Catch as Cat Can (12 page)

Mike went to the window, looking out at the street. Light began to appear in the windows of the houses across the way. “Yep, they noticed,” he said. Then he frowned. “And here comes a damned fool.”

A vehicle made its way slowly along the dark, deserted street. At first, Sunny couldn't even make it out. All she saw were headlights. It was a dark car, no, a pickup truck that skidded to a halt at the bottom of the driveway. When the driver opened his door, the dome light revealed Will Price's features.

“Well, maybe not such a fool,” Mike said.

“What would bring him up here?” Sunny went back to the kitchen to open the door.

Will came slowly up the drive, checking carefully to make sure there was no black ice to slip on. He'd changed his clothes since their date the night before, but he had a day's growth of beard, and his eyes looked tired.

“Are you okay?” Sunny asked.

“Had about enough time to change into some fouler
weather gear before Lenore Nesbit called me in,” Will said. “Then a lot of slow-motion driving to accident scenes and enforcing no-drive restrictions. I was heading off people from using the road to Sturgeon Springs. A whole tree went down, cutting the route completely. Then, after we completed the emergency stuff, we went on a lot of well-being checks. One caught my attention. Charlie Vane's wife—or almost ex-wife, considering she moved out on him a couple of months ago—called that he wasn't answering his phone. We checked with the son, he hadn't heard from his father, and his car was out of commission since before the storm. The Vane place is on the edge of town, so I said I'd stop by on my way back in.”

He reported all this in his usual cop voice, but Sunny caught an undertone that she didn't like. “Something happened to Charlie Vane?”

Will nodded. “Three gunshots. Recently dead. And, as if that wasn't enough, the place was like an arsenal, enough rifles and pistols around to outfit an army—or at least a platoon. Let's just say, a lot more than for personal use, unless personal use involved starting a war. And he had all new locks—the place was like a fortress.”

He tried to joke, but his expression remained grim. “Looks as though he went from playing Pirates of the Caribbean to the
Alamo.”

After taking a
moment to digest what Will had said, Sunny asked, “Can we tell my dad?”

Will shrugged. “It will be on the news soon enough. After they get through with this ‘storm of the century' stuff.”

Sunny led the way into the living room. “Charlie Vane is dead,” she announced. “Will found him tonight.”

Mike paused in the middle of turning on a few more lamps. “From the look on your faces, I don't expect it was some run-of-the-mill thing like a car crash or hypothermia.”

“Shot,” Will said. “With all this weather stuff going on, it will take a while for the crime-scene guys to arrive and get to work.” He paused for a second. “Have you ever been in Vane's place?”

“A long time ago, when he was more prosperous. It was a nice little place, away from the built-up part of town but
close enough to the docks. Charlie's father built it, and Charlie's wife kept it spotless.” Mike shook his head. “Too bad about that.”

“You knew that Vane's wife had left him?” Will asked.

“More like she got tired of trying to hold on,” Mike said. “I didn't see much good coming from airing that piece of dirty linen. Whatever Charlie got up to, Eileen would never be a part of it.”

He frowned, looking at the floor for a moment. “But with a murder involved, I will tell you something odd I heard. Not about Charlie, but his son, Jack. He's trying to keep a wife and son on what he makes on Charlie's boat, and lately it's been a real struggle. Kid has to drive around in an old wreck—the kind of car mechanics call a moneymaker. The owner can't afford to replace it, so he limps along from one repair to another to keep it running. A mechanic who's not bothered with a conscience can string along that kind of situation pretty profitably. But Sal DiGillio told me—”

“I wouldn't think Sal DiGillio was that kind of mechanic,” Sunny objected.

“He's not,” Mike replied, “and that's the thing. He wouldn't work on Jack's car because the kid couldn't scrape up what it would take to fix the wreck properly. But about a month ago, Jack came to Sal's shop with the money to do the work. Sal fixed the car, but when I went to his station for gas the other day, he was aggravated because something new had died on Jack's car. All his work for nothing, and the kid is still behind the eight ball.”

“Was Charlie Vane into guns?” Will asked.

Mike peered at him in bafflement. “Unless it was about
shooting fish in a barrel. No, I take even that back. Charlie was a fisherman. He didn't hunt, he didn't trap, he didn't even go after lobsters. I'd be really surprised that he even owned a gun.” His frown deepened. “You're not saying he could have used a gun on himself?”

“No, but he had a house full of the things,” Will said. “Cheap revolvers, more high-end deals, long guns too. Some hunting rifles with big magazines, shotguns, a regular arsenal.”

“And now he ends up shot.” Mike shook his head. “I don't know what I can tell you.”

“But it's out of character for Charlie Vane.” Will jumped in.

