Catch As Cat Can

5

Ben Semple, one of Kittery Harbor’s town constables, was the first law-enforcement type to arrive on the scene. When he saw Sunny, he let out a long, “Aaaahhhh, man. I was hoping I hadn’t heard the squawk on the radio right—or that this was one of those swatting things.” He was a friend of Will’s, and knew from experience that if Sunny was involved, there had to be a dead body around somewhere.

Sunny pointed toward the freezer, Ben jumped inside and a moment later came out, keeping his back to the door. Ben was more at home writing traffic tickets for the bargain hunters racing through outlet-land, but he knew how to secure a crime scene. He got on his radio, and the street and store began to fill with people from the sheriff’s department. Captain Ingersoll, the number-two man in the department, arrived about two minutes after Will came in, accompanied by Val Overton.

Sunny didn’t have any chance to ask about that. Ingersoll immediately buttonholed her. From the look on his face, you’d think this place stinks to high heaven, Sunny thought. “You found the body?” he asked, his voice dropping the temperature in the chilly store a few more degrees.

And it’s great to see you, too, that flippant voice in the back of Sunny’s head answered. Aloud she said, “We found the body,” gesturing to Neil Garret.

That didn’t make the captain look any happier. He turned to Will. “Why don’t you take Mr. Garret here and get a statement. I’ll send Ms. Coolidge to the station with Mullen. I called the state police barracks. Their crime-scene team is on the way.”

Typical cop procedure, Sunny thought. Splitting up the witnesses so they can’t concoct a story together. Not so typical was the fact that Val Overton accompanied Will and Neil.

Maybe they’re using the same car. She didn’t get a chance to check. Ingersoll put her in the custody of a sheriff’s deputy she didn’t know. He looked at her as if he were afraid she was going to pull an Uzi from under her sweater and try to shoot her way to freedom. Mullen almost refused to let her into the MAX office to get her coat—kind of unfair, considering the way he was bundled up in a green sheriff’s parka. But Ben Semple intervened, accompanying them as Sunny got her coat, turned off the coffeemaker and the computer, and locked the office door.

Well here goes a day shot to hell, Sunny thought as they headed to Mullen’s car. She knew how long it could take getting out of police clutches. Good thing there’s nothing urgent going on, or Ollie would have a fit.

Thinking of Ollie reminded her of the whole rent question, which had gotten sidetracked when they’d found the body in the freezer. It won’t be easy to scratch up the money for Ollie if the place is closed, she thought. Even though the outer door stood open, it was pretty clear no business would be transacted today.

Deputy Mullen offered no conversation during the trip to the sheriff’s office in the county seat. As soon as Sunny arrived, she was conducted to an interrogation room and left to marinate. Well, Sunny thought, I expect they’ll be busy with the dead guy. And let’s face it, considering my popularity with Ingersoll, he’ll leave me at the end of his list.

So she was surprised when the door opened and the sheriff herself walked in. As the widow of the former sheriff, Lenore Nesbit had ridden a wave of public sympathy after her husband’s death in the line of duty, trouncing Will in the primary and winning in the general election for the office. What she lacked in police skill she more than made up for with a shrewd sense of politics. In the light of her own painful experience, Lenore had promoted Will, admitting that the county needed more investigative capacity to deal with new kinds of crime. She relied on Ingersoll for administrative matters.

Sunny smiled at the sheriff, but couldn’t help thinking, Either they’re really pressed for personnel, or they don’t think I have much to offer if Lenore’s going to question me.

“How are you feeling?” Lenore Nesbit asked.

“Not too bad,” Sunny replied. “Lucky, I guess, because I only got a quick look at the body—just enough to be sure he was dead.”

Lenore shuddered. “I saw the crime-scene photos on the computer. Don’t think I’ll have anything with tomato sauce for a while.” She paused for a second. “Why don’t you take me through what happened?”

“Traffic was bad, so I got to work a little late.” Sunny began the story, but Lenore soon interrupted. “You say you got in late, but the fish shop was still closed.”

Sunny shrugged. “Maybe the traffic made Neil late, too.”

“You’re sure the place was closed?”

“The gate was down. I could see that from across the street.” Sunny explained that Ollie had given her the responsibility of reminding Neil about the rent. “So, when I heard the gate go up—”

“When exactly was that?”

