Клэр Донелли - Hiss And Tell

“He showed me, too, the first time I visited here.” Genevieve’s voice was tart. “It sounded very mysterious and exciting, but what it came down to was a ten-by-ten deck, and the wind off the water was freezing.”

“Maybe you should tell Sunny about the copse,” Priscilla said with a naughty look.

“The cops?” Sunny repeated. “You mean the security people? The troopers?”

“No, C-O-P-S-E,” Cillie spelled it out. “It’s a little thicket of trees out by the point, probably the wildest spot you’ll find around here.” She gestured at the manicured lawns around them. “There used to be a gazebo in the middle, but it lost most of its roof the year I was born. So now it’s a romantic ruin, a bower—”

“Inspiration point,” Tommy Neal put in. “Every teenager’s dream: quiet, secluded, and yeah, I guess romantic. Just remember to bring a thick blanket along. That old wood can get splintery.”

“Very practical,” Priscilla scolded him. She waggled her eyebrows at Sunny. “It may not be the grotto at the Playboy mansion, but in our family, it has . . . history.”

“History that Sunny won’t be sharing on her blog, I hope.” Genevieve tried to sound like the adult here, but Sunny noticed a faint blush on her cheeks.

Looks as if Genevieve visited the copse at some point, too, Sunny thought.

“That’s the wrong kind of romantic past I’m looking for,” she assured them. “I’m doing the blog for a family paper, not Eagle Eye. ”

They arrived at the tennis court, and conversation switched to the upcoming match.

“Dad might surprise you,” Carson said to the group. “He plays a darned good game of tennis. The competitive streak in him, you know.”

“But Uncle Cale is younger,” Cillie said to Carson. “And he’s in pretty good shape.”

“We’ll see.”

Augustus de Kruk arrived in a set of tennis whites, prompting Sunny to wonder what other wardrobe items he traveled with—white tie and tails? A scuba outfit? And while he wasn’t as svelte as Lem or Tom, his legs, exposed in shorts, were muscular. So were his arms.

Cale looked a little uncomfortable in what looked like borrowed whites from one of his nephews. They were a little tight, especially at the waist, but his legs were tanned and brawny, and his arms were ropey with muscles.

He must get a lot of exercise hauling the sails on his boat, Sunny thought.

They squared off, and Augustus asked, “Shall we spin the racquet to see who serves first?”

“Since you’re the guest,” Cale replied, “I’ll let you make the choice.”

Augustus chose to serve, and they were off. The Emperor had a strong serve, and Cale’s response to his shots was always just a hair too late. His returns were rushed, not going where he aimed them; it was clear to Sunny that he just wasn’t quite in the game. He’d battle back a little, but then Augustus would quickly regain the upper hand.

Sunny maintained the silent decorum that tennis required, even though she was more used to rowdy softball games where raucous comments from the sidelines were the norm rather than the exception. Several times she was tempted to holler at Cale to get the lead out . . . and then she noticed something. Cale wasn’t even breathing hard.

She leaned over to whisper in Priscilla’s ear. “Is your uncle throwing this game?” Cillie turned from the action on the court to give Sunny a knowing look, whispering, “Augustus has made a couple of nominal donations to the foundation, but Uncle Cale wants to hit him up for something more substantial.”

Sunny smiled. What better way to loosen the purse strings than to lose gracefully?

In the end, Augustus enjoyed a handsome victory, not too easily won, and accepted the congratulations of the bystanders with a satisfied smile.

Old Cale might not be fighting for reelection, but he’s as much a politician as anyone in the family, Sunny told herself. Looks like a case of o nce a Kingsbury, always a Kingsbury.

Sunny, Cillie, Carson, and Tommy headed back to the pool and some late afternoon sun. The evening meal offered the usual buffet plus a rehash of the tennis game between Cale and Augustus. Sunny was glad to have a little time to herself afterward. Scarcely getting out of the property for days was beginning to feel a bit too claustrophobic for her taste. Sunny left the compound for a good reason, searching for Shadow. But, even though she worried about what kind of predicaments he might get himself into, she found herself enjoying fresh air without the need to wear a mask of decorum. She just about pounced on her cell phone when a text message came in from Will:

DUG UP A LITTLE, WANT 2 DISCUSS. WILL CALL.

By the time Will called, Sunny had circled around to the block where they usually met, arriving well ahead of him. She spent the time looking around in the bushes but found no sign of her trouble-causing kitty. As Will pulled up, she waved and quickly climbed in, asking, “What did you find?”

“I did some checking up on Lee Trehearne,” Will said. “He served in the army—Iraq—and when his enlistment was up, worked for a private security firm there. Not to say there weren’t good men in those companies—”

“But they have a reputation for acting like cowboys,” Sunny finished. “And a lot of money disappeared from the supposed nation building after the war. Was there any hint of something Trehearne could be blackmailed over?”

“Not that I found,” Will began, but that was as far as he got before a white sheriff’s department cruiser screeched around the corner in front of them, and a similar vehicle pulled in behind, effectively boxing them in. Captain Ingersoll got out of the rear car, stalking over to Will’s pickup and gesturing that the window come down.

“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear, Constable Price.” Ingersoll’s hoarse voice grated out the words. “When I said you were relieved of your duties here, I meant that you were no longer connected with this case. So you had no reason to go searching into the military records of the chief of security at Neal’s Neck, much less turn up here. Perhaps the sheriff was willing to turn a blind eye to these little personal projects of yours”—he glared at Sunny as if this were all her fault—“but the new administration will not tolerate failure to obey orders. So let me put this in words you can understand, Price. You are off the Stoughton case. You are off the Nesbit case. I do not want you interfering in the ongoing investigation. I don’t even want to see you on the streets of Wilawiport. You get that now? I hope like hell you do. I’m told you’re a good officer. Don’t make me fire you.”

16

Shadow crouched inthe underbrush, feeling his disappointment turn to anger. For a moment, he’d let his hopes rise again. Maybe this time, Sunny was going home with her He.

But then the noise had started, not from Sunny and the male, but from those white go-fast things, and that Fat One hollering. Shadow crept closer to catch a whiff of the shouting two-legs. No trace of Smells Good. That was a relief. If Sunny had gotten involved with a human like that, there was no hope of staying with her.

Sunny got out of the black go-fast thing, and her He drove off. The Fat One got into his vehicle and zoomed away, too.

Only Sunny was left, standing by herself. She looked very lonely there in the darkness. For a second, Shadow wanted to go charging toward her, pounce on her foot, make her laugh, and just be with her. But Sunny had ignored him when he needed a two-legged friend, when the others were chasing him. And then she and her He had tried to grab him themselves.

Right now, Shadow wasn’t certain he could trust Sunny. What if he came to her and she grabbed him? Or worse, pushed him away? No, his heart would surely break.