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

“But she’s barely older than Kristi!”

Sunny nodded. “Some people might see that as motive.”

“I didn’t kill Martin, and don’t know who did.” Christine’s show of spirit quickly fizzled. “Maybe it was the blackmailer. Maybe it’s all my fault.” The tears began again.

“How is it your fault?”

“The night Martin . . . died”—Christine tripped over the word—“I was supposed to bring money.”

“Where?” Sunny asked.

“To his office—he was going to deliver it. I was supposed to come in the secret way—”

“Wait a minute,” Sunny said, “you’re getting ahead of me. What secret way?”

Christine actually blushed. “It’s stupid, really. He had a panel built into his office wall. It led out to the back stairs—and the back door. No one could see me come in, and we—we could go up to his bedroom. And then I could leave again by the back way. He said he’d leave it unlocked so I could bring the money.”

She looked down, trembling. “But I couldn’t. I could only get my hands on half of what they wanted. When I went to the bank, I found out that my husband had withdrawn most of the money from our joint account. We are separated, and I guess that was the first step toward a real divorce.”

“And you lost it,” Sunny said, remembering Kristi’s story about her mom’s out-of-the-ordinary behavior.

Christine nodded. “I didn’t know what to do. I got a bottle of wine, trying to work up the nerve to call Martin and tell him. But I had too much. The next thing I remember, I was waking up at one in the morning.” Humiliation and guilt added ten years to her face. “If I’d even brought what I could have, maybe the blackmailer—”

“I hate to tell you this, but the blackmailer was Martin.” Sunny tried to make her voice gentle. “You have to know he was having money problems.”

Christine shook her head violently. When she spoke, she picked up on the second thing Sunny had said, not the blackmail. “His wife took him to the cleaner’s in the divorce.”

“He messed up their finances way before the divorce,” Sunny told her. “And then he borrowed money from some shady characters to set up his new office. That got him in worse trouble. Martin tried to pressure money out of Jane. When did he tell you about this blackmail?”

“Right before he died,” Christine said. “He told me he’d gotten pictures and a demand for fifty thousand dollars. I knew he didn’t have that kind of money.” Her chin trembled, but she held it high. “And you’re wrong about Martin being the blackmailer. Now that he’s dead, they’ve come after me. It’s sixty thousand dollars now. That wasn’t easy to get. I had to sell some family jewelry.”

Sunny blinked, the wheels in her head suddenly spinning into high gear. “And the drop-off is tonight?”

Christine nodded. “I was told to wait for instructions. That’s why I thought—”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Christine, but I don’t think you’re cut out to deal with this,” Sunny told the woman, her voice calm and confident. After weeks of stumbling around in the fog, she’d suddenly stepped out into blazing clarity. “I know who’s behind this little scheme.” She smiled. “And I know a person who can help stop it.”

*

“This is crazy,”Will said for about the tenth time as they drove to Portsmouth.

“Maybe.” Sunny sat with a canvas bag in her lap as she drove, wearing one of Christine’s coats—one with a hood. “But if this works out, it will take care of all our problems.”

She ran through the instructions from the blackmailer. She—or rather, Christine—was supposed to leave the moneybag in a kid’s activity structure in a playground. “It sounds familiar,” Sunny said.

“It should,” Will told her. “Did you watch the cop show this week where the kid was abducted? This is how they were supposed to pass on the ransom.” He looked at the street signs and then ducked down in his seat. “We’re getting close. I’m going to bail at the next red light.”

That was a block away. As Sunny made the obligatory stop, Will opened the door and slid out. They had already taken the precaution of turning off the Wrangler’s dome light. Sunny slowly drove on, as if she were unsure of the neighborhood. Got to give Will a chance to get into position.

At last she reached the playground. Pulling up the hood, she got out of the Jeep, moving hesitantly and looking around. I don’t see anyone. Hope nobody else does.

Her destination was pretty obvious—a structure painted in very primary reds, yellows, and blues. Sunny advanced and put her bag as directed on the corkscrew slide. Then, keeping her head down, she walked back to her Jeep and started the engine.

Sunny drove off, took the first right and then the first parking space she could find, running back to the park on foot. She arrived to find two figures struggling by the play structure. The smaller one had a distinct disadvantage because she was also carrying a large duffel bag.

“Give it up, Dawn!” Sunny called as she came forward.

That apparently took the fight out of Dawn Featherstone. She stopped struggling with Will and swore. “You’re always sticking your nose in where it’s not wanted,” she said. “Getting the cops to ask me a bunch of questions about how things were between Martin and me. Helping that witch who killed him.”

“You mean Jane?” Sunny was confused. Why was Dawn still claiming that Jane had killed Martin? She glanced over at Will, who stood with his cop face on, listening to Dawn’s confession.

“Yeah. She was always holding Martin back, until he finally had to get rid of her,” Dawn accused. “And then she kept trying to get back at him. She had money, but she wouldn’t help Martin out. Oh, no. And then, when he finally got hold of some money and we were gonna get outa town, she killed him.”

She tapped the duffel bag hanging from her shoulder. “But I was the one holding the money. It was in the trunk of my car when the cops came. It’s enough to get me started somewhere else, but I figured I’d get some more from that other old hag that Martin was stringing along. I just had to time it right.” Her voice wobbled. “I couldn’t be sure when the memorial would be. When we could have the cremation and the urn.”

Sunny was still digesting the first part of Dawn’s outburst. “Old hag?” she echoed. “Do you mean Christine Venables, the woman who was Martin’s age?”

“Martin was always young—always fun,” Dawn spat. “And he was smart, too. Look what he got hold of.”

She unzipped the bag and dropped it to the ground. Packets of bills spilled out. It was hard not to stare, and Dawn took advantage of the instant’s distraction, pulling a gun from her coat pocket.

“And I’m gonna hold on to it!”

23

Shadow carefully hookedhis claws into one of the ceiling squares and pulled, peering down into the room below through the opening he’d made. Yes, this was the place where he’d been imprisoned. He pulled the square aside, disentangled his claws, and dropped to the shelf below. For a long moment, he crouched in silence, straining his senses to the fullest. The room was empty.

He glanced toward the window. Good, it was long dark. He’d feared that his wanderings in the dimness above might have thrown off his internal sense of time. But he’d obviously made the right choice about when to scout this area. This was an hour when most humans slept.

He crept down to the floor level, sniffing about. His nose wrinkled at a bad scent, but this was good news. The One Who Reeks had been in here not too long ago. As he came to the wall, he detected a more welcome smell. Shadow quickly stepped forward to eat and drink.