“That's not the Charlie I knew,” Mike said.

“Maybe it's a case of dead men tell no tales,” Sunny suggested.

Will gave her a skeptical look. “Back to the pirates again, huh? But who made the man dead? Not so long ago, you were suggesting that Vane hired someone to kill Neil Garret, but they got Phil Treibholz instead.” He thought for a moment. “Of course if Garret knew about that, he could have returned the favor.”

“Wait a minute,” Sunny said as something struck her. “Neil lives up in Sturgeon Springs. And you said the road out there was blocked by a fallen tree.”

Will nodded. “So if he was in town killing Charlie Vane, he'd be trapped there, or crawling along an alternate route home.” He turned to Mike. “Could I borrow your phone for a moment?”

On getting the okay, Will quickly dialed. “I need a check on a Neil Garret in Sturgeon Springs—you have the address
on file. Is the south road still blocked? Yeah. So you'll have to send a car from Elmet.”

He hung up and smiled. “So, if he's not home, we'll have him.”

“Excellent police work,” Sunny told him, “but that's not what I was thinking. We've got two dead bodies: a crooked California private eye, and a fisherman who's willing to do anything to keep his business going. What if they found out or knew something that had to be kept secret?”

Will glanced at Mike then turned to Sunny, his expression reminding her that they had secrets of their own. “My money is still on Garret.”

“But there could be someone else,” she argued. “Someone with a motive we don't even know about.”

“We've got a perfectly good suspect as it is.” Will must have heard the tone of complaint in his voice, because he started over again. “Why do we need a hypothetical killer when we have one already? What could this unknown motive be?”

“Blackmail,” Sunny suggested. “The fewer people who know a secret, the more lucrative it could be.”

She decided not to push it, because the scenarios spinning around in her mind weren't things she could talk about in front of Mike—or even discuss with Will, until she had something more solid than a theory.

Or maybe the motive was protecting Neil Garret,
she thought.
I already wondered about Val Overton. But what about Abby Martinson? She says that she and Helena had an early night. Abby could have gone out to deal with Charlie Vane and been back before all traffic was restricted.
Sunny turned away, frowning.
Maybe this whole trip back
to Kittery Harbor is because of Neil. Oh, Abby put on a pretty good act after seeing him in the window. But she's supposed to be an actress.

She sighed. This was something she'd never have considered in the simpler if somewhat lonelier days when she first came back to her old hometown, before murders and killers seemed to swirl around the streets like bad weather.
I'll start suspecting Dad next,
she scolded herself.
Or Shadow.

Maybe Shadow heard her thinking his name, because he appeared from under the coffee table, his paw hooking around in an attempt to snag one of the lanterns.

“Oh, no you don't.” Sunny swooped in to rescue the lantern and turn it off. “No need to waste the batteries.”

Mike nodded, getting the other lantern. Will dropped to one knee, holding out his hand in a “stop” gesture. “Hey, little guy, maybe you don't want—”

He stopped in surprise as Shadow suddenly reared back and raised a paw to land in Will's palm, like a cat version of a high-five.

Will stared at Sunny. “Did you teach him that?”

“Oh, yeah,” she replied. “I train cats to do tricks in my copious spare time. Like Shadow would cooperate with something like that.”

They all laughed at that thought. Then Will said, “Look, I'm still on the clock. I have to get back up to Levett.”

“Be careful on the roads,” Mike said.

“Definitely,” Will replied. “I've seen enough bad examples in the last day. Anyway, I'm glad you got your power back.”

Will and Sunny walked to the kitchen door and shared a quick good-bye kiss. “Still can't get over that cat,” Will
said. Then the storm door closed behind him and he headed down the driveway.

Sunny became aware of a furry presence down around her ankles and bent to pick up Shadow. His warmth was welcome after the blast of cold air she'd just gotten.

“I see you didn't show up until the door was closed and winter was safely kept outside,” she told the cat.

Shadow just shifted in her arms and purred, looking out into the night.

*

Perched in Sunny's
arms, Shadow let his eyes follow Sunny's He as he went to his go-fast thing. It had been so long since he'd played the paw game, he'd almost forgotten it. One of the two-legs he'd lived with used to play it, patiently kneeling with his big paw out until Shadow raised his paw to tap it. Then Shadow got a treat.

Which reminds me . . .

Shadow twisted to look up at Sunny, who still stood peering after the go-fast thing's lights disappearing down the road.

I guess Sunny doesn't know about the treat part of the game,
he thought.
I'll have to teach her about that.

He really couldn't complain, though. It had been a good day, and they'd had a lot of fun together. His jaw suddenly opened in a big yawn. He'd spent a lot more time awake than usual today, even with his dark-time nap.

