Black Cat and the Accidental Angel (Black Cat Mysteries Book 3) (16 page)

Cindy’s vine became a snake, like the stick in his memory. Certain hideous death awaits the child unless I prevail. To the left, again to the right, staring into the serpent’s evil orange eyes. The hideous intruder—finally within my grasp, the viper lies silent on the grass, a mere shred of its former self.

“Get it, Black Cat! Get it.” Cindy’s voice pulled him away from the lake house and back into the vineyard.

When he tired of the game, he lay down in the shade beside Cindy. She lay on her back, pointing up at the clouds. “Look, Black Cat,” she whispered. “That one looks like an angel. Can you see it?”

He looked up and gave her a polite meow.
I can’t see anything except clouds and sky.
Little girls must have more imagination than cats. Or maybe they saw things differently.

“Daddy. Black Cat thinks the cloud looks like an angel, too. He told me so.”

“Sure thing, baby.”

The mellow afternoon begged for a nap in the shade beneath the vines. It was the kind of day when one could hope that John’s problems might work out, after all. Perhaps the sale of firewood could keep the bank off his back for a while longer. The chicks were due to hatch any day and the money from their sale could pay the back taxes. Perhaps one day, he and Angel could even go home…

Another cloud passed overhead. Cindy pointed up. “Look, over there, Daddy. It’s a car.”

John turned to look and dropped one of his gloves. As he leaned down to pick it up, a blast exploded from the trees. A bullet whistled past his head. He threw himself onto the ground.

Black Cat flattened into the dirt.
Holy cats and little fishes. What was that?

Cindy sat up. “Daddy. What happened?”

“Stay down!” John crawled between the wires toward Cindy. “That bullet darn near hit me.” He lay on the ground for a minute. “Stay right here. Don’t get up. Will you do that? I’m going to see who’s shooting. Maybe it was a stray bullet.”

He ran his hands over Cindy’s flyaway hair.

Her eyes were wide, her cheeks pale.

Black Cat hunkered beside her. That was a tad too close for comfort.

“Don’t be afraid, honey. I’m sure it was an accident. You stay here with Black Cat. I’ll be right back.”

Cindy clutched Black Cat to her chest as they lay in the dirt between the vines. Her heart thumped against his chest in a half-time beat, matched by the beating of his own heart.

What must John be thinking as he crept through the vineyard toward someone with a rifle aimed at his head? He had to leave his child alone in the middle of the field with only a cat to protect her. It’s bad enough to find a headless doll on the porch. It’s quite another when someone tries to shoot you in your own vineyard. Poor John! Poor Cindy!
Poor me!

If the shooter would try to take out a man and his little girl, he wouldn’t think twice about killing his cat. How might the lead story on tomorrow’s nightly newscast go?

The bodies of a man, his daughter and their heroic cat were found today in a local vineyard, shot to death by an unknown assailant. Drops of blood found on the brave cat’s feet bore witness to his courageous effort to save the lives of his master and child.

Most grievously missed, and unfortunately dead, the lion-hearted cat will be posthumously awarded a medal of valor for his herculean efforts to thwart the foul murderer. DNA examination of the blood found on the gallant cat’s feet will no doubt identify the killer. The noble efforts of Nevada City’s departed feline hero will not soon be forgotten. A statue in his honor will be erected in the center of town…

Oh, good grief, Black Cat. Get a grip
. This was no laughing matter. Somewhere in the trees next to the vineyard, a killer lurked with a rifle, and he was the only thing between the madman and Cindy.

Chapter Eighteen

W
here is that sucker?
Black Cat lifted his head and peeked through the vines. Nowhere in sight.

John waved from the end of the row, pointed toward the house, and then pushed his hand down again and again. Then, he put his hand to his ear like he was talking on the phone.

“Daddy wants us to stay low and go back to the house and call for help.” Cindy was a bright child. She started crawling down the row toward the house.

Black Cat scampered along beside her.
I’m already low, by virtue of being only fifteen inches tall from the ground to the top of my head.
When they got to the end of the row, Cindy stood and they raced across the yard, stomped onto the porch and into the house. Cindy grabbed the phone and dialed.

“911. What is your emergency?”

“Someone is shooting at my daddy. He told me to call for help.” Cindy pulled the curtain away from the window and peered out toward the vineyard. “I’m Cindy Goldstein. Please hurry. I’m scared… Yes, all right… I’m ten… Yes, I’m in my house and I’ve locked the door… Just my cats…two…Angel and Black Cat… They were lost and we found them in our truck…”

Black Cat hurried over to the blanket by the stove.

Angel’s eyes looked like two black ball bearings. “What is she babbling about? She said our names.” Angel pulled her babies close to her side.

“The dispatcher is keeping her on the line until the sheriff can get here. Don’t worry. The gunman’s not near the house.”

Her hair bristled. “Gunman? You mean a man with a gun? He better not come in here.”

“He doesn’t have any intention of coming inside. Anyone who hides and shoots at a man with a child is a coward. He wouldn’t dare confront someone face-to-face.”

The shooter was wise to avoid the house. If Angel thought he meant to harm her babies, he’d likely go away missing some part of his anatomy—any part she could reach.

Before long, the sheriff’s unit skidded to a stop in the driveway.

