Клэр Донелли - Catch As Cat Can

“She hasn’t been home with her mom in a while,” she said aloud. “Some things could come as a shock—like me driving for Helena when it’s too dark out.”

“I don’t think—” Mike stopped again. “I guess it’s less of a shock than getting called home to find someone in a hospital bed with an oxygen thingy under his nose.”

Idea planted. Good time to change the subject, Sunny thought. “Are you going for your walk today?” Part of Mike’s recuperation involved a daily three-mile hike, not easy to accomplish in the teeth of a polar vortex.

“I’m going to do it indoors, up in outlet-land,” Mike replied as he dished out the oatmeal. “That’s why I need a good, solid breakfast, so I won’t be tempted by all the junk food giveaways.”

Sunny ate her breakfast, then knelt to say good-bye to Shadow. “You stay around here and try not to get into trouble,” she said as the cat stared up at her. Glancing at her dad, she added, “Can you make sure he doesn’t sneak out?”

“He doesn’t sneak out because of me ,” Mike responded. “But I’ll keep an eye out. Promise.”

Sunny kissed him, got her mustard-colored coat, and headed for her Wrangler and the ride into town.

The good news was that she made decent time and even found a spot near the MAX office. The bad news was that the lights in the office were on. Sunny glanced around the block and spotted Oliver Barnstable’s Land Rover across the street. So much for deconstructing the shopping cart software, she told herself. I’m not going to try doing that with the boss looking over my shoulder.

She came inside, calling, “Morning, Ollie” as she walked through the door.

He looked up from the papers spread across the desk to the clock on the wall. There were still a couple of minutes until the official start of the business day. “Hi, Sunny.”

Truth be told, the boss had mellowed considerably from the days when Sunny had started out in her job and secretly called him Ollie the Barnacle. He’d been heavier, redder-faced, and often ill-tempered, whether from a hangover or sheer orneriness. The ornery side still showed up every once in a while, but Ollie had gotten a lot better, thanks, strangely enough, to a broken leg. Going through physical therapy in a rehab setting had separated Ollie from a lot of bad habits, and his relationship with an attractive occupational therapist had kept him more or less on the straight and narrow.

Sunny began the usual office chores, starting the coffee machine, booting up the computer, checking emails, and responding to requests for information or reservations. They worked together in silence until Ollie asked, “Did you notice whether Neil Garret’s place was open?”

“The gate was down over the door when I came in,” Sunny replied after a moment’s thought.

Ollie nodded. “Is he usually this late to open on a weekday?”

“Sometimes.”

Ollie nodded again. “I ask because he’s also late with the rent this month—unless he gave it to you yesterday.”

Sunny didn’t want to get into this, but she also didn’t want to find herself in the middle. “The fish place was closed yesterday—all day as far as I could tell. Maybe Neil was sick—”

She was interrupted by the metallic clang of a metal door gate being rolled up.

“Sounds as though Neil has turned up.” Ollie rose from behind his desk. “I think I’ll go over and invite him in for a cup of coffee.”

When he came back with Neil Garret, the fish store owner didn’t look sick. A little tired, maybe. His eyes were bloodshot, and he stifled a yawn as he came in. In a wool flannel shirt and heavy jeans, he looked like about eighty percent of Kittery Harbor’s male population—the folks who didn’t wear ties to work. “Hi, Sunny,” he said.

Sunny moved over to the coffeemaker. “Milk and one sugar, right?” She was just as glad to put a little distance between them. Neil had a distinct whiff of fish around him today. She filled a cup, glad that Ollie had sprung for a fresh carton of milk, and passed it to Neil, who took a seat opposite Ollie’s desk.

“Running late today?” Ollie asked, sticking his nose in his own cup of coffee.

“Early, actually,” Neil replied. “I caught the fishing boats as they were coming in, took a couple of captains out to breakfast. I’ve found it pays to keep up the connections.” He took an appreciative sip of coffee. “Much better than the sludge you get at that diner by the waterfront.”

“Just checking to make sure you’re all right,” Ollie said. “There’s a little question of rent.”

Neil made a face as if the coffee had suddenly turned rancid. “I know,” he said a little shamefacedly. “Had to straighten out a couple of accounts. You’ll see the whole sum by the end of the week.”

“Good to know.” Ollie’s voice was offhand, but his eyes told a different story. Give me my money, and don’t waste it on a bunch of floating losers.

When Neil first opened the store, he often met the fishing boats as they came in. Sunny would see him walking past her window with a pair of fish wrapped in newspaper under each arm. “I pay a little more than they’d get in the market at Portsmouth, but you can’t get it any fresher.”

Sunny wondered if that’s where the smell came from . . . or if Neil had come empty-handed from his meeting this morning.

She got distracted when she saw Will walk past the window with a strange woman—a big gal, with shiny dark hair falling to her shoulders and a parka hanging open over a heavy Norwegian sweater. The clothing might be casual, but the woman had the same moves as Will, an easy sense of authority that suggested she was some sort of cop. She caught Will by the arm, nodding through the window. A second later, they came into the office.

“Sunny, Ollie, Neil,” Will greeted them, “this is Val Overton.”

Val gave Sunny a smile full of gleaming teeth. “Nice to meet you. Will’s told me a lot about you.”

Sunny gave Will a grin. “Are you bringing in professional help for my poor, traumatized cat?” She turned to Val. “I thought I’d met all the animal control and humane officers roundabouts working with Jane Rigsdale and her adopt-a-pet program, but you’re a new face.”

That got a hearty laugh from the other woman. “Good guess. Lord knows I’ve dealt with a lot of animals, but they all walked on two legs.” She whipped out a leather case bearing a star rather than a badge. “U.S. Marshal.”

“Whoa,” Sunny said, impressed. “We don’t see many of those in these parts.”

God, she thought, I’m beginning to sound like an old Western movie.

Val didn’t seem to notice. “I’m just a glorified government process server.”

Ollie shot Will the look of a man betrayed. What with the navy yard across the river and all the local pies he has fingers in, Ollie might be afraid of someone dropping federal paper on him , Sunny thought.

But Val Overton didn’t present an envelope. “The sheriff’s office lent me Will here as local liaison. As we were walking past, he mentioned what happened to your cat yesterday. I figured he might as well stop in and check if there’s anything new.”

“After bringing out such big guns for such a small-town matter, I’m sorry that I don’t have anything to report,” Sunny said. “The victim ate heartily last night and this morning and seemed to sleep just fine. I was only kidding about him being traumatized.”

“Something happened to Shadow?” Neil sounded upset. “He was just in the other day, after a little piece of fish like always.”

“Seems as though some nut tried to hang Sunny’s cat right outside your store,” Val said. “You didn’t see anything?”