The Big Kitty

14

Sunny burst into her house, Shadow in her arms, Will Price at her heels.

Her dad jumped up from the couch at the commotion. “Constable! What’s going on? Is everything all right?” Then he saw the cat. “Did she have you out looking for this mange-ball?”

“Shadow’s hurt,” Sunny said. “We have to get him some help!”

She turned on her heel, heading for the kitchen, then turned back. “Do we still have a yellow pages?”

“In the cabinet,” Mike said, following after. “You’re not just going to put him on the table, are you?”

“You’re right.” Sunny glanced over her shoulder at Will. “Bring a pillow from the couch.”

Once Shadow had been arranged as comfortably as possible, Sunny attacked the directory. “Pet hospitals,” she muttered, flipping through pages.

Tucking the receiver from the wall phone between her ear and her shoulder while holding a finger on the number she wanted, she punched on the keypad.

On the other end, the phone rang four times. Then came a click, a moment of dead air, and a whirring sound with an obviously canned voice saying, “Thank you for calling the Kittery Harbor Pet Hospital. Our hours of operation are from eight thirty a.m. to four thirty p.m. Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, and from ten a.m. to seven p.m. Tuesday and Thursday. Dr. Rigsdale and our staff offer a wide range of affordable patient care for small animals, large animals, and exotics—”

Sunny hung up. “I’m getting their machine. Where are the white pages?”

Silently Mike dug out the other phone book. “I know that look from her mother,” he muttered to Will. “That’s the ‘don’t argue with me’ look.”

“Rigsdale—good. There’s only one in the book.” Sunny copied the address, picked up Shadow on his pillow, and headed back down the hall.

“Aren’t you going to call?” Mike called after her.

“And give this Rigsdale character warning that I’m coming?” Sunny almost snarled. “He’s not going to hide behind an answering machine this time.”

Will could only shrug and follow her.

When Sunny went to place the pillow on the passenger side of the pickup, Shadow mewled piteously at her. “It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re going to get some help for you, just take it easy.” She clipped on her seat belt, then carefully set Shadow and his pillow on her lap.

It was close to midnight by the time they got to the address. Will got out of his patrol car and came to her driver’s-side window, doing a double take at the sight of the cat in her lap.

“Sunny, the place is dark,” he said, pointing out the obvious.

“And this is an emergency,” she snapped. “I’ll carry the cat; you ring the bell.”

Will muttered something about improper use of authority, but did what she said.

“Lean on it,” Sunny said after Will rang the bell twice without getting any answer. “And if that doesn’t work, we’ll try your siren—wake up the whole neighborhood if we have to.”

He leaned on the bell. A light came on in one of the upstairs windows, and then a head appeared, silhouetted against the light.

“What the hell is it?” a woman’s sleep-fuzzed voice called down.

“We’ve got a veterinary emergency down here,” Sunny said. “Don’t we, Constable Price?”

“Constable Price?” The woman upstairs leaned out farther. “Will?”

Will’s jaw dropped as he peered upward. “Jane?”

A moment later, the woman was downstairs. Even in a bathrobe with bed hair, she was a blond knockout.

Now it was Sunny’s turn to stare. “Jane Leister?”

Jane had been the golden girl of her high school class: valedictorian, most pretty, most popular. While Sunny and most of the girls were killing themselves to get pimply-faced juniors to notice them, Jane was going out with a college guy.

“I didn’t even know you were back in town,” Will said. From the look on his face, he and Jane had History with a capital H.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know you were, either,” Jane said. “And my name is Rigsdale now. My husband—ex-husband—we were partners in the practice. I got the hospital in the divorce, and I kept the married name since I’m known professionally as Dr. Rigsdale.”

She glanced over at Sunny with a half-puzzled. “Don’t I know you?” kind of look.

Sunny sighed and introduced herself. Jane nodded. “Oh, of course, we went to school together. You were on the yearbook, right?”

No, and I wasn’t part of your fan club, either, that uncharitable part of Sunny’s mind silently answered.

