Catch As Cat Can

15

Helena Martinson stood beaming, while Abby looked embarrassed. “Mr. Howell was kind of a fan, back when I was doing shows all around the area,” she said. “He even reviewed a couple of them and said I could go places. So when I bumped into him on the street the other day, he asked a lot of questions.”

“He must have been disappointed to hear that you’d kind of given up on the acting,” Mike said.

Abby laughed. “He said Hollywood’s loss was the legal profession’s gain—even put it in the story. Then he brought me around to his office and shot some pictures.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t go for a glamour shot and have you perched on a trunk, showing a little leg,” Sunny teased.

“If he had the trunk, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Abby grinned at Helena. “To tell the truth, I think Mom’s more excited about it than I am.”

“It’s a nice picture,” Mrs. M. defended herself. “A nice, big picture.”

Will took a long look and shook his head. “I guess it makes a change from the number of people hurt in the storm and the Vane murder.”

Sunny gave him a worried look. Was he going to bring up the investigation over dinner?

Mike was still looking at the photo. “You know, Sunny’s gotten her picture in the paper a few times.” He wasn’t about to be one-upped in the family pride stakes.

Now Sunny had to laugh. “Dad, when I turn up in the papers, I’ve usually been conked on the head or just escaped some ridiculous situation by the skin of my teeth. It’s not quite the same as this.” She looked at Abby’s photo. “I just wish I had a chance to look nice in one of those shots. Hey, I’d even pose on top of a trunk if that was the only way.”

That got a laugh out of everybody. A moment later, the oven timer pinged and Helena and Abby headed back to the kitchen and started preparing to serve.

It was a nice, stick-to-the-ribs sort of meal: roast beef and gravy, potatoes, and peas and carrots. Abby asked Mike if he wanted to carve. “Mom bought this big hunk of cow when she heard about the storm on the way, figuring we could cook it and live for a week on the leftovers.” She looked around the table. “I think it’s nicer to use it up this way.”

“Better eating than I expected this evening,” Will had to admit. “I just hope a satisfied stomach won’t put me to sleep.”

“You’re going back to work after this?” Sunny asked.

Will nodded. “Got a couple of things to look into.” He hummed in appreciation as he took another mouthful.

Sunny chewed over that comment—along with the piece of beef she’d just taken from her fork. She hadn’t had a chance yet to talk with Will about her conversation with Neil Garret—or with Dani Shostak. So this had to be something new. She glanced at Will, and noticed him quietly watching Abby.

Oh, come on, she silently complained. Just when I start liking Abby, she winds up as a possible suspect. I hope she’s not the reason he expects to work late this evening.

Will started telling a story about a mishap he’d encountered as a rookie with the state police. “I thought they’d taught me how to handle myself, but a lot of that went out the window when that biker got mad at me. To tell the truth, I was lucky to get the cuffs on him. Folks don’t know it, but the biker gangs are the organized crime up by the border. They smuggle over anything the market will bear—drugs, booze, guns, even girls.”

Just like Dani’s Ukrainian friends, Sunny thought. And he launders the money for them.

Abby looked surprised. “You mean organized crime—like the Mafia?”

“Them we have on both sides of the border,” Will replied. “In fact, the operations in Montreal are traditionally considered a branch of one of the Five Families in New York. They’ve had setbacks up there in recent years, and I understand they’ve turned to some of the biker gangs for muscle.”

He laughed. “Anyway, I guess your days starting out in Hollywood didn’t involve messing with three-hundred-and-fifty-pound hairy guys.”

Abby waggled her eyebrows, grinning. “Well, if you added up the weights of all those dogs I walked . . .”

Will coaxed tales of work misadventures from the rest of them, along with several war stories from Abby’s film career. When she apologized for taking over so much of the conversation, Will said, “Hey, you’ve got better material than the rest of us.”

It sounded like dinner table chitchat, but Sunny noticed that Will managed to draw Abby out not only on her acting, but her restaurant work, even getting her to tell a story about Nicky Gatto.

He’s quietly interrogating her in front of everyone, Sunny thought. Man, I really hope he hasn’t figured a way to connect her to either of these murders.

Sunny helped to clear the dinner dishes away, and Mrs. Martinson came out with one of her famous coffee cakes. “I’m going to say something silly,” she said, “but I mean it seriously. The talking and laughing around the table tonight, you made this feel the most like a family dinner since—well, since my Vince passed on.”

“Mom—” Abby started, but she didn’t know what to say.

