Клэр Донелли - Catch As Cat Can

“And that didn’t turn into a criminal record?”

Will shrugged. “Charges never got pressed, and the fish merchant left town.”

“No part of that story makes Sweeney look very good,” Sunny pointed out.

“We’ll have to talk to him. And by ‘we,’ I mean the sheriff’s department.” Will didn’t look happy. “There’ll probably be all sorts of jurisdictional hoops to jump through.”

“It may be worth it, though,” Sunny said. “I’m convinced whoever killed Treibholz wasn’t familiar with this area. Otherwise, why leave the body?”

“As a warning—or a message?” Will suggested. “Like the way Treibholz tried to string up your little buddy here.” He gestured toward Shadow, who regarded him with unblinking eyes.

“If there’s a killer still around here, then why isn’t Neil dead?” Sunny wanted to know.

“Maybe he—or she—had orders to make Garret worry. Or suffer.”

Sunny didn’t like the sound of that. If the killer knew about Abby Martinson, she could wind up at the top of the hit parade. Another reason to keep her secret safely buried, she thought. “Well, I think we’ve talked ourselves into circles long enough.” Will glanced at the wall clock. “How do you feel about lunch?”

“I’d love to grab a bite. But”—Sunny pointed toward Shadow—“I’m afraid my lunch hour is going to be spent getting this little guy home. Dad should be done with his walk and his errands. I’m going to give him a call and get Shadow back where he belongs.”

As if anticipating that the humans were finishing their business and that Will would leave, Shadow had already started edging toward the door.

“Oh, no.” Sunny sprang from her chair and managed to grab Shadow before he could dodge. She caught hold of him by the fur at the scruff of his neck and brought him up. That was the handle that mama cats used to move their kittens around. Sunny had read that holding a cat that way could trigger old kitten instincts.

It seemed to work. Shadow calmed down and drew in his paws for easier carrying. Sunny took some of his weight in her other hand and said, “Wouldn’t you like to go home where it’s warm and you have your own food? You didn’t like it last night when we went out at a strange time. You’re doing the same thing now. Let’s go home.”

Will gave her a skeptical look. “How much of that do you think he understands?

“More than we probably think.” Still holding Shadow, she dug out her keys and gave them to Will. “I’ll have to depend on you to lock the door and open the car,” she told him. “Holding onto Shadow may be a two-handed job.”

Sunny put him gently down on the desk and got her coat. Shadow sat watching her. When she came toward him again, he didn’t run away but submitted to being picked up by his scruff. Sunny wrapped her free arm around and under him, supporting his weight while still maintaining her scruff hold.

“Hang on,” Will said, moving ahead and opening the door. Sunny exited and walked to her truck while Will locked the office door. Then he hurried on ahead to unlock the Wrangler. Sunny took her seat, bringing Shadow down onto her lap as Will inserted the key into the ignition.

“I’m surprised you made it this far,” he said as he closed the door. He leaned close to the window, his voice muffled as he said, “Good luck getting him out.”

Sunny gently petted the cat in her lap before getting out her cell phone. After a quick phone chat with her father, she started the engine. “One thing at a time,” she said. “One thing at a time.”

*

Shadow rested hishead on his paws as he lay across Sunny’s lap. It was cold, even inside the go-fast thing, and she was warm. Sunny’s other place could be interesting. It certainly had some odd smells. But he looked forward to the familiar scents of home. It would be good to come back to his bowl of water and food. He stirred a little. And his litter box. He was going to need that soon enough, after the fish the Generous One had given him.

He settled down again as Sunny’s hand gently stroked his fur. They were going home. He didn’t have to look out the windows to see that.

*

Midday traffic wasfairly thin. Sunny managed the drive out to Wild Goose Lane without any trouble. After parking in the driveway, she gathered Shadow up in her arms and headed for the front door.

Mike must have been watching for her, because the door swung open. “No blood spilled. And I didn’t see you engaged in a spirited game of Catch the Cat after you parked. What’s the matter, furball?” he asked Shadow. “You feeling tired?”

Sunny carried Shadow into the kitchen and set him down. The cat walked over to his bowls and lapped up a quick slurp of water. Then with a quick glance over his shoulder, he headed away—toward his litter box, Sunny realized.

“Well, Dad, I think we avoided a cat-tastrophe,” she told Mike. “I guess I should be glad Will stopped by the office. I don’t know how I’d have gotten Shadow outside and into the Wrangler without him.”

“It’s a shame you’re wasting your lunch delivering the furball instead of spending time with Will,” Mike said. “I know which I’d prefer you to be doing.”

“Oh?” Sunny asked. “And were you going to come to town and collect the dreaded cat?”

Mike’s startlingly blue eyes twinkled. “Do you want the fatherly answer or the honest answer?”

“The honest one,” Sunny told him, laughing.

“I wouldn’t touch that job without a cat carrier, a dart gun, and reinforcements,” Mike said. “I’ve seen what that animal can be like when he decides to be uncooperative.”

Shadow returned, took a slow spin around their ankles, and turned to his food bowl.

“There’s a good idea,” Mike said. “I could make you a sandwich before you head back. We’re well stocked with all that healthy stuff you insist on feeding me.”

He quickly whipped up a low-sodium turkey and low-fat cheese sandwich on grainy bread with a shot of honey dijon mustard. It went down pretty well with a glass of seltzer. Mike joined her at the kitchen table with the same lunch. “I still think you’d have a better time with Will,” Mike insisted after chewing a bite.

“He came by for work,” Sunny told him. “Wanted to hear what Charlie Vane had to tell me.”

“He was pretty forthcoming, I thought.” Mike took a sip of seltzer and grinned. “Didn’t have to bring out the rubber hose or anything.”

“Yeah, but most of it was covering his you-know-what.” Sunny frowned in thought. “He did take a swipe at Deke Sweeney, though. What do you know about the guy?”

Mike prided himself on his near encyclopedic knowledge of people and things around Kittery Harbor. Portsmouth, though, was a little out of his orbit, as he himself admitted.

“That is across the river,” Mike said. “Most of what I know about Sweeney I get from my fishing buddies. He’s the boogeyman of the Portsmouth fish market. Buying or selling, his word is pretty much the law.”

“Who died and left him boss?” Sunny wanted to know. “Was he a fisherman or a fish merchant?”

“He was—muscle, I guess,” Mike replied. “Back in the day, the Portsmouth market was a pretty rough place. Different factions of merchants were competing to run the place, getting in one another’s way, and fighting. That was bad for business. Several of the bigger merchants brought Sweeney in to impose some order. But by the time the dust settled, they weren’t giving the orders, he was.”

“Will told me a story about him pulling a gun on someone.”

Mike nodded. “I heard that story, too. It happened shortly after he came into the market. One of the merchants ran his mouth and made the mistake of picking up a fileting knife. I guess in that case, gun trumped knife. Usually, though, Sweeney was more indirect. Troublemakers had accidents, or suffered business disasters.”