Клер Донелли - The Big Kitty

Nesbit wrapped it up pretty quickly, then turned to Sunny. “Ms. Sonata Coolidge is the person who survived this traffic incident. She also works as a reporter for our local newspaper, the Harbor Crier. ”

Out in the wolf pack, Ken Howell grinned broadly.

“Ms. Coolidge recently wrote a story on the death of Ada Spruance, in the course of which she interviewed Gordon Spruance, the young man who died in this occurrence. She is assisting us in our inquiries.”

Thanks to her experience from the other side of interviews, Sunny handled herself pretty well. There were a couple of ticklish moments, like the question from one reporter who’d done her homework.

“You suggested that there were mysterious circumstances in the death of Ada Spruance.” The skinny young TV journalist curved her bloodred lips in a predatory smile aimed at Sunny. “Do you think these circumstances might also apply to this woman’s son?”

“I outlined apparent discrepancies regarding Mrs. Spruance’s death that I was able to substantiate,” Sunny carefully replied. “There were other rumors that could not be substantiated.”

Translation: If I couldn’t use the information I’d dug up for my own story, why would I air it for yours, honey?

“But are the two deaths connected?” the female reporter persisted.

“That’s for the police to determine,” Sunny honestly answered. “All I can say is that buying that lottery ticket seemed to use up all the luck the Spruance family had. If the ticket actually exists, it hasn’t done them much good.”

After a few more questions, Sheriff Nesbit stepped in to wrap things up. But just as he was doing that, a deputy came hotfooting it into the room. “Sir, urgent call from the fire chief over in Sturgeon Springs. We transferred it in here.” He pointed to a phone off to the side of the podium.

Nesbit impatiently snatched up the telephone handset. “What is it, Joe?” he barked. But as he listened, his face went white.

“Huh,” Ken Howell said from the middle of the crowding journalists. “Good thing I left my cell on vibrate. It’s a source on the Sturgeon Springs Fire Department.”

He listened for a moment, and his smile only got broader. “Well, what do you know? Gordie Spruance’s place has exploded in flames, and they’re having a hell of a time putting it out. My guy says it looks exactly like a training film they just watched—about dealing with fires in meth labs.”

16

For the briefestof moments after Ken Howell spoke up, the crowd of media people stood silent.

Then they all burst out in a frenzy of shouted questions to the sheriff.

Sunny certainly had no reason to like Frank Nesbit. But watching him standing at bay with the phone in his hand, she couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for him.

He’s been on with the fire chief for maybe a minute, Sunny thought. What in-depth information do they think he could suddenly tell them?

Turning to the collection of news gatherers slavering for the merest sound bite, she had to wonder, More to the point, why would he want to tell them anything?

After a moment of pandemonium, Sheriff Nesbit showed his years of experience in news management. Gesturing for silence, he said, “There’s a preliminary report of a suspicious fire at the site. I’m heading over there immediately for a personal inspection. After I’ve ascertained the facts—”

Translation: When he comes up with a good spin on all this, the snarky voice in Sunny’s head suggested.

“—I’ll be glad to share them with you.” Nesbit told the fire chief he’d be there as soon as possible and escaped from the room, followed by a ravening horde of newspeople.

Sunny watched them go, feeling a little embarrassed for her chosen profession.

“I’d say that went well enough.” Will Price appeared beside her, now wearing his uniform. “At least no one got trampled in the mad stampede.”

“Are you going out to the fire?” Sunny asked.

Will shook his head, wearing his most expressionless cop face. “I have another important assignment—seeing you home.”

“Are you sure you’ve got the okay to do that?”

“Hey, it came from the sheriff himself,” Will told her with a lopsided grin. “Local law enforcement wouldn’t look too good if we allowed something to happen to you after that awfully public near hit-and-run. And it doesn’t hurt that it’ll keep me out of Nesbit’s hair. Not only did he show concern for your safety, he actually expressed worry over my own health.”

Sunny gave him a doubtful look. “He did? Really?”

“Oh, yeah. He said, and I quote, ‘No more of this extracurricular fooling around.’ At least it was something like ‘fooling’—had the same first letter. ‘You were up to something last night, and you were in here worrying about that girl when you should have been sleeping. I don’t need some blinking zombie patrolling on the swing shift.’” Will grinned. “Trust me, that’s pretty much verbatim, with some of the more colorful language toned down a little.”

“So, you were worried about me?” Sunny asked, feeling her face get a little warm.

Will’s expression got more serious. “Worried as hell,” he admitted. “That’s another reason why I don’t mind making sure you get home in one piece.”

Remembering Gordie’s fate put a chill on whatever warmth Sunny had been feeling. “Guess we’d better get started, then,” she said.

Will gave her a lift in his patrol car back to the New Stores, since she’d walked downtown. He got out himself and ran a quick check on Mike’s pickup truck.

“No nasty surprises,” he reported. “Did you see what I did?”

“It was pretty hard to miss when you dropped to the sidewalk,” Sunny told him.

“I was looking to see if anything had been left under your truck,” Will replied, deadly serious. “It wouldn’t be the worst idea if you did the same thing before you climbed aboard in the future.”

Sunny couldn’t come up with a snappy answer to that. So she walked in silence over to the pickup, got in, inserted the key, and started the engine.

The journey to Wild Goose Drive was pretty tame. No attack helicopters swooped down, no wild SUVs came barreling out of nowhere at her.

Will beckoned Sunny over after she pulled up in her driveway.

As she walked to his car, he rolled down his window. “I know you probably think it’s overreaction,” he said in a quiet voice, “but a little prevention and forethought results in nice, boring trips like these.” He smiled, lightening the mood. “I’ll try to give you some sort of report on the excitement we missed at the fire scene. Later, okay?”

Sunny nodded. When she turned in the doorway to wave good-bye, she noticed that he stayed in place until he was sure she was safely inside.

“Hey, Dad,” she called as she came into the living room, “did the people on TV completely blow things out of proportion?” She’d done her best to minimize things in her phone call to him, but God only knew how the newspeople had decided to spin the story.

“They say some idiots nearly killed you—again,” Mike replied. “How close does that sound?”

He was trying to put a good face on it, but he sounded worried. “I don’t like this, Sunny,” he finally admitted.

“Neither do I,” she said. “At least the sheriff’s finally started to take things seriously.”

“If he took things seriously, he’d resign and let someone who actually knows about crime prevention take over.”

Mike might had continued in his tirade, but the phone rang. Sunny picked up the receiver.

“Ollie Barnstable,” the voice on the other end announced, as if Sunny would have trouble identifying those accusing tones. “The office was closed for hours today because you were off talking to the police and getting yourself on television.”