The Big Kitty

18

Sunny shot to her feet, startling Shadow into jumping away. “We’ve got to go over there and check it out,” she said.

Mike glared at her. “You don’t have to do anything of the sort!”

She stared at him wordlessly, finally realizing how tightly wound this whole situation had him.

When he spoke again, his voice was a bit calmer. “The only reason someone would go into the Spruance place is to look for that damned lottery ticket—the one you think got two people killed already.”

He raised a hand, cutting Sunny off before she could speak. “The people involved in that also tried to kill you four times—and me once. You don’t want to be out on the street when guys like that are around.”

This isn’t my job anymore, Sunny told herself as her dad’s words sank in. I’m not going to break the big story.

She forced herself to sit down, and they flipped through the channels on the TV, searching for some sort of local coverage. But it was much too soon, and they couldn’t find any mention of an attempted trespass, a police chase, or anything even remotely criminal sounding.

Sunny sat down on the couch beside her dad, taking his hand.

“Gonna fight me for the remote?” he asked.

“Nope—just glad we have one sensible person in this house,” she said.

That got a smile out of him.

They watched the countywide news channel, but again, no luck.

Then the doorbell rang.

Mike’s hand tightened under hers, but Sunny got up.

“I’m dialing up 911,” Mike called, making sure his voice was loud enough to carry outside. “Anything funny happens, the call goes right to them.”

Sunny looked through the glass panel and saw a nervous-looking Ben Semple. “Don’t have your dad call anything in,” he begged. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Hang up, Dad,” she called over her shoulder. Then she opened the door for Ben. “Why—Sunny began, but he was talking already.

“Will asked me to stop by and tell you what happened. One of the other constables was driving by, keeping an eye on the Spruance place, and he saw someone sneaking up the driveway. Dispatch sent everyone screaming over there, and the noise spooked whoever was inside. Although our guy was covering the front, one person can’t surround a house. The intruder took off through the backyards. We’re searching, but I don’t have much hope.”

“And Will?” Sunny asked.

Semple shrugged. “He turned up, and the sheriff is keeping him on the scene. Since he’s been in there before, maybe he’d notice if anything has been disturbed. The perp didn’t have much time inside, so we don’t think he found anything. But if we knew where he’d been, it would be easier to look for evidence.”

“Other than not catching him, though, nothing bad happened?” Sunny felt a little silly, but she wanted it spelled out.

“Everything is fine,” Semple assured her. His lapel radio squawked. “I gotta get back to my car.”

He dashed down the walk. Sunny went to close the door.

“All clear,” she called. “No more excitement.”

Then she saw another visitor approaching—Helena Martinson.

Sunny reopened the door. “Hi,” she said, “coming to see my father?”

“No, dear,” Mrs. Martinson said in a determined voice. “I’m taking you for a haircut. I’ve already made you the appointment. It’s long overdue, especially since I understand you have a date tonight.”

Sunny shot a look at her father, who pretended to be absorbed in the weather report. She tried to decline Mrs. Martinson’s overeager gesture gracefully, but the neighbor lady put her foot down. “This is the first time you’ve gone out since you came up here. And, frankly, my dear, you have to do something about your hair.”

Sunny raised her hands in mock surrender. “All right,” she said meekly. “I know. Thank you, I guess.”

Looking relieved that warfare had been averted, Mike shut off the TV and got up from the couch. “While you’re gone, I’m gonna take a page out of the cat’s book and have a nap.”

The salon was in an upscale enclave outside of town—and from the outside it looked pretty busy. Sunny wondered how much social extortion Mrs. Martinson had used to shoehorn Sunny into the schedule. Did the stylist know what she was in for?

As she opened the door, who should come out but Veronica Yarborough, a triumph of the beautician’s art. She stared down her nose at Sunny, who bit her tongue to keep from saying something snarky.

Instead, she gave the head of the homeowners’ association a pleasant smile. “Wow, looks like you got the whole spa experience, Mrs. Y,” Sunny let her smile get wider. “Must have had you up a little early for your usual Saturday.” As she spoke, Sunny remembered that Veronica still had no alibi for the morning when Ada Spruance had died.

Veronica’s eyes got big and she made low gobbling noises as she stomped off.

Grinning in triumph, Sunny went into the salon and put herself in the hands of the professionals.

She heard a lot of tsking from overhead as her shaggy mane got shampooed. Frankly, after all the chemicals and treatments Sunny had tried to make her hair straight or mildly wavy, it was a wonder she had any hair left at all. She’d finally found a Manhattan stylist who knew how to manage rebellious curls. But since she’d come home, Sunny had let her hair alone. If it frizzed till she looked like she’d stuck her toe in a light socket, fine. As long as she could pull it back out of her face, she was willing to make do.