Just as well, because the vet made another connection. “You wrote the article in today’s Crier,” Jane said. “I’d like to talk to you a bit about what happened to Ada Spruance, and what they intend to do about her cats. But first, we’ve got business.”

She turned to the cat in Sunny’s arms. “So this is the emergency patient? I warn you, I’ll do this once because you’re a friend of Will’s—”

Jane broke off in surprise. “Hey, Shadow,” she said in a gentle voice. “Whatcha doin’ here?”

Shadow stirred and meowed at her.

“I thought you and all of Ada’s cats were with Animal Control.” Jane gently scratched the cat between the ears, talking to Shadow as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Sunny couldn’t help noticing that Shadow didn’t shy away from Jane’s fingers.

Great—she’s also the most popular with cats, Sunny fumed.

The vet turned to Sunny. “I gave all my medical files on Ada’s cats to the folks at the shelter to try and help get some adoptions set up. She probably spent more time and money taking care of her strays than she did for herself.” Jane smiled. “Guess I’ll have to get Shadow’s back.” She pointed over her shoulder. “Bring him into the kitchen. I’ll examine him there.”

Following Jane’s instructions, Sunny deposited Shadow on a kitchen island that probably cost as much as her year’s salary at MAX.

“It’s his side,” she said as the vet helped Shadow to sit up. He was obviously favoring one side.

Jane nodded. “Cats usually don’t show much when they’re hurting. Out in the big, bad world, a small animal that acts lame or starts crying is just asking to be attacked by something else. It’s simple survival to be stoic.”

Sunny blinked. “But Shadow cried out. He was in the back of our truck when I passed by, and I didn’t know it until I heard him.”

Jane looked surprised. “I don’t think he ever talked to Ada. Guess he must like you.” She continued her careful investigation. “He’s definitely hurt—probably a kick. His breathing seems all right …”

She stepped around to pull a stethoscope from a drawer. “Don’t hear anything wrong with his heart or lungs. The little guy may have some bruised ribs, but I don’t think anything is broken. You can bring him in for X-rays tomorrow”—she looked at the clock—“make that later this morning. Or you can keep an eye on him for a day. If you see breathing problems or if he suddenly doesn’t want to eat, then I’d be worried.”

Jane gently petted Shadow. “Don’t give him any pain medicines. It’s not just a question of dosage; cats’ systems—or dogs’, for that matter—don’t handle them the same ways ours do. The best thing right now is just to let him rest.”

Will kept glancing anxiously at the kitchen clock. “Look, I’ve got to go back on patrol.”

“I’m just going home,” Sunny told him. Will said his good-byes hurriedly and rushed out the door as Sunny turned to Jane. “I’m sorry for barging in like this. Maybe I overreacted.”

But the vet shook her head. “That kind of trauma can mess up a cat’s lungs, even his heart. You did the right thing.” She saw Sunny to the door. “Besides, it was interesting to see Will again—and you, too, Shadow,” she added, running a finger under his chin.

She glanced over at Sunny. “You don’t seem too familiar with cats, if you don’t mind my saying so. What’d he do, adopt you?”

“I—I guess so,” Sunny admitted.

“As I said, I can retrieve his medical records if you’re going to keep him. He can be a handful, but he’s healthy. If you’re still making up your mind, I have to warn you—he’s starting to bond with you.”

Sunny looked down into Shadow’s oddly flecked eyes. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I think I am, too.”

*

Her dad was in bed by the time Sunny got home. His light was off, and Sunny suspected he had the covers over his head, hoping to avoid her righteous indignation over the results of his attempt to evict Shadow.

“Too bad, Dad,” she muttered. “I think your fiendish plan to toss Shadow out completely backfired on you.”

How was Mike going to get rid of the kitty that had saved Sunny and him from being gassed, especially when the feline hero came home injured?

