The Big Kitty (22 page)

“A lot of this seems to depend on Shays,” Sunny said. “Do the Portsmouth cops have any idea where he might have gone?”

“I talked to some guys outside of regular channels,” Will admitted. “As far as they can tell, Shays just picked up and left. There’s no reason other than the glitch in his supposed deal here. Things are quiet between the dealers.”

He shrugged. “Well, as quiet as you can expect between a bunch of drug-addled, paranoid businessmen. It’s always possible that some competitor thought this was a nice,
peaceful opportunity to take out Shays, and he’s actually floating somewhere in the Piscataqua heading out to sea.”

“So what you think we have here are several bumbling henchmen trying to carry out plans their late boss came up with while trying to get some sort of business going on their own?”

Will gave her a lopsided grin. “And not doing a great job of any of it. With that scenario, it’s possible that Gordie was actually working with them. They not only accidentally knock him off, they let their meth lab blow up.”

“I like that one,” Sunny said. “Not only is it entertaining, but it means that around about now the bad guys should be getting discouraged enough to head out of town.”

She breathed a long, drawn-out sigh. “The problem is, the real situation could be any of these, or something we haven’t even thought of. Don’t start,” she said, raising her hands at Will’s thoughtful expression. “You’re overtired as it is. Coming up with more off-the-wall theories isn’t going to help you sleep.”

“Okay.” He dragged himself to his feet. “Home. Sleep.” His expression brightened. “And dinner later tonight?”

“Dinner tonight,” Sunny agreed. “Do you know where you’d like to go?”

“Not the Captain’s Table or the Redbrick—I think that might be a little too soon for you. And for them, actually. What do you think of someplace out of town? I’ve got a place in mind,” Will said, “but I’ll have to see if I can get a table on short notice.”

“Well, call me during the day if you’re successful,” Sunny told him. “If not, Lord knows I’ve got a list with
lots of places.” Sometimes it seemed as if half her job at MAX involved recommending restaurants for visitors. “Some of them even give me coupons.”

*

As the morning
slowly passed, Sunny really began to worry about how badly all the negative news coverage might have hit Kittery Harbor’s tourism. E-mail traffic was way down, and the phone didn’t ring at all.

At this rate, Ollie the Barnacle will have a whole new—and justifiable—reason to fire me,
she worried.

As she sat at her desk, laboring through the tedious task of updating the website’s software, Sunny could look out the plate-glass window and see Kittery Harbor PD cruisers passing by at irregular intervals. Ben Semple she knew already, and repetition made the other officers on the day shift become familiar, at least by sight.

Sunny decided to stay barricaded behind her desk rather than going out for a snack, unable to decide whether to be comforted or annoyed by so much police attention.

Just as the noon hour approached, she got a visit from the week’s biggest tourism spender—Raj Richer.

“I wasn’t sure the office would be open,” he said. “But then I noticed you in here as I walked by.”

“Just putting in a few extra hours. How’s your genealogy research going?” Sunny asked, only to get a shrug.

“There are some possibilities,” Raj said, “but I would have to get more of our family records before I could pursue them.”

“Ah,” she said, trying to keep disappointment out of her voice. “I guess you’ll be leaving soon.”

“Not for a few more days,” he replied. “In fact, I’m here to make another payment.”

More big bills came out of his wallet. Sunny made out a receipt and put the money in the cash box. “So you’re enjoying your stay?”

“It’s restful,” Raj said. “It’s been nice for a while to escape from business—which reminds me—”

He opened a leather portfolio and removed several sheets. Sunny saw Oliver Barnstable’s letterhead on top, then in large letters, “Investment Opportunities.”

So Raj was the rich out-of-towner that Will had seen lunching with Ollie.

“I wanted to return these.” Raj put them on Sunny’s desk. “Please forgive me for leaving them with you instead of delivering them to Mr. Barnstable in person. He is a very persuasive man, with an interesting vision for this town. However, after the unpleasantness yesterday, I’m reluctant to make an investment.”

