Клэр Донелли - Catch As Cat Can

“Just as I was saying.” Ollie nodded. “Commercial fishing, people who have to depend on what they catch, that’s something I’d never touch.” He went on to give a pretty detailed and thoughtful history of local fishing and its problems—especially with government control.

“With the government cutting down the fishing season for some types and reducing maximum catches, I don’t see any way the local fishermen are going to get back to the good old days they’re always talking about,” he said. “Seems to me like a very expensive way to go out of business.”

“How about business when the fish finally get to land?” Val asked.

Ollie looked as if someone had mixed vinegar in his beer. “Frankly, it’s not as good as I had thought. As you know, I rented a property to a fellow opening a fish store, and I got taken in by statistics showing that American households were trying to get more fish in their diets.”

“That’s what everybody says,” Will said.

“Yeah, but around here, how do you expect that to happen when a pound of fish can cost as much or more than a pound of prime steak?” Ollie gave his beer a rueful look. “That pile of cash you were kidding me about was late rent on that store. I’m not at all sure Neil will be able to come up with next month’s payment.”

“So is it a retail problem, or a wholesale problem?” Val asked.

“Both,” Ollie replied. “The local wholesale fish market is in Portsmouth. It doesn’t do the business of big markets like New York or Boston, or even Gloucester, where there are still some processing plants. They’re caught between a declining number of fishing boats servicing them, subpar catches, and rising prices. Like I said, not a business I’d want to put money into.”

Sunny exchanged a glance with Will. If business is getting bad at the market, maybe Deke Sweeney isn’t sitting as pretty as Charlie Vane thinks he is.

Their burgers arrived, and the conversation went into other channels. Sunny kept an eye on the time, and even though Val Orton pouted, the party broke up pretty early. The marshal did plant a big smooch on Ollie, which turned him bright red and left Sunny wondering how far Val was taking this joke.

The weather had gotten even worse when they emerged from the Redbrick, continuous blustery winds and a very fine sleet that left exposed skin feeling as if it had been sandblasted. Val was staying at a national chain motel. “It’s on a main road, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” she said.

Will turned to Ollie. “Can you follow her in your Land Rover? This has all the signs of turning into an ice storm.”

“I can handle it,” Val insisted.

Will shook his head. “That’s what people think until the weather really turns on them. I’d do it myself, but I’ve got to get Sunny home.”

For a second, Sunny was tempted to argue, but the memory of her mother’s accident shut her up. Let’s not tempt fate, she thought.

From the look Ollie was giving her, he must have remembered what had happened to her mom, too. “I’ll be your wing man up to the motel,” he told Val in a gruff voice. “Bad weather in these parts is nothing to fool around with.” His Land Rover was actually parked the nearest to the tavern, so he gave them lifts to their various vehicles. Sunny stayed in her Wrangler, warming it up, until Will’s pickup truck pulled up beside her.

The ride to Wild Goose Drive wasn’t all that bad. They kept a careful speed, and except for a couple of times when the wind did its best to rock the boxy SUV, nothing exciting really happened. Sunny parked her Wrangler and then climbed into the cab of Will’s truck to say good night. “So did Ollie have anything to add to your case?” she asked as Will put an arm around her.

“Just more reason to have a chat with Deke Sweeney—as soon as the weather permits.” He turned to look at Sunny. “I’m sorry that this turned into a fact-finding mission instead of a date date. But Val was kind of insistent.”

“On information, or going out with Ollie?” Sunny asked. “She played it for laughs before, but now she’s got me wondering if she’s got a thing for older guys.”

“Is that a problem?” Will asked, looking puzzled.

“In case you didn’t notice, Neil Garret is a good-looking older guy,” Sunny pointed out.

And Val Orton is a lonely gal who doesn’t have much of a social life—and incidentally carries a gun, she silently added. Could she have more going on with Neil Garret than a witness and protector relationship? And could she have used that gun if Phil Treibholz threatened Neil?

11

The air outsidethe car seemed even colder after the warm good night kiss. And the sleet had turned sloppy, more like icy mush flying into Sunny’s face as she hung onto her hood. She turned back and knocked on the window. Will brought it down. “Forget something?” he asked.

“Just that I want you to call when you get home,” Sunny told him. “It’s getting worse even quicker than we thought, and I want to be sure that you get back safely.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Okay, Mom.” Then, belatedly remembering what had happened to Sunny’s mother, he said, “Sorry. I’ll call. Promise.”

Sunny leaned in through the window for another kiss, then stepped back, waving, as Will drove off. She turned and made her way up a driveway that seemed to get slicker with every step until she reached the front door. Fumbling with the key, Sunny got the door open and stepped inside, stamping heavily to remove the slush sticking to her boots.

Shadow arrived in the middle of her ice removal dance. Sunny noticed that he didn’t do his usual circle and sniff routine, avoiding the melting glop sinking into the bristly fabric of the foul-weather rug they kept near the door. He waited until he had her boots off, intercepting Sunny as she headed for the arched entrance to the living room. Even then, he kept his inspection brief, wrinkling his nose at the cold that clung to Sunny’s legs after her short trip through the storm.

Sunny poked her head into the room to find her father dozing in front of a reality TV show he wouldn’t have tolerated if he’d been fully awake.

“Hey, Dad,” Sunny called.

Mike woke up, smiled at her, frowned at the TV, and then used the remote to turn the program off. “A boring night,” he announced. “I hope you had a better time.”

“I wouldn’t score it high for romance,” Sunny told him. “Val Overton came with, and she dragged Ollie along as her date.”

“That could have been entertaining.” Mike sat up straighter and stretched. “Did she chase him very hard? Did Ollie let himself get caught?”

“Mainly Will and Val picked Ollie’s brains about the local fish business and the situation in the market over in Portsmouth.”

Mike laughed. “Oh, boy. Lots of love stuff.” He paused as the wind suddenly picked up, flinging semisolid sleet against the window. “Sounds as though you got home just in time.”

Sunny nodded, dropping into a chair. “I asked Will to call when he gets in. Maybe I’m being too much on the nannyish side—”

Mike shook his head. “No. Not with this kind of weather.”

She rose and went to give her dad a hug. His arms went around her, and they stood together for a moment, not speaking.

The moment was broken as Shadow jumped up onto the couch, leaning into the hug as well.

Mike cleared his throat, and Sunny laughed, leaning down to pet the cat. “You didn’t want to be left out, did you?”

Reaching out carefully, Mike stroked Shadow’s fur, too. “I think your mom would have liked the little guy.”

“Right,” Sunny said. “Until he tried to walk along the keyboard of her piano.”