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

He smiled at her, trying to sound positive. “I guess the good news is that the word has certainly gone out far and wide. People are being very generous with their information. I just hope we’ll be able to figure out what’s useful. One nut actually claimed she saw a cat being stolen off the street. I figure by tomorrow, we’ll be hearing about the saucer people either dropping cats off or taking them away.”

“Poor Dad.” Sunny reached across the table and took his hand. “This must be such a waste of your time.”

He shrugged. “In between, I got out of the house. Went to some of the stores up in outlet-land where I take walks and persuaded them to put up posters there.” Mike gave her a lopsided kind of grin. “If we don’t ask, we don’t find out anything, do we?”

“I guess not,” Sunny said. “And thanks, Dad.” She got up to make some sandwiches to go with the soup. They still had lots of turkey in the fridge.

When they’d finished supper, they went to the living room. Sunny found it a bit odd to be sitting in an armchair again instead of on the floor, playing with Shadow. She also found that paying full attention to a lot of the shows did not improve them.

The phone rang, and Sunny picked it up, bracing herself for either a demand for a reward or some new crazy theory about Shadow’s disappearance.

Instead, it was Mrs. Martinson. “Did you know that there’s a memorial for Martin Rigsdale tomorrow evening? One of my friends from Portsmouth called with the news.”

“I knew there was going to be a memorial,” Sunny said. “It was supposed to depend on when the chief medical examiner released the body.”

She could almost feel her neighbor’s shudder over the phone. “Not that I’m going,” Mrs. M. hastily put in. “But don’t you feel it’s odd that Jane Rigsdale is doing this on the other side of the river?”

“Jane isn’t,” Sunny explained. “She’s paying for it, but letting Dawn Featherstone make the arrangements. As she always kept reminding me, Martin was her ex-husband. He went off to Portsmouth to start a new chapter in his life.”

“A final chapter, as it turns out,” Helena Martinson added disapprovingly.

“Well, it’s a chapter he didn’t share with Jane, and I guess she doesn’t feel the need to take part in any farewell.”

“It still seems strange,” Mrs. M. repeated.

When she ended the call, Sunny punched in Jane’s number and asked about the memorial.

“That’s right,” Jane confirmed. “The ME released Martin’s remains late today, cremation tomorrow, and the memorial starting at seven o’clock.”

“That seems a bit rushed,” Sunny said.

“Yeah, well, look at it from Dawn’s point of view.” Jane’s tone became considerably more sour. “Tuesdays are when I have evening hours, so she can be sure I won’t turn up like an unwelcome guest. Not that I have any intention of showing my face.”

“Okay,” Sunny said. “Just wanted to make sure.”

“Any luck on the Shadow front?” Jane asked.

“No news,” Sunny reported. “A lot of tips that point in all directions, but nothing solid.”

“Keep your chin up,” Jane said. “Shadow is a survivor. I’m betting he’ll find his way home.”

“I hope so,” Sunny sighed. She hung up and turned to Mike. “Mrs. Martinson called to tell us that the memorial for Martin Rigsdale is tomorrow.”

“I guess that means an early supper,” Mike said.

“What?”

“We have to pay our respects,” her father said.

“Martin Rigsdale was not what you’d call a respectable person,” Sunny argued. “And he certainly didn’t give me much respect. The one time we met, he hit on me.”

Mike looked uncomfortable, but determined. Obviously, this was the Kittery Harbor Way. But he did unbend enough to say, “Your mother always had a good explanation about going to wakes and memorials. She used to say it’s not for the guest of honor—wherever they are, they could probably care less. It’s for the living people. That’s why we’re paying respects.”

*

Shadow woke upto find himself in a strange room. It was pretty much empty, except for things that a cat might like—or use. He found an enclosed bed, like a cave, but with comfortable padding. Just outside the opening for that stood a scratching post. Toys were scattered across the carpeting. Against the wall he found bowls for food and water, but nothing in them.

The only human furniture in the room was a single chair. One wall had shelves built in from the floor to the ceiling, like the setup in Sunny’s room where she kept her books. But here, the shelves were bare.

All in all it had the makings of a Good Place, except that Shadow couldn’t get out the door. And then there was the smell. It wasn’t as overpowering as when Shadow had been trapped in the trunk, just about wrapped in a coat saturated with the powerfully unpleasant scent.

Here, in a bigger room, the smell was more diffuse. But it clung in the nose like a nagging undertone. Now he recognized it—not dog and dead things, but the scent of that weird Old One who came to screech at Gentle Hands.

The One Who Reeks has been in here, Shadow thought. She’s sat in that chair often enough to mark it with her scent.

He prowled around the rest of the room, trying to see what else his nose might tell him. Nothing much.

In the area around the bowls, he detected traces of another cat—a female—and the scent of sickness.

But he didn’t smell the she in the sumptuous bed. In fact, that had store smells, like the bed that Sunny had brought home for him.

Shadow stood very still for a moment, not wanting to mewl. He missed Sunny. He missed having his bed next to hers. He missed being able to climb into bed with her. Why did she let that Biscuit Eater come into the house? Why couldn’t she be happy with him?

He pushed the miserable feelings away with anger, leaping onto the chair that stank of the One Who Reeks. Give him a scratching post, would she? He’d show her what claws were for!

Shadow didn’t ignore the smell that tore at his nose. Instead, he used it to fuel his fury, clawing at the upholstery until the stuffing showed. He dropped to the floor, panting from the exertion.

He didn’t know how much later the door opened. For a moment, the One Who Reeks stood frozen in the doorway with bowls of food and water in her hands, staring. Then she began screeching.

Shadow leaped for freedom, but the door slammed shut.

He hissed in disgust.

And she took the food with her.

*

Sunny made aneffort to get into work a little early on Tuesday. After all, she intended to leave right on the dot that evening. She tended her computer and took care of all the usual jobs. It had been a while since she’d reconciled the petty cash, but she did that right before lunch. Ollie might have been twitting her about needing the services of a loan shark, but she wanted to make sure the office finances were in good order—just in case he really did check.

She was in luck—income, outgo, and cash in hand all balanced out perfectly.

One less thing to worry about, she thought.

As quitting time came around, she stepped into the bathroom and checked her reflection. Sunny had abandoned her usual business casual dress code for the day. She’d gotten out a dark gray suit—something she used to save for serious interviews back in her reporting days. With a muted silver blouse, it looked good without being too flashy. In fact, she looked good. The only problem was that her hair was getting a bit out of control again. Sunny did what she could, closed up the office, and headed home.