Catch as Cat Can (10 page)

I don't know why Sunny would go into one of those places now,
he thought.
She just ate.

He watched her take a drink and make a face. Maybe it was one of those situations like when the Old One put out food for him, and just to be polite, Shadow would have a taste.

Thinking of that reminded Shadow of the food Sunny had set out back home. Now he wished he'd had some of that before he went out. Shadow continued to watch Sunny and finally saw the reason why she was hanging around. A strange two-legs came into the place and sat down with her.

When the stranger had walked by, Shadow had noticed him because he smelled of fish—some of it not very fresh. A bare glance at the way this one moved, though, and Shadow knew he couldn't expect to see any tidbits falling to the ground. This one was angry.

But there were no loud voices and fighting when the Angry One spoke with Sunny. That was good, although Shadow wasn't happy to see Sunny with this two-legs. Sunny was good, but she chose some very odd humans to hang around with sometimes. Why couldn't she visit with nice two-legs like the Generous One?

The thought of that one made Shadow's empty stomach growl. He stretched and noticed that the sky above was growing brighter. More two-legs were moving around now.

Shadow wondered if the Generous One was already in the house where he chopped up fish. A quick surge of his muscles, and he dropped to the pavement. He set off down the street,
ignoring the cold wind coming off the big water. It would be warm where he was going.

*

Sunny arrived at
the MAX office early enough that she was able to stop at Judson's Market for supplies. She wanted to get the taste of the Dockside Diner's coffee out of her mouth, and she didn't trust the office brew to help. So she got a cup of Judson's plain (but flavorful) American coffee and a toasted bagel to make up for the muffin she'd missed out on.

She'd just cleared the office decks and finished her second breakfast when she heard the metal gate rattle up next door. Sighing, Sunny dropped her disposable cup in the trash. She'd let the subject of rent slide after Abby's surprise revelation, but she knew she couldn't allow it to drag on forever. Sooner or later, she'd get a call from Ollie on the subject. And knowing Ollie, it would be sooner—like when he realized he still hadn't gotten cash or a check.

Sunny rose from behind her desk, walked to the door, and then scampered through the cold to Kittery Harbor Fish. Neil Garret had just installed himself behind the counter. “Oh, hi, Sunny,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“It's not so much what you can do for me as for Ollie,” she told him. “He wanted me to remind you about the rent. It's—”

“Overdue, I know,” he finished for her. “Things have been—well, you know how things have been.” Neil rubbed his hands together, like a man getting down to a big job. “The good news is that I had a decent day yesterday. A lot of nosy people had healthy dinners last night. Can you let me slide until I see how today goes? You can tell Ollie that I'll have something for him by the end of business.”

“I'll pass that on to Ollie when he calls in and let you know.” Sunny made no promises when it came to her boss' reactions. Although Ollie wasn't the wild man he had been when Sunny had first started working for him, he still had his good and bad days—good and bad moods.

“Thanks, Sunny.” Neil arranged a tray full of fish filets on a fresh bed of ice and added a sign with the price. He raised his head above the counter and asked, “Is there something else?”

Sunny realized she'd been staring at him, comparing this small businessman starting off his day with the big-shot stock market mobster that Abby had described. Other than his willingness to rock the boat on the local fish business, Sunny still didn't see any trace of that guy.

“I, uh . . .” She stumbled over her words as she realized that Neil was now staring at her in a way she recognized, the look of a man with a secret who wonders if it's somehow gotten out.

For a second, she almost blurted out that she'd been up early to catch Charlie Vane, but she managed to head that off before the words left her mouth.
Not helpful to talk about his wholesale fish coconspirator—and potential murder suspect,
Sunny thought.

Her final response was less than original but had the merit of being true, as far as it went. “Sorry. I didn't get much sleep last night.”

No need to mention why,
she added inside her head.

Neil nodded in sympathy. “I know what you mean. This hasn't been easy. I never expected—” He broke off, staring at her intently, as if looking for some sign of shared knowledge, a green light for him to speak up.

And then he was looking past her. “Don't look now,” Neil said, “but you're being shadowed.”

Sunny whirled around to discover a familiar furry figure resting its forepaws on Neil's store window.

“Shadow! What are you doing out there?” She opened the door, and Shadow trotted in, tail high, its tip bent forward, cat body language for
Hi! Nice to see ya!

