Catch as Cat Can (4 page)

Ollie nodded. “Is he usually this late to open on a weekday?”

“Sometimes.”

Ollie nodded again. “I ask because he's also late with the rent this month—unless he gave it to you yesterday.”

Sunny didn't want to get into this, but she also didn't want to find herself in the middle. “The fish place was closed yesterday—all day as far as I could tell. Maybe Neil was sick—”

She was interrupted by the metallic clang of a metal door gate being rolled up.

“Sounds as though Neil has turned up.” Ollie rose from behind his desk. “I think I'll go over and invite him in for a cup of coffee.”

When he came back with Neil Garret, the fish store owner didn't look sick. A little tired, maybe. His eyes were bloodshot, and he stifled a yawn as he came in. In a wool flannel shirt and heavy jeans, he looked like about eighty percent of Kittery Harbor's male population—the folks who didn't wear ties to work. “Hi, Sunny,” he said.

Sunny moved over to the coffeemaker. “Milk and one sugar, right?” She was just as glad to put a little distance between them. Neil had a distinct whiff of fish around him today. She filled a cup, glad that Ollie had sprung for a fresh carton of milk, and passed it to Neil, who took a seat opposite Ollie's desk.

“Running late today?” Ollie asked, sticking his nose in his own cup of coffee.

“Early, actually,” Neil replied. “I caught the fishing boats as they were coming in, took a couple of captains out to breakfast. I've found it pays to keep up the connections.” He took an appreciative sip of coffee. “Much better than the sludge you get at that diner by the waterfront.”

“Just checking to make sure you're all right,” Ollie said. “There's a little question of rent.”

Neil made a face as if the coffee had suddenly turned rancid. “I know,” he said a little shamefacedly. “Had to straighten out a couple of accounts. You'll see the whole sum by the end of the week.”

“Good to know.” Ollie's voice was offhand, but his eyes told a different story.
Give me my money, and don't waste it on a bunch of floating losers.

When Neil first opened the store, he often met the fishing boats as they came in. Sunny would see him walking past her window with a pair of fish wrapped in newspaper under each arm. “I pay a little more than they'd get in the market at Portsmouth, but you can't get it any fresher.”

Sunny wondered if that's where the smell came from . . . or if Neil had come empty-handed from his meeting this morning.

She got distracted when she saw Will walk past the window with a strange woman—a big gal, with shiny dark hair falling to her shoulders and a parka hanging open over a heavy Norwegian sweater. The clothing might be casual, but the woman had the same moves as Will, an easy sense of authority that suggested she was some sort of cop. She
caught Will by the arm, nodding through the window. A second later, they came into the office.

“Sunny, Ollie, Neil,” Will greeted them, “this is Val Overton.”

Val gave Sunny a smile full of gleaming teeth. “Nice to meet you. Will's told me a lot about you.”

Sunny gave Will a grin. “Are you bringing in professional help for my poor, traumatized cat?” She turned to Val. “I thought I'd met all the animal control and humane officers roundabouts working with Jane Rigsdale and her adopt-a-pet program, but you're a new face.”

That got a hearty laugh from the other woman. “Good guess. Lord knows I've dealt with a lot of animals, but they all walked on two legs.” She whipped out a leather case bearing a star rather than a badge. “U.S. Marshal.”

“Whoa,” Sunny said, impressed. “We don't see many of those in these parts.”

God,
she thought,
I'm beginning to sound like an old Western movie.

Val didn't seem to notice. “I'm just a glorified government process server.”

Ollie shot Will the look of a man betrayed.
What with the navy yard across the river and all the local pies he has fingers in, Ollie might be afraid of someone dropping federal paper on him
, Sunny thought.

But Val Overton didn't present an envelope. “The sheriff's office lent me Will here as local liaison. As we were walking past, he mentioned what happened to your cat yesterday. I figured he might as well stop in and check if there's anything new.”

“After bringing out such big guns for such a small-town
matter, I'm sorry that I don't have anything to report,” Sunny said. “The victim ate heartily last night and this morning and seemed to sleep just fine. I was only kidding about him being traumatized.”

“Something happened to Shadow?” Neil sounded upset. “He was just in the other day, after a little piece of fish like always.”

“Seems as though some nut tried to hang Sunny's cat right outside your store,” Val said. “You didn't see anything?”

“I wasn't in,” Neil replied. “Had some business out of town.” He got up and leaned across Sunny's desk. “I'm really sorry to hear this. Maybe if I had been there—”

“Hey, I was sitting here and didn't realize anything was going on until Zach Judson began hollering.” Sunny gave an uncomfortable shrug. “He's the one who saved Shadow.”

“Well, I hope your critter stays safe.” Val Overton glanced over at Will. “Guess we should get on with our business.”

“Me, too.” Neil hustled to the door and held it for Val and Will.

On the way out, Val turned back with the thousand-watt smile. “Good to meet you, Sunny. You, too, Ollie. You're cute when you
squirm.”

Ollie Barnstable sat
open-mouthed, staring after Val Overton through the window as they set off down the street. Then he chomped his teeth together with an audible click, turning a pink face toward Sunny to reassert his authority.

“Now, about Garret. I want you to keep on him. No way are we letting this turn out like the last tenant.”