Her heart sank as she moved from the sink, hair wrapped in a damp towel, to wait for her stylist. Of all people, sitting in the chair next to her was Jane Rigsdale, looking like a queen in her salon gown. Even without makeup, the planes and angles of her face spelled “knockout.”

What’s the matter with me? Sunny asked herself. I just faced down the neighborhood queen bee without a problem. Why does Jane rattle me so much?

She couldn’t worry about that now. Jane had already spotted her and smiled. “Talk about a coincidence! I didn’t know you used this place. It’s my best discovery since I came back here.”

Like you really need beauty treatments, Sunny thought. Instead, she gave Jane a tight smile and took refuge in the truth. “It’s my first time here.”

“Oh.” Jane’s pale eyebrows rose as she glanced around, perhaps trying to figure out who’d gotten bumped from the crowded Saturday schedule to accommodate Sunny. “Helena Martinson,” she muttered, then blushed when she realized she’d spoken aloud. Trying to change the subject, Jane asked, “So, is this for a special occasion?”

Sunny felt a little warmth flooding her own cheeks as she said, “Not really.” That might be the literal truth. Will had even mentioned business. But no way, no how was Sunny going to discuss a date with Will—not to his gorgeous former flame. “I guess Mrs. Martinson got tired of my Sasquatch hair. She’s a … good friend of my dad’s, you know.”

Jane didn’t know, but she didn’t ask any more questions, either. They chatted a bit about fitting back into the swim of things in Kittery Harbor. Sunny got to hear a lot of news about classmates she hadn’t thought of since graduation.

Finally Jane was called for her haircutting session. Sunny stared after her. She was trying to be nice to me. So why do I get so witchy whenever I see her? I mean, I hated her Miss Perfect act back in high school, but I should be over that by now.

Moments later, Sunny’s stylist came and collected her. She was a very nice older woman. And very good. By the time she was done, Sunny’s mane had been tamed into a very flattering cut.

Well, Jane was right about one thing, Sunny thought as she breezed out of the salon. This may be the best discovery I’ve made since coming back to town, too.

*

Shadow padded through the empty downstairs of the house, enjoying the silence. The past few days he had slept most of the time, even through the dark hours, trying to recover from his hurts. But now after napping when the Old One had gone upstairs, he’d awakened feeling refreshed and full of energy.

He had tried a few rounds of the race-and-jump game, but it just wasn’t the same without Sunny to land on. So he had looked out the windows, sniffed around the doors, and finally come up the stairs. Shadow made his way slowly down the upstairs hallway, dim in this cloudy weather, stopping outside Sunny’s door and inhaling deeply. He savored the sweet smells from the bottles and jars—and from Sunny herself. The door was slightly ajar, and for a moment he debated pushing against it and going in to explore those things on her table more closely. But he decided against it.

Regretfully, Shadow backed away—and then froze, hearing a shifting of bedsprings and a low groan. Then came footsteps and the faint creak of a door opening. This didn’t come from Sunny’s room, where Shadow had hidden by the partly opened door. No, this came from farther down the hallway. The Old One must be stirring!

Sure enough, the older human appeared in the hall. Shadow could see him clearly in the gray light, but, judging from the way the two-leg groped around, he could barely see his hand in the dimness, much less Shadow.

Keeping his own steps silent, Shadow crept forward as the Old One stepped into the room of shiny tiles and shut the door.

Sudden light from under the door made Shadow blink and shy back. Then he arranged himself just beyond the edge of the pool of light. He had played the jump-out-of-the-dark game with other old ones—females who screeched and jumped when he pounced on their feet.

The light went off, and Shadow braced himself for the attack. But as the Old One came out, he gave a deep sigh, rubbing at his face. His footsteps seemed to shuffle, and his shoulders slumped in weariness.

Shadow had never pounced from the darkness on a sick, frail person. It didn’t seem right, somehow; not fair.

He remembered that since Sunny had brought him home, hurt, the Old One had been kind to him in his gruff way. He made sure the bowls were full in the kitchen and had even extended his hand—slowly, carefully—for Shadow to sniff. Perhaps he was sorry for the tricks he’d played earlier.

No, Shadow decided as the Old One made his way back to his room. Another time, maybe, but not today.

*

Sunny returned from the salon to find her father up and watching college football.

Dad whistled his approval. “Lookin’ good, kiddo.”

Sunny couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Dad.” Then she glanced at her watch. “But we’ve got stuff to do.”

