Клэр Донелли - Last Licks

“Sorry about the delay in answering,” Sunny said. “We had a little incident with Shadow trying to get out earlier, and—” She fluttered her hands. “And here I am. What can I do for you?”

“Toby and I were out for our walk, and we heard two very odd stories,” Mrs. M. said. “One was from Florence Gaddis. She was driving back from town last night, and she swears that she saw you, Will, and Mike standing in the parking lot of O’Dowd’s.”

“Well,” Sunny admitted, “she’s right. We were actually there last night.” She hurried on at the shocked expression on Mrs. Martinson’s face. “A friend was playing some music there, the therapist I’d told you about from Bridgewater Hall.”

“The young man.” Now Helena’s expression looked disappointed. Not only had she not been included in an outing with Mike, but she’d missed a chance to meet possible matchmaking material for Sunny.

“We couldn’t think of asking you there,” Sunny said desperately. “I’m sure you’ve heard what a cesspool it is.”

“I went to O’Dowd’s once . . . years ago,” Mrs. Martinson said. “If your friend does another show there, let me know.”

Sunny knew when she was licked. “Of course,” she promised.

Helena nodded and tightened her grip on Toby’s leash, not meeting Sunny’s eyes.

“You, ah, said there were two odd things?” Sunny finally prompted.

Mrs. M. looked as though she’d been roused from a reverie. “Goodness, where does my mind go sometimes? That’s right, another friend mentioned that Alfred Scatterwell is having a memorial for his uncle at the mansion tomorrow evening.”

“Oh, really?” Sunny said.

Mrs. Martinson nodded. “It will be the first time the place will be open since Gardner stopped giving parties—which has to be twenty-five years now. With all his absences, traveling and so on, I wonder how the old place has held up.”

“You should go and see,” Sunny suggested.

But Mrs. Martinson shook her head and looked down.

A simple headshake might have meant that the event was invitation-only and good manners prevented Helena from going. But Sunny knew why Mrs. M. didn’t want to meet her eyes. She didn’t want Sunny to see the struggle going on inside—between the Kittery Harbor Way, which demanded that everyone’s passing be marked; Helena’s negative history with Gardner and her desire to have nothing to do with him; and of course, a curiosity as lively as Shadow’s own over what had become of what had once been one of the swankiest homes in Piney Brook.

“I know I’m going to see what I can find out about Gardner and Alfred, even if it means crashing, and so is Will,” Sunny told her neighbor. “As for Dad, well, if he was visiting Gardner when he was laid up, I’m sure he’ll feel obliged to go to the memorial. I don’t want to put words in his mouth, but I suspect he’d be glad to have you come along, too.”

Helena finally looked up, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you, dear.”

“No problem at all,” Sunny assured her. “I’ll have Dad call you.”

Mrs. Martinson got Toby back from the door and waved good-bye.

Sunny waved back. Isn’t that part of the Kittery Harbor Way? she asked herself. Helping your neighbors?

13

Sighing, Sunny closedthe door and headed back to the kitchen. “Any excitement here?”

“None whatsoever,” Will reported. “No noise, no attempted jailbreaks. The prisoner just drank some water—and sent a few dirty looks my way.”

Sunny laughed. “Welcome to my life.” She noticed that while she was gone, Will had collected the lunch dishes and washed them. A definite point in his favor. But her heart sank when she saw the pile of paper on the otherwise bare table.

The incriminating files. Or rather, she corrected herself, the possibly incriminating files. If we’re right, they may show a whole series of criminal acts. And of course, the blasted things will be incriminating for us, too, if we get caught with confidential files.

“Hey, Will, have we got what we needed from these papers now?” she asked.

Will showed her the piece he’d been writing on. “I’ve got a list of the night shift people plus the three fill-ins, and the dates of the deaths in question. Cause of death is all the same—a stroke. I’d say that’s more than we’d have hoped for.”

She bit her lip. “Then what do you say we get rid of them?”

“Good idea.” Will nodded toward the cat. “I vote we give Shadow the job of shredding them.”

Sunny groaned. “I’ve got a decent paper shredder, but it’s in the garage with my New York stuff.”

“Will we have to move a lot of boxes to unearth it?” he asked.

“Just the winter clothes,” Sunny said. And maybe a few other things, she silently added.

*

Shadow followed Sunnyand her He out the kitchen door to the little house in the back. Some humans he’d known kept their go-fast machines in these houses. But Sunny and the Old One filled the space with things that were much more interesting—cardboard boxes of all shapes and sizes, just perfect for a cat to climb on—and maybe sometimes use as a scratching post.

When he entered the little house, his eyes went wide. Sunny and her He were rearranging the boxes, piling them up in new configurations. The He made “oof” noises and didn’t seem all that happy with the work. But Sunny kept talking, pointing deeper into the space as they cleared a path on the floor.

That wasn’t too interesting as far as Shadow was concerned. What he watched was the way the two humans piled boxes higher and higher as they moved farther in.

Maybe Sunny wants the He to make up for grabbing me, Shadow thought, watching a tower of boxes by the door that rose several times his height. He gathered himself, then launched into a vertical leap that just cleared the top. The construction swayed a little as he landed, but that was okay. This was fun!

Shadow played it safer getting back to the floor, jumping down a series of shorter piles, staircase fashion. When Shadow finally dropped to the concrete floor, he looked up to find that Sunny’s He had created a real challenge. This was the tallest stack yet, looming not just over Shadow but over Sunny. Shadow backed up—he’d need some momentum for this leap. It would be a record-setter.

Still keeping his eyes on the target, he retreated right out of the little house, until he felt the warmth of the sun on his hindquarters. Then he made a wild charge, moving from a lunge to a lope to a run. The huge pile came closer and closer, he’d have to time this right, or he’d end up crashing into the cardboard tower. Now!

Shadow pushed off with his rear legs, getting the most out of his running start. Up, up, up he went, but the cardboard mountain rose higher. Was he going to fail? He didn’t like the idea of taking a tumble back to that hard floor.

But no, there was the flat top of the crowning box. Shadow pounced with his forefeet, his claws sinking into the cardboard, letting him hold on as he scrabbled with his rear legs. It wasn’t the most elegant landing, but he’d made it! He was at the top of the world!

Except . . . the pillar of boxes began to sway, a scary, sickening movement. Shadow wasn’t sure whether he should hang on or jump.

The decision was taken out of his paws as the pile moved too far over and began to topple. That box he’d struggled so hard to reach slid off and then went out from under him, leaving Shadow scrabbling with all four legs in thin air. He let out a yowl of surprise that was pretty well lost in the crash of boxes landing back in the open space the two-legs had cleared.