It seemed as though he'd completely forgotten the unpleasant circumstances from the last time he'd been in front of Kittery Harbor Fish. Nor was he the least bit embarrassed that Sunny was watching his overtures to Neil.

Maybe a little bit of Nick Gatto peeked out as Neil's attitude suddenly shifted. He laughed, coming around the counter to reach down, letting Shadow sniff his hand before gently rubbing his fingers through the fur between the cat's ears. “This little guy must have some premium stones, coming down here to see what's doing.”

Actually, he's been fixed.
But Sunny didn't see any use in mentioning that.

After a brief head rub, Neil went back behind the counter. He produced a sharp knife and carefully removed a sliver from one of the filets in his counter display. Standing up again, he prepared to toss the morsel to Shadow but then paused, looking over at Sunny. “Is it all right for him to eat something like this in the morning?”

Sunny glanced over at Shadow who sat back on his haunches, his body erect, eyes locked on the bit of fish in Neil's hand. “He can have a little bit,” she responded, shaking her head. “Just not too much.”

That smart-aleck voice in the back of her head laughed.
We don't want a rerun of the frog
incident
.

So this is
what it feels like to be a prison warden,
Sunny thought, looking up from her desk to see what Shadow had gotten into now. She'd chatted with Neil Garret while he tossed bits of fish to Shadow, who started catching them on the fly. When she thought her cat had eaten enough, she picked him up and brought him to her office, figuring he'd curl up someplace warm and take a nap.

He hadn't.

Instead, Shadow prowled around the office, looking at Sunny and then the door, constantly going to rest his forepaws against the window as if to make sure it was still solid, craning his head as if he were trying to get a look at the fish shop next door. The prisoner didn't just check possible routes of escape, however. He also did his best to sabotage the
administration of the prison. Sunny had to keep a sharp eye peeled as Shadow nosed around papers, pawed at the wastebasket, and stared all too fixedly at Sunny's cup of coffee until she finally drained it and tossed the empty container in the trash.

She breathed a sigh of relief when Shadow climbed onto her lap to watch her work. But that relief was short-lived as he eeled his way up onto the desk and across Sunny's keyboard.

And when the computer goes down, they're going to find cat fur in there and void the warranty,
she sourly thought while trying to remove a suddenly boneless cat from her work space.

Someone appeared at the entrance to the office, and Shadow suddenly streaked from the desk to the door, with Sunny in hot pursuit. The only glitch in a near perfect escape came when the door didn't open. Will Price stood outside, looking down at Shadow, who faltered, staring up at him.

Sunny managed to swoop down and gather the cat in her arms as Will entered. “Didn't know it was Take Your Cat to Work Day,” he said.

“I think Shadow decided it was Take Your Cat to Town Day and stowed away on Dad's pickup.” Sunny wanted to tuck back an errant curl that had fallen on her face, but her hands were too taken up with a squirming cat to do the job. Will took care of it, smiling down at her. “That's right. Your dad went along for your meeting with Charlie Vane. So how was your interview with the pirate?”

“Not as many ‘Ahhhhrrrs' as I expected, although it looks as though he almost wound up with an eyepatch.”
Sunny frowned. “I don't think I'd go so far as to call him a pirate. He says he's a businessman, but he's got a whole set speech to justify anything he does to screw over people he deals with. Somehow, I don't see him getting good citizenship awards anytime soon.”

Will nodded. “Think I should bring him in and tighten the screws?”

“I think he'd just batten down his hatches, if you'll excuse the term, at the sight of a cop. The only reason he talked to me is that he didn't take me seriously. A lot of what he had to say started out with ‘tell your boyfriend.'”

“He don't know you very well . . . do he?” Will said in his best Bugs Bunny impersonation.

“He knows enough to trot out an alibi,” Sunny told him. “According to Vane he was out to sea, fishing with two witnesses.”

Will lost some of his good humor. “Anyway, if he had a problem with Garret, why would he kill Treibholz by mistake?”

“Unless someone else was doing the job,” Sunny suggested. “Somebody who didn't know Garret by sight.” She frowned. “But it would have to be someone he really trusted. His son and son-in-law were on the boat as his alibi witnesses. And from the way he complains about money, I don't think that Vane could afford to hire a pro.”

“We'll look into Vane's associates and finances,” Will said. “But I still think the root of this whole situation can be found next door—or rather, that it comes from California, like Treibholz.”

“I was just next door, and Neil Garret was fooling
around with Shadow, tossing scraps of fish for him to catch. Can you kill a person one day and do that the next?”

