Клэр Донелли - Hiss And Tell

As the diners broke up, the Senator gestured for Sunny to join him, causing a lot of people to glance at her in surprise. That certainly didn’t untie the knot in her stomach.

For once, though, he didn’t launch into oratory. “I suppose I can’t fault your instincts,” he said. “But this has been difficult enough without having our name further splashed around.”

“I’m a guest here, sir, and I’m aware that involves obligations,” Sunny told him. “I’m not here to break any sensational stories.”

Sunny’s conciliatory manner seemed to placate the Senator. For now, at least. But just because she wasn’t putting out the news on her blog or the Courier , that didn’t mean Sunny intended to keep it all to herself. She headed off to the guesthouse and the privacy of her room, got out her cell phone, and called her father. “Hi, Dad. Just checking in.”

“With everything else that’s going on, I’ve been debating whether to call you,” Mike said. “The furball has disappeared—apparently right after you left. You know how he takes off sometimes for a few days. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“No worry,” she assured her dad. “Turns out, he followed me here—stowed away in my bag, no less. You won’t believe the trouble he’s caused.”

“Oh, I’d believe it,” Mike replied in a dry voice. His relationship with Shadow definitely had its ups and downs. “Have you gotten hold of him again? Should I drive over with the cat carrier?”

“Right now he’s still on the loose, but I’ll do my best to try and coax him.” Sunny shook her head at the mental picture of trying to get Shadow into the carrier against his will. “I don’t think we have to worry about transporting him yet. How are you doing?”

“Enjoying a cat-free house.” As Mike replied, Sunny heard a female voice speak in a scolding undertone. Mrs. Martinson?

Don’t ask, don’t tell, Sunny decided. She chatted for a moment more and then hung up. But she didn’t put the phone away, instead dialing Will Price’s number.

“Can’t really talk, I’m busy crime busting.” He must have recognized her caller ID, because he was doing a perfect Dudley Do-Right impersonation.

Sunny laughed. “And where are you pursuing this crusade?”

“They’ve got me patrolling the interstate through outlet-land,” he replied. “No demon speeders rushing to get last-minute bargains will avoid the long arm of the law.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Sunny said. “But when you finish your righteous work, maybe you can come by and talk to me. There’s been a development.”

Will dropped the voice. “You think you’ve got something?”

“I think Lieutenant Wainwright has something,” she responded, “and I think we should talk about it. There are a couple of things to consider, and I think two heads are better than one.”

“All right,” he said. “I’ll call you when I’m up there.”

Sunny closed her phone and then debated what to do. Maybe a quiet stroll through the nearby streets to see if she could get in touch with the feline avenger . . .

That thought got interrupted by an almost timid tap at her door. Sunny opened it to find Cillie Kingsbury and Carson de Kruk outside.

“Can we talk?” Cillie was almost whispering.

Sunny motioned them inside and closed the door.

“I saw that my grandfather spoke to you after supper,” Priscilla said. “I hope he wasn’t—too much. But you have to understand, this can be embarrassing.”

Murders often are, Sunny’s snarky alter ego silently wisecracked.

“It’s just that everybody knows how my father is on TV.” Carson fumbled for words. “I hear how people call him Emperor Augustus and even make fun of him. He hates being laughed at, but he can live with it. That’s just his TV image. But this thing about cats, it’s beyond his control. I don’t know if you’re a cat person . . .”

Priscilla might have found out when she visited. But Sunny remembered that she’d cleared the living room of Shadow’s toys. And Shadow had been his usual standoffish self, not putting in an appearance when company came calling.

“I know we asked you here,” Cillie rushed in, “and you are a reporter and all, but do you think you could keep that part private?”

Carson’s eyes were pleading. “Dad’s not as impervious as he seems, and if this got out, it would really crush him.”

It took Sunny a moment to switch gears, understanding what they were concerned about. But she said, “Nobody’s going to hear about that incident from me—that’s a promise.”

The couple gave a simultaneous sigh of relief.

“But,” she warned, “there are probably tons of pictures and maybe film of Lee Trehearne and his security crew chasing that cat off Neal’s Neck. Some newspeople may begin asking questions.”

She decided not to reveal what the Senator had actually discussed with her, the discovery of where the murder weapon had come from. The prospective bride and groom had enough on their minds.

And Wainwright would probably kill me for letting the cat out of the bag, Sunny thought.

When they asked her to join them downstairs in the living room, Sunny didn’t see any polite way to refuse. She was soon roped into a game of Scrabble, which Beau opted out of, dozing in an armchair. They did teams again. Peter Van Twissel performed a lot better than he had at beer pong—and a lot less belligerently.

By the time the scores were totaled up, a glance at her watch told Sunny that Will was probably on his way. While the rest of the group headed upstairs, Sunny went outside to sit on the fieldstone porch.

If this were a movie, I’d look over and find Shadow sitting on the railing, she thought. But when she turned her head, the railing was empty. Sunny shook her head. He never was a cinematic cat.

Her cell phone began bleating. Sunny opened it and put it to her ear.

“I’m here,” Will said. “A little down the road from the usual place.”

Sunny got up, walked down the steps, and past the roadblock. Instead of a blue Kittery Harbor police cruiser, there was now a white sheriff’s department vehicle parked there, with a guy in a forest green uniform behind the wheel. She walked past him and turned the corner. Will’s black pickup sat about halfway down the block.

“Let’s just sit here quietly,” he suggested, opening the passenger door for her. “So what did Wainwright find?”

“You may have heard already,” Sunny said. “They found the murder weapon in a storm drain.”

“The only thing I’ve heard was a lot of standard-issue radio chatter,” Will told her. “Ingersoll wants me as far from this case as possible.” He looked tired after his shift, but his eyes gleamed with interest. “So what was the weapon?”

“A fishing knife,” Sunny began, but she was interrupted by a thump in front of them.

Sunny let out a stifled yelp, and Will went for his gun. But this wasn’t the mad murderer who went after people sitting in their cars. They turned to find a familiar figure sitting on the front hood of the pickup. It was Shadow, regarding them with enigmatic, gold-flecked eyes.

15

Shadow sat lookingin the window, his tail twitching back and forth. After being wakened from his new sleeping place, he’d thought the go-fast thing rolling to a stop looked familiar. Then he saw Sunny’s He come out. And what happened then? Sunny herself turned up.

Finally!

He watched as they talked, creeping closer as they got into the vehicle. He listened, too. The good thing was that they weren’t making any loud noises or hitting at one another. But as he spied on them, Shadow noticed their heads weren’t close together, either. And she and the male two-legs sounded serious rather than happy as they sat together.