Клэр Донелли - Last Licks

Actually, Shadow had to count himself lucky. Some of those boxes were heavy. If one of those had landed on him, that wouldn’t have been a good thing. But he managed to bounce from falling box to falling box, getting his claws in another pile of boxes, riding out a vertical descent to the floor, where he crouched as cartons bounced around him, finally coming to rest.

He lay in a sort of cave created when two boxes landed on either side of him and a third dropped to create a roof. The top box landed on its side, and its contents spilled out. Shadow came out to sniff, but it was nothing exciting—just more of those strange paper things that Sunny kept on the shelves in her room. Sometimes she’d take one down and flip papers over, staring at the things for hours. Shadow would come up behind her shoulders to watch, but nothing exciting ever happened. No food fell out from between the papers, and all he ever smelled was dust. He stopped paying any attention to them.

From the sound of things, though, there was plenty of excitement nearby. Sunny raised her voice, calling Shadow’s name. And the male human made some loud, angry noises.

The two-legs worked their way back to him, moving boxes out of the way. Sunny gave a great cry when she finally spotted Shadow, scooping him up in her arms, making sure he wasn’t hurt, looking concerned.

Shadow relaxed as she cradled him, a faint purr rising from his chest. Yes, she was definitely sorry for the trouble earlier. Shadow was happy until he glanced over to the male human. The look he was getting there made him glad he wasn’t living with that one. Glares like that usually meant he’d be out on the street in two shakes of his tail.

The humans went back to clearing space on the floor, but this time they didn’t pile the boxes so high. That was fine with Shadow. He’d had enough of jumping for the time being. Instead, he watched Sunny and her He work. Finally Sunny exclaimed something, pulling out a carton.

Shadow couldn’t figure out what the big deal was. But Sunny and her male friend took it to the open front of the little house, tearing open the top of the carton and removing a strange, boxy thing. It had a tail, and Sunny took the end and stuck it into the wall. The box started to hum. Shadow got down from his perch and cautiously advanced, almost stalking his way forward. When Sunny touched it and it growled, Shadow jumped back. This wasn’t good. Sunny was bigger than the thing, but what happened if it bit her? At least it didn’t seem to have legs, so it couldn’t chase her . . . or him.

Sunny’s male friend came with papers in his hand, thrust them into the top of the boxy thing—and it ate them! Not only that, but it made loud growling and crunching noises while it did.

Shadow carefully stayed behind Sunny’s leg, peering suspiciously at the strange hungry box. This was like a lot of the stuff two-legs kept around. Shadow wasn’t sure whether they were alive or not, like the go-fast things humans rode in, or the box with pictures of people inside. This one didn’t move around, but it seemed to like chewing up paper. And even stranger, you could look into its belly and see all the chewed-up paper lying in a heap!

That might be a good idea, Shadow thought. If Sunny could see into my belly, she’d always know when I was hungry and feed me.

But then, what would happen to his beautiful fur coat? This eat-’em-up thing with its see-through belly lived in a box. Even stupid Biscuit Eaters wouldn’t put up with that. They’d want to run around, woofing.

The box-thing stopped growling, and Sunny and her He stepped away from it. Shadow crept forward, extending a wary paw. He gave the boxy thing a tap. It didn’t growl; it didn’t even move. But that transparent belly-thing seemed to wobble. That gave Shadow an idea. He pushed harder, shoving with both forepaws, and the boxy thing fell over, its clear belly falling away and all those little strips of paper spilling all over the floor.

This was wonderful! Shadow leaped on the largest pile of paper, scattering the strips, rolling on them, having a grand old time until Sunny and her friend came back. Sunny had a big, black, plastic bag, and oh, did she make noise when she saw Shadow in the make-believe snowdrift he’d created.

Shadow expected Sunny’s He to make even more noise—human males usually got angry and loud in the houses Shadow had lived in.

But this one just stood quietly, shaking his head.

*

Sunny and Willspent a remarkable amount of time collecting the paper shreds, bagging them . . . and keeping them out of Shadow’s reach. “If we ever have to do this again, I vote we burn the evidence instead,” Will said, glaring down at the cat. “You are one crazy creature.”

Sunny had to go along with that opinion, but it seemed to be the only thing they agreed on for the whole trip to Bridgewater Hall. Sunny tried to lay it out logically. “Okay, maybe we’ve got a new lead here. But how do we find some proof? More importantly, who even gets to hear it?” she asked. “If we go to Dr. Reese for corroboration, we’ll open exactly the can of worms Rafe was afraid of. Reese will know we’ve been looking at files illegally. Do we talk to Rafe and let him know one of his union people might be a viable suspect? Where will his loyalties lie?”

Will kept his eyes on the road. “I say first we find out who this C. Thibaud is. Then we talk to him or her. Then we make up our minds.”

“What kind of questions can we even ask?” Sunny wanted to know. “I can’t see us strolling up and saying, “Gee, have you noticed that a lot of people die when you happen to work the late shift?”

Will’s lips quirked. “Whenever you talk to a murder suspect, you have to expect that they’re on their guard, even if they’re innocent.”

“But here we don’t even know if there are murders,” Sunny burst out. “We went to outside doctors, and they told us that Gardner could have died of a stroke. We have a handful of deaths that we think are statistically relevant based on the numbers. Strokes, according to the cause of death in the papers Rafe gave us. Maybe five really sick patients in a row got transferred from a hospital to the nursing home and then died. I don’t think it’s impossible. That article my dad mentioned to me said that nursing homes get patients who are frailer and sicker these days. That three years is an average life expectancy. Some live longer, and some go quicker. Maybe a lot quicker.”

“That’s an interesting philosophy for someone who’s looking for foul play,” Will said.

“I suppose that’s what Ollie wants. But call me naïve, I have a hard time believing that someone is stalking the corridors in that place looking to bump people off. I might expect it in a big city like New York, but this is my hometown, for crying out loud. I rode my bike around town. The dangerous neighborhood was the streets around O’Dowd’s on a Friday night, because people might get liquored up and drive like idiots.”

Sunny glanced over at Will. “I know you’re a cop, you see a lot of things I don’t. And I know things have changed. Crimes that only used to happen in big cities are turning up in small towns now. But in my heart, I can’t imagine that stuff happening in Kittery Harbor . . . or Bridgewater.” She grinned. “This isn’t like Dr. Gavrik’s hometown, where her relatives were ready to kill the neighbors.”

“I can understand what you’re saying.” Will’s voice got softer. “I grew up around here, too, remember. But as you say, I’ve been a cop. I’m trained to look for foul play.”

In the end, they decided to ask Rafe about C. Thibaud without explaining the possibilities. Sunny called his number, forgetting until the phone was ringing that he was probably sound asleep after his night shift. But he answered anyway, and didn’t sound too upset.