Willis. He was more accessible for petting, and she wasted no time running her hand down his back. Hitchcock’s tail twitched. The other two children and the teacher entered the reading nook and settled into chairs.

Ethan picked up a selection of books from a side table and gave me an I-got-this nod. I waved to him before making a beeline to the front. He knew I planned to slip out and run an errand for my Aunt Rowe while the reading was going on.

You leaving? Tyanne left the sales counter and approached me. I hoped you’d stick around and meet Jane Alcott. She said she’d pop over to see how reading to the cats works out. She may want to set up something similar at the new library.

The library isn’t even finished being built, I said. Sounds like she’s way ahead of schedule.

I had heard of Jane Alcott, the librarian who moved from Emerald Springs to head the staff at Lavender’s new public library.

Some people like to plan in advance, Tyanne teased. You might want to try it.

I rolled my eyes. I already am. That’s why I’m running an errand while Hitchcock is busy here so we can get home quickly afterward. I plan to spend the rest of the day writing.

Atta girl, she said. But let’s get back to the library for a sec. Have you heard the gossip about the anonymous donor who made a six-figure donation for new book acquisitions?

That’s wonderful. I heard there was a donation, but none of the details.

Tyanne’s eyes widened. Some say it was your Aunt Rowe.

I raised my brows. Really? I can’t see my aunt choosing to remain anonymous—ever.

We both laughed at that. Aunt Rowe did some outrageous things, and she never seemed to mind who knew about them.

She’s not a book person like we are, I said, so I’d be surprised if she’s the mystery donor. I’m just glad she seems to finally be settling down to some hobbies more suitable for a woman her age.

Hobbies like what? Ty said.

Some scrapbooking fanatics checked in at the cottages, and Aunt Rowe wants to work on a project with them. She gave me a list of things to pick up for her at Get Crafty.

I’ll bet there’s more to that story, Ty said.

I hope not. I reached for the doorknob.

Sure you can’t wait for Jane? She should be here any second, and she really wanted to meet you.

Why’s that?

Duh, Ty said. She’s a book lover, and you’re an author. To a librarian, an author is kind of like royalty.

I looked down at my non-royal attire. My jeans and tennies had seen better days. I’m not exactly dressed to impress.

Tyanne waved a hand. Not to worry. Jane is one of the most down-to-earth people I’ve ever met.

I went to the window and looked out to see if there were any down-to-earth sorts in sight. Only the man sitting in a black sedan parked right out front that I’d noticed when Hitchcock and I arrived.

Who’s the guy? I looked at Ty, then back out the window. The man had dark hair and a close-cut beard, and his gaze was fixed on the sidewalk to his left.

What guy? She came over to check. Don’t know him. Maybe he’s with the school group.

I shook my head. He was here when I came in. Unless the school sent him ahead to check out the premises. He kind of has the look of a big, burly bodyguard, don’t you think?

She laughed. You and that writer imagination.

He caught my attention ’cause he’s sitting there, dressed for business, but not looking at his phone, or reading a book, or anything. I don’t think he’s moved a muscle, and he’s not a typical Texas Hill Country tourist.

You’re observant, Ty said. I’ll give you that, but there’s no law against sitting in a parked car. He could be waiting for his wife to do some shopping.

Probably so.

She glanced out the window again. And here comes Jane.

I followed her gaze and saw a woman dressed in a drab black dress crossing the street. Her chin-length brown hair blew around her head in the gusty March wind. When she entered the store, I decided that her pretty smile made up for the lack of jewelry or makeup.

Ty made the introductions. Jane pushed her dark-framed glasses up on her nose and shook my hand enthusiastically. I’m so stoked about meeting you, she said. I already pre-ordered your book, and I’d love to set you up to speak at the library. Maybe during opening week.

Um, when is the library opening? I probably had some time to get used to the idea of speaking, given that the new building still had piles of dirt around it and no landscaping or sidewalks. Not to mention the release date for my book—Scarlet’s Run—was five months away.

Not soon enough to suit me. Jane adjusted her glasses again. Target is the end of April.

