Catch As Cat Can

12

After taking a moment to digest what Will had said, Sunny asked, “Can we tell my dad?”

Will shrugged. “It will be on the news soon enough. After they get through with this ‘storm of the century’ stuff.”

Sunny led the way into the living room. “Charlie Vane is dead,” she announced. “Will found him tonight.”

Mike paused in the middle of turning on a few more lamps. “From the look on your faces, I don’t expect it was some run-of-the-mill thing like a car crash or hypothermia.”

“Shot,” Will said. “With all this weather stuff going on, it will take a while for the crime-scene guys to arrive and get to work.” He paused for a second. “Have you ever been in Vane’s place?”

“A long time ago, when he was more prosperous. It was a nice little place, away from the built-up part of town but close enough to the docks. Charlie’s father built it, and Charlie’s wife kept it spotless.” Mike shook his head. “Too bad about that.”

“You knew that Vane’s wife had left him?” Will asked.

“More like she got tired of trying to hold on,” Mike said. “I didn’t see much good coming from airing that piece of dirty linen. Whatever Charlie got up to, Eileen would never be a part of it.”

He frowned, looking at the floor for a moment. “But with a murder involved, I will tell you something odd I heard. Not about Charlie, but his son, Jack. He’s trying to keep a wife and son on what he makes on Charlie’s boat, and lately it’s been a real struggle. Kid has to drive around in an old wreck—the kind of car mechanics call a moneymaker. The owner can’t afford to replace it, so he limps along from one repair to another to keep it running. A mechanic who’s not bothered with a conscience can string along that kind of situation pretty profitably. But Sal DiGillio told me—”

“I wouldn’t think Sal DiGillio was that kind of mechanic,” Sunny objected.

“He’s not,” Mike replied, “and that’s the thing. He wouldn’t work on Jack’s car because the kid couldn’t scrape up what it would take to fix the wreck properly. But about a month ago, Jack came to Sal’s shop with the money to do the work. Sal fixed the car, but when I went to his station for gas the other day, he was aggravated because something new had died on Jack’s car. All his work for nothing, and the kid is still behind the eight ball.”

“Was Charlie Vane into guns?” Will asked.

Mike peered at him in bafflement. “Unless it was about shooting fish in a barrel. No, I take even that back. Charlie was a fisherman. He didn’t hunt, he didn’t trap, he didn’t even go after lobsters. I’d be really surprised that he even owned a gun.” His frown deepened. “You’re not saying he could have used a gun on himself?”

“No, but he had a house full of the things,” Will said. “Cheap revolvers, more high-end deals, long guns too. Some hunting rifles with big magazines, shotguns, a regular arsenal.”

“And now he ends up shot.” Mike shook his head. “I don’t know what I can tell you.”

“But it’s out of character for Charlie Vane.” Will jumped in.

“That’s not the Charlie I knew,” Mike said.

“Maybe it’s a case of dead men tell no tales,” Sunny suggested.

Will gave her a skeptical look. “Back to the pirates again, huh? But who made the man dead? Not so long ago, you were suggesting that Vane hired someone to kill Neil Garret, but they got Phil Treibholz instead.” He thought for a moment. “Of course if Garret knew about that, he could have returned the favor.”

“Wait a minute,” Sunny said as something struck her. “Neil lives up in Sturgeon Springs. And you said the road out there was blocked by a fallen tree.”

Will nodded. “So if he was in town killing Charlie Vane, he’d be trapped there, or crawling along an alternate route home.” He turned to Mike. “Could I borrow your phone for a moment?”

On getting the okay, Will quickly dialed. “I need a check on a Neil Garret in Sturgeon Springs—you have the address on file. Is the south road still blocked? Yeah. So you’ll have to send a car from Elmet.”

He hung up and smiled. “So, if he’s not home, we’ll have him.”

“Excellent police work,” Sunny told him, “but that’s not what I was thinking. We’ve got two dead bodies: a crooked California private eye, and a fisherman who’s willing to do anything to keep his business going. What if they found out or knew something that had to be kept secret?”

Will glanced at Mike then turned to Sunny, his expression reminding her that they had secrets of their own. “My money is still on Garret.”

“But there could be someone else,” she argued. “Someone with a motive we don’t even know about.”

“We’ve got a perfectly good suspect as it is.” Will must have heard the tone of complaint in his voice, because he started over again. “Why do we need a hypothetical killer when we have one already? What could this unknown motive be?”

“Blackmail,” Sunny suggested. “The fewer people who know a secret, the more lucrative it could be.”

She decided not to push it, because the scenarios spinning around in her mind weren’t things she could talk about in front of Mike—or even discuss with Will, until she had something more solid than a theory.