“A few minutes after I got in,” Sunny replied. “I’d gotten a cup of coffee and just started the day’s routine. Anyway, I figured I’d get over there and take care of Ollie’s errand. I found Neil in front of the display case and asked him why it was so cold.” She went on to describe how they’d found the back door open.

“How was Mr. Garret acting?” Lenore asked.

“Spooked,” Sunny said. “I guess he knew something was wrong the moment he stepped in. He tried to tell me the store wasn’t open yet. Then, when we found the door open, he checked the cash register and then the freezer. That’s when we saw the body. I was already on the phone to report the break-in, and added that fact. Then we waited until Ben Semple arrived.”

“Neither of you went into the freezer?”

“I didn’t see the need, once I saw all that blood. It was like a sheet of red ice on the floor.” Sunny took a moment to call up her memory of the grisly sight. “Whoever it was must have been there for a while. The store was cold enough that you could see your breath in the air, and I wasn’t seeing any around the guy down there.” She stopped for a moment, struck by something else in her mental picture. “The dead man wasn’t dressed for Maine weather,” she said. “He was wearing some kind of light-colored raincoat, so he must have been half-frozen before he wound up in the freezer.”

That sparked another memory. “I didn’t get to see the guy’s face. Did he have a beard?”

“He was pretty scruffy,” Lenore said. “Why do you ask?”

“We had something weird happen outside the office a couple of evenings ago.” Sunny described what had happened to Shadow. “I didn’t see it, Zach Judson broke it up. But he said the guy with the noose had a beard—and was wearing a raincoat. Maybe if you showed him a picture . . .”

Lenore Nesbit shook her head. “Trust me, Sunny, what’s left of that face is nothing you’d want to look at.”

The sheriff asked a few more questions, but Sunny didn’t have anything to offer. Then she thanked Sunny, saying, “I’ll need you to write up a statement—I’m sure you know the drill.”

Sunny knew it only too well. She sat cooling her heels in the little room until a deputy finally came with a legal pad and a pen. Sunny wrote an account of what she’d seen and done since getting out of her Wrangler, and waited again until somebody came and picked it up. Then more waiting until it got typed up. By the time she finally got to sign her statement, the day was pretty well shot, and she was starving.

The day brightened a bit when Will Price stopped by the desk where she was signing off on the paperwork. “I wrangled the job of getting you back to your car,” he said.

They went outside and got into an unmarked car. Will pulled out of the sheriff’s department parking lot and headed for the interstate.

“Well, it’s nice that you’re allowed to talk to me again,” Sunny said. “Did Ingersoll give the okay?”

Will grimaced for a moment. “He wasn’t exactly subtle, was he? But he had a point. My job is to investigate now. And we do have a connection.”

“Yeah, we’ve investigated a lot of things together.”

“But now I’m supposed to be doing it officially.” Will didn’t look happy at the expression on her face. “Have I ever told you how to write stories when you do them for the Harbor Courier?”

“No, but then I’ve read the way you write reports.” Sunny looked around the car. “I was almost expecting to see your friend Val Overton in here.”

“Why would you say that?” Will said sharply.

“She was at the crime scene with you,” Sunny pointed out. “Apparently it was okay for her to be around.”

“Val is a trained investigator,” Will explained. “We worked together on a fugitive task force when I was with the state police up by the border.”

“We seem to keep bumping into people from your past,” Sunny said. “First Abby Martinson, and now this federal marshal. Did you have a crush on her, too?”

Will laughed. “You haven’t seen Val in action. She’s a big gal, and I’ve seen her take down even bigger guys than me.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t reassure me,” Sunny told him.

“Strictly business,” Will assured her.

Sunny decided to change the subject. “So, did you find out who the dead guy was?”

Will shook his head. “No wallet, no ID.”

“So you have to go with fingerprints.”

He nodded. “Which always takes a lot longer than it does on the TV cop shows.”

“I thought of something when Lenore Nesbit was questioning me. The guy in the freezer was wearing a raincoat. So was the guy who went after Shadow.”

Will glanced at her from behind the wheel. “You think the two may be connected?”

“I don’t know,” Sunny replied. “But I do know better than to stroll the streets of Kittery Harbor in just a raincoat during winter.” As if to underline her thought, a sudden blast of wind actually made the car shake a little. “Did the body in the freezer have a beard? Maybe you could have Zach Judson take a look at him.”

