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

Oh, Sunny! Why did I leave you? Nothing has been good since. If I could come back, I wouldn’t mind the Old One’s friend bringing the Biscuit Eater around. You could have a house full of Biscuit Eaters, so long as I had you.

But then he roused himself. This was no time to give in to feelings. If he wanted to get back to Sunny, he had to get out of here first. This metal was much steadier underfoot than the squares. He’d follow this pathway and see where it led.

The first place it led was to a wall—a very solid wall. But a hole had been roughly cut through it to accommodate the metal path, and by pressing himself almost flat against the metal, Shadow managed to squeeze through the jagged opening. It was dirty work, and when Shadow reached the other side, he paused for a moment to try and clean himself. That tasted terrible. He quickly gave up the attempt. Who knew what other unpleasant things he’d have to crawl through to get out of here?

Shadow closed his eyes, trying to get a sense of this new space. There must be a bigger room below. He heard music, muffled by the squares of the ceiling, and a stronger sense of the stink coming off the One Who Reeks. Either she spent a lot of time in the room under his feet, or she was there now.

Taking care to be silent, he continued along the path.

It was many more steps before he came to another wall, this one flimsier. He was able to claw himself a bigger opening to get through. But a short journey after that, he came to a dead end. The metal path he’d been following didn’t go through this wall, it went into it. Tapping and scratching showed this was a formidable wall, indeed. And when Shadow crouched to examine where the metal went into the wall, he smelled clean air, sweet, fresh . . . and chilly. Beyond this wall was the outside world. The problem was, there was no way he could get through.

He shook himself philosophically. This was only one end of the path. Where did the other go?

Turning around, he retraced his steps until he reached the room where he’d been incarcerated. He heard a voice below, calling his name, getting louder and angrier. He recognized that screech. It was the One Who Reeks. He lay silent as he heard the voice again, calling to him, making kissing noises. From the sound of it, the One Who Reeks was moving among several rooms. So she realized that, somehow, he’d gotten out of the room. He heard the sound of full bowls tapping together and suffered a moment of temptation that was easily fought off. It was better to crouch up here in the dark, dusty and hungry, than to put up with that one below.

*

Sunny came hometo find Mike and Mrs. Martinson sitting on the couch, a bit of space between them. But from the self-satisfied look on Mike’s face, they’d probably been a lot closer before Sunny’s key rattled in the lock. Mrs. M. just ran a hand through her hair, looking prim and proper.

I guess without Shadow around to cramp his style, Dad’s getting a lot luckier these days. The flip comment from Sunny’s reporter alter ego failed to amuse. It just reminded Sunny that Shadow was gone, and that the new normal was also lonelier. At least for her.

Still, she tried to look cheerful, engaging in a little chitchat.

“George Welling is debating putting an addition on his house,” Mike announced. “Between his son who’s finished college and can’t afford to move out, and a mother-in-law who had to move in, he’s running out of space.”

Helena Martinson nodded. “A lot of people who thought they’d be facing empty nests are finding them filling up again nowadays.”

Sunny didn’t say anything to that, painfully aware that she was one of those birdies who’d been forced home to roost.

Maybe Mike realized that, too, because he quickly shifted the topic. “Anyhow, George was talking about Allerton Contractors—”

“More likely he was hearing about them from Carolyn Dowdey.” Mrs. Martinson pursed her lips in disapproval. “She tells everyone that Joe Allerton is a wonderful builder. I’m afraid he’s more of a wonderful actor, always very deferential when Carolyn is around.”

“From what I’ve seen of her, she’d like that a lot,” Sunny said.

Helena nodded. “You think she’d have more sense, but I’m sorry to say you’re right. She recommended Joe to Martin Rigsdale when he built that new office. I wonder how that turned out.”

“It looked pretty good—what I could see of it.” Sunny remembered some of the comments Dani Shostak had made about Martin getting into his financial hole. “I think it might have turned out more expensive than anticipated, though.”

“That’s usually the case with Joe Allerton,” Mrs. M. said grimly. “And however nice it looks, you can bet he cut corners wherever it didn’t show.” She shook her head. “And the people he works with! The Dowdey place was a nice, classic Colonial house. But the architect Joe brought in added this thing to the side of the house where everyone has to see it. He didn’t even have the decency to hide it in the backyard.”

“A thing?” Mike asked, taking the words right out of Sunny’s mouth.

“Makes it looks as if a house from here had a head-on collision with one of those glass and cedar places you see in California,” Helena complained. “It’s one thing to add a sunroom or maybe enlarge the kitchen, but it seems just vulgar to tack a whole wing onto a house—especially when it’s a completely different style.”

She sighed. “They put drop ceilings in to give it a more ‘intimate’ feeling, and added a new fireplace for the family room. Not that there’s any family. Carolyn is alone in the place. But it’s very modern, and she tells everyone that she loves it.”

“So long as it makes her happy,” Sunny offered with a shrug.

Mrs. M. looked doubtful. “I’m not sure Carolyn knows what might make her happy anymore.”

She stopped, suddenly self-conscious, and looked at her watch. “I don’t know where the time goes when I sit with you, Mike. I should be working on my supper.”

“And so should we, I guess.” Sunny said good-bye and headed back to the kitchen to start whipping up a meal, giving her dad and Helena Martinson some privacy for a warmer farewell.

Later, at dinner, Mike asked his usual half-jocular question: “Anything exciting happen today?”

“Well, I got hauled off to the Portsmouth hoosegow for a while,” Sunny told him. “Detective Trumbull wanted to ask me some questions, and did it in the most disruptive way possible—damn!” She broke off.

“Finally think of something good to say to him?” Mike joked.

“No, it’s something I should have said to somebody else.” After dealing with Ollie and proving she had a job to do, she hadn’t contacted Jane or Tobe about Trumbull’s game playing.

And they were right in front of me at Spill the Beans. Sunny shook her head. I must really be losing it.

On the other hand, she didn’t know if they’d have welcomed the interruption. It hadn’t looked like a legal consultation to her.

“Would you mind dealing with the dishes tonight?” she asked Mike. “I have to go upstairs and make a phone call.”

Jane picked up her home phone when Sunny punched in the number. So I guess coffee after work didn’t turn into something more elaborate—unless Tobe is sitting there beside her.

“Sunny!” Jane said. “What’s up?”

I was wondering the same about you. But Sunny quickly quashed that thought. “Trumbull had me come down to the station today.”

“The guy just doesn’t stop, does he?” Sunny could imagine Jane scowling on the other end of the line. Then, “Are you okay?”