Клэр Донелли - Catch As Cat Can

“I thought you were in the business of lending money,” Sunny said.

“Lending, not losing,” Dani corrected. “If I lend money, I got to get it back—with interest. This fish man, he tells me he needs a bridge loan. He can pay me back when Lent comes. Business will pick up.”

He took a sip of coffee and made a face. “Do I look like idiot? How he is supposed to make back twenty or even ten in six, seven weeks? He goes out of business and leaves me holding the sack.”

“You could have taken over the business,” Sunny suggested. “I’ve seen you do that.”

Dani shook his head. “Best business to take over, dentist who makes too many bad sports bets. Lots of customers, lots of them pay cash. Lets us move other money through to clean it. But what do I know about fish?”

Olek rumbled something, and Dani shot him a look. “Yes, smoked fish is nice. Everything with you is smoke, smoke, smoke. I’m talking about store not even open for a year. If all of a sudden it makes a lot of money, people might notice. Then, trouble. Trouble I don’t need. I tell Mr. Fish Man just let his store close. ‘Cause if someone like Olek come and he got no money to pay, big, big trouble.”

“So when did Neil come?” Sunny asked.

Dani frowned. “Eight o’clock, maybe a little later. He spent a lot of time trying to convince me he was good businessman, just having bad luck. Me, I have nothing important to do that night, so I let him talk. He try very hard, tells me he needs some cash in his hand, but I say no. It was dinner time, so we eat. Food is pretty good here, coffee, not so much. He finish, I guess nine thirty, some later, and goes home.”

With the traffic, less than half an hour to get back to Kittery Harbor, Sunny thought. But that still covers the window for the time of death the medical examiner estimated.

“Okay,” she said. “Thanks, Dani.”

Dani leaned across the little table. “I tell you this because I trust you. Don’t expect I go tell this in court.” He shook his head. “They might ask other questions I don’t want to answer.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” Sunny said, silently adding, I’m the one who’ll have to answer unpleasant questions when Will finds out what I’ve been doing.

Dani must have been thinking the same thing, too, because when Sunny got up to leave, he sent Olek to accompany her to her car. “This is nice enough neighborhood,” he said, “but sometimes things happen. I don’t want your cop friend blaming me.”

Sunny nodded. “I know. No trouble.”

They walked the block to where Sunny had left her Wrangler. She thanked Olek, and the big man rumbled something in reply. Sunny noticed he stood there until she had the engine started and actually pulled into the street. Then he turned around, that enormous coat of his flapping in the breeze, and headed for the cafe.

Sunny’s cell phone rang, and she pulled over to answer. It was Mike.

“I tried the office and got the voice mail,” he said. “Wanted to catch you before you set off on a big shopping expedition. Helena just invited us to dinner—you, me, and Will, if he can make it. All she asks is that we don’t read the latest issue of the Courier before we come.” He paused for a second, trying to keep the curiosity out of his voice. “Did you?”

The delivery of the local weekly had been a bit late today, probably thanks to the ice storm, and Sunny had been too busy with other stuff to sit back and read it. “Nope, I missed it today,” she said. “I guess there must be something in there Mrs. M. wants to celebrate.”

Either that, or she wants to use up all the supplies she accumulated for the ice storm, that irrepressible voice in the back of Sunny’s head suggested.

Out loud, she asked, “Is there a time set for this dinner? I had an errand to run in Portsmouth.”

“I think you can make it all right,” Mike said. “You’ve got about an hour.”

Traffic was light enough that Sunny was able to get back, wash up, and put on some nicer clothes than her usual office wear. As she was putting on a little face paint, she heard the doorbell below.

That must be Will, she thought. She’d already decided not to discuss her conversation with Neil or her excursion to Portsmouth until after their visit with the Martinsons. If he decides to blow his top over Dani and Olek, at least the condemned will enjoy a hearty meal, Sunny thought.

She came downstairs to find Will hanging up his coat, chatting with Mike. Will turned to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You look nice. I came from work, so what you saw this morning is what you get.”

Sunny nodded. “You’re wearing the same tie you had on the last time we saw the Martinsons,” she said. “They’re going to think it’s the only one you own.”

He fingered the embroidered silk. “It’s the only one I like.”

Shadow made the usual wary approach he reserved for times when his humans departed from their normal schedule. Still, he came over to give Will’s ankles a good sniff.

Laughing, Will bent down, let Shadow sniff his hand, and then gently ran fingers through the fur on top of the cat’s head. “Don’t worry, little guy. We’ll be back soon.”

“Speaking of soon, I suppose we should get a move on,” Mike said. “What’s the condition of the sidewalks?”

“Looks to me like most people put some kind of ice melt down,” Will reported. “Worse comes to worst, we can detour into the street.”

They strolled the couple of blocks to the Martinson house without any slippery incidents, and Mike rang the doorbell. Mrs. M. must have been watching for them, because she opened the door almost immediately. Excited woofing rose in volume as Toby came nearer. Then they heard Abby say firmly, “Toby! Heel!”

Even the barking diminished as Helena Martinson led them inside. Toby stood beside Abby, looking up at her and wagging his tail, obviously eager to rush over and play with the newcomers. Abby reached down to take hold of the dog’s collar. “Toby, come.” She led the overgrown pup over to Mike, Sunny, and Will. Sunny could see Toby’s muscles bunching for a jump up to her waist, but Abby saw that, too. “Down, Toby.”

Astonishingly, Toby relaxed, just coming forward for a greeting sniff.

“Wow,” Sunny said. “You really are a dog whisperer.”

“I’m not.” Abby shook her head, but she was grinning at her success. “This is what I learned from being a dog walker when I first got out to the coast. It’s not something you put on your resume, but it left me with some useful skills. Then again, maybe I should have put it on my resume and tried for directing jobs. If I could get animals to behave, maybe I could do the same with actors.” She bent down to Toby. “What do you think, pooch? Aren’t you a happier dog now that you have some rules to live with?”

Mike took off his coat. “So, what’s in the new newspaper that we weren’t allowed to see?”

Abby turned to Helena, looking for a moment like a mortified teenager. “Mom, you didn’t invite them over for that?”

“I most certainly did.” Mrs. M.’s voice was full of pride as she held up a copy of the Harbor Courier and opened it up. There on the third page was a big photo of Abby with the headline,

FROM HOLLYWOOD BACK TO THE HARBOR.

15

Helena Martinson stoodbeaming, while Abby looked embarrassed. “Mr. Howell was kind of a fan, back when I was doing shows all around the area,” she said. “He even reviewed a couple of them and said I could go places. So when I bumped into him on the street the other day, he asked a lot of questions.”