“Zach told me he only got a glimpse of the guy outside your office,” Will said. “As for the fellow in the freezer, his face isn’t exactly recognizable. He took two shots in the back of the head. The exit wounds—trust me, you don’t want me to draw you a picture.”

But Sunny was thinking of something else. “Shots in the back of the head. Execution style. In a fish shop? Why break in there in the first place?”

“Well, it’s quiet, and the freezer would be pretty much soundproof,” Will said. “I hate to tell you this, but the New Stores are hardly Fort Knox. Why did Ollie put the gate on the store next door to your office? Or did Neil do it?”

“Ollie had it installed, hoping to lure a better class of tenant.” Remembering the elaborate shutters protecting stores in New York, Sunny shrugged. “It’s window dressing really. Or rather, it only protects the door, not the windows. If anybody really wanted to get into those stores, they could do it pretty easily.”

“Yeah, but a broken window draws attention,” Will said. “Better to go in the back way. The rear doors are metal, but you could get through them if you were determined.”

“I’ll bear that in mind in case I forget my key,” Sunny told him. “I have to admit, when I saw the body, the first thing I thought of was Madman Mel.”

That got a laugh from Will. “From what I remember of Mel, our friend in the raincoat seems a bit on the skinny side.”

Sunny nodded. The would-be pillow magnate always looked as if he had a couple of his products stuffed under his shirt. “Maybe he fell on lean times—literally—after he lost his store.”

“Well,” Will promised, “I’ll have Mel checked out, although I think it’s a long shot.” They were on the local streets in Kittery Harbor by now. He pulled up in front of the New Stores. Sunny gave him a quick kiss and stepped out onto the street. Kittery Harbor Fish had its gate down now, with crime scene tape festooned across the entrance.

Huh, Sunny thought as she turned to the MAX office, I’d have sworn I turned off the lights.

As she went to put her key in the lock, she discovered the door was open, too. She stepped inside, her hand going for her cell phone, when she spotted Ollie sitting behind a desk.

“You scared me for a moment,” Sunny said, then she realized that her boss had company.

Val Overton sat in the visitor’s chair, flashing her brilliant smile in Sunny’s direction. “Just sitting here, passing the time with Ollie.”

Ollie looked as though he’d have been happier passing time with a rattlesnake. “Seems as though Marshal Overton hasn’t tracked down the party she’s supposed to serve. I offered to help, but she won’t tell me who it is.”

Translation, Sunny thought, I’d do anything to make her go away, but she won’t.

“Now, honey, I explained that,” the marshal said in a sweet voice. “How do I know you might not be partners with the fella I’m after?”

Her tone left Sunny wondering which “fella” Overton was after right now—the person to be served or Ollie. Judging from his expression, Ollie wasn’t sure, either.

“So I’ve been trying to get a grip on the general state of business in these parts,” Val went on. “Since Ollie seems to be a mover and a shaker, I thought I’d pump him a little.” She smiled that high-wattage smile again. “You own all these stores?”

“Yeah, this used to be my dad’s—a soda fountain and candy store,” Ollie said. Sunny could remember herself as a kid, sitting on a stool and sipping some sugary concoction through a straw.

“When I came back here with a little capital, I was able to buy the whole property. Several of the tenants are long-established businesses.”

Like Judson’s Market, Sunny thought.

“But the fish store is new—or is it all just refurbished?” Val asked. “When I was in there, everything looked brand new.”

“No, it’s all newly installed,” Ollie said. “Quite an investment for the tenant.”

Speaking of which . . . Sunny spoke up. “I didn’t get a chance to talk with Neil Garret about the rent—considering what happened.”

Val Overton sat a little straighter. “Garret was having problems paying the rent?”

“The fact of the matter is that next door has always been a bit of a problem location,” Sunny said, earning an annoyed look from Ollie. “The fish store seemed to be doing fine during the summer months. Lately, though, I think business has been dropping off. Maybe the local folks are eating less fish in the cold weather.”

“There won’t be any business done with that damned tape across the door,” Ollie complained.

Val Overton leaned forward and patted his arm. “Don’t underestimate how big a crowd a nice, public crime scene can draw.”

Ollie didn’t snatch his arm away, but he looked even more uncomfortable.

