Клер Донелли - The Big Kitty

She reached the top of the hill and pulled over to the side of the road. It could have been worse. The sky was clear, and the air was crisp. She also had plenty of shade from the trees alongside the road. Wouldn’t want to do this in the heat of summer, Sunny mused. I’d have to wring myself out by the time I got to the office.

Leaning against the handlebars, she glanced over her shoulder at the way she’d come. A lot of the tourist propaganda—er, marketing materials—she wrote and edited talked about the rocky coast of Maine, and certainly the view from the water could be quite picturesque. But the southern part of the state got pretty green during the summer. She looked back over a landscape of rolling hills, the homes getting sparser, and then farmland. This was harvest season. The trees were just beginning to show a little color.

Sunny turned to the path ahead. From here it was downhill all the way. The road curved along the contours of the hills, passing streets where the houses grew closer together until, as you got close to the harbor, you also encountered the crooked streets of the old downtown business district. Sunny’s destination was at the edge of the built-up part of town, the so-called New Stores that had gone up when her dad was a kid.

She’d set out early enough to beat Kittery Harbor’s version of the morning rush. Nobody had passed her as she’d pumped her way uphill. In fact, the only car she saw on the road was coming from the direction of town.

When it came closer, she recognized it as Raj Richer’s racing green Jaguar. As Raj reached the crest, he apparently recognized her, too, and pulled the Jag over on the opposite side of the road.

The driver’s-side window rolled down, and his thin face appeared. He pulled off a pair of expensive sunglasses and gave her one of his tight-lipped smiles.

“I have to congratulate you,” he said. “That’s a very healthy way to go to work.”

“More like a necessary way,” Sunny told him. At least she wasn’t huffing and puffing as she spoke. “My car is out of commission, and my dad’s truck is waiting for a tow due to … let’s call it deferred maintenance.” She patted the bicycle. “Good thing I still had this hanging around. Otherwise, I don’t know how I’d be getting into town.”

“I’d be glad to offer you a ride,” Raj said. Then he broke off, shooting a look at the backseat.

No way, she knew, could she fold this big honking bike to fit back there. Even trying would shower dust and crud on those expensive leather seats.

Sunny gave him a wry smile. If I’d known about the possibility of a lift, maybe I’d have paid more attention to shining up the old girl instead of just making sure the tires were filled.

“Thanks for the kind thought,” she said. “But it’s no big deal. It really is all downhill from here.”

Another smile tugged at Raj’s lips. “I hope you’re only talking about the road, and not your day.”

Sunny laughed. “Hopefully,” she said. “How did you find your accommodations?”

“They were right where your directions said they’d be.” Raj’s eyes twinkled as his lips curved in a smile. “Joking aside, they’re perfect. The guest house is well-appointed, and I’ve enjoyed the pool … and my privacy. I picked up some supplies at that market down the block from your office—that Mr. Judson gave me quite a cross-examination.”

“He likes to get to know his customers,” Sunny told Raj, while silently cursing Zack Judson as a nosy old so-and-so. She hoped he hadn’t put Raj off from spending some more time around town. Not every tourist could afford the kind of rental the Rowlandsons were asking for their guest house.

As if reading her mind, Raj said, “He was most impressed when I told him where I was staying.”

“It’s one of the nicest places in town,” Sunny said. “If I could afford it, I’d go there for my vacation.”

Raj chuckled. “I’ll have to take good care of it, then.”

They said good-bye, and Sunny watched him head out into the country before she pushed off, rolling down into town.

Reaching the office, she checked her watch. Early—good. Sunny unlocked the door and trundled the bike inside, behind her desk. First things first. She unslung the messenger’s bag from over her shoulder, retrieved the cash box, and returned it to its usual drawer.

Then she took the bag into the bathroom. The dress code at MAX was pretty relaxed, so she could get away with jeans. But the faded Boston University sweatshirt she’d worn on the way here definitely wouldn’t qualify as business casual. She took a moment to freshen up, then slipped on a gray T-shirt and a deep blue cotton sweater.

Sunny fluffed her shaggy mane, fretting yet again how long her hair was getting. Maybe Mrs. Martinson could suggest a hairdresser who could handle unruly curls. After a final look in the tiny mirror, she shrugged. “Ready as I’m going to be,” she decided.

Getting behind her desk, she powered up the computer and began dealing with the morning’s e-mails.

She fielded a couple of calls, organizing lodging for the people who knew what they wanted and tailoring some information packets to send to the people who didn’t.

Ollie the Barnacle didn’t darken the door. If he’d learned of her side venture with Ken Howell, Ollie certainly must have heard about the bullet incident that had knocked out her car. Maybe he’d decided that coming in to hassle her some more would be overkill when she’d almost been shot.

Oddly enough, Sunny found herself worrying about Ken. If Ollie had been nasty to her when he’d heard about the story, how had he treated Sunny’s editor?

Barnstable was pretty tight with the county’s movers and shakers up in Levett. By agreeing to twist their tails, Howell had seriously annoyed his main investor. When it came down to it, Sunny could afford to follow this story—she could always get another job. Ken Howell had put his whole family heritage on the line.

While Ollie’s absence made for a more pleasant work environment, it also caused a small problem—all that extra money in the cash box. Sunny finally solved that by stopping at the bank when she began her lunch break and making a deposit into the company account.

Then she took her sandwich to the wharves and again fed some crusts to the seagulls while communing with the wind and water. Sunny even did her bit for local tourism, guiding an elderly couple down the cobblestone street to the navigation museum and taking their photo at the entrance.

She was a little behind schedule when she got back to work, and her heart sank when she found a Land Rover parked in the street, the office door unlocked, and Ollie Barnstable sitting in her chair, shouting into his cell phone.

Well, there goes my string of good luck, Sunny told herself. At least I didn’t have anything incriminating up on my computer screen.

Ollie’s angry voice penetrated her thoughts. “I don’t give a crap what your lawyer says. When I get my money, you’ll get your money—”

He paused for a second, looking almost guilty, when he saw Sunny in the doorway. But he recovered himself quickly, snarling, “That’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”

Ollie slapped his phone shut so hard, Sunny feared he might break it. But she decided not to say anything. The look on her boss’s face definitely didn’t invite comment.

“Thought you’d be out to lunch longer,” Ollie said gruffly, collecting papers off the desk and jamming them into a leather portfolio.

Sunny blinked. Ollie usually complained that she took too much time to eat.

Zipping up the portfolio, Ollie rose from the chair and headed for the door, tromping even more heavily than usual. Given his mood, Sunny found herself glad that he had nothing else to say.