Sunny transferred Shadow to the pet bed, which had remained in the corner of the living room. Then she carried him, bed and all, up the stairs to her room and put him down in front of her bookcase. “G’night, Shadow,” she said, getting a drowsy “Mrrrrow” in response.

Smiling, she went off to her own bed.

*

Sunny’s alarm rang all too early the next morning. She staggered downstairs to find Mike already making breakfast—his idea of a peace offering.

She decided not to beat him over the head. Instead she just repeated Jane Rigsdale’s advice about listening to Shadow’s breathing and letting him rest.

“Let him rest?” Mike muttered incredulously. “How is that different from what he usually does?”

Shadow came into the kitchen. He was still moving carefully, but already he seemed a bit better. After a brief detour to snag some dry food, he came over and nudged Sunny’s ankle with his head. She reached down and scratched him behind the ears, smiling when he didn’t shy away this time.

Mike watched and gave a helpless shrug. “So that’s the way it is now?”

Sunny didn’t even answer, gulping down her coffee and heading for the pickup truck. She made it to the office on time and spent most of the morning trying not to fall asleep on her desk.

Guess it’s just as well I’m not doing anything critical today, she told herself.

She tried to look bright and chipper as the office door opened—although the effect was spoiled a little when her mouth dropped open in surprise. Jane Rigsdale walked in. “Several of my patients mentioned you this morning,” the vet said.

“Parrots?” The snarky question came out before Sunny could think to stop it.

Jane grimaced. “I guess the ladies who talked to me consider themselves my patients’ mothers. So you were down in New York being a journalist? Now that I think about it, it wasn’t yearbook, was it? You were on the school paper back in the day.”

Yeah, while you were student government president and prom queen and—Sunny broke off that line of thought. Her high school annoyance at Perfect Miss Jane was almost fifteen years in the past. Why was she getting so riled up about it now?

She tried to keep that ancient irritation from her voice as she answered. “Yeah, that’s what I was doing until my dad got sick and I came up here to take care of him.” She shrugged, giving Jane a crooked smile. “I took a leave of absence, and then I got laid off. The newspaper business isn’t as healthy as it used to be.”

Once again, Sunny had to hand it to the gossip establishment over the local media. Here Jane had her whole backstory, not to mention clearly pinpointing where she worked now, all thanks to a couple of conversations with people bringing their sick pets in for treatment.

If Ollie could figure out how to tack advertising onto that, he’d be a megagazillionaire, Sunny thought. Out loud, she said, “So what brings you back to the old hometown?”

“Business,” Jane said shortly, drawing herself up. Then her shoulders slumped. “Martin—my ex-husband—had a practice outside of Boston. That’s how I met him, actually. In the vet trade, you essentially start off as an apprentice to an experienced practitioner when you come out of school.” She sighed. “Martin was a very good vet. As a husband, though, not so much. There were problems, financial and personal. I thought we could make a fresh start up here, but—” Jane made a helpless gesture. “Long story short, it didn’t work out. Martin moved on, and I stayed here with the pet hospital.”

After a moment’s silence, Jane pulled herself together, becoming a businesslike veterinarian again. “I had an early lunch, so I thought I’d stop by and see how your patient was doing.” She colored slightly. “The furry one, not your father.”

“I guess both patients could be better,” she told Jane. “Shadow is walking around a little lopsided, and my dad is bent out of shape because there’s a cat in the house.”

Jane laughed. “I’ve seen that syndrome before.” Then she got serious. “On the other hand, there are some studies that show having a pet around can help a sick person’s recovery.”

“Let’s hope so,” Sunny said, “because up to now all Shadow has done is raise Dad’s blood pressure.” She shook her head. “That’s not altogether true. Dad did promise to keep an eye on Shadow while I’m at work. Although he did ask what the difference was between Shadow resting and the cat’s normal day.”

“Recovering cats rest by night as well as by day. So if your father has to get up at some ungodly hour to go to the bathroom, he won’t bump into Shadow wandering around on midnight patrol.” Jane smiled. “Shadow’s a healthy, resilient little guy. If he’s walking around, even a little lopsided as you say, that’s a good sign. I expect he should recover quickly. But it’s good to have someone keeping an eye on him, just in case.”

