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

She waved the poker. “I came prepared, you see, and I was lucky, too. It was easy enough use his chair to roll him into the examination room after I hit him. Getting him onto the table was a little more work, but I managed in the end. Then it was just a question of finding the right drug among his supplies. He’d already taught me how to do the injections for Mrs. Purrley.”

Her face crumpled a little at the memory of her cat but then brightened as she returned to her story. “I found a vein and emptied the hypodermic into it. His arm jerked, breaking off the tip, but he was well on his way by then. It’s remarkable, really, how easy it is to kill someone when you put your mind to it.”

Or when you lose your mind, Sunny thought. Got to get to the door. Can’t turn my back on her. She faked left, dodged right, and took cover for a moment behind another table. Her pursuer destroyed that one, too.

An irrelevant thought popped into Sunny’s head. This is going to cost a fortune to redecorate. After they clean up all the blood.

She tried to grab the poker from Carolyn’s grasp and nearly got her wrist broken for her trouble. Shaking her hand, Sunny ducked behind another chair. She was running out of furniture. This time when Mrs. Dowdey came at her, Sunny shoved the chair so it fell onto the woman. Carolyn stumbled back, and Sunny ran for the door. She got as far as the fireplace before a reflection in the glass door gave her a second’s warning.

Sunny ducked and rolled as that damned poker swooped through the spot where her head had been a moment before. She scrabbled back on her hands, knees, and butt. Carolyn Dowdey came straight at her, the poker raised in both hands to bring it down in a death stroke.

She paused for a second as a weird noise came from above—a keening, guttural, coughing and sneezing noise.

And then one of the ceiling panels gave way, and a furious, dusty cat came flying down.

Carolyn had twisted round to see what was going on. Shadow landed against her shoulder. He bounced one way, she went the other, crashing into the oversized recliner. It rocked back and flew open as Carolyn landed face-first against the back.

The woman recovered quickly, swarming over the arm of the chair as Sunny regained her feet.

“Enough!” Carolyn shouted, coming at Sunny again.

Then she let out a scream and lurched back. Shadow circled her legs, darting in to claw again. Carolyn swung low with the poker as Shadow danced away.

She’s right, Sunny decided. This is enough! She leaped onto Carolyn before the woman could swing at Shadow again. They rolled around in a confused and nasty struggle, Sunny choking and half-blinded by the stink of rancid perfume. And then Carolyn was over her again, teeth bared, her cat face murderous.

Is this the last thing a mouse sees? Sunny found herself wondering.

Then Shadow came whirling up, going for Carolyn’s face. She reared back, Sunny bucked, the woman flopped on the floor . . .

And a foot came down on the poker.

Will weaved a little, but he had his gun out and pointed at Carolyn Dowdey.

“Get out of this house!” she screeched at him. “I’ll say you came in here and tried to rob me! Whatever you think you know, it’s not enough to prove anything!”

Sunny was using the opened recliner to pull herself to her feet when she suddenly stopped. “Or maybe not,” she said. “My dad had a chair like this in our living room. He and my mom got into an awful fight because she said he’d lost one of her silver spoons. Went on for months, until one day he pushed back to recline, and I saw something shiny in the piece of fabric that connects the footrest to the seat.”

On her feet now, she pointed to the hammocklike piece of brocade fabric. Nestled in it was a hypodermic syringe—a syringe with a broken needle.

Still on her knees, Carolyn Dowdey looked down, a dazed expression on her face. “I thought I brought it home, but I couldn’t find it. So I figured I must have lost it on the way.”

“Call 911,” Will told Sunny. “The sheriff’s going to be happy about one thing. This woman is going to another jurisdiction.”

*

Even with thefatal hypodermic turning up, Carolyn Dowdey might have made a long, drawn-out legal fight of it. But now that the cat was out of the bag—or the ceiling—she told the whole story to the officer who arrived, to Sheriff Nesbit, Detectives Trumbull and Fitch . . . and even to the news crews that quickly gathered. It was as if, after years of being alone, Mrs. Dowdey relished being the center of attention. As for Sunny, she just wanted to get done with the formalities of giving a statement and dealing with the media as quickly as possible. The big thing was to get Shadow safely home. Besides, he didn’t like the bright lights from the cameras.

It was a pretty odd-looking party that convened the next day. Both Will Price and Tobe Phillips sported shiners. Will also had a bandage over his cheekbone. Mike and Mrs. Martinson shared half the couch. Will sat on the other side, with Sunny on the floor at his feet. Across the room, Tobe had an armchair, and Jane sat on the floor.

Shadow occupied Sunny’s lap, purring away. He’d been very attached to her since coming home—sometimes literally. She had pulls in several sweaters from his attempts to climb on her.

“Are you ready?” Jane asked. “Start petting Shadow and making much of him. Let him know you love him.”

While Sunny did that, Jane reached into the bag at her side and took out Toby the pup. He had grown noticeably bigger already, but showed the same bumbling eagerness as before when Jane put his paws on the floor.

Toby spotted Shadow and, yipping like a nut, came toward him. Under Sunny’s hands, she could feel the cat’s muscles tense. But with Sunny holding him, Shadow held his ground until Toby came nose to nose with him.

The cat gave a deep sigh. Sunny wasn’t sure if that was annoyance or resignation. But he stayed there . . . until Toby suddenly came at him with a large, pink tongue.

Shadow tried to jump back, and Sunny lifted him to her shoulders. “Okay, that’s enough for a first try,” she said. “And for the time being, the new house rule is no licking.”

The others laughed and raised glasses. “No licking!”

“At least,” Will leaned forward to mutter, “not on the first date.”