{"product_id":"the-black-cat-sees-his-shadow-isbn-9780425275269","title":"The Black Cat Sees His Shadow","description":"\u003cb\u003eMystery novelist Sabrina Tate and her cat, Hitchcock, set out to catch a conniving killer in the next Bad Luck Cat mystery from the author of \u003ci\u003eThe Black Cat Knocks on Wood\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eBlack Cat Crossing...\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eThe town of Lavender, Texas is buzzing with tourists, and local businesses are pulling out all the stops for the annual Pumpkin Days Festival. On the eve of opening day, Sabrina comes face-to-face with her doppelgänger, Tia Hartwell, a caricature artist at the festival. The similarities between the two women are striking, including their matching black cats. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSabrina learns that her new twin Tia has an enemy: bad-tempered jewelry vendor Calvin Fisher. When Fisher is found slumped over dead in his pickup, Tia tops the suspect list. With the help of her feline sidekick, Sabrina must clear her new look-alike friend before she finds herself in a deadly case of double jeopardy.\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eBlack Cat Crossing\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eBlack Cat Crossing\u003c\/i\u003e has everything a cozy mystery could want—intrigue, memorable characters, a small-town setting, and even a few mouth-watering recipes...A purr-fectly cozy read.”—Ellery Adams, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eMurder in the Secret Garden\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"If Charlie and Diesel ever make it to Texas, they'll be heading straight to Lavender to meet Sabrina and Hitchcock to talk about solving mysteries. I loved every page of \u003ci\u003eBlack Cat Crossing\u003c\/i\u003e, and I can't wait for a return visit to Lavender.\"—Miranda James, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the Cat in the Stacks mysteries\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eBlack Cat Crossing \u003c\/i\u003eis an entertaining introduction to Sabrina’s world, and I look forward to Hitchcock’s future exploits.”—Open Book Society\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Sabrina was a fabulous sleuth, especially with the help of Hitchcock, the bad luck cat. The characters will draw you in but the mystery will keep you flipping the pages.”—Deb’s Book Bag\u003cb\u003eKay Finch\u003c\/b\u003e grew up on a Pennsylvania farm, but she got to Texas as fast as she could and discovered her favorite vacation spot, the Texas Hill Country. Kay is the author of the Bad Luck Cat Mysteries, including \u003ci\u003eThe Black Cat Knocks on Wood\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eBlack Cat Crossing\u003c\/i\u003e, as well as the Corie McKenna Mysteries and the Klutter Killer Mysteries. She is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and the State Bar of Texas Paralegal Division. Kay lives with her husband, a rescue cat, and two wild and crazy rescue dogs in a Houston suburb.1\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The clerk scanned the packet of crunchy tuna treats and tossed it      on the conveyor belt to her left. \"These are the best, Miss      Sabrina. My cat, Oreo, adores them. She eats three every single      time, and if I try to stop at two, she won't give me a moment's      peace until I hand over that third one.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Cute.\" I already knew quite a lot about the personality of      Libby's tuxedo kitty, and I learned a new tidbit every time I      shopped for groceries. The sixtyish woman lived alone with the      cat, and she spoke about the pet the way a mother speaks of a      favorite child.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"That Hitchcock is one lucky fella, gettin' all these treats,\" she      said, \"even if he is the bad luck cat.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"He's-\" I stopped and clamped my lips together. I knew from      experience that repeating the words \"not bad luck\" for the      hundredth time would do no good. It annoyed the heck out of me      that the people in Lavender continued to judge Hitchcock by some      ancient legend and didn't give him credit for all his good deeds.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Libby continued scanning the groceries from my cart. \"You stockin'      your pantry or gettin' ready for the contest?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My basket contained two pumpkins, several bags each of flour and      sugar, and enough miscellaneous baking supplies to suggest I      planned to take part in the annual Pumpkin Days Festival Bake-Off.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Haven't decided,\" I said, \"but I dreamt about pumpkin pie last      night, and I won't sleep again until I have some.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Libby totaled my order and began sacking the groceries. \"Did I      ever tell you about the time Oreo dropped her catnip mouse in my      cake batter when my back was turned?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e More than once.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I nodded and stuck my bank card into the reader to make my      payment. \"And your cousins freaked when the cake was cut.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Did they ever. Wouldn't take one bite. I thought it was sweet,      like one of those Mardi Gras cakes where you find the little baby      inside.