“No, honey, I think your dad would approve of us having a good time. He’d just wish he could be here, too.” She raised her cup of coffee in a toast. “To memories and good times.”

Mike raised his cup, too. “And to Vince, who was so much a part of you both.”

They all followed suit and sat around the table finishing their coffee and cake, but it was as if that toast had signaled the end of the meal. All too soon, the visitors were putting on their coats.

Abby leaned in toward Sunny. “I can see why Mom enjoys your visits,” she said in a low voice, not wanting Helena to hear. “Maybe we’ll be able to get together again before I leave on Sunday.”

“I’d like that,” Sunny said, silently worrying, Provided it doesn’t involve Will arresting you.

They stepped out into the chilly air, waving cheerful good-byes before the brisk walk home.

*

Shadow prowled the top floor, his tail lashing around in annoyance. Yes he did this every night, but in the dark time. This was too early, the house was empty, it was all wrong, wrong, wrong. He sank into a crouch at the top of the stairs, glaring down at the door and thinking dark thoughts.

I should get Sunny for leaving me all alone, he thought. Make her sorry for doing that. But what should he do? A disagreement between cats was a lot easier. You showed your teeth, sometimes the claws came out, and most times that was enough. One side usually backed down, solving things. If not, the claws really came out and sometimes there was blood. Shadow had been in enough fights. He’d won a lot, but lost a few, especially when he was very young. Mostly he remembered the pain.

The problem with two-legs was that these tactics usually didn’t work on them. They were just too big, and often too stupid to realize what a cat was trying to do. He’d have to find a better way to vent his annoyance.

That gave Shadow an idea. Maybe I can let out a little bad air when I’m under the covers with her tonight, he thought. Sunny really hates when I do that.

He started down the stairs, aiming for the kitchen where he could bolt down some food and maybe fill his belly, when he heard voices outside the door. Sunny!

For a wild second, he considered leaping down the rest of the stairs to pounce on her feet when she came in. But Shadow pushed that idea down. No. You’re mad at her. No playing.

Although a good sneak attack might scare her . . .

He forced himself to a sedate trot as the keys rattled in the lock, getting halfway to the kitchen before the door opened.

Shadow turned to look over his shoulder, and his heart lurched for a moment just at the sight of his Sunny, her face pink from the cold outside, stepping in and taking off her coat. He ruthlessly crushed the desire to run to her, to wind round her ankles, sniff out where she’d gone, and mark her as his.

No being nice, he reminded himself. She went and left me.

It turned out that getting off the stairs was a good thing, because the Old One mumbled something and began climbing up to the hall above. Sunny and her He went into the room with the picture box. They didn’t turn it on, though, sitting on the big chair together and talking. Sunny was doing most of the speaking. Shadow couldn’t understand it, but her tone sounded nervous.

Maybe you’re blaming the wrong one, the cat thought. What if Sunny’s He came here and made them go away? He seemed to turn up more and more lately, taking Sunny away at all sorts of odd times.

The problem was, how could Shadow show his displeasure? Sunny’s He was even bigger than she was, and dumber about a lot of cat things. If I just ignore him, he’d probably like that, Shadow thought. He’d get to be with Sunny instead of me.

This was very bad, and Shadow couldn’t solve it by charging in with a war cry and his claws out.

Maybe I can sneak up and bite him on the ankle when he tries to rub faces with Sunny. Shadow started skulking forward.

I just hope he’s not wearing those high foot-covers he sometimes uses, Shadow thought. Don’t think I could bite through those.

*

Sunny gave Will an uncertain look as they settled on the couch. Mike, as he often did, had made his excuses and headed upstairs, leaving the living room to them.

But I don’t think there’ll be much smooching involved, Sunny thought. She sat on the edge of the couch. “Well, you dug just about as deeply as you could into Abby Martinson without announcing it,” she said.

Will blinked at her tone. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

“No, I could see what you were doing. That doesn’t mean I won’t be glad when she takes off back to California this weekend.” Sunny paused for a second. “Did you get what you wanted?”

“Not sure.” Will backed that up with a shrug. “Mainly I was just trying to get a read on her when she wasn’t biting my head off or cleaning my tie. I had hoped to gauge her reaction to a couple of things, but it wasn’t easy. Abby’s a trained actress. She can hide things.” He glanced at her. “It’s like your pal Neil Garret. Do you know the marshals actually train people in WitSec on how to evade giving answers?”

“He’s not my friend.” Sunny took a deep breath. “And he did talk to me after I called him Nicky. The problem is sorting out anything useful from the stream of good old BS.”

