Donally, Claire - Cat Nap (A SUNNY & SHADOW MYSTERY)

“Know him? No.” The waitress shrugged and quirked her lips. “But he sure as hell wanted to change that. Used to come in here and try out the old charm on—well, I won’t say on everybody. Let’s just say anybody who could wear a skirt and looked fairly decent. It got so I had to warn off a couple of the younger kids. I don’t know what it is about some guys. They get a thing about waitresses—something about a good-looking babe who brings you food.”

She made a face. “And then he made this place his headquarters. Guess he must have lived or worked someplace nearby. Even so, I don’t know why he chose us. Trust me, unless you’re hooked on grilled cheese, it ain’t the cuisine. And he was a pretty snappy dresser, not like the polyester crowd we usually get. You’d think he could afford better.”

“Then I guess I’ll have a grilled cheese and a cola to go,” Sunny said, and the waitress passed the order along. Sunny smiled, hoping she’d look just plain personally nosy, not professionally nosy. “So he used to keep coming in here even though he struck out with the staff?”

The waitress grinned and shrugged. “Started bringing his own women. Maybe he wanted to show us what we were missing. The little blonde—well, she wasn’t so little, just young—she might turn up with him for breakfast, lunch, or supper. And she was just eating up anything he had to say. I don’t think she paid much attention to what was on her plate. She could have eaten a dirt and dandelion omelet and wouldn’t have complained.”

That sounds like Dawn Featherstone, Sunny thought.

“Yeah, that one was definitely a cheap date,” the waitress went on, laughing. “The older woman who had coffee with him, though—the brunette—she was definitely slumming. With those clothes and jewelry, she was a lot classier than this place.”

The waitress broke off as the counterman came over with Sunny’s order in a plastic clamshell and a wax cup. The waitress put them in a bag and took Sunny’s money. “Oh, well. Guess it takes all kinds. I wonder what the guy did to get killed. Maybe somebody’s husband did it.”

Sunny thanked the woman and headed for the door and out to her SUV, weighing the package in her hand. Grilled cheese was probably a bad choice, she thought regretfully. Chances are it will congeal long before I manage to get back to the office—and I can’t stretch this lunch hour and a half much longer.

She deposited her food on the passenger’s seat and got behind the wheel. On the other hand, finding out that Martin Rigsdale apparently had at least two lady friends—and might have been two-timing them—that’s priceless. It means there are at least two other people besides Jane who might have a motive to do him harm. Plus, like that waitress said, when a guy fools around with a lot of women, there might be an angry husband waiting in the underbrush with a baseball bat.

She arrived at the office to find no more phone calls on the answering machine.

Dodged a bullet there, Sunny thought. It would have been just like Ollie to ring up and check on me while I was AWOL.

After sticking the grilled cheese in the office microwave to try and revive it, Sunny revved up her computer. Okay, a couple of e-mails to deal with, business as usual. She retrieved the sandwich and settled in for a working late lunch.

The grilled cheese was soggy and tasteless. Sunny didn’t think she’d be adding that diner to the recommended list for tourists in the area. The soda had gone flat, too. But she chewed methodically, fueling up for the afternoon.

Just as well that she did. As soon as Sunny tossed the packaging in the trash, the phone suddenly came to life. She spent the rest of the afternoon making arrangements for three separate shopping expeditions to arrive on the coming weekend. Then, as the day drew to a close, she got a call from her dad.

“We’re going to have company for dessert,” he announced.

“Do I have to get out my pearls?” she asked.

“No, just the nice coffee cups,” Mike replied. “Helena said she’d bring some of her coffee cake. The really good news is that she’s leaving that damned puppy at home.”

Sunny hurried home to find Mike had already started the sweet potatoes baking for dinner. She trimmed the excess fat off the pork chops and slipped them into the toaster oven, then got a package of frozen whipped squash out of the freezer and put it in the microwave. Flip the pork chops, give them some more time, slice one to see how done it was . . . okay, almost. She topped the chops with some applesauce and a quick sprinkling of ginger, stirred up the squash, and put it back in for a final zap.

Sunny sighed. Dinner pretty much accomplished, even with a good-sized cat twining his way around my ankles.

She dropped to one knee on the kitchen floor and smiled down at Shadow’s gold-flecked eyes staring up at her. “And how was your day?” she asked, running her fingers down his furry sides.

“I guess we both napped,” Mike said from where he was setting the kitchen table. “After Helena called, I straightened out the living room. Then I dug out the company coffee cups, gave them a wash, and dried them.”

Sunny rose to her feet and smiled. “Mom had you well trained.”

“Do we have anything nice to put in the cups, though?” he asked. “We’re kind of at the bottom of that coffee you picked up on sale.”

“Didn’t Mrs. Martinson give you a bag of fancy coffee for Christmas?” Sunny said. “I think it’s in the back of the fridge.”

She loaded up a couple of plates, and they had a quick supper. By the time Helena Martinson arrived, the aroma of cinnamon-flavored Christmas coffee filled the house.

The older woman gave Mike a kiss on the cheek and handed Sunny a covered dish. “I made a little cake this afternoon.” She smiled at Mike. “It’s fresh, and there won’t be much left over for temptation.”

Mike’s smile wavered as he took Helena’s coat. Caught between an excellent baker and the food police, there wasn’t much he could say.

Shadow came into the foyer and made a wide circle around Mrs. Martinson. Then did the same in the middle of the living room and stalked off to the kitchen again.

Sunny had to hide a smile. Either he smells dog on Mrs. M., or he remembers her mutt from last visit.

“Why don’t you sit down, and then I’ll go get some coffee. What brings you over this evening?” Sunny said, hoping she already knew the answer.

“I phoned around a bit—quite a bit, actually—and I finally found out about that girl in Portsmouth,” Helena Martinson said, taking a seat on the couch. Her petite figure in a cable-knit sweater and corduroys clashed with Mike’s solid presence in a flannel shirt and jeans. As often happened, Sunny felt underdressed next to Helena’s understated elegance. Though the older woman’s blond hair may have silvered, and she sported a few more smile lines, Mrs. Martinson was still very much like the hot mom Sunny remembered from her high school days.

Maybe I should have put on my pearls, she thought as she went into the kitchen, sliced the cake, added it to the tray of cups, poured the coffee, and returned.

Helena Martinson took a cup and saucer, added half a spoonful of sugar, and lightened the coffee with a quick dollop of milk from the creamer.

“I hope you don’t mind skim,” Mike said.

It’s the same as you’ve been getting for the last year or so since you’ve been visiting Dad, Sunny thought, but she didn’t say anything.

Mrs. Martinson waited until everyone had coffee and cake before she started her story. “It was nice, having a chance to chat with some people I don’t usually see,” she began. “The 99 Elmet Ladies have been trying to coordinate some of our programs with Portsmouth volunteer groups.”