Will shrugged. “Distraction, maybe.”

“And everything that happened, discovering the body, what was that? An act? Was Neil ready to throw that little production for whoever walked in first thing that morning? He knows you and I are going out, so was it aimed at me?”

“Well, you are next door, a perfect witness, and he is behind on what he owes for the month. Maybe he kinda expected you to come by—or rather, that Ollie would send you over to dun him for the rent.” Will shrugged. “Or maybe he just panicked when you walked in.”

“Right,” Sunny scoffed. “The guy's a mobster, and he just panics.”

“Nick Gatto was just a money-shuffler for the mob, not a made man.” Will frowned impatiently. “Or maybe he killed Treibholz and staged that whole rigmarole to confuse the issue. Amateur killers—first-timers—have been known to do that.”

Sunny remembered the way Neil Garret had frozen in the doorway to the freezer, staring at the dead body on the floor. “Well, if he's an amateur killer, he's a professional actor. I'd swear that he didn't expect to find Treibholz when he opened the freezer door.”

“Back in California, the guy was little better than a swindler,” Will said. “That involves some acting ability.”

“Yeah, but there's a difference between convincing a grandmother to invest her life savings and reacting to a dead body,” Sunny argued. “I know how I felt and acted when I stumbled over poor Ada Spruance. I remember it. Sometimes
I dream about it. Neil didn't look as though he was faking when he saw that body.”

“Didn't
look.
” Will emphasized the word. “When I look at this case, I see motive sticking out a mile high. Phil Treibholz was a mortal danger to Neil Garret. He recognized him as Nick Gatto and could have hit men turning up here to cash in on the contract Jimmy the Chopper decided to put out on him. As for opportunity, Garret still says he was home reading when Treibholz got whacked.”

Sunny stared. “You mean he doesn't have an alibi at all? He didn't say anything more?”

“Poor planning on his part,” Will said. “Or maybe no planning at all. Maybe he didn't expect to need an alibi. It might have started off as a meeting that took a sudden, dangerous turn. Val Overton has been working some federal sources to get the story on Treibholz. He didn't just dig up information, he used it. Word is that he had a thriving side business in blackmail. Maybe he made a demand and things went downhill fast.”

“And Neil just happened to shoot him?” Sunny didn't hesitate to put a pin in that notion. “I thought Neil came here after serving a term in prison. How would he get hold of a gun?”

Will laughed—sourly. “In the home of the brave and the land of the second amendment? Maine isn't the strictest state when it comes to gun laws. You can get a piece, especially if you're not a law-abiding type.”

“So Neil rates high on the MOM chart—motive, opportunity, and means,” Sunny had to admit. “But—”

“But you've got a feeling about our strongest suspect,” Will finished.

“He's not the only one,” Sunny argued.

“The only one who doesn't need to be seriously near-sighted, taking Phil Treibholz for Neil Garret,” Will replied.

“We haven't really mentioned that Deke Sweeney guy yet.” Sunny frowned. “Charlie Vane threw out a theory that Sweeney might have sent someone to lean on Neil.”

“Another case of mistaken identity getting Treibholz shot?” Will sat in silence for a moment. “I talked to some old buddies from the Portsmouth PD. Sweeney doesn't have a criminal record—exactly. Years ago, though, one of the guys in the fish market accused him of pulling a gun and threatening him.”

“And that didn't turn into a criminal record?”

Will shrugged. “Charges never got pressed, and the fish merchant left town.”

“No part of that story makes Sweeney look very good,” Sunny pointed out.

“We'll have to talk to him. And by ‘we,' I mean the sheriff's department.” Will didn't look happy. “There'll probably be all sorts of jurisdictional hoops to jump through.”

“It may be worth it, though,” Sunny said. “I'm convinced whoever killed Treibholz wasn't familiar with this area. Otherwise, why leave the body?”

“As a warning—or a message?” Will suggested. “Like the way Treibholz tried to string up your little buddy here.” He gestured toward Shadow, who regarded him with unblinking eyes.

“If there's a killer still around here, then why isn't Neil dead?” Sunny wanted to know.

“Maybe he—or she—had orders to make Garret worry. Or suffer.”

Sunny didn't like the sound of that. If the killer knew about Abby Martinson, she could wind up at the top of the hit parade.
Another reason to keep her secret safely buried,
she thought. “Well, I think we've talked ourselves into circles long enough.” Will glanced at the wall clock. “How do you feel about lunch?”

