Клэр Донелли - Catch As Cat Can

“He must have been disappointed to hear that you’d kind of given up on the acting,” Mike said.

Abby laughed. “He said Hollywood’s loss was the legal profession’s gain—even put it in the story. Then he brought me around to his office and shot some pictures.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t go for a glamour shot and have you perched on a trunk, showing a little leg,” Sunny teased.

“If he had the trunk, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Abby grinned at Helena. “To tell the truth, I think Mom’s more excited about it than I am.”

“It’s a nice picture,” Mrs. M. defended herself. “A nice, big picture.”

Will took a long look and shook his head. “I guess it makes a change from the number of people hurt in the storm and the Vane murder.”

Sunny gave him a worried look. Was he going to bring up the investigation over dinner?

Mike was still looking at the photo. “You know, Sunny’s gotten her picture in the paper a few times.” He wasn’t about to be one-upped in the family pride stakes.

Now Sunny had to laugh. “Dad, when I turn up in the papers, I’ve usually been conked on the head or just escaped some ridiculous situation by the skin of my teeth. It’s not quite the same as this.” She looked at Abby’s photo. “I just wish I had a chance to look nice in one of those shots. Hey, I’d even pose on top of a trunk if that was the only way.”

That got a laugh out of everybody. A moment later, the oven timer pinged and Helena and Abby headed back to the kitchen and started preparing to serve.

It was a nice, stick-to-the-ribs sort of meal: roast beef and gravy, potatoes, and peas and carrots. Abby asked Mike if he wanted to carve. “Mom bought this big hunk of cow when she heard about the storm on the way, figuring we could cook it and live for a week on the leftovers.” She looked around the table. “I think it’s nicer to use it up this way.”

“Better eating than I expected this evening,” Will had to admit. “I just hope a satisfied stomach won’t put me to sleep.”

“You’re going back to work after this?” Sunny asked.

Will nodded. “Got a couple of things to look into.” He hummed in appreciation as he took another mouthful.

Sunny chewed over that comment—along with the piece of beef she’d just taken from her fork. She hadn’t had a chance yet to talk with Will about her conversation with Neil Garret—or with Dani Shostak. So this had to be something new. She glanced at Will, and noticed him quietly watching Abby.

Oh, come on, she silently complained. Just when I start liking Abby, she winds up as a possible suspect. I hope she’s not the reason he expects to work late this evening.

Will started telling a story about a mishap he’d encountered as a rookie with the state police. “I thought they’d taught me how to handle myself, but a lot of that went out the window when that biker got mad at me. To tell the truth, I was lucky to get the cuffs on him. Folks don’t know it, but the biker gangs are the organized crime up by the border. They smuggle over anything the market will bear—drugs, booze, guns, even girls.”

Just like Dani’s Ukrainian friends, Sunny thought. And he launders the money for them.

Abby looked surprised. “You mean organized crime—like the Mafia?”

“Them we have on both sides of the border,” Will replied. “In fact, the operations in Montreal are traditionally considered a branch of one of the Five Families in New York. They’ve had setbacks up there in recent years, and I understand they’ve turned to some of the biker gangs for muscle.”

He laughed. “Anyway, I guess your days starting out in Hollywood didn’t involve messing with three-hundred-and-fifty-pound hairy guys.”

Abby waggled her eyebrows, grinning. “Well, if you added up the weights of all those dogs I walked . . .”

Will coaxed tales of work misadventures from the rest of them, along with several war stories from Abby’s film career. When she apologized for taking over so much of the conversation, Will said, “Hey, you’ve got better material than the rest of us.”

It sounded like dinner table chitchat, but Sunny noticed that Will managed to draw Abby out not only on her acting, but her restaurant work, even getting her to tell a story about Nicky Gatto.

He’s quietly interrogating her in front of everyone, Sunny thought. Man, I really hope he hasn’t figured a way to connect her to either of these murders .

Sunny helped to clear the dinner dishes away, and Mrs. Martinson came out with one of her famous coffee cakes. “I’m going to say something silly,” she said, “but I mean it seriously. The talking and laughing around the table tonight, you made this feel the most like a family dinner since—well, since my Vince passed on.”

“Mom—” Abby started, but she didn’t know what to say.

“No, honey, I think your dad would approve of us having a good time. He’d just wish he could be here, too.” She raised her cup of coffee in a toast. “To memories and good times.”

Mike raised his cup, too. “And to Vince, who was so much a part of you both.”

They all followed suit and sat around the table finishing their coffee and cake, but it was as if that toast had signaled the end of the meal. All too soon, the visitors were putting on their coats.

Abby leaned in toward Sunny. “I can see why Mom enjoys your visits,” she said in a low voice, not wanting Helena to hear. “Maybe we’ll be able to get together again before I leave on Sunday.”

“I’d like that,” Sunny said, silently worrying, Provided it doesn’t involve Will arresting you.

They stepped out into the chilly air, waving cheerful good-byes before the brisk walk home.

*

Shadow prowled thetop floor, his tail lashing around in annoyance. Yes he did this every night, but in the dark time. This was too early, the house was empty, it was all wrong, wrong, wrong. He sank into a crouch at the top of the stairs, glaring down at the door and thinking dark thoughts.

I should get Sunny for leaving me all alone, he thought. Make her sorry for doing that. But what should he do? A disagreement between cats was a lot easier. You showed your teeth, sometimes the claws came out, and most times that was enough. One side usually backed down, solving things. If not, the claws really came out and sometimes there was blood. Shadow had been in enough fights. He’d won a lot, but lost a few, especially when he was very young. Mostly he remembered the pain.

The problem with two-legs was that these tactics usually didn’t work on them. They were just too big, and often too stupid to realize what a cat was trying to do. He’d have to find a better way to vent his annoyance.

That gave Shadow an idea. Maybe I can let out a little bad air when I’m under the covers with her tonight, he thought. Sunny really hates when I do that.

He started down the stairs, aiming for the kitchen where he could bolt down some food and maybe fill his belly, when he heard voices outside the door. Sunny!

For a wild second, he considered leaping down the rest of the stairs to pounce on her feet when she came in. But Shadow pushed that idea down. No. You’re mad at her. No playing.

Although a good sneak attack might scare her . . .

He forced himself to a sedate trot as the keys rattled in the lock, getting halfway to the kitchen before the door opened.

Shadow turned to look over his shoulder, and his heart lurched for a moment just at the sight of his Sunny, her face pink from the cold outside, stepping in and taking off her coat. He ruthlessly crushed the desire to run to her, to wind round her ankles, sniff out where she’d gone, and mark her as his.