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

She gave Sunny an embarrassed smile. “Maybe it doesn’t sound like much, but a lot of people have told me it helped.”

Her expression darkened a little. “Martin and I had a long-running argument over those damned discs. He used to give them to people, and then tack a charge onto their bill—at a big markup.”

I can’t tell if it’s grief or anger, Sunny thought. But Jane is still thinking a lot about Martin.

“ It took a long time, but I finally convinced him that giving the disc as a gift was the decent thing to do. It’s weird, what you count as a success in a marriage. Fact is, he left not long after that.”

Jane knelt by one of the cages, petting the dog inside. “I wonder sometimes what Martin did when he set up his own practice. Did I really change his mind, or did he go back to charging folks for that little bit of comfort?”

“I can’t answer that,” Sunny said, determined to change the subject. “But I think you have a lot to talk about with Tobe Phillips.”

Jane glanced up at her. “What do you mean?”

“From what you say about vets in general, there are probably a lot of people who were seriously annoyed with Martin in particular.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Jane said.

“So you should mention that to Tobe,” Sunny explained, “and he should mention it to Detective Trumbull.”

“If my own practice is anything to go by, the detective would find himself with a lot of possible suspects,” Jane admitted. “But lots of people grouse about the treatments, or the costs. I don’t ever remember a dissatisfied client putting a vet to sleep,” Jane joked. “Sorry, gallows humor.” She smiled, then frowned. “Checking out all those people, though—that’s going to be a major distraction. He’ll end up wasting time that should be used to find the real killer.”

Sunny took a deep breath. How to put this delicately? “Finding the killer isn’t your concern, or Tobe’s. It’s Trumbull’s job. You’re just trying to make sure you don’t get accused of something that you didn’t do.”

Let’s face it, Sunny added silently. Martin Rigsdale was not a nice guy. He cheated on you, he was probably cheating on his new girlfriends, no doubt he cheated his patients—he cheated the Ukrainian mob, for heaven’s sake. You can be sad that things didn’t turn out as you might have hoped, even mad at the guy. But that’s about as much as you should invest in Martin. If Trumbull finds whoever murdered him, fine. But if it remains an unsolved mystery forever, it’s not gonna break my heart.

Jane might not be sure about distracting Mark Trumbull, but she was apparently willing to be distracted herself. “I still can’t get over seeing Toby—Tobe—after all these years,” she exclaimed. “He looks good.”

“And since he’s in court all day, I guess he’s either overcome or outgrown his old problem.”

Jane’s mouth dropped open. “Yikes! I’d forgotten all about that.”

Sunny looked at her in disbelief. “You forgot that we nicknamed him Toby P. Philpotts, because he always had pee in his middle?”

“Stop it!” Jane begged, trying to stifle giggles. Then she got thoughtful. “Is that a problem you can outgrow?”

“I bet they have pills for it now,” Sunny told her. “‘Ask your doctor if Pee-no-more is right for you.’”

“Or maybe there’s something to do with tubing,” Jane suggested. “Like a stadium buddy.”

“Don’t even start going there,” Sunny warned her. “My dad drove over half of the Northeast, delivering salt. When I asked him about bathroom breaks, he told me about the trucker’s very personal assistant. All the fun of a catheter, but with a—ah—external connection, if you catch my drift.”

Jane made a face. “Gross!”

“Says the lady who tells stories about vomiting dogs while we’re trying to eat lunch,” Sunny said. “I guess the device probably exists. What I don’t know is if my dad actually used it, or if he just used the story to keep me out of his dresser drawers.”

“I’d say that would work—either way,” Jane replied with a grin. Her tone changed as she went on. “Let’s hope that Tobe’s problem is history. From what we saw, he grew up to be a really nice guy—as well as a nice-looking one.”

Oh, wonderful. That critical voice from the back of Sunny’s head joined the conversation. Now we’re back in high school talking about what’s gross and who’s cute?

Sunny squelched the complaints. She’d rather hear Jane talking like this instead of rehashing old fights with Martin or stressing over Trumbull. “Yeah,” she agreed, “Tobe does seem nice.”

“I wonder if he’s available,” Jane idly asked.

“Oh, come on,” Sunny said. “You didn’t check his finger or do the office once-over? How out of practice are you?”

“And I suppose you got the full story, Ms. Ace Reporter?” Jane shot back.

“I noticed that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and that there were no pictures of a wife or kids on his desk or bookcase.”

“So—what?” Jane asked. “He’s single?”

“Maybe, though from what I understand, single guys don’t usually become law partners,” Sunny objected. “If a person is going to be that involved in a firm, the other partners want to make sure he’s settled.” She shrugged. “Or he may be just very, very good at what he does, and they wanted to keep him. You mentioned your marriage and your divorce, which gave him an opening. He did say that he’d seen worse divorces than yours, but he didn’t add anything personal there.”

“So what’s the bottom line on his availability?” Jane pressed.

Sunny shrugged her shoulders and threw out her hands. “Insufficient information.” She grinned at Jane. “But probably worth more research.”

Jane laughed, but shook her head. “If you’re anything to go by, I’d have to say that reporters are very, very strange.”

But we have needs, too, Sunny thought. If you’re chasing Will Price, can’t I go after Tobe?

That was something she couldn’t say out loud. Sunny picked her words carefully. “Speaking of distractions, you’d better remember that Tobe is your lawyer. He’s got to keep his eyes open and his mind clear for the duration.”

“Oh, come on.” Jane’s cheeks got a little pink. “That’s something that even these guys in the cages know about. Don’t poop where you eat.”

“I don’t think pooping is the activity I’d worry about,” Sunny told her.

Jane’s face got pinker. “Okay, point taken. Sheesh.”

Jane was a little teed off now, ready to leave the topic of Tobe Phillips. But under that, Sunny caught a flash of loneliness in the pretty vet’s eyes as she turned back to her patients.

*

They chatted alittle longer while Jane finished up at the pet hospital. As they stepped outside, Sunny glanced at the sky above. Clouds were gathering, but she still considered suggesting that they stop off for a cup of coffee. Maybe they could even stop at Spill the Beans and have a whoopie pie. But her finances argued against that course. After bribing a tobacconist and shelling out for a breakfast that Will didn’t even eat, Sunny couldn’t take on any more unaccustomed expenses this week. And no way was she about to let Jane treat her again.

I guess that’s another Kittery Harbor commandment—“Thou shalt not mooch.” Instead, Sunny put on a cheerful face and said good-bye.

As Jane’s BMW pulled out of the parking lot, Sunny sat behind her wheel for a moment, thinking. Then, instead of heading home, she steered for downtown Kittery Harbor and the offices of the Harbor Crier . As she hoped, Ken Howell was hanging around in there, threatening weather or not.