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

Sunny shrugged. “Well, all I saw was her nasty side, clawing at Jane—although she did compliment Shadow.”

Mike hmphed in the background.

“She just about worshiped her cats,” Helena said. “I guess they were good company in a fairly lonely life.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “I hate to chat and run, but I should probably get a move on in a little while. I got a pet sitter to keep an eye on Toby. You wouldn’t believe what he’s managed to get into when he’s left alone.”

Sunny saw the stab of disappointment on Mike’s face. He’d sat for all this gossip that had nothing to do with him, and obviously had hoped for more of a visit with his lady friend. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me,” she said. “I just realized I’ve got to get online for a work thing. Do you mind if I say good-bye now and leave you with Dad?”

Mike brightened at the thought of some alone time with Helena.

But Helena Martinson, Sunny was sure, saw right through her flimsy excuse. Mrs. M. smiled at her. “I understand,” she said.

Sunny headed upstairs to her room, followed by Shadow. Which was just as well. They’d probably like their privacy in the living room without a feline audience.

“Dad did the same thing with me when I was in high school so I could sit on the couch with a boy for a while,” she whispered to her cat.

Selecting an old favorite from her bookshelf, Sunny lay on her bed to read. After a couple of pages, she felt warm breath on her right ear. She turned to find Shadow perched on top of the clock radio, looking over her shoulder.

“At least you’re not tapping me on the shoulder to turn the page before I’m ready,” she told the cat.

They stayed in companionable silence for a while until Mike knocked at the door and stuck his head in. “Finished with your Internet stuff?”

“It went faster than I expected,” Sunny cheerfully lied. “Is Mrs. Martinson gone?”

He nodded. “She said to thank you—I guess for the coffee. And you didn’t even touch your piece of cake.”

She grinned at him. “Look on the bright side. You can probably have it tomorrow.”

They turned in early, not listening to the eleven o’clock newscast. So, when Sunny awoke in the morning, she wasn’t ready for the chilly, blustery weather that had moved in.

“Welcome back, Winter,” she said, looking out the kitchen window. Wherever yesterday’s snow melt had accumulated, ice patches had formed. Her dad lectured her about getting too overconfident in the Wrangler. “Some people think that climbing aboard an SUV is like getting into a tank,” he said. “Those are the ones who get into accidents.”

In fact, she did see someone in a big macho-wagon spin out. But she had a very careful drive into town and got to the MAX office uneventfully, before settling in for an uneventful day.

Sunny got about two hours of that until the phone rang. It was Jane.

“Well, the medical examiner’s preliminary report is in,” she reported. “Trumbull just called me about it.”

She sounded pretty upset, which surprised Sunny. This was a murder investigation, after all. In spite of what Jane and Will might wish, Trumbull was going to keep turning up. “I thought they already figured out the cause of death,” she said cautiously. “Was that so bad?”

“They found a broken needle in Martin’s arm.” Jane’s voice was tight. “Trumbull was all over me about it. You see, I’ve got a case like that in my record.”

9

Sunny frowned, shiftingin her seat. “It’s not a . . .” She fumbled a moment, trying to find a word, and then gave up. “It’s not a criminal record, is it?” she asked into the phone.

“No, it’s just a stupid . . .” Jane paused to take a deep breath. “Sunny, are you doing anything for lunch? I’d prefer to discuss this face-to-face rather than over the phone.”

“I think I need to stay close to my desk,” Sunny told her, remembering yesterday’s extended field trip. It had turned up some interesting stuff, but she didn’t want to try stretching her luck by being out of the office again.

“Look, I’ve got a gap in my appointments in about forty-five minutes. What do you say we grab some sandwiches and talk in your office? My treat,” Jane offered.

“Who am I to turn down a free lunch?” Sunny replied with a grin. They made the date and then hung up. It seemed as if Sunny had barely gotten back to her computer screen when she heard a knock at the door. Jane couldn’t have gotten downtown that fast.

She looked up to see a stocky figure in navy blue opening the door. Constable Ben Semple was a member of the tiny Kittery Harbor police force. Short and heavyset, with a wide, open face and a snub nose, he didn’t exactly look like a crimebuster. In fact, he probably paid his own salary and a good part of Will Price’s by nailing traffic violators along the five-mile stretch of road by the outlet malls. But Sunny had seen him take charge of a crime scene. Ben knew how to do his job.

Now he hesitated in the doorway, looking uneasy.

You’ll never get to work undercover if you let your feelings show so easily, Ben, Sunny thought. She smiled at him and joked, “Hey, I thought you guys only rattled the doors after we closed up for the night.”

Ben’s answering smile was strained. “I can only stay for a second or two.” He glanced through the window at his patrol car double-parked outside. “I just wanted you to know that the Portsmouth department has gone official, asking a lot of questions about Jane Rigsdale—and Will.”

Not good, Sunny thought.

“I’d have imagined Sheriff Nesbit would be tickled pink that Martin Rigsdale moved out of town before he got himself killed.” Sunny couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice. Whenever the election cycle came around, Frank Nesbit plastered the area with posters about his great job of “Keeping Elmet County Safe.” The problem was, many people suspected the sheriff of enhancing that safety record by playing with the crime statistics. That was why a political faction in Kittery Harbor wanted Will Price in charge. With his background as a state trooper and then as a Portsmouth cop, Will had credible police experience.

“Yeah, the sheriff’s glad about Rigsdale,” Semple said, “but he’s giving Will grief about his relationship with Jane.” He quickly switched conversational gears when he caught the look on Sunny’s face. “I mean, these days Will and Jane are friends, but years back they were pretty serious. It doesn’t look good for a cop to be close to someone involved in a murder investigation.” Sunny was sure her expression didn’t improve when she heard that. If there was one thing that trumped professionalism, it was politics. And Frank Nesbit was a master politician. That was how he’d won and so far kept the job as sheriff.

“If the sheriff had his way, he wouldn’t even let Will talk to Jane,” Ben said.

So I guess the news isn’t all bad, that irreverent side of Sunny’s brain spoke up.

“It’s going to be tough for her,” he went on, “since she really doesn’t have many friends here in town.”

There it was—the Kittery Harbor Code, “Do right by your neighbors.” Unfortunately, the flip side of that translated into a kind of clannish mind-set: “To hell with outsiders.”

By moving out of Kittery Harbor, Sunny, Jane, and Will had all turned themselves into outsiders. Sunny might not like to think about it, but for a lot of folks in town, the jury was still out on the returnees. Yet Sunny also knew that she was a product of Kittery Harbor. “Do right.” “Never go back on your word.” Those were things that she she’d grown up believing—and still believed.