Клер Донелли - The Big Kitty

From Veronica’s tone, Ada might as well have been running a cathouse instead of a cat shelter.

“And the board has been very lax,” Veronica complained. “I’ve recommended punitive action—levying fines, for example. But even your father—despite his personal problems with Mrs. Spruance—wouldn’t live up to his responsibilities, I’m sorry to say.”

Good for Dad, Sunny thought. Except for a sprinkling of newcomers, most of the houses in the neighborhood were still owned by the “original settlers,” as they called themselves, or by their children. While Sunny could feel a little impatience when that close-knit feeling exhibited itself negatively as clannishness, she also shared their background. This was her home, and it was the Spruances’, too. Ada and Gordon Spruance—Gordon Senior—had bought their house as newlyweds. They’d raised a family, and Ada had grown old there. And maybe a little odd, too, Sunny privately admitted. But Ada had been a part of the community for decades. Where did Veronica Yarborough come off trying to change that?

“Perhaps Mrs. Spruance would have taken her lottery winnings and moved out, cats and all,” Sunny suggested.

“More likely, she’d have thrown the money away on kitty caviar and lawyers to harass the association.” Veronica moodily sipped her water. “The crazy old woman told me often enough that she intended to stay in that house until the day she died.”

“Well, that is what happened, isn’t it?” Sunny said brightly.

Veronica took another sip as she considered the implications. “There’s a son, isn’t there? Although he hasn’t lived on the property in some time.”

Sunny stayed silent, letting Veronica think aloud. “It might be possible to require him to make repairs—at least to paint the place. Certainly the board couldn’t argue with that. The son might have roots in the community, but he’s moved out. And the man has a criminal record, for heaven’s sake. We might even be able to levy fines for noncompliance, make it too expensive to keep the property—”

“I understand Oliver Barnstable has already made an offer on it,” Sunny said.

Veronica actually looked pleased. “The house could end up in worse hands. He’s one of the more forward-thinking people in this town. The right sort of renovations could bring a much more suitable family into the neighborhood.”

Yeah, you would think that, Sunny thought as she rose. “Well, I don’t want to take up too much of your Sunday afternoon.”

Veronica looked disconcerted. “I thought you were going to interview me.”

“First meetings are generally for background.” Sunny lied easily. “I think I have enough to start with. I’ll be in touch if I have more questions later.”

Frankly, Sunny had already heard enough from Veronica Yarborough. The woman hadn’t just declared war on Ada, she’d shown herself equally willing to carry on the war to the next generation, harassing Gordie. The homeowners’ association president definitely had a strong motive. Ada Spruance with a six-million-dollar war chest would have been a definite threat to Veronica’s plans to make this part of Kittery Harbor safe for “more suitable” residents.

And now that threat was gone.

*

His belly low,Shadow advanced to the top of the coffee table, moving each paw as silently as possible. Not that the prey he was stalking was going anywhere. The thick book sat at the far end of the table, near where the Old One sat dozing.

A change in breathing made Shadow lift his head up. The new Old One, he corrected himself. This one was male, and much quicker to anger than the old Old One … the dead Old One.

But this Old One just made a couple of lip-smacking noises and sighed, drifting into deeper sleep.

Shadow resumed his project. He’d never really considered why things fell. There were times when he’d fallen, sometimes twisting desperately in midair to land on his feet. But why was that? Why didn’t things stay as they were instead of tumbling down?

He got both his forepaws on the spine of the book, braced himself, pushed—and pushed again.

*

Sunny came homejust in time to see Shadow shove the thick book off the living room coffee table. He leaned over the edge as if fascinated by the falling object, letting out an odd meow of pleasure—more like a “Yow!”

Between that and the loud thump of the book hitting the floor, Mike Coolidge jerked awake. “Damned cat!”

Before he could say or do anything more, Shadow dodged backward, not afraid of Sunny’s father but with a practiced wariness that made Sunny wonder about Shadow’s history. As a stray, the cat had more than likely encountered the nasty side of human nature in the past.

Too bad I never had a chance to talk with Ada about Shadow before she died, Sunny said to herself. But then, I thought I had all the time in the world to ask her questions.

Shadow launched himself into a long leap, hitting the floor on the bounce and landing at Sunny’s feet, where he immediately started twining around her ankles.

She laughed, and Mike directed a sour look both at her and the cat. “Made me lose my place,” he grumbled. “Not that you care, with how he’s sucking up to you, Sunny.”

*

Shadow approached theNew One—Sunny, she seemed to be called—and worked his way around her ankles, inhaling deeply, enjoying some of the new smells she brought into the house. He inhaled a hint of wax and fragrant wood smoke.

Much better than the last time she’d come in, reeking of the Dead One’s house—and the Dead One’s stinking son, whose unwashed clothing had been bad enough, but who also radiated traces of anger and fear. And beneath that, another odor, not only unpleasant but threatening. It wasn’t just the stench of death; in his wanderings, Shadow had smelled plenty of dead things.

No, this smell was something deadly—toxic—that had led Shadow to name him the Stinky One.

6

The next afternoon,Sunny sat on one of the wharves in the harbor, eating lunch and staring at the sunlight on little rippling waves. Otherwise, there wasn’t much of a wonderful panorama to enjoy. Seavey’s Island and the naval shipyard blocked her view of deeper water. The town had installed benches at the head of each wharf for any footsore tourists enjoying the quaintness of the old downtown buildings. On a Monday, these piers were pretty much empty except for a few outdoor lunchers like Sunny, alone with her thoughts.

Shipbuilding made up an important piece of local history. Back in 1777, the sloop Ranger had been launched in these waters, sailing out under the command of John Paul Jones and into naval history.

Maybe that’s my problem, Sunny thought. I love this town, but I always thought of it as a place to come from, not a place to live. Dad is forever trying to get me to go out and meet people, but my friends—my real friends—have all left Kittery Harbor. To the people who stayed, I’m more a New Yorker than a local girl now.

She tossed the last crust from her sandwich onto the water, and a seagull wheeled to pounce on it.

I’ve been in a funk since I found out I was stuck up here—no, she corrected herself, even before.

As soon as she’d heard about her dad’s heart attack, she’d headed back to Kittery Harbor immediately, using up her vacation time and then applying for a leave of absence. Taking care of her father had been the first priority, of course. But Sunny had also thought it might be a good idea to put some distance between herself and the editor she’d been dating—the married editor. Although Randall had been separated from his wife for more than a year before Sunny started going out with him, he was obviously very conflicted on the idea of a divorce. Sunny believed both of them had to figure out exactly what their feelings were, and this would be an excellent opportunity to do that.