Not only were there routine chores that had been neglected in a week of interviews and death attempts, stuff like laundry and housecleaning, but there were new tasks, like emptying Shadow’s litter box. And then, as promised, Sunny took Mike out on a grocery run. Her dad wanted a prepared dinner that he could nuke, but all of them had either too much fat, too much salt, or both. In the end, Sunny suggested making an early supper with a snack later if he felt the need for it in the evening. “Just don’t eat all the ice cream in the freezer,” she said.

“If I’m hungry—” he began.

She rolled her eyes, not willing to get embroiled in this kind of argument.

In the end, they wound up collecting the makings for a beef stew. When they got home, Sunny got out her mom’s old pressure cooker. Mike assisted in peeling carrots and potatoes while Shadow ran back and forth on the kitchen floor, excited by the activity. They sliced onions, which made the cat wrinkle his nose, and trimmed and split celery stalks. Then Sunny put a little olive oil in the cooker and seared the meat, tossing the onions in, too. The rich aroma had Shadow stretching up on the front of the stove, sniffing appreciatively.

After stirring the meat and onions around the bottom of the pot, Sunny piled on the other ingredients, adding some water, dill, garlic, and her mother’s secret ingredient, half a cup of V8—the low-sodium variety. Finally she locked the cooker’s top in place.

As the stew cooked, she and Mike cleaned up their mess from the prep.

“Your mom loved that thing,” her dad said, pointing at the hissing cooker. “She used to say we could have a stew in fifteen minutes.”

Sunny grinned. “That’s true, if you just count the cooking time. Of course, we spent about forty minutes peeling, chopping, and so on.”

By the time they’d finished with the cleanup, the stew was ready. Sunny ladled a serving onto a plate for her dad, her own mouth watering as she took in the savory smell. The rest of the stew went into sealed bowls to cool off and be refrigerated. They’d made enough for a couple of meals. And the longer the stew marinated in its own juices, the better it tasted.

“I bet you won’t get anything as good as this when you go out,” Mike announced, tucking in.

Sunny laughed. “You may be right.”

“So where are you going?”

“Will suggested a place up in Saxon,” she said, naming a wealthy township farther up the coast.

“Sounds fancy,” Mike said.

Sunny shrugged. “He told me it’s dressy casual.”

She spent a while going through her wardrobe to create an outfit to match that dress code. In the end, she wound up with a soft wine-colored sweater over a pair of black cords that felt more like velvet. With her car-length leather coat and a pair of low boots, Sunny felt about as ready as she was going to be.

She was upstairs, making a last-minute inspection in the mirror, when the doorbell rang. She came downstairs to find Will chatting amiably with her father.

“Right on the dot,” Mike said with approval.

Will took in her outfit and new hairdo. “You look great,” he said.

She laughed as Shadow inserted himself into the group, twining around Sunny’s legs and sniffing. “Apparently, I smell great, too.” She gave Will an up-and-down look. “And you don’t look so bad yourself.”

Will wore a pair of polished boots, soft gray wool slacks, and a slightly darker V-neck sweater with a tweed hacking jacket that accentuated his solid shoulders. His face softened in a slightly shy smile, and Sunny thought she’d never seen him look so good.

Not only had Will polished up his boots, he’d polished up his truck. Saying good night to Mike, they went outside and climbed aboard. They rode up to Saxon, a town that nowadays seemed to go more for Beemers and Escalades, though Avezzani’s, their destination, had a more rustic look, with plaster walls the color of parchment and exposed blackened beams.

A tall guy in an Armani suit and an apparent year-round tan greeted Will warmly at the door.

“Gene Avezzani was in my homeroom—now he runs this place,” Will said, making introductions. “It’s thanks to him that we got a table.”

“You don’t ask every day,” Gene replied, making a courtly bow over Sunny’s hand, “or bring such lovely ladies.”

He personally took them to a table in the corner and presented them with a nice bottle of Barolo.

Will grinned at Sunny over his menu. “When I was in high school, we’d go to the deli Gene’s folks ran next door for meatball heroes,” he confided. “The deli’s gone now—too downscale for the neighborhood—but the meatballs are the same.”

Splitting an order of those meatballs as an appetizer, Sunny had to admit they were pretty darned good. So was the stuffed artichoke they also shared. The whole meal was a throwback to the glory days of Italian red-sauce cuisine. Along with a few glasses of wine, it made for a mellow mood. Sunny enjoyed Will’s combination of ironic humor and self-deprecation.

