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

“And that’s what anybody who searched the newspapers would find,” Sunny said with a smile. “But what’s the dirt?”

“We-e-ell,” Mrs. Martinson drew out the word, “they have a beautiful house over in Piney Brook, but I hear Ralph has been spending most of his time up in Augusta.”

Sunny nodded. “You think that’s more than the press of government business?”

“He wasn’t so diligent in his first term.” Mrs. M. took a sip of her coffee. “He may be trying to earn some brownie points—what do the politicians call it? Carrying the can?” She pursed her lips. “But he hasn’t really been home in months. And when he does come down, he rarely stays overnight.”

“I bow to your years of experience,” Sunny told the older woman. “What does that say to you?”

“A possible separation, but they’re trying to keep it quiet,” was Helena Martinson’s verdict. “They may have held it together for the election, but now they’re easing into a divorce. There have been some rumors. I’ve heard them, but so far it’s been all talk.”

She aimed bright eyes at Sunny. “But maybe not anymore, I suspect.”

“‘Suspect’ is a good word,” Sunny replied. “This, as they used to say when I was working, is definitely not for publication.” She briefly told the story of Martin Rigsdale’s two ladies. “The blonde is pretty obviously Dawn Featherstone, but the dark lady could be Christine Venables.”

“Very Shakespearean,” Mrs. Martinson said. “I just hope it doesn’t turn out to be one of those revenge tragedies.”

“If they’re heading for a divorce anyway, is there any reason to get all dramatic about it?” Sunny asked.

“One word: ‘politics.’ Two people might dissolve a marriage with a minimum of fuss and bother. But the threat of political scandal could complicate things considerably. It could hurt Ralph’s electability for the office he holds or keep him from getting any higher up the ladder.”

“Possible motive,” Sunny admitted. “But enough to kill for?”

“It does seem a little cold-blooded,” Mrs. Martinson agreed. “But consider this. It’s one thing to decide that a marriage is over, to come to that rational conclusion. Even so, it’s something else to discover that your wife is sleeping with another man. That could lead to a hasty reaction.”

“And a bigger scandal to keep quiet,” Sunny finished. “And, of course, if there’s a divorce settlement to be made, any kind of scandal hurts Christine.”

Mrs. Martinson nodded. “As you say, motive. Strong enough to kill over? I can’t tell. But I can say this—Martin Rigsdale had a lot to answer for.”

Sunny fell uncharacteristically quiet for a few moments. She’d been involved with a guy who’d been getting divorced, living apart, just waiting for the final papers.

And then Randall hadn’t gotten divorced at all.

Maybe this is just hitting a little too close to home for me, Sunny decided. I’m seeing too many sides to this one.

“As you said when we started, this story is definitely not for publication.” Mrs. Martinson sat very straight in her armchair, her cooling cup of coffee held between both hands. “But I wonder if there are more pieces to put together. Let me see what I can find.”

*

Shadow regarded thesandwich suspiciously. In his experience, food did not usually appear in the middle of a road, especially a sandwich that didn’t even have a bite in it. He tried to remember anything like this. Sometimes humans threw papers from their go-fast things, and sometimes there was food in there. But that was usually in warmer times. This time of year the two-legs didn’t leave windows open. He remembered once seeing a car with a sack of food left on the roof. The car had moved, the sack had fallen, and Shadow had investigated. But there was nothing in there that a self-respecting cat would eat. Here, though . . .

He could smell the rare roast beef even before he came around the curve in the road. Shadow looked around. A car sat still on the side of the road not too far away. But nothing moved in the failing light. He peered at the sandwich again, and his stomach rumbled.

Shadow had walked very far since he left the space under the deck. He hadn’t had as much luck as he’d hoped in finding food. In fact, he’d had none. He was tired, and cold, and very empty. Soon he’d have to find a safe place where he could sleep. It would be good to do that with a full belly.

He looked both ways along the empty road again and, crouched low, approached the sandwich. One of the pieces of bread had fallen away, leaving the meat out in the open.

I was lucky to find this before some other animal did, he finally thought, tearing a morsel free with his teeth. Oh, it was good to have food.

And then, all of a sudden, things were very, very bad. Something swooped down on him, and he suddenly found himself trapped in folds of fur. What kind of creature was this? It apparently could fly, but it had fur. And it stank! Shadow had seen Biscuit Eaters who liked to roll in dead things. But whatever this animal had rolled in was worse than dead. It made Shadow a little light-headed to breathe this reek.

Still, he tried to fight, kicking, unsheathing his claws. But he couldn’t land a good blow or draw blood in the stifling folds.

And then it got worse. He felt himself pulled from the ground, as if some gigantic bird was taking him away. Shadow couldn’t help himself. He yowled in terror.

And then he found himself falling, landing with a thud partially softened by the fur around him. Then came a sharp slamming sound. Shadow continued to fight against the furry folds enveloping him, finally getting free. This was no animal! Or rather, it might have been once, but now it was a dead thing. He had the horrible suspicion that it was now a human coat. And now that he was out of its folds, he could sense that he was in a fairly small space crowded with other things. He felt metal, and what seemed like a rug. Very faintly, he saw an outline of light. But no matter how hard he clawed at it, he couldn’t make the outline bigger.

Then the whole space began to move, and Shadow knew where he was. It was the back part of a go-fast thing—the part for holding things!

He’d investigated a few of them in his travels, but he’d always been careful not to get caught inside. There had been interesting smells and odd things that could be played with, but he’d always stayed outside.

Just my luck, to be trapped in a place that smells so bad. In the close confines of the trunk, the stink from the furry coat drowned out almost everything else.

This was very bad, indeed. He had to get out! Shadow scratched, and cried, and hurled himself at the metal walls around him until he lay panting on the floor, sick and hurting. His claws went for that faint outline of light, growing fainter now. They scraped uselessly at metal.

He tried to get to his feet, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate. Shadow flopped down, his head spinning, that dreadful scent clogging his nostrils. He gagged, and what little he had eaten came back up again. Twisting around, he managed not to choke. But the darkness inside this space seemed to grow darker yet.

So dark, he couldn’t even think . . .

17

When Sunny gothome, she found her father sitting at the kitchen table, having nuked himself a bowl of frozen soup. “Sorry to be getting home a little late,” she said. “I picked up a quart of milk for Mrs. Martinson, and we got to talking.”

She got herself out another pouch of soup and began heating it up. “How was your day?”

“It feels a little odd around here without Shadow, I have to admit,” he said. “The only thing odder was some of the phone calls I got. I wish you hadn’t mentioned a reward, Sunny. A bunch of the calls I got were people checking to see whether the information they had was worth enough to leave. And most of the information that people gave for free—well, that’s about what it’s worth. We’ve got about ten thousand people living in this town, and from the sound of it, there are about five thousand gray or striped cats around here. I tried to mark where people saw these cats on a map, and it was all over the place, from the Piscataqua River to Piney Brook, up to Sturgeon Springs and Saxon.”