That will be here before you know it, Ty said, then excused herself to greet a woman entering the store.

Jane and I moved away from the sales counter so the customer could browse the New Releases section.

This job is going to be a dream come true, Jane said. Everything’s ready that could possibly be done before those darned contractors let us inside. I’m dying to line the shelves with books. Aren’t you excited about seeing your book on a library shelf?

Sure I am. The thought stirred butterflies in my stomach.

You have your news releases ready to go?

I pursed my lips. No. I’m kind of busy writing the next book.

I could help you with marketing, Jane said.

I wasn’t sure how to respond. Tyanne, across the store, must have heard Jane’s comment. She nodded as if she thought that was a grand idea.

We can find a ton of tips online, Jane said.

What did she mean, we?

Blog tours are great, she added.

I forced a smile. Right.

Is your website almost ready?

I wet my lips. Tyanne had brought up a website no less than a dozen times. Not yet.

That’s okay, Jane said. It’s ‘coming soon,’ like your book. You should get it up and running soon, though. Include blurbs from other authors. Add pre-order links. Oh, and link to your social media accounts, too. She must have caught my grimace. "You are on social media, right?"

A little bit.

Girl, you know this stuff’s important for a new author, don’t you?

Of course, I said.

It’s vital, she said. Mark my words.

You have me feeling a little overwhelmed, I admitted.

Don’t be, Jane said. There’s nothing to worry about. Do you have your head shot?

The tone of a child’s voice drifted to us from the reading nook. I glanced that way. Jane, didn’t you want to catch the kids reading to the cats?

Oh, yeah. She looked toward the kids, then turned to me. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back in a jiffy, and we can set up your countdown to publication timeline.

She walked toward the reading nook, and I went over to Tyanne. Did you set me up?

She tried to keep a straight face. No, I swear. She was only coming to see the kids and cats.

I lowered my voice. She’s a little over-the-top, isn’t she?

Ty had the grace to nod. She’s really likeable, though, and I think she’s right on the money about the things you should be doing.

I guess so, but good grief, now I’m supposed to worry about the news release, speechmaking, website planning, social media, and having my picture taken and, oh yeah, finish writing that next book.

Tyanne shrugged. Easy peasy.

Easy peasy for you to say.

Maybe you should accept her help, Ty said. Jane has energy to spare.

I don’t know, Ty. We writers are loner types.

Which is why you could use someone with a more outgoing personality to chime in on the marketing part of the job.

She had a point.

Jane returned to us within minutes.

How’s the reading going? Ty said.

Jane grinned. "The cats are dozing, the kids are reading their little hearts out. I love it. She looked at me. Is the black cat yours?"

Yes, that’s Hitchcock.

I heard an insane rumor that people think he’s some kind of legendary bad luck cat.

Unfortunately, some people believe that baloney.

There must be a way to turn around the rumor. Start a new legend. Maybe we can build it into your social media platform.

I liked the sound of that. How would we go about doing such a thing?

Jane pinched her chin with a thumb and forefinger. I need to give that some thought. We could start with some interesting pictures.

Interesting how?

She gazed at the ceiling for a few seconds. I know. Can you meet me outside the library tonight? Say eight o’clock?

For what?

We can take some really cool pictures out there. There’s a full moon. It’ll be perfect.

Tyanne caught my eye and nodded encouragement.

Why not? I said, and Jane and I exchanged cell numbers.

Bring the cat, Jane said. Have to run. See you later.

She hurried out the door, leaving Tyanne and me looking at each other.

What just happened? I said.

Someone with a bigger imagination than we have when it comes to marketing came up with a brainstorm, she said.

But we don’t know what that means.

Nope, she said.

We still had the dazed and confused glaze in our expressions when Ty’s husband, Bryan, slipped in the front door with an anxious glance to the street behind him. He ran a hand through his wind-blown hair. Was that Jane Alcott I saw leaving here?

Sure was, Ty said.

What’s the problem? I said.

Nothin’, he said, but I need to run into her like I need a case of diphtheria. She latches on to a person and won’t let go.

