Клер Донелли - The Big Kitty

“A word of warning,” Sunny said to the cat. “Stay away from the foundation plantings.” She shook her head and muttered to herself, “Like he’s going to understand what I tell him.”

After locking her car, she went up the walk with Shadow trailing behind. For a second, Sunny hesitated at the door. Shadow simply sat looking up at her with those curious gold-flecked eyes. Well, he can’t ask for a formal invitation, she thought as she unlocked the door.

They entered the front hall, with a flight of stairs leading to the bedrooms. Sunny heard television noise off to the left in the living room. “Dad? I’m home.”

Better not to mention her guest.

She poked a head through the open archway. Mike Coolidge sat on the couch watching some sort of sitcom, judging from the laugh track. His white hair rose in an unruly mass of curls—he was way past his usual time to get a trim. His face was on the pale side, the heart attack having robbed him of the high color Sunny remembered from days gone by. He’d also picked up a few wrinkles, partly as a result of losing some weight. But his blue eyes were as bright and piercing as ever when he turned to her. “So did Ollie Barnstable have you toting barges or lifting bales?”

“I was helping a bunch of people with an unscheduled stopover at Pease,” Sunny told him.

Mike grunted. He didn’t like Ollie. “Make sure he knows about the extra hours you put in. At least next week’s paycheck will be bigger than the one you got today—” He broke off at the expression on her face. “He did give you your pay, didn’t he?”

Sunny shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “He wasn’t in today.”

Her dad scowled. “Been doing that a lot lately—usually when payday comes around.”

“I’m sure he’ll be in tomorrow,” Sunny said.

“Yeah, or Friday, or whenever he feels like it. I don’t know why you stick with that Barnstable boy. Ever since he came back to town, he’s been strutting around like God’s gift to the local economy.”

Why do I stay at MAX? Sunny silently responded. Because given the state of the local economy, there aren’t any other jobs out there. And I’m too old to work behind a soda fountain anymore.

She shook her head noncommittally. “Did you have dinner?” she asked.

“Made myself a sandwich,” Mike said.

Sunny went back to the hall and down to the kitchen, this time accompanied by Shadow. “Dad!” she called when she opened the refrigerator. “You ate all the turkey and cheese?” She glanced in the trash bin. “And all the mayo?”

She’d carefully shopped around for the best low-fat, low-sodium stuff she could find. But that wouldn’t help much if her father ate several days’ worth of supplies in one sitting. “It’s only Tuesday. I didn’t expect we’d need to restock until Friday!”

“I must be going deaf.” Mike’s voice grew louder as he padded toward the kitchen. “Shouldn’t there be a siren to announce that the food police have arrived?”

He arrived at the kitchen doorway, stopping in his tracks when Shadow poked his head around Sunny’s ankles to give him an inquisitive stare. “What’s that?” Mike’s blue eyes sparked with annoyance as he glared at Sunny, just as they had in about a million disciplinary encounters over the years. “And don’t act smart, telling me it’s a cat. What’s it doing here?”

“He followed me home,” Sunny ventured. That at least got a blink out of her dad, breaking his blue laser stare of death. The glare didn’t seem to work on Shadow. He leaned down and licked his shoulder. Having seen the cat annoy Gordie Spruance—and play “catch me if you can” with her in the car—Sunny suspected Shadow was acting a little too innocent.

She told her dad how Shadow had appeared on the hood of her car and then wrangled himself a seat inside. The cat didn’t show much interest in hearing about his exploits. He just sat quietly, facing the refrigerator, occasionally flicking his whiskers.

“Probably one of the strays that are always coming over here to do their business in the plantings—especially under my window.” Dad aimed an unfriendly look at Shadow. “So what do you figure on doing with this fool animal?”

“Ada Spruance said he’s a bit of a wanderer,” Sunny replied, hoping to smooth things over. “He’ll probably just stay for the night and be on his way.”

“And why were you talking to the crazy Cat Lady in the first place?” Mike wanted to know.

“She came into the office this evening,” Sunny began.

Mike regained a little color as he listened to her story— not necessarily a healthy sign, Sunny thought.

“That dingbat thinks she has a winning lottery ticket? And you’re going to search that cathouse of hers for it?” He shook his head, definitely unhappy. “Better wear the oldest clothes you can find—stuff you can burn in the backyard when you get back here.”

“I thought you’d be more against it,” Sunny admitted.

“You already told her you’d do it,” her dad replied. “And you should be as good as your word.” That was a real, strict-construction Kittery Harbor answer. But his voice held a definite “you’ll be sorry” tone as he spoke.

“Does Gordie still live over there with his mother?” she asked.

Mike’s shock of white curls bobbed as he shook his head. “He moved out when the cats began moving in. And then for a while he was a guest of the county, some sort of thing about missing car parts.”

After taking in that information, Sunny thought for a moment. “In that case, there’s a phone call I’d better make. Then I’ll come out and check your meds.”

Mike turned around and headed back to the living room, muttering something about the “pill police.”

Sunny went to the phone extension on the kitchen wall, paused for a second, and then went to the cabinets. She took down a can of tuna, got the opener, and spooned half the contents of the can onto a small saucer. Shadow didn’t even come close to the food until she’d deposited it on the floor and stepped away.

“Just remember, there’s no litter box in here,” she warned the cat as he investigated the plate of fish. “And you heard what Dad said about the garden.”

While Shadow went to work on the tuna, Sunny stood frowning at the telephone as she recalled what she’d heard from Ada Spruance—and what she’d seen. Finally, she went up to her room and dialed the number for the Harbor Crier . Ken Howell was still in his office—he seemed to spend most of his time there, from what Sunny could tell.

“What do you want?” he demanded as soon as Sunny identified herself.

“A polite greeting would be a good start,” she shot back. “Listen, I heard something that might turn out to be a good human-interest story.” She told him about Ada Spruance’s errant ticket, adding, “Ada mentioned that the expiration date is coming close. So there’s a suspense element, too.”

“And I suppose you want to write this … burning news story?”

Sunny was surprised that the editor’s words even came through, what with all the suspicion clogging the phone line.

“No, I’m handing it to you to run with,” she told him virtuously. “Check the facts. I just thought it could be a good piece for the paper.”

“If Ada won an amount like you’re saying, maybe she’ll move that menagerie of hers out of town,” Howell said sourly. “A lot of people would consider that good news.”

But it won’t be good news if somebody—like skeevy Gordie—has glommed on to the ticket, hoping to cash it in quietly right at the deadline, Sunny thought. A little publicity might lead to the ticket mysteriously reappearing, and save me from having to search through the Cathouse from Hell.