“You went to school up here instead of in Levett?” Sunny said. “Why would you—oh, of course. Saxon Academy.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Yeah, the snob school of Elmet County. I managed to get in on a scholarship—regardless, it was a pretty good four years.”

He sipped his wine. “Of course, most of the kids who graduated tried for Ivy League schools. Some of the teachers were disappointed that I went for a school with a major in law enforcement.” Will put his glass down. “So was my dad. Sometimes I think I’ve spent an awful lot of my life annoying the sheriff of Elmet County, no matter who it might be. See, my dad wanted me to be a lawyer—that was his idea of stepping up in the world.”

“And you?” Sunny asked.

“I was interested in the law,” Will admitted. “But mainly in enforcing it. Still, after college I entered law school, just to please the old man—until everything went to hell. When Dad died, I gave up on law school and signed up with the state troopers. Took a posting with Troop F, way on the other end of the state by the Canadian border. After a few years up there, I knocked around the state on different assignments. Then I decided to take a shot at city policing. Maybe Portsmouth wasn’t the smartest idea for that. A lot of people on this side of the river were getting tired of Frank Nesbit and imported me as a thorn in his side.” He sighed. “I want to be a cop, not a politician.”

Sunny swallowed her bite of tender gnocchi in pesto sauce. “What about your mom?”

“She and Dad got divorced when I was still in grammar school. I didn’t see much of her after she moved down to New York and remarried. Never liked a city that big.” He coughed and pushed his wineglass away. “Sorry. I know you lived there for a while.”

“It was going to be my big move.” Sunny let a little mockery into her own voice. “The Standard was expanding from the suburbs into the big city, and the chain that owned the paper recruited the best and brightest from their other rags to join the spearhead. I figured if I could establish myself in the big town, maybe I’d have a chance at the Times. Of course, the problem was that the paper business was all set to contract. While I was up here taking care of my dad, the Standard got rid of its city bureau—and my job. Even worse, I had been going out with the guy who ended up canning me.”

She gave him an embarrassed smile. “Is that enough true confession for the evening? Or do I act like a pushy reporter and ask about Jane Rigsdale?”

“Ouch!” Will picked up his glass again. “My reaction when she called my name didn’t hide much, did it?”

“Well, you obviously knew one another in a former lifetime,” Sunny told him. “Hey, I went to school with Jane, although we weren’t what you would call friends. Still, I remember hearing the rumors that she was going out with a college guy. And when I saw the way the two of you acted, well, duh.”

Will took a sip of his wine. “Let’s just say it was a bad breakup—on both sides.”

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring up Jane, Sunny suddenly thought. I get all defensive when I even think about her. It’s not high school anymore. I don’t have anything to envy her for. Sunny almost dropped her fork when she realized that wasn’t true. I am jealous of her. Jane came back to Kittery Harbor on her own terms, she’s got her own business … and she fits in. She even asked about Will before I even thought about dating him. Sunny looked down at her plate. I guess I’ll have to be nicer to her the next time we speak.

“Let’s talk about something else,” Sunny said, abruptly. “Did you find anything interesting at the Spruance place?”

“I learned that when a tweaker tries to search for something, he’s not exactly methodical.” Will sounded exasperated. “I spent some time over there this afternoon. Get this—the sheriff has actually encouraged me to poke around a little.” He looked up, struck by a thought. “Would you like to come along tomorrow? What the place needs is a horde of CSI types, but of course Nesbit isn’t gonna bust the budget or ask the state for help. So it comes down to me, and I’d be happy for an extra pair of eyes. Besides, you’ve been there before. You might spot something that I’d miss.”

“Oh, you baited that hook very well,” Sunny told him. But she did agree to meet him the next morning. After that, their conversation turned to more mundane but pleasant topics, and they somehow made their dinner last for hours.

By the time Will took Sunny home, it was a bit late. She saw that her dad had left a light on in the living room, just as he used to back in her high school days; she could see the glow in the window as Will walked her to the house. Reaching the door, they hesitated for a moment, facing one another in the dimness.

“Well, this shows how out of practice I’ve gotten with the whole social thing.” Will sounded a little annoyed with himself. “I’ve gotten more used to handcuffing people than wishing them a proper good night.” He hesitated for a second. “You would like a proper good-night kiss, right?”

“Some clue spotter you are,” she told him, raising her face to his. Their lips met in a very satisfactory kiss. Sunny tasted the Barolo wine they’d both shared—and a touch of garlic.

Will stepped back, grinning like a schoolboy. “Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow,” she promised and went inside.

Given the hour, and maybe a sense of tact, Mike wasn’t downstairs. Shadow was up, though, and he gave Sunny a warm welcome.