Raj leaned over to pick up a copy of the newly published issue of the
Crier
. “I saw this when I went out for breakfast this morning. It quite shocked me to read that the building that burned down—the one the drug people were using—had belonged to Mr. Barnstable.” He shook his head in distaste. “Really, I don’t think this is an appropriate situation for an investment at this time.”

“Do me a favor,” Sunny told him. “Don’t mention that to Mr. Barnstable.”

Raj glanced over at her. “I also read the issue with your article. Very interesting, I thought. The whole state of affairs must be very difficult for the family—Spruance, is it?”

“I don’t know if there’s much of the family left to be upset,” Sunny told him. “The father died some years ago, and Gordie—Gordon—was an only child.”

“Somehow that makes it even sadder.” Raj paused for a second as if searching for words. “There was another article, insinuating that there have been attempts to intimidate you?”

“A couple of … things happened,” Sunny said, trying to keep from getting too specific. “Upsetting, maybe, but I try not to get too excited about it.”

As she spoke, one of the town’s dark blue patrol cars came by. Constable Semple was behind the wheel and actually waved at her. When Sunny nodded back, Raj turned to see what she was looking at, a smile tugging at his lips. “Well, it seems the local police take a more serious position on these matters.”

He said good-bye, and the hands of the clock at last reached noon. Sunny hesitated for a moment. She had promised to call Will so that he could escort her home before she set off. But he’d looked so tired, maybe she should give him a little more time …

As she dithered, Sunny watched the minute hand pass beyond noon, and realized something that made her smack herself in the forehead. She’d forgotten about all that cash Raj had given her—and with Saturday hours, the bank was now closed!

Guess I’ll have to take the cash box home again,
she thought, dialing Will’s number.

Will sounded reasonably coherent when she finally rang him up. “Be there in a few minutes,” he promised.

Soon enough, she spotted his black pickup on the street outside. Will flipped up his sunglasses and gave her a smile. Sunny already had everything on her desk turned off. She tucked the cash box away in a bag, came out, locked the door, and headed for her dad’s truck.

The loud honk of a horn sounded as she reached for the door handle. Sunny turned around to catch Will pointing at the ground under her truck and shaking his head emphatically.

Sighing, she dropped to the pavement as he’d shown her to look for bombs.

“You okay, ma’am?” a young voice said from above her. Sunny looked up to see a twelve-year-old in a Boy Scout uniform hovering anxiously over her. “Are you feeling ill? Do you need help getting up?”

Even when she told him she was fine, he still offered a hand. “I thought I dropped something and went down to look for it,” Sunny lied to make him go away. When she glanced over at Will, he was cracking up behind the wheel.

Sunny did her best to ignore him as she climbed into the truck.

The ride home was uneventful. They talked for a few minutes about plans for the evening when Sunny pulled up in front of her house. Once again, Will waved good-bye when Sunny was inside the door.

She said hello to her dad and Shadow, went to the kitchen, dug out a block of low fat, low-sodium cheddar, and used the toaster oven to make grilled cheese.

It wasn’t an outstanding lunch, and neither was the table talk. Sunny apologized for having such a dull morning.
Mike was interested when she gave him the new edition of the
Crier
, though, saying,
“Extra! Extra!”

Sunny collected the plates and washed them. Then she joined Mike in the living room, sitting on the floor to play with Shadow. The cat had devised a new game.

*

Shadow backed up
almost to the box that held cold things. Then he crouched low and sprang into a run, through the kitchen doorway and down the long hallway that led to the front door. The kitchen floor was shiny and a little slippery under the pads of his feet, but he got better traction on the wool runner in the hall. His legs ate up the distance until he was almost to the archway that led to the room with the couch and picture box. Then he launched himself into the air, ignoring the twinge in his side as he twisted in mid leap, extending his forepaws to catch the side of the arch about six inches off the ground. At the same time, he brought his rear legs down on the plaster and pushed, caroming off the entranceway and sailing in to make a perfect landing in Sunny’s lap. He didn’t even need claws to grab on to her jeans. He scrambled to his feet, looking up at her laughing face above him, and then climbed over her leg, dashing down to the kitchen to start the wild race all over again.

