Клэр Донелли - Catch As Cat Can

“Well, some of them, I figure,” Will said. “I expect he might have made himself a little conspicuous, buying an arsenal like that at a single gun show. Although there is some evidence he may have been using straw buyers up in Vincentville.”

“Straw buyers?” Sunny frowned.

“That’s a nice way of saying phoney-baloney buyers—people who step in to make a purchase for somebody who may have bad credit, or maybe a criminal record—or maybe just to hide the identity of the real buyer.”

“I know that,” Sunny told him. “What I was wondering about is how you dug up any evidence.”

Will shrugged. “A friend of a friend. Or maybe I should say someone who owes a favor to an old state police buddy of mine. The guy owing the favor had a table at the Vincentville gun show. He went through his papers and found that he had a customer from Kittery Harbor.”

“Somebody who wasn’t Charlie Vane,” Sunny said. “Kind of a coincidence, two people from our little town both being so far away in those parts.”

“It will be a bit more trouble, trying to look at the records of other sellers—”

“Guys who don’t owe favors,” Sunny put in.

“But my bet is we’ll find several other names from this part of the woods buying up guns there,” Will finished. “At last we got one of them.”

“And who is this fine, upstanding citizen?” Sunny asked.

“One Delbert Scabetti, according to the paperwork for the gun he bought. Local police records show he’s got the colorful nickname of ‘Scab.’ While he’s done a lot of borderline illegal stuff, he hasn’t been convicted of a felony, which means he’s still legal to own or buy guns.”

Will grinned. “Best of all, we have a good chance of catching up with him right now. He may not be a pillar of the community, but he spends a lot of time propping up the bar at O’Dowd’s.”

O’Dowd’s was the diviest dive bar in Kittery Harbor, the center of a little patch of urban blight at the edge of the old downtown district.

“We figured on going down there tonight and asking a few questions,” Will went on.

“We who?” Sunny wanted to know.

“Val and myself,” he replied. “I think she’s more than capable of handling that joint.”

“And I’m not?” Sunny said. “I’ve been in there a couple of times since I came back to town, for business and pleasure.”

“You don’t have to,” Will began, but Sunny cut him off.

“What, I’m only good for sweet-talking information out of suspects like Charlie Vane and Neil? If this Scab guy can throw some light on whatever Vane was doing that got him killed, I want to hear it.”

She got up and went to get her coat, Will reluctantly following—especially since Shadow jumped to the floor and took a fighting stance, making unpleasant noises at Will.

“This is unfair,” Will muttered. “He’s blaming me for your pigheaded behavior.”

“Hey, I’m sorry, little guy.” Sunny picked up the cat and brought him to the kitchen. She placed him beside his bowls and knelt to stroke his fur. “I won’t be gone long—promise. I’ll come home soon, and then we’ll have some time together.”

Shadow made a little sound of protest, but he didn’t follow Sunny as she went to rejoin Will standing at the kitchen door. Still, his tail wig-wagged a mournful message as he watched her go.

Outside, she turned expectantly to Will. “What’s the plan?”

“We go to pick up Val, and then off to O’Dowd’s.”

They had a quiet drive into town. Will apparently wasn’t in the mood for conversation after what Sunny had told him—and how she’d insisted on tagging along. Val Overton stood by the front door of the motel, hurrying out when they arrived. It was a close fit as she squeezed in beside Sunny on the pickup’s front seat.

“Hi, Sunny. Didn’t expect to see you.” Val reached into her shoulder bag and brought out a can of beer. “There should be more than enough for the three of us.”

Sunny stared. “For what?”

“Let’s call it, oh, verisimilitude.” Val popped the top on the can and offered it to Sunny. “Take a mouthful and swish it around. Having beer on our breath will make it look as though we’ve been bouncing around to different joints in town.”

Will nodded as Sunny took a sip. Then he reached over for the can, raised it to his lips, and took a healthy swig, his cheeks working like the guy in the mouthwash ad.

Only this is sort of the opposite, Sunny thought as she worked the beer around in her mouth. Will swallowed, and so did Sunny. Val grinned and emptied the can. “Now we’re set,” she said.

Will started the truck, and they headed downtown.

“Has Will been keeping you in the loop on the investigation?” Val asked, her beery breath fogging the window.

“As much as he can, I guess,” Sunny replied. “Looks as if you’ve run out of suspects.”

“I know Neil doesn’t have the most rock-solid alibi, but he’s my witness, damn it,” Val scowled. “I don’t want him to be guilty. Maybe this gun show angle will turn up something new.”

She didn’t look very upbeat about it, though. “I’m thinking I may just have to pull Neil out of town. We’ve been over the crime scene and Treibholz’s hotel over in Portsmouth. His briefcase hasn’t turned up. Treibholz wasn’t a high-tech kind of guy. He worked off paper and a cell phone, and he never went anywhere without his briefcase. That’s disappeared, along with the file on his search for Nick Gatto.”

“So you’re afraid someone has that information.” Sunny frowned. “If that were the case, you’d think they’d have used it by now.”

“Maybe they’re still haggling over a sale,” Will suggested as he smoothly negotiated a turn. “I’m sure Jimmy the Chopper would pay big for it.”

“That’s a consideration.” Val’s face was grim as the truck’s heater finally kicked in, spreading the smell of beer through the cabin. “What I want to find is the leak that got Treibholz out here in the first place. We keep our cards pretty close to the vest in WitSec. Only three other people besides myself are supposed to know where Neil is.”

“Well, I know where we are.” Will pulled into a half-full parking lot fronting a wooden building that had once been painted white and had faded to a sort of moldy gray. “Welcome to beautiful O’Dowd’s.”

The long, low, squarish building looked like some sort of equipment shed that had grown beyond its useful size. It reminded Sunny of a block of cheese that had been nibbled by time instead of mice. The only sign that it was a business was a neon beer ad in one of the windows, and even that blinked on and off erratically, as if it were on its last legs.

“Let’s get the show on the road.” Will opened the door, slid from his seat, and then did the honors on the passenger-side door. Standing outside, Val sized up the place dubiously. “Can’t be worse than some of the places I’ve visited in the line of duty,” she said. “But you guys will owe me another meal in the Redbrick before I get out of town.”

She sauntered up to the front door, a featureless plywood panel with a handle bolted on, pulled, and swore under her breath. “Stupid thing’s stuck.”

“Yeah, the wood swells.” Will began reaching for the handle. But Val gave a sudden heave and the door swung open, letting out a blare of music and top-of-the-voice conversation, as well as a cloud of cigarette smoke flavored with beer fug.

Val sniffed appreciatively. “I think there’s a little weed in there, too.”

She swaggered in with Will and Sunny right behind. The interior décor was pretty much as it had been when Sunny and her college friends used to come in for a little underage drinking. Back then, O’Dowd’s had been seedy, with a long bar against the back wall and scattered tables made from splintery plywood. Posters from long-forgotten rock bands dotted the walls, fumed into sepia tones from the cigarette smoke that hung in the air. State law made bars smoke free more than ten years ago, but the clientele wasn’t the most law-abiding sort.