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She chuckled and shook her head like she couldn't believe her      relatives refused to overlook a minor thing like a catnip mouse      imbedded in their dessert.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I took my receipt, wished her a good night, and pushed my cart      toward the door. Libby was already chatting about Oreo to the      customer behind me as I vowed to keep a closer eye on Hitchcock      whenever I baked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I quickened my step, eager to get home and introduce my cat to the      most yummy tuna treats ever. If my evening went according to plan,      I'd be baking in Aunt Rowe's kitchen earlier than my usual      middle-of-the-night stints. Things were hopping at her      Around-the-World cottages. Every unit was rented for the week,      most by vendors coming in for the festival. Judging by the      forecast, the weather would cooperate with brilliant sunshine over      the next week. Walking to my car, I enjoyed the slight nip in the      air, which to us Texans meant the temperature had dropped to the      seventies.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I was admiring the lovely pinks and yellows that colored the sky      around the setting sun when a slamming truck door startled me.      Beyond the spot where I'd parked my car, a man in jeans and a      fringed suede vest over a white shirt left the pickup and headed      for the store. I went back to enjoying the pretty evening sky      until his hand shot out and clutched my shopping cart, stopping it      short.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I spun to face him. \"What the-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The man stared at me in wide-eyed astonishment. \"What in tarnation      are you doing here?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I raised my brows. \"Excuse me?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e What does it look like I'm doing?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e His ruddy complexion reddened, and he fixed me with a dark-eyed      stare. His steely gray hair frizzed around his head like a      scouring pad. \"I told you to stay away. What part of that did you      not understand?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I don't know-\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I meant far away. This is my turf, and you know it.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I'd been walking around Lavender for nearly a year and now this      guy wanted to know why I'm here? Why was he here?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Do I know you?\" I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Your bein' here is only gonna cause trouble,\" he said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Look,\" I said, \"I have no idea what you're talking about, Mr. . .      . ?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Very funny.\" His voice reminded me of a snarling dog. \"You need      to slink back to that rock you crawled out from under.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He had made no move toward me besides latching on to my cart like      a recalcitrant toddler, but his gruff words set off an adrenaline      rush. I tucked a hand inside my purse and rested my fingers on the      phone in the side pocket.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Obviously, you have the wrong person,\" I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Don't play little miss innocent with me,\" he said. \"I guarantee      it won't work this time.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He released my cart and took a step toward me, the small movement      raising the threat level several notches. I pulled out the phone,      intent on calling Sheriff Jeb Crawford directly on his cell phone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Who're you callin'?\" The stranger made a swipe toward my phone,      but I twisted to keep it out of his reach.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Whoever I want to,\" I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A man behind me hollered, \"Hey!\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Heavy footsteps slapped across the blacktop, and the second man      came into view. I recognized this one. Gabe Brenner, one of the      festival vendors, had checked into Aunt Rowe's Melbourne cottage      earlier in the day. How did he just so happen to be in my personal      space-again?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When the stranger made another grab for my phone, Gabe pulled back      and let a heavy fist fly. His punch connected with the stranger's      chin and caused the older man to stagger back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You keep away from her,\" Gabe said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Says who?\" the other man said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I do.\" Gabe turned to me. \"You know this dude?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"No,\" I said. \"Never saw him before in my life.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The older man straightened, one hand held to his chin, and glared      at me. \"You haven't heard the last of this, sweetheart.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Watch it, mister,\" Gabe said, \"or you'll be sorry. She might even      sic her bad luck cat on you.