Or maybe the motive was protecting Neil Garret, she thought. I already wondered about Val Overton. But what about Abby Martinson? She says that she and Helena had an early night. Abby could have gone out to deal with Charlie Vane and been back before all traffic was restricted. Sunny turned away, frowning. Maybe this whole trip back to Kittery Harbor is because of Neil. Oh, Abby put on a pretty good act after seeing him in the window. But she’s supposed to be an actress.

She sighed. This was something she’d never have considered in the simpler if somewhat lonelier days when she first came back to her old hometown, before murders and killers seemed to swirl around the streets like bad weather. I’ll start suspecting Dad next, she scolded herself. Or Shadow.

Maybe Shadow heard her thinking his name, because he appeared from under the coffee table, his paw hooking around in an attempt to snag one of the lanterns.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Sunny swooped in to rescue the lantern and turn it off. “No need to waste the batteries.”

Mike nodded, getting the other lantern. Will dropped to one knee, holding out his hand in a “stop” gesture. “Hey, little guy, maybe you don’t want—”

He stopped in surprise as Shadow suddenly reared back and raised a paw to land in Will’s palm, like a cat version of a high-five.

Will stared at Sunny. “Did you teach him that?”

“Oh, yeah,” she replied. “I train cats to do tricks in my copious spare time. Like Shadow would cooperate with something like that.”

They all laughed at that thought. Then Will said, “Look, I’m still on the clock. I have to get back up to Levett.”

“Be careful on the roads,” Mike said.

“Definitely,” Will replied. “I’ve seen enough bad examples in the last day. Anyway, I’m glad you got your power back.”

Will and Sunny walked to the kitchen door and shared a quick good-bye kiss. “Still can’t get over that cat,” Will said. Then the storm door closed behind him and he headed down the driveway.

Sunny became aware of a furry presence down around her ankles and bent to pick up Shadow. His warmth was welcome after the blast of cold air she’d just gotten.

“I see you didn’t show up until the door was closed and winter was safely kept outside,” she told the cat.

Shadow just shifted in her arms and purred, looking out into the night.

*

Perched in Sunny’s arms, Shadow let his eyes follow Sunny’s He as he went to his go-fast thing. It had been so long since he’d played the paw game, he’d almost forgotten it. One of the two-legs he’d lived with used to play it, patiently kneeling with his big paw out until Shadow raised his paw to tap it. Then Shadow got a treat.

Which reminds me . . .

Shadow twisted to look up at Sunny, who still stood peering after the go-fast thing’s lights disappearing down the road.

I guess Sunny doesn’t know about the treat part of the game, he thought. I’ll have to teach her about that.

He really couldn’t complain, though. It had been a good day, and they’d had a lot of fun together. His jaw suddenly opened in a big yawn. He’d spent a lot more time awake than usual today, even with his dark-time nap.

Shadow settled back into Sunny’s embrace. I hope they decide to go to bed soon, he thought, remembering how they’d snuggled together under the covers. That would be a good thing.

*

Sunny opened her eyes to predawn grayness. She leaned over to check the clock radio and relaxed when the display showed she still had half an hour before her official wake-up time. Then she reached over to get her cell phone and double-check the time.

She stretched and sat up in bed. Maybe it would be just as well to get up now. If the roads had been cleared, she’d have a jump on the day. If not, she could always head back for a little more sleep.

Stepping out into the hallway, Sunny saw Shadow appear at the top of the stairs. The cat came forward to wind his way around her legs before preceding her down the steps.

The kitchen was empty, and Sunny switched on the lights to banish the gloom. Looks as though I even beat Dad down, she thought, heading for the coffeemaker. Once that was charged up and ready to go, she turned on the radio. The weather and traffic report promised no more ice from the skies and a steadily improving travel situation.

Sunny shrugged. Looks like no hookey today. She busied herself refilling Shadow’s bowls and getting a pot of water for oatmeal set up on the stove as Mike padded in, drawn by the scent of brewing coffee.

“I figure this means the winter wonderland out there has been cleaned up enough for you to get in to work.” He squinted up at the wall clock. “Guess it wouldn’t hurt to start a little earlier.”

“They’ve cleared the major roads, and it’s possible to get around if you’re careful—or so the guy on the radio says.” She sighed. “I do need to get some stuff done at the office, so I’m heading in. I don’t know what’s going on up in outlet-land—”

“I’ll tell you one thing that won’t go on—my walk,” Mike said. “I figure the less traffic out and around today, the better. Besides, missing two days won’t be such a big deal.”

Sunny just nodded, grateful she didn’t face an argument over Mike’s usual schedule. They prepared breakfast and ate it, listening to the news reports. “Doesn’t sound too bad,” Mike had to admit. “Go on upstairs. I’ll take care of the dishes.”