She paused for a moment, then said a little too casually, “It was great seeing Will Price last night. Has he been helping you with the investigative story?”

Several possible answers flitted through Sunny’s mind. No, he’s actually my helpless love slave sounded a little too silly (not to mention untrue), while Yes, and we’re also playing detectives in our spare time was perhaps too much information.

She decided on the literal but uninformative truth. “He was the one who first responded to my 911 call when I found Ada dead, so he has an interest in the case.”

“Ah.” Jane raised a hand to brush her blond hair behind her shoulder. “You don’t know if he’s … seeing anyone, do you?”

Sunny put on her best helpful expression. “He hasn’t mentioned anything like that.”

Jane nodded. “Just wondering. Well, keep me posted on how Shadow is doing. I called this morning to get his records back. It was good seeing you guys last night. We returnees ought to stick together.”

Right, Sunny thought as she watched Jane walk out of the office. Maybe we can get together and form the Busted Lives Club.

She threw herself back into work, trying to squelch that dismal thought.

Will Price’s call a little while later didn’t help much on the cheering front, either.

“I had a friend in the Portsmouth crime lab take a look at the gunk in the bottom of your wineglass.” He sounded even grimmer than his usual cop voice.

“Oh,” Sunny said. With all the other excitement later in the night, she’d almost forgotten about their abortive undercover operation. “What were they? Some kind of knockout drugs?” She made a face. “That date rape stuff?”

“Not unless Gordie was into necrophilia,” Will told her. “It was a mixed bag of sleeping pills. Addicts often carry them to come down from a long meth jag. That many pills, though, would have put you to sleep permanently. Gordie must have had a handful of them, and his sweaty palms glued them all together. It’s beginning to look like a Wile E. Coyote adventure,” he said wryly.

“Who?” Sunny asked in confusion.

“You know, the coyote from the Road Runner cartoons? The one who’s always coming up with a clever plan, which then falls apart, usually biting him on the butt.” He gave a dry chuckle, but Sunny just rolled her eyes.

“It didn’t have to be Gordie,” she said, running back over the sequence of events again. “Somebody came up behind me when the fight got serious. At the time, I thought they were running to help separate the two guys.”

“They?” Will repeated. “Not he or she?”

“Come on, there was a bar fight going on, which kind of distracted my attention. I never really got a look at the person behind me,” Sunny confessed. “But whoever it was, they were close enough to drop something in my drink.”

“Be that as it may, I’m very eager to have a chat with Gordie Spruance,” Will said. “He lives out in the country—outside the town’s jurisdiction. I can’t get Nesbit’s people to help on this, but Ben Semple and the guys in the department are stopping by to check around Ada’s house and keep an eye out for Gordie and his pickup.”

“And what are you going to do if you get him?” Lurid images of blackjacks and waterboarding flashed through Sunny’s mind.

“I’m going to show him the glob of pills in your glass and the other stuff that was used to try to get at you,” Will replied. “If he is involved, I ought to get some kind of twitch out of him. If he’s not involved, as you seem to believe—well, maybe all that stuff will shock him into talking about his criminal associates.”

“And then maybe you’ll have something to take to the district attorney?”

“Yeah.” Will sounded as tired as she felt. “Maybe, maybe, maybe.”

After Will said good-bye, Sunny tried to occupy herself with the lowest kind of grunt work—the stuff she usually put off because it was so tedious. Unfortunately, that left her mind free to keep jumping around in very unsettling ways.

She almost welcomed the interruption when the phone rang again.

It was Ollie Barnstable at his most charming. “Sunny, I need you to go into my files,” he said. “Get the folder marked ‘Investment Opportunities’ and bring it to the Captain’s Table. I’m having a business lunch.”

And apparently you want to impress whoever is eating with you by having a flunky appear, she thought.