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Outraged, I looked at Gabe. \"He is not bad luck.\" The guy had only      met me-and the cat-for the first time less than eight hours ago.      How had he already heard that stupid nickname?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Are you kidding?\" said the older man. \"You brought the cat,      too?\"    \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I shook my head, trying to make sense of the conversation. I met      the stranger's gaze. \"I don't know what your deal is, but you've      mistaken me for someone else, and I'll thank you both to leave my      cat out of this.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e All I wanted was to get away from these men and go home to bake a      pumpkin pie. Was that too much to ask?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The stranger looked from me to Gabe, who stood by my side with      fists clenched, then turned away. Instead of heading into the      store, he stalked back to his truck and climbed in. Moments later,      the truck roared out of the parking lot.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Gabe put a hand on my shoulder. \"Are you okay? You want me to      follow him? I will, you know, if you want me to.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"No, you don't need to follow him.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Then let me help you with the groceries.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"No,\" I said firmly. \"I'm fine, and I can handle this.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Why was he harassing you?\" Gabe persisted.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Sounded like he mixed me up with someone else.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"How's that?\" Gabe said, his voice softening. \"There's only one      like you, Sabrina.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I ignored the comment.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Now that the bigger problem was gone, I'd have to figure out what      to do about Gabe. He'd taken an instant liking to me and Hitchcock      when we met and had shadowed us around the cottages to the point      that I'd left the premises to get away from him. The      lovesick-puppy expression he wore when he looked at me made me      nervous, but the stalkerlike vibe he threw off really gave me the      heebie-jeebies.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e 2\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I managed to convince Gabe that I was fine to drive home by      myself. After I had my groceries in the car and got on the road, I      heaved a sigh of relief. Since we were both headed to the same      place, though, the guy was tailing me in his food truck. Gabe was      going to sell battered and deep-fried bacon, of all things, at the      festival, which explained the greasy odor that seemed to hover      around him. Seeing him in my rearview mirror made my skin prickle.      I hoped to high heaven he'd back off when I got to Aunt Rowe's      house.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I tried to relax and enjoy the festival decorations as we headed      through town on our way back to the cottages. Strands of orange      lights glittered from trees and storefronts. Yellow and scarlet      mums filled flower barrels and window boxes. Jack-o'-lantern flags      hung from light poles, and banners advertising Lavender's Pumpkin      Days hung high over the streets. The festival officially began at      noon the next day. Booths were already set up around the town      square and along the sidewalks. Food trucks would line up along      the mowed field on the edge of town.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I had visited Aunt Rowe during Pumpkin Days as a kid, but I never      realized what a huge undertaking it was to put on an event of this      size. With the arrival of so many vendors, Lavender's peaceful      atmosphere had already changed. I couldn't even imagine how many      tourists would flood our small town over the next week. I expected      to have my fill of the crowd in the first day or two. After that,      I would take advantage of some quiet time at home to work on my      novel in progress while everyone else was off at the festival.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Fifteen minutes later, Gabe pulled into the Around-the-World      Cottages driveway right behind me. I blew out a breath of relief      when he veered off toward the Melbourne cottage. Then my thoughts      turned to baking. If all went according to plan, I'd be eating      fresh pumpkin pie in a couple of hours.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e That thought fled when Aunt Rowe's house came into view. Things      were usually quiet on the home front by eight, but not tonight. In      the twilight, I could see dozens of people clustered on the lawn,      drinks in hand, talking and laughing. I caught a glimpse of      Thomas, my aunt's grounds manager, scanning the back lawn like a      nightclub bouncer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My cat was watching over the festivities, too. I smiled at the      sight of Hitchcock's outline in the window over the kitchen sink.      He gravitated toward action, so it was no surprise that he was      hanging at Aunt Rowe's instead of waiting for me in the Monte      Carlo cottage, where we lived.