Shadow settled back into Sunny's embrace.
I hope they decide to go to bed soon,
he thought, remembering how they'd snuggled together under the covers.
That would be a good thing.

*

Sunny opened her
eyes to predawn grayness. She leaned over to check the clock radio and relaxed when the display showed she still had half an hour before her official wake-up time. Then she reached over to get her cell phone and double-check the time.

She stretched and sat up in bed. Maybe it would be just as well to get up now. If the roads had been cleared, she'd have a jump on the day. If not, she could always head back for a little more sleep.

Stepping out into the hallway, Sunny saw Shadow appear at the top of the stairs. The cat came forward to wind his way around her legs before preceding her down the steps.

The kitchen was empty, and Sunny switched on the lights to banish the gloom.
Looks as though I even beat Dad down,
she thought, heading for the coffeemaker. Once that was charged up and ready to go, she turned on the radio. The weather and traffic report promised no more ice from the skies and a steadily improving travel situation.

Sunny shrugged.
Looks like no hookey today.
She busied herself refilling Shadow's bowls and getting a pot of water for oatmeal set up on the stove as Mike padded in, drawn by the scent of brewing coffee.

“I figure this means the winter wonderland out there has been cleaned up enough for you to get in to work.” He squinted up at the wall clock. “Guess it wouldn't hurt to start a little earlier.”

“They've cleared the major roads, and it's possible to get around if you're careful—or so the guy on the radio says.” She sighed. “I do need to get some stuff done at the office,
so I'm heading in. I don't know what's going on up in outlet-land—”

“I'll tell you one thing that won't go on—my walk,” Mike said. “I figure the less traffic out and around today, the better. Besides, missing two days won't be such a big deal.”

Sunny just nodded, grateful she didn't face an argument over Mike's usual schedule. They prepared breakfast and ate it, listening to the news reports. “Doesn't sound too bad,” Mike had to admit. “Go on upstairs. I'll take care of the dishes.”

He didn't need to repeat the offer. Sunny mounted the stairs, took a shower, and got dressed. She went to the front hall to get her coat and then went back to the kitchen. Dad had returned to the table, listening to the radio. Shadow sat on his haunches, watching her.

Sunny leaned down and gave her father a peck on the cheek. “Okay, I'm off. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Mike said. “And if it's worse out there than the newsmen are making it out to be, just turn around and come home.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Sunny went to open the storm door, surprised to see Shadow accompanying her. Usually when he was comfortable inside, he avoided the cold air. The cat stood in the doorway and put a single experimental paw on the ground outside.

He remembers the ice from yesterday,
Sunny thought. “It's all gone now,” she told Shadow. In a lower voice, she continued, “And I've got the aching back to prove it.”

Shadow gave one of her shins a head-butt and retreated back to the warmth. Sunny stepped out and closed the door.
She moved carefully in case any part of her clearing job had refrozen but had no problem getting to her Wrangler. Then the fun started. There was a lot of ice on the streets, and Sunny kept her Jeep in two-wheel drive. Most people had the idea that SUVs were built to conquer all weather conditions, but the Wrangler's four-wheel drive could cause more problems, especially on curves.

Sunny drove slowly, giving other drivers a lot of room. That was the other misconception some folks had about SUVs. They could go anywhere, but on ice, the problem wasn't going—it was stopping. Luckily, the long incline down to town was clear, and the sun had begun to shine, causing a little more melt. Sunny drove down to the New Stores, found a parking space, and had more skids on the sidewalk than she'd had on the street. The guys from Judson's Market had cleared a single lane all the way down the block, with a lot more work done in front of their store. Sunny unlocked her office door and headed to the back of the office to the sack of ice melt. Using an extra coffee cup, she scooped and sprinkled along the front of the store until she had an island of damp but non-slippery pavement.

She couldn't help noticing that Kittery Harbor Fish remained shuttered with just the little lane that the Judson's guys had deiced. Was Neil Garret still stuck out in Sturgeon Springs, or was he in custody somewhere?

“Would be nice if Will could have let me know,” Sunny muttered as she came inside. But she forgot about that as she got the daily routine started. She'd been working a couple of hours on e-mail inquiries when the phone rang. It was Will.

“I was thinking of you,” Sunny began, but Will cut her
off. “I've got a kind of weird favor to ask, and I need a quick answer,” he said. “I've got Deke Sweeney on the other line. He says he knows I want to talk with him, but he doesn't want to do it at the sheriff's office. If I can come up with someplace private, he can come in right now. I thought of your office, if Ollie isn't camped out there.”

“He's not, and . . . sure,” Sunny replied, thinking,
This way I get a front-row seat.