Was that what had just happened to me? Bryan was an electrician, and I knew he’d been doing wiring at the construction site. I assumed that’s how he knew Jane.

I just met her for the first time, I said, and she seems like a really nice person.

Yeah, she does at first, he said. But you can ask any of the contractors working out at the new library. We all agree. She’s a boatload of trouble.

Oh. My stomach sank down to my shoes.

You’re being too harsh, Bry, Tyanne said. That’s not fair.

Okay, he said. Maybe she’s lonely and that’s why she goes on and on and won’t let go until everything is perfect, but she drives the crew batty and slows us down. Like it’s her money and her schedule we have to meet. I, for one, want nothing to do with the woman.

Chapter 2

The time I spent talking with Jane Alcott and Tyanne’s husband nixed my plan to run an errand while Hitchcock was occupied with the kids. Instead, I stayed and listened to the last few minutes of the children reading to the cats, all the while aware of strident tones coming from Ty’s office. I couldn’t hear what she and Bryan were discussing, but this was not a how sweet of you to stop by conversation. In all the years I’d known them, I’d never known the couple to fight. Then again, no marriage is without disagreements, and Bryan did seem overly stressed.

Not your business, Sabrina.

I moved farther from the office so I couldn’t hear them if I tried. Ty didn’t like Bryan’s criticism of Jane. His comments had me wondering about the wisdom of meeting with the woman tonight, and that might be Ty’s whole problem. Jane had offered to help me market my book, and Tyanne knew I could dearly use the help. She didn’t want Bryan’s criticism to give me an excuse to back out of this marketing collaboration. After all, Jane had time to help between now and the official opening of the new library.

Satisfied that I’d figured out the relatively trivial reason for the couple’s conflict, I collected my cat when the reading ended. We headed out into the pleasant spring sunshine to walk the three blocks to Get Crafty. Hitchcock trotted along, distracted here and there by a falling leaf or a buzzing bee.

My phone pinged, and I pulled it out to see a text from Jane Alcott.

Here’s a great website sample.

She’d included a link, but I wanted to stay on task so I could get home and spend the rest of the afternoon writing. I’d check out the site later.

I thought about Bryan’s comments again. I didn’t want the librarian to distract from my writing time—Lord knew it didn’t take much to pull me off task. The important thing was that Jane would be a great help in spreading the word about my book. I’d bet Bryan’s problem was he didn’t like women telling him what to do. Except for Tyanne, that is.

We had reached the craft store when my phone pinged a second time.

Jane again. This time, she shared social media tips, complete with more links to websites.

Take a break, girl.

Maybe I should do some social media work when I got home. By tonight I could truthfully report to her that I’d checked off some of the boxes on her list. She would realize she didn’t need to be on me every minute, right?

I looked through the front window of Get Crafty at the rows upon rows of little doodads and turned to my cat.

I have a feeling they won’t appreciate you strolling around in there. How about we get you into the tote?

Mrreow. He’d heard this before and understood. Though he wasn’t excited about the prospect, he went willingly. I looped the tote—a lot heavier than it was a second ago—over my shoulder.

I didn’t want to waste any time in the store, so I enlisted a clerk to help me find exactly what Aunt Rowe had on her list. Half an hour later we pulled in at the Around-the-World Cottages sign and passed the decorative split-rail fence surrounded by bluebonnets. I drove straight to my aunt’s house and parked in the driveway.

We’ll drop Aunt Rowe’s supplies off before I head home to work. I pushed my car door open, and Hitchcock leapt across my lap to get out. I tried to catch the end of the leash as it slipped by and missed. I grabbed the Get Crafty sack and followed him. If I had to guess, I’d say he was on his way to beg some treats from Glenda in the kitchen.

As I rounded the house and headed for the back door, I spotted Hitchcock creeping through the flower bed behind the shrubbery.

Then I saw a woman in a denim skirt and floral knit top walking by herself in the yard. She appeared to be admiring the scenery, but when she turned my way she stopped and stared. I glanced toward the bushes to check on Hitchcock, but he wasn’t in sight.

I see you’ve been shopping at my store, the woman said.

