Клэр Донелли - Catch As Cat Can

She gave the phone back to Mike, bundled up, and headed for the kitchen door. Shadow accompanied her that far. He put a curious paw down on the ice-covered ground, slid a little, and pulled himself back inside. As Sunny stepped out, she was aware of him giving her that odd look he usually reserved for watching humans do something he apparently regarded as foolish.

Maybe he’s right, Sunny thought as she skidded her way to the garage. She was really glad Mike hadn’t tried this. If I fall, there’s a chance I might bounce, she thought. I’m afraid Dad might break something.

It was a surprising amount of work, making progress with baby steps, and her thighs began to hurt by the time she reached the garage. Sunny got the door open and rooted around for the sacks of ice melt Mike always kept on hand. After all, he used to deliver the stuff all over the Northeast. He’d consider it a professional embarrassment if he didn’t have a generous supply ready to go.

She found an open sack and began spreading the granules in front of the garage door. Then she went to dig out the metal scraper with the long handle. It was tedious, tiresome work, especially out in the cold. Mike made her take several breaks to come in and have a cup of hot chocolate. He might not be able to do the job himself anymore, but he wanted to make sure Sunny was well fueled.

The light was beginning the fade by the time she finished, but Sunny managed to clear a path from the door to both trucks in the driveway, and then a wider passage to let the vehicles get to the road.

Not that we’ll be driving soon, she thought. Wild Goose Drive is a sheet of ice.

They made supper by the light of two LED lanterns that Mike had picked up. “We’ll save the candles until we really need them,” he said.

The meal was simple: canned soup heated up on the top burner and thick sandwiches. They couldn’t cook anything on the stove, and Sunny was afraid that without power, the refrigerator wouldn’t keep the cold cuts fresh.

Shadow had his usual canned food and fresh water, but he kept turning from his bowls to regard the two lanterns up on the kitchen table.

“Don’t even think about it,” Sunny warned him.

She and Mike each took a light into the living room, where they also took the radio to hear how the recovery process was going. CMP had managed to restore power to a lot of folks nearby, so Mike rose and switched on one of the living room lamps. It stayed dark.

“But if it goes on, we’ll know we’re back in business,” he said.

They sat for a while, talking in the dim light. Sunny played a few more games with Shadow and kept him from trying to play with the lanterns glowing on the coffee table.

She was just about to suggest that they turn in when the lamp that Mike had turned on suddenly popped to life. Sunny blinked—the lamp’s bulb was a heck of a lot brighter than the LEDs.

Mike went to the window, looking out at the street. Light began to appear in the windows of the houses across the way. “Yep, they noticed,” he said. Then he frowned. “And here comes a damned fool.”

A vehicle made its way slowly along the dark, deserted street. At first, Sunny couldn’t even make it out. All she saw were headlights. It was a dark car, no, a pickup truck that skidded to a halt at the bottom of the driveway. When the driver opened his door, the dome light revealed Will Price’s features.

“Well, maybe not such a fool,” Mike said.

“What would bring him up here?” Sunny went back to the kitchen to open the door.

Will came slowly up the drive, checking carefully to make sure there was no black ice to slip on. He’d changed his clothes since their date the night before, but he had a day’s growth of beard, and his eyes looked tired.

“Are you okay?” Sunny asked.

“Had about enough time to change into some fouler weather gear before Lenore Nesbit called me in,” Will said. “Then a lot of slow-motion driving to accident scenes and enforcing no-drive restrictions. I was heading off people from using the road to Sturgeon Springs. A whole tree went down, cutting the route completely. Then, after we completed the emergency stuff, we went on a lot of well-being checks. One caught my attention. Charlie Vane’s wife—or almost ex-wife, considering she moved out on him a couple of months ago—called that he wasn’t answering his phone. We checked with the son, he hadn’t heard from his father, and his car was out of commission since before the storm. The Vane place is on the edge of town, so I said I’d stop by on my way back in.”

He reported all this in his usual cop voice, but Sunny caught an undertone that she didn’t like. “Something happened to Charlie Vane?”

Will nodded. “Three gunshots. Recently dead. And, as if that wasn’t enough, the place was like an arsenal, enough rifles and pistols around to outfit an army—or at least a platoon. Let’s just say, a lot more than for personal use, unless personal use involved starting a war. And he had all new locks—the place was like a fortress.”

He tried to joke, but his expression remained grim. “Looks as though he went from playing Pirates of the Caribbean to the Alamo.”

12

After taking amoment to digest what Will had said, Sunny asked, “Can we tell my dad?”

Will shrugged. “It will be on the news soon enough. After they get through with this ‘storm of the century’ stuff.”

Sunny led the way into the living room. “Charlie Vane is dead,” she announced. “Will found him tonight.”

Mike paused in the middle of turning on a few more lamps. “From the look on your faces, I don’t expect it was some run-of-the-mill thing like a car crash or hypothermia.”

“Shot,” Will said. “With all this weather stuff going on, it will take a while for the crime-scene guys to arrive and get to work.” He paused for a second. “Have you ever been in Vane’s place?”

“A long time ago, when he was more prosperous. It was a nice little place, away from the built-up part of town but close enough to the docks. Charlie’s father built it, and Charlie’s wife kept it spotless.” Mike shook his head. “Too bad about that.”

“You knew that Vane’s wife had left him?” Will asked.

“More like she got tired of trying to hold on,” Mike said. “I didn’t see much good coming from airing that piece of dirty linen. Whatever Charlie got up to, Eileen would never be a part of it.”

He frowned, looking at the floor for a moment. “But with a murder involved, I will tell you something odd I heard. Not about Charlie, but his son, Jack. He’s trying to keep a wife and son on what he makes on Charlie’s boat, and lately it’s been a real struggle. Kid has to drive around in an old wreck—the kind of car mechanics call a moneymaker. The owner can’t afford to replace it, so he limps along from one repair to another to keep it running. A mechanic who’s not bothered with a conscience can string along that kind of situation pretty profitably. But Sal DiGillio told me—”

“I wouldn’t think Sal DiGillio was that kind of mechanic,” Sunny objected.

“He’s not,” Mike replied, “and that’s the thing. He wouldn’t work on Jack’s car because the kid couldn’t scrape up what it would take to fix the wreck properly. But about a month ago, Jack came to Sal’s shop with the money to do the work. Sal fixed the car, but when I went to his station for gas the other day, he was aggravated because something new had died on Jack’s car. All his work for nothing, and the kid is still behind the eight ball.”

“Was Charlie Vane into guns?” Will asked.

Mike peered at him in bafflement. “Unless it was about shooting fish in a barrel. No, I take even that back. Charlie was a fisherman. He didn’t hunt, he didn’t trap, he didn’t even go after lobsters. I’d be really surprised that he even owned a gun.” His frown deepened. “You’re not saying he could have used a gun on himself?”