He didn’t need to repeat the offer. Sunny mounted the stairs, took a shower, and got dressed. She went to the front hall to get her coat and then went back to the kitchen. Dad had returned to the table, listening to the radio. Shadow sat on his haunches, watching her.

Sunny leaned down and gave her father a peck on the cheek. “Okay, I’m off. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Mike said. “And if it’s worse out there than the newsmen are making it out to be, just turn around and come home.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Sunny went to open the storm door, surprised to see Shadow accompanying her. Usually when he was comfortable inside, he avoided the cold air. The cat stood in the doorway and put a single experimental paw on the ground outside.

He remembers the ice from yesterday, Sunny thought. “It’s all gone now,” she told Shadow. In a lower voice, she continued, “And I’ve got the aching back to prove it.”

Shadow gave one of her shins a head-butt and retreated back to the warmth. Sunny stepped out and closed the door. She moved carefully in case any part of her clearing job had refrozen but had no problem getting to her Wrangler. Then the fun started. There was a lot of ice on the streets, and Sunny kept her Jeep in two-wheel drive. Most people had the idea that SUVs were built to conquer all weather conditions, but the Wrangler’s four-wheel drive could cause more problems, especially on curves.

Sunny drove slowly, giving other drivers a lot of room. That was the other misconception some folks had about SUVs. They could go anywhere, but on ice, the problem wasn’t going—it was stopping. Luckily, the long incline down to town was clear, and the sun had begun to shine, causing a little more melt. Sunny drove down to the New Stores, found a parking space, and had more skids on the sidewalk than she’d had on the street. The guys from Judson’s Market had cleared a single lane all the way down the block, with a lot more work done in front of their store. Sunny unlocked her office door and headed to the back of the office to the sack of ice melt. Using an extra coffee cup, she scooped and sprinkled along the front of the store until she had an island of damp but non-slippery pavement.

She couldn’t help noticing that Kittery Harbor Fish remained shuttered with just the little lane that the Judson’s guys had deiced. Was Neil Garret still stuck out in Sturgeon Springs, or was he in custody somewhere?

“Would be nice if Will could have let me know,” Sunny muttered as she came inside. But she forgot about that as she got the daily routine started. She’d been working a couple of hours on e-mail inquiries when the phone rang. It was Will.

“I was thinking of you,” Sunny began, but Will cut her off. “I’ve got a kind of weird favor to ask, and I need a quick answer,” he said. “I’ve got Deke Sweeney on the other line. He says he knows I want to talk with him, but he doesn’t want to do it at the sheriff’s office. If I can come up with someplace private, he can come in right now. I thought of your office, if Ollie isn’t camped out there.”

“He’s not, and . . . sure,” Sunny replied, thinking, This way I get a front-row seat.

Will had managed to change and shave since the previous night, but he looked hollow-eyed and tired when he arrived at the MAX office. He was in businesslike mode, so no kiss as he came in the door. “Thanks for this,” he said, taking off his coat and sinking into a chair. “Apparently Sweeney thinks that hanging around with the police is bad for his image or something. He wouldn’t even go for meeting in a restaurant. Too public.”

“And this isn’t?” Sunny nodded toward the plate glass window fronting most of the space.

“I think it will be a pretty slow business day,” Will said. “Not many people coming by to gawk in the windows.”

“You mean people won’t be beating a path to the fish store?” Sunny asked. “I see it’s still closed.”

“Yeah, I guess they haven’t finished chopping their way through the felled trees to clear the road to Sturgeon Springs.” Will didn’t look happy. “Garret was stuck in his house and apparently didn’t make any kind of a move. Even the wheels of his car were iced in place.”

“That’s a pretty impressive alibi,” Sunny said.

“Yeah, unless we can find a cab record that says different, or if Scotty beamed him into town and back, it’s pretty hard to imagine Garret killing Charlie Vane.” Will glanced at his watch. “When Sweeney called, he said he was in downtown Portsmouth. So, depending on how things are moving on the bridge, he should be here fairly soon.”

Traffic must have been moving pretty well, because shortly afterward a tall man in a parka and a knit cap came down the block, glancing at a scrap of paper in his hand. He opened the office door, stepped in, and said, “I’m Sweeney. I think you’re expecting me?”

Will stepped forward. “I’m Will Price, and this is Sunny Coolidge.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve read some of your stuff,” Sweeney said, removing his cap.

So he probably knows Will and I are a team, Sunny thought.