“And if you’re invested in any kind of home security, you might get a bump,” Val went on. “Nothing like a good break-in to make people reevaluate their locks and shutters.” She leaned back in her chair. “Now, could you tell a gal where she might get something decent to eat around here?”

The reminder made Sunny’s empty stomach rumble. “There’s a little cafe down by the docks,” she said. “It shouldn’t be too busy, this time of day.”

Ollie’s expression was almost pathetically grateful as he said, “Why don’t you take Marshal Overton over there, Sunny? I’ll finish here and lock up. You can take the rest of the day off. Doesn’t look as though we’re going to get much work done, anyway.”

*

The wind coming off the water was like a freezing cold knife stabbing into Sunny’s face, and strong enough to make her stagger. But Val Overton just plowed ahead, apparently unfazed by the weather, until she said, “I’m beginning to see why this place isn’t too busy. Do people freeze to death before they get there?”

“Almost.” Sunny kept her head down as the wind tore at her curls. “But they’ve got a hot chocolate that can revive the dead.”

They fought their way to Spill the Beans, and Sunny took her usual wintertime table, the one directly under the heater. The waitress brought her a hot chocolate before she even ordered.

“I think I’ll have the same,” Val said, looking on as Sunny spooned up some thick brown cocoa from under its cover of whipped cream.

“They do a sandwich with home-baked ham and their own hot mustard on farmer’s bread.” Sunny rolled her eyes as she took a sip of chocolate. “It’s not like the shaved ham you get from a deli. They carve slices off.”

“Can we get two ham sandwiches, please?” Val asked as the waitress returned with a cup for her. “Breakfast doesn’t seem to stretch as long as I’d like when I’m doing cop things.”

They sat quietly for a few minutes, shedding their parkas and letting the heat penetrate their chilled faces and hands. Then the sandwiches arrived, mounded high with thick slices of ham. Sunny took a bite, savoring the way the spicy mustard blended with the salt from the ham and the sweetness of the brown sugar glaze.

“Mmmmm,” Val Overton mumbled as she chewed and swallowed. “Worth a trek through the Arctic. And you’re right about the reviving powers of this chocolate.” She took a sip, put down her cup, and sighed. “So, tell me about your boss.”

I think she’s taking Spill the Beans a bit too literally, Sunny thought. Is she after one of Ollie’s business connections?

Aloud, she said, “With Ollie, what you see is what you get. He can be gruff, sometimes unreasonable—”

“I’m going to cut right to the chase,” Val interrupted. “Is he single?”

Sunny was glad she didn’t have a mouthful of chocolate. Otherwise, it might have come spewing out her nose. “Ollie?”

“Yeah. Slightly older guy, reddish hair, blue eyes . . .” Val grinned. “Pink face.”

“You’re interested in Ollie Barnstable?”

“We can’t all get guys like Will Price,” Val said. “So, is he taken?”

“I can’t speak for Ollie,” Sunny said. Especially about this, she added silently. “He broke a leg not too long ago and wound up in rehab. I think he’s been seeing one of the therapists.”

“Good. Then he must be used to taking orders.” Val laughed at the look on Sunny’s face. “Oh, come on, loosen up. I’ve got a job that sends me traipsing all over a pretty big state. Unless I want to pick up guys in hotel bars, it isn’t easy to meet people. Do you think Ollie might go out with me?”

Sunny took a bite of her sandwich to chew that one over. “Frankly,” she said as she finished, “right now I think you’ve got him scared to death.”

“Yeah.” Val looked a little repentant. “I overplayed the whole serving papers thing.” She grinned. “But his expression was so priceless.”

“He takes this stuff seriously. After all, he is a businessman.”

“Okay, okay,” Val said. “I promise to be nicer to your boss.”

“It could be the difference between honey and vinegar in drawing the fly,” Sunny said.

Silence fell as they devoted themselves to their sandwiches, until Val, putting her napkin down, said, “Speaking of honey, does this place do any good desserts?”

Sunny smiled. Here was a person after her own heart. “Do you like whoopie pies?”

“Those cookie things with the whipped cream?” Val asked.

“If you have to ask like that, you haven’t had a real whoopie pie,” Sunny told her. “But they have them here.”

“Oh, really?” Val purred. “You know I’ll have to test that.”

Sunny nodded. “And maybe another cup of chocolate.”