Cindy unlocked the door. A man and a lady officer rushed into the house. “Okay, honey. Everything’s alright now.” The lady officer’s gun holster creaked as she knelt down and placed her hand on Cindy’s shoulder. “Where’s your daddy?” Her light brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Freckles on her nose wiggled when she smiled.

Cindy pointed toward the window. “He’s down there at the end of the vineyard. That’s where the bad man shot at us.”

The second officer opened the front door. “You stay with the girl. I’ll go on down and check it out.”

Black Cat raced to the door. The officer pulled it closed before he could sneak through.

The lady officer stepped forward and snapped the lock. She returned to the potbelly stove blanket where Cindy sat beside the kittens. “My name is Nina. I’ll stay with you until your daddy comes back. What’s your name?”

“I’m Cindy and this is Black Cat.” She gestured toward Black Cat, “and this is Angel and her babies.” Her face beamed with pride. “The babies are just opening their eyes.”

The officer knelt beside Angel’s blanket.

Angel hissed, laying the ground rules right from the start. Until she had established
who was who
, anyone with a gun should approach her family with caution.

“Don’t worry, Angel.” Black Cat gave her head a lick.
“
Officer Nina’s alright. She’s here to help.”

Angel scrubbed the kittens, flipping them from side to side. Any sort of unusual situation or case of nerves on her part seemed to affect the kittens’ hygiene adversely, requiring at least a partial if not a full body bath.
Guess it’s a female thing.

Officer Nina reached to pet the black and white kitten, and the little fellow, all of four inches tall, peeked through his half-opened eyes, bristled and hissed a tiny little “
zzhit!”

That’s my boy!

Cindy laughed.

Nina picked up the cream-colored kitten; the one Cindy called Muffins, because she had big feet with extra toes, just like her old man.

“Oh, isn’t he just the sweetest little thing?” She rubbed the kitten against her cheek.

“He’s a she. Her name is Muffins. Do you like cats?” Cindy’s eyes grew bright.

I can almost see the wheels turning in her little head. You go, girl.

Nina sighed. “I lost my cat last year and I haven’t had the heart to get another.” She stroked Muffins’ head with one finger.

Muffins started to purr, a tiny little hum at first that swelled in volume until it replicated a Lilliputian jet liner warming up on the runway.

That clever baby must have paid attention the day Angel taught the kittens their first Life Lessons.
Angel had likely started with
Purring 101
… “Humans haven’t figured out quite how it’s done and we won’t go into the exact process at this point. Suffice it to say, it comes from deep within your personal survival arsenal, memories from the ancestors, and without which, many more of us would be homeless… Now pay attention…
Humm
…
Humm
…
Now you try it
.
”

Once they had the knack of purring, she moved into
How to Take Over a Human
. “First you let loose with a purr, grabbing hold of a human’s heart. Then you wind your toes in and out a few times…that’s it, use all your toes. The prospect sees this as a commentary on their sparkling personality. By this time, they should be rubbing you against their cheek, which is a pretty good sign you’ve got them. Then, you look directly into their eyes and blink.

“If you haven’t quite sealed the deal, open your mouth as if you’re going to meow, but don’t make a sound. That’s called the
silent meow
. It’s a powerful tool few can resist.”

Angel had finished the lesson by stating, “It would take a hardened San Quentin serial killer to leave you behind following this performance.”

Muffins laid it on thick and not unexpectedly, Officer Nina was mumbling kitten gibberish and grinning like a fool within about a minute. She raked the rumbling kitten across her cheek again. “Would you—”

“Would you like to have her for your very own?” Cindy was almost as quick on her feet as Muffins, and knowing the kittens would all need good homes, lost no time bringing this potential sucker, rather, customer, to the table.

Officer Nina smiled and held Muffins at arm’s length, turned her from side to side and rained kisses on her head. The littlest Sarah Bernhard of the Cat World purred and wound her giant feet and blinked on cue. She
brought it home
with an impeccable silent meow.

I couldn’t have done it better myself
. It was a perfect Oscar winning performance. Within less than a minute, she’d wheedled her way into this woman’s pocket book…I mean, her heart, for the rest of her natural life.

“I believe I would.” Officer Nina handed Cindy her business card. “You call me when they’re ready to leave their mother.” She gave Muffins a kiss.

Black Cat gave Angel a quick glance. She was as pleased with Muffins’ performance as he was.

One down and three to go.

John unlocked the front door. He and the officer stamped in, knocking pine needles from their feet. He took one look at Cindy’s face. She must be scared to death.
How can I spin this so I don’t scare her even more?

Cindy threw her arms around his waist. “Are you okay?”

John nodded. “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

Cindy loosened her grip and came back to the blanket by the stove. She knelt beside the cats. “Officer Nina wants to take Muffins when she’s old enough.”

“That sounds fine.”

Good. She doesn’t seem overly concerned about the shooting.

“Find anything?” The lady officer handed the kitten back to Cindy.

“No such luck. We found the place where the guy waited. Grass all mashed down.” The officer held up a rifle casing. “Found a 30-30 brass casing. Typical hunting rifle. Not much chance of tracing the thing.” He opened a clipboard and began filling out his report. “Hard to say if it was an accident. Doesn’t seem likely he was shooting at a rabbit or something, what with you folks there in the field, but I suppose it’s possible. We’ll make out a report, Mr. Goldstein, but I don’t think there’s much chance of an arrest. Whoever shot at you…” He glanced over toward Cindy and clamped his mouth shut.