Клэр Донелли - Hiss And Tell

Sunny gave an uneasy nod. “Frankly, I’m more worried for the cat.”

Another voice joined the conversation. “He seemed like a nice cat.” Yardley Neal came out to stand beside Sunny. “I saw him earlier today. I just thought he was a neighborhood cat wandering around. He visited over at the pool this afternoon. He didn’t like the water and the splashing, but he wasn’t at all hissy with me.”

“I bet you didn’t try to grab him,” Sunny said.

“No, but he let me pet him.” Yardley smiled. “We had kitties all the time I was growing up. Pumpernickel and Daffodil. Daffodil liked flowers. I have no idea how Pumpernickel got his name. Anyway, that cat had good manners. He didn’t stick his nose into things. I fed him some cold cuts from our sandwiches.”

Well, at least that means he ought to have plenty of energy to escape Trehearne’s Raiders, Sunny consoled herself. “I’m going to take a walk,” she said. Maybe she could find Shadow. But then what would she do? Wrap him up in her jacket and smuggle him to safety? Where would safety be?

*

Shadow ducked intothe cover of a flower bed, lying low among the greenery as another pair of two-legs went by. They wore the same black as the Clumsy One who’d tried to grab him, the one he’d marked with his claws. Maybe that made them all mad at him. Certainly, they seemed to be looking for him. But they didn’t know how to hunt or stalk. Their feet made crunching noises on the little rocks in the paths, and they talked—or those boxes on their shoulders talked. A cat would have to be deaf not to know when they were coming.

The only problem was, he couldn’t go back to try and find Sunny. He’d seen her there among the other two-legs when the Howling One had started in. That had brought the Clumsy One. At first Shadow thought he was trying to play the keep-away game, where Shadow stayed just out of reach. But that last attempt would have hurt if he’d gotten hold of Shadow, and Shadow had let him know it. He hadn’t expected all this excitement, though.

What really worried him, though, was how Sunny had stayed quiet while the Clumsy One came after him. Shadow knew she’d seen him, but she didn’t come to him or even say anything. It was as if she were pretending she didn’t even know him. That hurt, and the feeling began to turn to anger.

He’d also caught traces of the made smell while he’d stood on top of the wall. Did Sunny ignore him because she was with the one who wore that scent? Shadow silently snarled, stretching his paw so the claws slid out. He’d mark that one, too. But not Sunny, of course. He’d never do that to Sunny. But he’d remember. She’ll have to do a lot before I forget how she deserted me, he promised.

Yes, he’d make her pay—as soon as he found her. But where could he do that? He headed back to that odd-smelling house where she seemed to be staying.

*

Sunny zigzagged acrossNeal’s Neck, looking for places where a cat might hide. She tried the pool area, since Shadow had successfully mooched a meal there. But he wasn’t in the cabana. So she strolled on, paying special attention to plantings and shrubs. Shadow always surprised her with his ability to scrunch down and blend his tiger-striped body with the stems and leaves, especially in failing light. But she didn’t find much in the way of animal—all vegetable.

She remembered her dream from earlier, seeing Shadow in her bedroom window. Or had it really been a dream at all? At the time, she’d thought Shadow was still home. Now she knew he was here.

That’s why there was cat hair on my clothes, she realized. He didn’t roll on them in a snit, he stowed away in my bag!

On a surge of hope, Sunny set off on the path back to the guesthouses. Maybe Shadow had gone back to her room.

She’d almost reached the edge of the compound when she heard shouting ahead. Sunny picked up her pace, afraid of what she’d find. Black-jacketed security men were dashing around the house where she was staying. One of them brandished an old fish-landing net, like an oversized butterfly catcher.

Sunny broke into a run. She reached the edge of the house to see Lee Trehearne and six security guys pounding after Shadow, who dodged and evaded. The man with the net tried to snag him, but Shadow wasn’t there when it landed, hitting the ground so hard that the wooden handle broke.

Shadow leaped away into the street, legs flashing.

Trehearne charged headlong after him, so focused on the cat that he almost crashed into the roadblock sawhorse when Shadow darted under it. The security chief skidded to a halt, suddenly aware of the state troopers staring at him . . . and of the photographers across the street. Shadow swerved to check on his pursuers, saw that he wasn’t being chased anymore, and slowed his pace to romp away at a trot, his tail held high.

Sunny had to hold a hand over her mouth to keep the laughter from coming out. The whole episode had looked like some sort of cartoon. But she felt a chill, too. Better be careful if you come back, Shadow, she aimed the thought at the retreating cat. Because now Trehearne might well try to shoot you.

That wasn’t the end of the incident, however. One of the troopers—Hank Riker, Sunny realized—walked over to the wrecked net, poking at it with his toe and talking with the security man who’d been carrying it. Then he spoke into the radio unit on his shoulder.

The amusing episode suddenly took on a more ominous tone, though Sunny couldn’t quite put her finger on what had changed the mood so quickly, and she didn’t feel confident enough to presume on Hank’s friendship with Will to just walk up and ask. But she got an answer about an hour later, when they’d all reassembled for dinner, and the Senator was called away to respond to unexpected guests. Sunny quickly excused herself too and left the dining room in time to see Lieutenant Ellis Wainwright heading up the stairs with a couple of troopers. Hank Riker stood at the foot of the stairway, obviously positioned to prevent anyone from following. The Senator was nowhere to be seen.

Sunny looked around, and saw they were alone. “Can you tell me what’s up?” she whispered to the trooper. “I saw you checking out the fishing net.”

“That was enough for Wainwright to get a search warrant,” Riker replied in an undertone. “We found the Nesbit murder weapon left in a storm drain. A very expensive fishing knife. Turns out Lemuel Kingsbury, the Senator’s late son, was a big fishing buff back in the day. The net was part of his old fishing tackle. So the Lieutenant figured it was worth looking into.”

“Priscilla’s dad?” Not to mention the father of Governors Lem and Tom, Sunny realized.

Riker nodded. “According to the Senator, the tackle box was still kept in his son’s old room.”

Sunny frowned.

Where Lem Junior and his wife are staying now .

A moment later, Wainwright appeared on the upstairs landing, not looking happy. “The knife is gone, but the gear’s all scattered,” she overheard him say as she stepped back out of his sight. “Whoever went to get that net must have been in a hurry. I think his are the only prints we’re likely to find.”

Sunny tried to edge even farther back, when she heard someone behind her and turned to find that she wasn’t the only eavesdropper. Thomas Neal Kingsbury, former U.S. Senator, stood scowling at her.

The Senator couldn’t call her out for doing what he himself had been attempting, especially not within earshot of the state police homicide investigator. But he obviously wasn’t happy with a reporter knowing about the latest development in the case; one that implicated his own grandson. Neither he nor Sunny enjoyed the meal after they returned to the dining room.