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I looped grocery sacks over my arms and grabbed one of the      pumpkins, then went in through the back door and walked through      the utility room toward the kitchen. Country music-the Oak Ridge      Boys, if I had to guess-came from the living room. The house      smelled of coffee and cinnamon.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Hi, Hitchcock,\" I said, then stopped short when I realized there      wasn't one square inch of open counter space to deposit my      purchases. \"What's all this?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The cat jumped from the sill to the edge of the sink, then to the      floor. He came over to rub against my legs. \"Mrreow.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Jumbo packages of paper products, chips, and baked goods, along      with trays of fruits, veggies, cheeses, and cold cuts filled every      available space. Stacks of canned soft drink cases sat on the      floor. The breakfast table held desserts, including stacks of      boxed store-bought pies.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Aunt Rowe had mentioned something about a hospitality suite for      the vendors. I must have missed the fact that she planned to play      hostess herself. Glenda, Aunt Rowe's housekeeper and cook, was      nowhere in sight, and I didn't blame her. The ordinarily      neat-as-a-pin kitchen had a claustrophobic feel. I elbowed a stack      of potato chip cartons over a few inches so I could deposit my      sacks on the counter.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I left the pumpkin in the sink, then knelt beside Hitchcock and      ran a hand down his back. \"Obviously, I won't be baking here      tonight. Maybe not for a while.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He trilled a response.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I'll be lucky to find room to store anything in the pantry. Might      have to lug my stuff back to our place.\" I had prepared a few      no-bake desserts at my cottage, but the small kitchenette didn't      have an oven to support my serious baking habit. I checked the      pies, counted three pumpkins, and wondered how fresh they were.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A chorus of female voices and laughter came from the living room,      piquing my curiosity. I stood. \"What does Aunt Rowe have going on      in there?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Mrrreooow,\" Hitchcock said, and the sound came out like a warning      as I headed toward the laughter.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I checked the living room, surprised to see four card tables set      up in the center. Each held a pedestal mirror and a basin of water      along with various sizes of tubes and bottles. The scent of      eucalyptus filled the air. Three women sat, one per table, with      hair held back by fuzzy mint green headbands that matched the goop      smeared on their faces. Their attention was on a woman who stood      in front of them like a teacher at the head of a class.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"The clarification-processing phase takes six minutes,\" she said,      \"then we'll move on to the freshening phase. Sit back, close your      eyes, and let the rejuvenation begin.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As the green-faced women closed their eyes, the leader pulled a      compact from the pocket of her royal blue dress and checked the      mirror. She had big hair, blond and curly, in a style Dolly Parton      might admire. She took a swig from a can of Diet Coke and cleared      her throat.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Feel the transformation, ladies,\" she said. \"After your      treatment, you'll look five years younger. That's the Pure Velvet      promise.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hitchcock, who had joined me at the doorway, looked up with a      can-you-believe-this-baloney expression. \"Mrreow.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The group leader turned at hearing the cat's voice and saw me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Hi there.\" She approached me with a hand out, and we shook. \"I'm      Britt Cramer, with Pure Velvet Facial Transformation Systems. Care      to join us?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"No thanks.\" I introduced myself. \"Is my aunt here?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"In her office,\" said one of the green-faced women. \"With Herr      Schmidt.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The others giggled.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Herr Schmidt?\" I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Henry Schmidt,\" she said. \"The festival chair. Used to teach high      school German. Likes when people call him Herr instead of Mister.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I may have heard about him,\" I said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The woman laughed. \"If you're related to Rowe, I'll bet you have.      I'm Maybelle.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Nice to meet you,\" I said. \"I guess all of you are here for the      festival.\"","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300891349221,"sku":"NP9780425275269","price":7.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780425275269_b98b8da3-06b9-4bd1-bdbb-bd2982965154.jpg?v=1742921913","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-black-cat-sees-his-shadow-isbn-9780425275269","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}