My brain took a second to catch up, and I realized she was staring at the sack I held.

Oh. I held up my purchases. We just came from Get Crafty.

We? she said.

Me and my cat. He’s playing in the bushes.

That’s not a very good idea, she said.

I didn’t see why she would care what Hitchcock did, but maybe she meant it wasn’t a good idea to have taken the cat to her store. I decided to ignore the comment. Does Get Crafty belong to you?

Sure does. She came my way. I’m Marge Boyd.

Very nice to meet you. I introduced myself and explained that I lived in the Monte Carlo cottage.

You working on a project? She continued to eye the sack.

She could say that again, but I knew she didn’t have my novel in mind.

My aunt is. I pulled Aunt Rowe’s list from my pocket. She asked me to pick up a few things for her.

Marge glanced at the piece of paper and read aloud the words Aunt Rowe had written.

Album. Cardstock—multicolor. Patterned paper. Adhesive. Trimmer. Embellishments—use your judgment. She frowned. You didn’t buy very much.

I shrugged. The clerk helped me fill the order. I got what was on the list.

That’s the problem. Marge spoke sharply and slapped her thigh. Those gals can’t get anything right. I drill them ’til I’m blue in the face on how to increase sales. We have a thousand things in the embellishments category, and your aunt would have enjoyed a bigger selection to choose from.

Hey, be glad for the business.

I was too polite to say what I was thinking, so I said, I don’t even know what she’s working on, and your store is close enough for her to go back often and make more personal selections.

True. Marge tipped her head. Is she with the Crop Shop Crew?

The what? I screwed up my face.

The scrapbooking group, she said. The ladies from San Antonio.

No, I said. Aunt Rowe lives here. These are her cottages.

Marge looked over her shoulder to scan the yard as if she expected Aunt Rowe to materialize before her eyes. Rowena Flowers is your aunt?

I nodded. She is. And you’re here because . . . I paused and waited. If Marge lived in Lavender, then she most likely wasn’t one of our guests.

Marge turned back to me abruptly. I’m here to get them started on their project. The Crop Shop Crew, that is. They picked my favorite theme, too.

I was having a hard time picturing Aunt Rowe trimming cardboard stock and using a glue stick, not to mention decorating with glittery bric-a-brac.

You should join the group, Marge said. Scrapbooks are all the rage.

I’m into a different kind of book, I told her. I write fiction. Matter of fact, my first mystery is coming out later this year.

Good for you, she said. You could scrapbook on that theme if you want. Haven’t ever seen it done, but you’re a creative type so you could come up with something interesting. You wouldn’t have to go with the same theme as the rest of the group.

What is their theme? I said because she seemed to want to talk about this topic at length.

She grinned. Bucket lists. Said they’re gonna spend the week checking off items on their bucket lists and make scrapbooks to memorialize the week.

I’d never heard Aunt Rowe utter the words bucket list, and I was almost afraid to know what she had on hers.

Marge turned away from me to look across the yard again and belted out, Sparky. Sparky, where are you?

Uh-oh.

Do you have a dog? I said.

I do. Cutest terrier mix you ever saw. Now all I have to do is find the little bugger.

You might want to watch out for— I began, thinking of a clash between a little dog and my cat. If that happened, I feared for the dog.

There’s still time to sign up for the skydiving trip, Marge said. My nephew is bringing a van to take the ladies out to the airstrip.

Good Lord.

Please tell me they’re planning to watch skydivers and not jump out of a plane themselves.

Marge shrugged. Could go either way. I didn’t get the details. She went back to calling her pet. Sparky. Sparky? Where is that girl?

I heard a yappy little bark in the distance. Then a fluffy white dog wearing a jeweled collar raced around the corner of the house and headed straight toward the bushes where I’d last seen Hitchcock.

You’d better stop her, I said, but Marge didn’t seem to be listening.

There you are, she told the dog.

I worried about Hitchcock’s leash getting caught on the bushes and trapping him when the dog got close, but Hitchcock wasn’t about to sit and take chances. The cat sailed out of the bushes and darted through the cat door, leash and all.