Sweeney shrugged out of the parka, revealing a rumpled brown suit and a wool knit tie. To Sunny’s eyes, the shark of the fish market looked more like a snapping turtle. Sweeney was a raw-boned kind of man, with knobby cheeks, a hard, determined chin, and a bald head. His remaining hair was cropped so short, it looked like grayish stubble above his ears. His eyebrows, however, were wild and bushy with stray white hairs sticking out. His lips curved in a sort of default smile, giving Sunny the impression that he was a rough but cheerful type until she looked him in the eyes. They were the most shark-like things about him, having as much color and feeling as a pair of brook pebbles.

“A couple of friends on the Portsmouth force said you were asking after me,” Sweeney said, taking a seat in front of Sunny’s desk. “Of course, with this storm, any formal request you might have made has gotten shifted to the bottom of the pile.” The corners of his mouth moved upward maybe another millimeter. “So I decided to take the bull by the horns. For a person in my position, getting visits from policemen just looks bad. And visiting police stations looks even worse. People might get the wrong idea.”

“And what exactly is your position, Mr. Sweeney?” Sunny asked.

Sweeney’s smile went up another millimeter. “Why, I’m the manager of the Portsmouth Fish Market, Ms. Coolidge. I’m responsible for everything running smoothly and honestly.”

“And publicly dealing with the police would cause a problem with that?” Will inquired skeptically.

“The market is a rough-and-tumble kind of place,” Sweeney explained. “Certain elements might interpret the presence of the police as a sign of weakness.”

“That you might be arrested, you mean?” Will asked.

The smile disappeared from Sweeney’s lips. “That I can’t keep order in my own house,” he said. “I can . . . and I do.”

“I’ve heard stories that the fish market was kind of a wild and wooly place, until you came in and . . . imposed order,” Will said easily. “Though for a while, that looked like a difficult job. I understand one of the fish merchants made a complaint about you threatening him with a gun.”

“Is it ancient history you’re interested in?” Sweeney asked. “That happened years ago, and it was never followed up.”

Will nodded. “Yes, the complainant left town in something of a hurry.”

“I certainly can’t speak to that,” Sweeney said primly. “But if that old complaint is the only thing you can find on me, then I think my reputation speaks for itself. Besides, waving guns is a young man’s game.” He gestured to himself. “I’m not a young man anymore.”

“No, nowadays I suppose you’d have to delegate that to, as you say, a younger fellow,” Will said. “Still, I have to ask, where were you a week ago Wednesday?”

“You’re trying to connect me to what happened next door?” Sweeney’s smile was back. “I have to admit, it was a bit of a shock when I passed the place. I’d never been to Kittery Harbor Fish before. Fact is, I’ve never even set eyes on Neil Garret.”

“You know,” Sunny broke in, “a suspicious mind might pick up on that statement as actual truth. That someone who’d never seen Garret mistakenly killed Phil Treibholz in Garret’s store.”

“Well, I’ve never seen either of them, and I was more than a hundred miles from here the night of that murder,” Sweeney replied. “I was over in Hanover, at a Dartmouth hockey game. My son’s on the team, and I try to root for him.”

“Were you alone?” Will asked.

“I was with a couple of thousand other fans.” Sweeney’s smile rose a bit more. “But I went by myself. My wife is afraid of all this propaganda about concussions and such. She can’t stand to watch. But this is the sport my boy likes, and Lord knows, I did stupider things when I was his age. Still, the game ran a hair short of two-and-a-half hours, which is about what it would take to drive from Hanover here to Kittery Harbor. I was in the team locker room after the game to see my son, and from what I’ve heard, my schedule doesn’t exactly jibe with yours.”

Will nodded. “Could you tell me your whereabouts last night?”

Sweeney’s emotionless eyes gave Will a long look. “Why I was iced in at home, like most of the people in this area,” he said. “My wife and I were lucky enough not to lose our electricity, so we watched some television. Why do you ask?”

“I guess your friends haven’t mentioned that Charlie Vane was found dead last night.” Will paused for a second. “He was shot three times.”

For the first time, a genuine expression surfaced on Sweeney’s face—surprise. “Who would bother with a small fish like Vane?”

“Excuse me?” Sunny asked.

“Oh, to hear Vane talk about it, there was a great feud between him and me.” A look of distaste crept onto Sweeney’s face. “But to me he was more of a hangnail than the thorn in my side he made himself out to be.”

“You blackballed him from the fish market,” Sunny pointed out.

“More as a warning to others who might get ideas than anything else,” Sweeney replied.

“So it wasn’t an attempt to drive him out of business?” Will asked.

“You needn’t go blaming me for that. The way Charlie Vane conducted his business, something would catch up with him and sink him. Same as with Garret.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the store next door. “Too clever for their own good. Those are the sort who, sooner or later, find themselves in bankruptcy court.” He shook his head. “But I never expected it might end up in murder.”