“Did he say anything about Val Overton?” Will asked.

“Neil seems to like and respect her,” Sunny replied. “Although I don’t think he’s above trying to use her if he had to. He might have asked her to squash Phil Treibholz, but he was holding that as a last resort.” She explained about Neil’s “buzz off” money. “He’d lose all that if Val decided it was too dangerous to let him stay around here.”

Will scowled. “So now we’ve got Garret protecting his life and his money—a strong, double-header motive. And his pal Vane had a house full of guns. That could cover means. And he has no alibi—”

“Actually, Neil does,” Sunny responded. “He just didn’t want Val to hear it, because he’d get in trouble.”

Will stared. “Worse trouble than a murder charge hanging over his head?”

“Trouble that might get him bounced out of witness protection—or hauled out of town without his money.” She explained Neil’s quest for alternate funding to pay off Treibholz. “He wound up trying to deal with a couple of guys we know, over in Portsmouth,” she continued, but Will cut her off.

“Shostak and Lipko,” he said, peering at her. “And you went and talked to them, didn’t you?”

“They confirmed that Neil Garret was trying to hit them up for a bridge loan to keep his store going. Dani wasn’t interested in his business. He figured it was going to fail, anyway. The thing is, though, that Neil was trying to convince them he was a good prospect through the estimated time of death. So, unless the medical examiner was way off, Neil has an alibi for both murders.”

“Yeah, nice work, Sunny, but what were you thinking, talking to those guys alone? Maybe they seem like a charming foreign comedy act, but they’re dangerous. Lipko especially.”

“He saw me back to my car,” Sunny told him.

That didn’t make Will feel any better. “Sunny, you can’t make a joke out of this.” His voice grew sharp and he leaned toward her.

With a sound more like a throaty growl than a hiss, Shadow suddenly came leaping out from behind one of the chairs, attacking Will’s ankle. Unfortunately, Will was wearing heavy boots, and the cat couldn’t get his teeth set. He spat in disgust, then rocketed up, trying to attack the tie dangling from Will’s neck. Shadow’s hiss of triumph turned into a cry of dismay when one of his claws got caught in the heavy embroidered silk.

He dangled for a moment, then Sunny knelt to take his weight in her hands. “Now you’ve done it,” she said.

“Are you talking to the cat, or to me?” Will asked.

“Both,” Sunny answered, trying to work the claw free without leaving a big pull in the middle of the tie. “You for making him think he had to protect me, and him for almost destroying your Christmas present.”

Having gotten Shadow loose, she got back onto the couch, keeping the cat in her lap. Sunny gently ran her fingers over Shadow’s fur. “No problem here, Shadow. You take it easy, now.”

She looked at Will. “I’m not going to make a joke or argue about it. You know how skittish Dani gets when he sees a badge. But he talked to me, and he confirmed Neil’s alibi.”

“I doubt if that would hold up in court,” Will grumped.

Sunny laid a restraining hand on Shadow’s shoulder. “I’m not talking about the DA. I’m talking about you.”

“Yeah, I believe him. Dani wouldn’t want the trouble.” Will thought for a moment. “Did you get any kind of a feeling about things between Val and Neil?”

“I got the impression Neil is keeping a lot more secrets from her than about her,” Sunny said. “He respects her—and the power she has over him. And while he’s playing her to an extent—going to loan sharks, for instance—I don’t think there’s anything romantic involved. Neil showed more feeling over Abby Martinson.” Remembering Will’s quiet interrogation earlier, she asked, “Have you turned up something to make you suspicious of her?”

“Frankly, I wanted to see how she’d react when I mentioned guns.” Will frowned. “I spent most of the day going over Charlie Vane’s financials, which were, to put it mildly, a mess. But I stumbled across an ATM receipt that was pretty interesting. It was for the maximum amount, and it was drawn in a town called Vincentville, almost an hour’s drive north of Augusta.”

“What makes it so interesting?” Sunny asked.

“The date,” Will replied. “According to Vane, on the day in question he was supposed to be out in the Gulf of Maine.”

“Could it be a case of identity theft?” Sunny suggested.

“It’s long enough ago that Vane would have gotten a statement—and should have noticed that there was a hole where that money should be. Just to be sure, I checked to see if the bank has anything on its security cameras. I also checked to see what was going on in Vincentville that would drag Vane so far inland. Went over the local newspapers and such and did find one item.”

Will smiled. “On that date, Vincentville had a gun show.”