After about a dozen repetitions, Shadow had burned off his burst of energy and lay down beside Sunny. He arranged himself on the rug so that his furry shoulder and flank leaned against Sunny’s denim-clad thigh. Nice. Warm. Comfortable. Just the way he liked it.

Then Sunny’s hand descended to pet him. Perfect.

*

Sunny glanced up
at her father as she ran her fingers through Shadow’s gray fur. “Looks as if he’s healing pretty quickly,” she said.

Mike put down the
Crier.
“Talked with Sal DiGillio today,” he reported. “He went down to the impound lot and had a look at the cars.”

“Cars?” Sunny echoed.

“Yours and that Jeep Wrangler that wound up in front of the house,” her dad explained. “He says the Mustang is shot.”

“Tell me about it.” Sunny sighed.

“No, he says that between the steering column and the windshield, it’s not worth trying to fix the car.” Mike spread his hands. “You know Sal’s honest, and he tries to keep from gouging people. When you racked up the door, he kept it cheap for you.”

And loud,
Sunny silently added.

“But this is going to be parts and labor. You may even have to go to an auto glass place to get the new windshield put in.”

Sunny winced, imagining a stream of dollar bills flying out the window. Shadow leaned up and put a paw on her arm.

“You can drive my truck, of course,” Mike said quickly. “But you should consider getting a car for yourself.”

Sunny nodded, wondering,
With what money?
She’d made a decent salary in New York, but it had been an expensive town. And even though she’d lived frugally since coming home, shipping all her stuff up here had put a
serious dent in her finances—a dent that her pay from Ollie Barnstable did little to fill.

“Sal also told me a bit about that Wrangler,” Mike went on. “Says it’s a good machine, but it hasn’t been taken care of for months.” His voice dropped. “Used to belong to the Winslow boy.”

Sunny glanced up. Stevie Winslow had been a local high school kid, looking forward to a great senior year, when a boating accident tragically ended his life. It had happened this past summer, and Sunny had followed the sad story along with everyone else.

“The Winslows sent the Jeep to Sal to fix it up and sell it.” Mike’s voice took on a coaxing quality. “I could talk to him—”

“You think it’s a good idea to buy a car that almost killed us?” Sunny interrupted, staring at her father. “Doesn’t that seem like bad karma or something?”

Mike shrugged again. “If we could get it cheap,” he said, sounding like the quintessential Yankee trader. “Better suited for the area than what you had.”

When Sunny declined to talk any more about it, her dad returned to reading the
Crier
, rattling the pages. Apparently he had something else on his mind. He finally put the paper down and made a noncommittal noise.

“So, you’re going out with Will tonight.”

“If there’s something you’d especially like to have to eat while I’m gone, we’d better go shopping for it.” She paused, still looking up at him. “It’s just dinner, Dad.”

Mike harrumphed. “Well, your mother and I just had dinner once upon a time—back in the Stone Age—and look what happened.”

He looked as if he were going to add something else, when he got cut off by a howl of sirens in the distance.

“Oh, God, what’s happened now?” Mike said, sitting very straight on the couch.

As if in answer, the phone rang. He fumbled the receiver off the cradle with nervous hands. “Hello! What? Oh, Will. Yeah, I understand. I’ll tell her. So long.”

Mike hung up, then turned to Sunny. “Will said he’s sorry to be so brief, but he’s dashing out the door because of a call on the police band radio. He figured we’d hear the sirens and wanted to let us know what’s going on. Seems somebody got spotted trying to break into Ada Spruance’s house.”

Sunny shot to
her feet, startling Shadow into jumping away. “We’ve got to go over there and check it out,” she said.

Mike glared at her. “You don’t
have
to do anything of the sort!”

She stared at him wordlessly, finally realizing how tightly wound this whole situation had him.

When he spoke again, his voice was a bit calmer. “The only reason someone would go into the Spruance place is to look for that damned lottery ticket—the one you think got two people killed already.”

He raised a hand, cutting Sunny off before she could speak. “The people involved in that also tried to kill you four times—and me once. You don’t want to be out on the street when guys like that are around.”

This isn’t my job anymore,
Sunny told herself as her dad’s words sank in.
I’m not going to break the big story.