“I'd love to grab a bite. But”—Sunny pointed toward Shadow—“I'm afraid my lunch hour is going to be spent getting this little guy home. Dad should be done with his walk and his errands. I'm going to give him a call and get Shadow back where he belongs.”

As if anticipating that the humans were finishing their business and that Will would leave, Shadow had already started edging toward the door.

“Oh, no.” Sunny sprang from her chair and managed to grab Shadow before he could dodge. She caught hold of him by the fur at the scruff of his neck and brought him up. That was the handle that mama cats used to move their kittens around. Sunny had read that holding a cat that way could trigger old kitten instincts.

It seemed to work. Shadow calmed down and drew in his paws for easier carrying. Sunny took some of his weight in her other hand and said, “Wouldn't you like to go home where it's warm and you have your own food? You didn't like it last night when we went out at a strange time. You're doing the same thing now. Let's go home.”

Will gave her a skeptical look. “How much of that do you think he understands?

“More than we probably think.” Still holding Shadow, she dug out her keys and gave them to Will. “I'll have to depend on you to lock the door and open the car,” she told him. “Holding onto Shadow may be a two-handed job.”

Sunny put him gently down on the desk and got her coat. Shadow sat watching her. When she came toward him again, he didn't run away but submitted to being picked up by his scruff. Sunny wrapped her free arm around and under him, supporting his weight while still maintaining her scruff hold.

“Hang on,” Will said, moving ahead and opening the door. Sunny exited and walked to her truck while Will locked the office door. Then he hurried on ahead to unlock the Wrangler. Sunny took her seat, bringing Shadow down onto her lap as Will inserted the key into the ignition.

“I'm surprised you made it this far,” he said as he closed the door. He leaned close to the window, his voice muffled as he said, “Good luck getting him out.”

Sunny gently petted the cat in her lap before getting out her cell phone. After a quick phone chat with her father, she started the engine. “One thing at a time,” she said. “One thing at a time.”

*

Shadow rested his
head on his paws as he lay across Sunny's lap. It was cold, even inside the go-fast thing, and she was warm. Sunny's other place could be interesting. It certainly had some odd smells. But he looked forward to the familiar scents of home. It would be good to come back to his bowl of water and food. He stirred a little. And his litter box. He was going to need that soon enough, after the fish the Generous One had given him.

He settled down again as Sunny's hand gently stroked his fur. They were going home. He didn't have to look out the windows to see that.

*

Midday traffic was
fairly thin. Sunny managed the drive out to Wild Goose Lane without any trouble. After parking in the driveway, she gathered Shadow up in her arms and headed for the front door.

Mike must have been watching for her, because the door swung open. “No blood spilled. And I didn't see you engaged in a spirited game of Catch the Cat after you parked. What's the matter, furball?” he asked Shadow. “You feeling tired?”

Sunny carried Shadow into the kitchen and set him down. The cat walked over to his bowls and lapped up a quick slurp of water. Then with a quick glance over his shoulder, he headed away—toward his litter box, Sunny realized.

“Well, Dad, I think we avoided a cat-tastrophe,” she told Mike. “I guess I should be glad Will stopped by the office. I don't know how I'd have gotten Shadow outside and into the Wrangler without him.”

“It's a shame you're wasting your lunch delivering the furball instead of spending time with Will,” Mike said. “I know which I'd prefer you to be doing.”

“Oh?” Sunny asked. “And were you going to come to town and collect the dreaded cat?”

Mike's startlingly blue eyes twinkled. “Do you want the fatherly answer or the honest answer?”

“The honest one,” Sunny told him, laughing.

“I wouldn't touch that job without a cat carrier, a dart gun, and reinforcements,” Mike said. “I've seen what that animal can be like when he decides to be uncooperative.”

Shadow returned, took a slow spin around their ankles, and turned to his food bowl.

“There's a good idea,” Mike said. “I could make you a sandwich before you head back. We're well stocked with all that healthy stuff you insist on feeding me.”

He quickly whipped up a low-sodium turkey and low-fat cheese sandwich on grainy bread with a shot of honey dijon mustard. It went down pretty well with a glass of seltzer. Mike joined her at the kitchen table with the same lunch. “I still think you'd have a better time with Will,” Mike insisted after chewing a bite.

“He came by for work,” Sunny told him. “Wanted to hear what Charlie Vane had to tell me.”