That was a close one. I ran for the door. Nice to meet you. I slipped inside, glad to be away from Marge and her talk of bucket list activities. I needed to have a word with Aunt Rowe.

I rushed into the kitchen and expected to find Glenda, but no one was there. The tantalizing scent of her delicious pot roast simmering in the Crock-Pot reminded me I’d missed lunch. No time for that now. I peered into the attached garage and saw Aunt Rowe’s car was gone.

Maybe she was with this Crop Shop Crew or whatever the heck they called themselves. How did Aunt Rowe get mixed up with these people anyway? Just because she rented cottages to them didn’t mean she needed to sign on for whatever crazy thing they planned to do. Certainly not skydiving. Glenda was bound to know more about what was going on.

Glenda? I checked the utility room, then walked through the living room and toward the bedrooms. Glenda?

No response.

Back in the kitchen, I found the cat crunching on dry food in the bowl Glenda kept for him. I unhooked his leash and refilled his water bowl, then looked out the window.

Glenda was across the lawn three cottages away from the house and taking a pile of fresh towels from the golf cart she used to move from cottage to cottage. The midafternoon room checks.

I watched her enter the Paris cottage.

I left Hitchcock and exited the front door to avoid running into Marge and Sparky again.

My mind was intent on Aunt Rowe and whatever kind of daredevil activities she might have planned for herself when I walked past the Barcelona cottage. I was hardly aware of the vehicle parked beside the cottage until I glimpsed the man standing on the cottage deck. Was this another guy with a beard or the same one I saw earlier? This man had

Reviews for The Black Cat Steps on a Crack

[sable677 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The Black Cat Steps on a Crack is another exciting installment in Finch's Bad Luck Cat mystery series. I always find myself looking forward to reading the next installment in this series, and this book was definitely worth the wait. Determined to focus on her own mystery that she is writing, Sabrina finds herself distracted when her cat, Hitchcock, discovers another dead body. When a friend of Sabrina's is named a top suspect, Sabrina has no choice but to try and solve this mystery herself.Finch does a great job at setting up a compelling mystery with this one, and the book captures your attention from the beginning and never lets go. I loved seeing my favorite secondary characters back again especially Aunt Rowe who finds some new adventures to get herself into much to Sabrina's dismay. Having a close friend as a suspect really made the stakes higher for Sabrina and sets up a good conflict between Sabrina and the police department. Overall The Black Cat Steps on a Crack was an entertaining read that I would most definitely recommend. I look forward to reading Sabrina and Hitchcock's next adventure.Received a copy of The Black Cat Steps on a Crack through NetGalley in exchange for my honest review.

[managedbybooks · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

With construction on the town’s new library nearing completion, mystery writer Sabrina Tate is thrilled that local book lovers, and her own forthcoming novel, will soon have a fresh new home. But tensions are rising at the site as the headstrong new librarian insists on telling the construction crew how to do their jobs, bringing work to a standstill. When Sabrina’s cat unearths the dead body of the librarian not long after—and a good friend’s husband is named as the main suspect—she finds herself being pulled into a murder investigation yet again.

While virtually all the workers at the site had a motive to commit the dark deed, Sabrina turns her attention to the victim’s background looking for clues, but hits a dead end when she can’t locate any of the woman’s family. As a string of planted evidence and a murky collection of malicious characters starts to surface, Sabrina knows she and Hitchcock will have to tread carefully, before the library killer decides to check them out for good . . .

I love reading library mysteries and this did not disappoint! This was intriguing and suspenseful the whole way through.

*Book received from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review*

[jetangen4571 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

amateur-sleuth, law-enforcement, pets, family, friendship, small-business, small-town, cozy-mystery ***** Great characters! Fast paced! Full of twists and red herrings! Who would think that becoming the new librarian in the small town of Lavender, Texas would lead to being murdered? Or that a cat would be the better sleuth by first finding the body and later in finding important clues? I loved it, even though cats aren't my favorite (allergic).I requested and received a free ebook copy from Beyond the Page Publishing via NetGalley. Thank you!