*

Shadow had been dozing on the couch that the Old One had abandoned when the noise of a key in the lock roused him. He went to the archway to see Sunny close the door and then hop around comically, trying to remove her boots silently. Maybe she did, as far as a two-leg might hear.

He made a beeline for her ankles, twining around them and sniffing appreciatively. He caught the scents of delicious food and strange spices. No wonder Sunny was in a good mood. She had eaten well. When she knelt to pet him, though, he also caught the sweet-sour smell of weird drink. Sometimes it made humans happy; sometimes it made them want to fight. Shadow had seen it go either way. One of the two-legs he’d lived with had even poured him some. He hadn’t liked it.

Luckily, the stuff had made Sunny cheerful. She spoke to him softly as she petted him in all the most comforting places. He lay bonelessly at her knees as she spoke to him softly and chuckled. He purred back at her.

*

Smiling, Sunny gave Shadow a tummy rub, not minding the cat hair she’d undoubtedly get all over her cords. It had been a good night indeed, getting to know more of Will Price. For the first time since she’d come back to Kittery Harbor, Sunny didn’t feel so … lonely. With a little surprise, she realized that she hadn’t even admitted that feeling to herself before.

Shadow gently butted his head against her hand, demanding a little between-the-ears scratching. Sunny obliged, softly saying, “Y’know, cat, besides you and that glitzy salon, I think I’ve discovered another great thing since I came home.”

After Shadow had gotten the full treatment, Sunny collected her boots, doused the lamp, and tiptoed up to her room. She put away her clothes and slipped into a comfortable pair of pajamas. Making sure not to disturb her father, she quietly walked to the bathroom, removed her makeup, and brushed her teeth. Then, returning to her room, she went off to sleep with happy thoughts swirling in her brain.

But it seemed that Sunny had barely closed her eyes when she heard her father’s voice calling. She sat up, blinking, and looked at the clock. The display said it was after three in the morning.

Padding down the hall, she tried to clear away the fog in her head. But when she saw Mike half reclining on his bed in the pool of light from his nightstand lamp, she jolted awake. His face was pale, his eyes were wide and scared, and his hand clutched his chest. “I’ve got pain,” he said hoarsely.

“It’s probably angina.” Sunny tried to sound matter-of-fact. “You’ve had it before.”

But Mike hadn’t had those kinds of chest pains in months. Please let it be that, she silently prayed as she opened the drawer in the nightstand to pull out the bottle of nitroglycerin tablets.

Trying not to rush and scare Mike even more, she went to the bathroom to get a glass of water and suddenly discovered she had a furry companion in the hall. But Shadow didn’t try to get into Mike’s room.

Sunny helped her father sit upright in bed, arranging the pillows behind him. She let him take a sip of water to rinse his mouth, then he spat it back into the glass. Finally, she slipped one of the little pills under his tongue. She sat on the edge of the bed, holding his hand and timing five minutes on his clock.

“All gone?” she asked.

He opened his mouth and showed that the pill had dissolved.

Sunny didn’t have to ask if he was feeling better. Mike’s hand remained pressed to his chest. Another five minutes went by, and she gave her dad another tablet. Though she did her best not to show it, Sunny felt a little nervous. The nurse who had arranged Mike’s departure from the hospital had been very clear about what she called the “three strikes” policy. In case of chest pain, Mike got one nitro tablet. Five minutes after that one dissolved, if the pain didn’t let up, he got another. And if the condition didn’t abate, he got a third. If that didn’t work, Sunny would call 911 and take her dad in to the emergency room.

Long minutes passed. At last Mike leaned back, letting out a sigh. “It’s going.”

Sunny rearranged his bed so he could lie down again. Mike wished her a good night and turned off his light. By the time she got to the door, Sunny could hear regular breathing on the edge of sleep. She left Mike’s door open—her own, too.

I want to make sure I hear anything, she thought.

As she lay in the darkness, though, she couldn’t hold back a grin that mixed exasperation and humor. Dad has a heart episode, takes two pills, and drifts right off to sleep. Sunny the caretaker, however, can’t seem to close her eyes.

Maybe I’m the one who needs a couple of pills, she thought.

Her door pushed open slightly, the hinges making the faintest of noise. Sunny heard a couple of light footfalls, then she made out the slightly darker form of Shadow walking along her bed. He came up to her shoulder, butting his head against it gently, and rested a forepaw there.

Shaking her head, Sunny reached up to pet him. “Yeah,” she whispered. “More excitement than we needed.”

He stayed with her, a warm, comforting presence, until she finally drifted off to sleep.