“So get to it.” With that encouragement, he hung up. Sighing, Sunny opened the cash box for a special set of keys. The back wall of the office held a row of file cabinets with Ollie’s personal files. They were supposed to be kept locked and never opened unless he asked for something.

Sunny suspected that half the cabinets were empty or held old tax papers. Some of the drawers had pretty cryptic inscriptions.

One of these days, preferably while Ollie is away on vacation, I’ll have a look into some of those, she promised herself. For now, though, she went to the first of the alphabetized cabinets, unlocked it, and searched under the Is.

There it was—Investment Opportunities. Sunny slipped the file into a large envelope and headed for the front door, stopping to lock it on her way out.

*

The Captain’s Table offered the best dining in Kittery Harbor—not to mention the best views. The owners of the restaurant had renovated a warehouse in the old waterfront district, with outdoor dining on the old pier. Between the quaint buildings surrounding them and the vista of the cove that had served as an anchorage, the Captain’s Table would have drawn crowds of diners even if the food hadn’t been fantastic—which it was.

“Just the place to go to impress some rich out-of-towner,” Sunny muttered as she set off down the sidewalk. Any trip downtown was like a journey into the past, especially the past of narrow streets. She could reach the waterfront district faster on foot than taking her dad’s truck.

Main Street lost a couple of lanes at the Redbrick Tavern, another high-end restaurant and one of the few historic buildings not constructed of hemlock and spruce. Just as she reached the corner across from the landmark, Sunny stopped and stared as Gordie Spruance came out the front door of the tavern, rubbing the back of his hand against his mouth. He was wearing ripped jeans and a paint-stained gray hoodie, clothes more suited to O’Dowd’s than a nice place like the Redbrick. And, she noticed, he had the hood up—as if that could hide his beaky nose and the flaming acne across his cheeks.

“Gordie!” Sunny yelled. “Hey! Gordie!”

He took one look at her and ran around the corner. Sunny dashed after him, digging out her cell phone, wishing she’d put Will on speed dial.

Behind her, she heard the roar of an engine, then wild horn-honking.

Sunny turned to see a huge blue SUV barreling through traffic—coming straight at her. The fight-or-flight response kicked in. If Sunny had been running before, she almost flew now, reaching the far sidewalk. But the big vehicle kept coming, climbing the curb.

Oh my God! Sunny thought, hurling herself to the left. The envelope she was carrying slipped from under her arm, and her phone flew from her hand as she skidded along the sidewalk. The truck flashed by, going way too fast … then hit the brick wall of the tavern.

They built things pretty solid back in the day. The wall may have shaken a little, but the front fender of the SUV crumpled. Sunny heard the bang! of an airbag going off, and a sort of rattling roar that built up to a huge crashing noise.

She pushed herself up onto her knees as the door of the truck opened. The driver wobbled out, but he had no interest in Sunny. His hair flew wildly around his head, and he held a hand over his nose and lower face. Bright red blood dribbled between his fingers.

A nondescript Toyota pulled up in the street. “Come on!” a voice yelled to the injured driver, who stumbled into the car as it fishtailed away. By the time Sunny got into the street, it was too far away for her to make out the license.

Sunny lurched back to the sidewalk, managing to retrieve her phone and her envelope as people poured out of the tavern, staring at the abandoned SUV.

Then a scream came from around the corner. Sunny forced her shaky legs into another run, skirting the rear of the SUV and swinging around.

Bad idea.

A young woman rammed into her, running blindly, still screaming at the top of her lungs. Sunny tried to step back, but the crowd from the tavern had surged after her, blocking any hope of retreat.

Now Sunny knew what had made that rattle-crash sound right after the truck had hit. Like many buildings from the old days, the Redbrick Tavern had a slate roof. The shock of the crash had dislodged a bunch of the thin slabs of rock and they had cascaded down onto a passing pedestrian.

Somebody in a paint-stained gray hoodie that was rapidly turning red.