“Madman Mel's Pillow-Mania?” Sunny asked in an innocent voice. “Who would have imagined any problems with that? Although now that I come to think of it, using ‘Madman' and ‘Mania' in the name of his store might have suggested he was a bit of a nut.”

Ollie was still squirming, but he tried to look like a hard-line executive. “He had a business plan. I didn't see any problem.”

He had all his retirement savings sunk into a pillow
store,
Sunny silently responded.
And you saw a chance to get rent for an empty property.

The problem was, Mel wasn't about to give up on his plan—his dream. He fought tooth and nail to hang on even though the public wasn't beating a path to his door. As he fell behind in rent, his publicity stunts got more desperate—like heading off to outlet-land to show the world how poorly made the competition's pillows were. Loudly bad-mouthing the “cheap crap pillows,” he tore several open, showering passers-by with chopped feathers or polyester fill. That got him banned from the outlet malls, but it was much harder getting him out of the store.

After the eviction Sunny feared Mel might return to throw rocks through the windows of his former premises—or the MAX office. It made her glad her boyfriend was a cop—she had plenty of police presence on the block. In the end, though, sadder but wiser, Mel went off to Florida to be a greeter for a big box store. And the space next door had been empty until Neil Garret had come along.

“So are you providing me with a cattle prod, or do I need to hire some muscle to scare him off?” Sunny finally asked. “Val Overton looked capable of handling the job—and I think she'd like having you owe her.”

She could hear Ollie struggling to silence his usual temper. “Don't blow things out of proportion,” he finally said. “Just catch him sometime each day and mention I'm waiting on the rent until he comes across with a check.”

Or a rock,
that annoying voice in the back of Sunny's head hastened to add.

Ollie turned back to his project, finally gathering up all the papers and locking them in one of the file cabinets lining
the back of the room. “I'm off,” he said. “Anybody calls, give them my cell number.”

Sunny relaxed a little. She probably wouldn't see him for another week.

Ollie stopped in the doorway. “And don't forget about Garret. A gentle reminder—but every day.”

“Sure, Ollie.” Sunny tried not to sigh her response.

With Ollie out of her hair, Sunny finally got back to work. Troubleshooting the shopping cart software went smoothly after a bit of trial and error. She finally got it to recognize the MAX website and even work properly.

By the time she sat back in satisfaction, it was time for lunch. Sunny got the phone and gave her father a call. “Before I feed my face, I figured I should check in. Do we need to get something for supper tonight, or are we going out with Helena and Abby?”

“Looks as if we're on our own for dinner,” Mike replied. “But those Martinson girls are coming over for coffee. Helena said she's baking a cake.”

No wonder he sounds so cheerful,
Sunny thought. Helena Martinson's coffee cake was one of Mike's favorite things.

“She also suggested that we see if Will would like to come, too,” her dad went on.

“You're sure you want to let him glom onto a piece of that cake?” Sunny teased.

“As long as he restricts himself to just one.”

She smiled. “Okay. I'll stop off at Zach Judson's and get some chicken.” For a moment, Sunny considered going next door for fish instead.

No, she decided. Chicken was quicker . . . less trouble in general.

Sunny said good-bye to her dad and then called Will to check his availability for dinner. He agreed, so she went shopping for three.

The evening meal wasn't fancy—broiled chicken breasts, boiled potatoes, and mixed vegetables, simple fare that could be prepared quickly after Sunny got home. The doorbell rang, and Sunny moved from the kitchen to answer it. She brought Will inside, took his coat, and led the way into the living room. Will looked around. “Wow. Pulling out all the stops.”

The house looked great. Mike must have been cleaning up all day. He'd even splurged on some cut flowers arranged in a vase on the coffee table.

It had been a while since he'd gotten some flowers . . . and then Sunny remembered why. A gray form eeled its way along the side of the couch, stretched low to the floor in stalking mode, gold-flecked eyes fixed on the vase and the nodding blossoms as if they were magnetized.

“Shadow,” Sunny called sharply.

Her voice must have alerted Mike, who appeared in the entrance to the living room, his vivid blue eyes focusing on Shadow in what Sunny called the laser glare of death.

“Don't even think about it,” Mike warned the cat.

Shadow paid the voices no attention, padding away in an elaborate display of unconcern.

*

There's always later,
Shadow told himself as he paused at the entrance to the hallway. Sunny and her He sat on the big chair, joined by the Old One who also lived here. Shadow was a little surprised to find Sunny's He at the door. The Old One had fussed around the house all day, driving
Shadow out of several napping places with his dusting and cleaning. He'd never done that for another male before.

And then there were the flowers. During warm weather, the Old One spent a lot of time outside in the yard, digging in the ground and fooling around with bushes—another of those weird things two-legs got up to. Shadow had no problem with bushes. They were good for shade, and when the flowers appeared, they could be interesting. But the only time Shadow played in the dirt was for a specific reason—to cover up things that should be covered. And why should the Old One holler when Shadow tried to play with the flowers on those special bushes?

It was even weirder when the two-legs brought flowers into the house when it was freezing outside. He thought they must be very tough to live out in the ice and snow, but they came apart under a curious paw just as easily as the ones that popped up in summertime. And there was even more hollering when he investigated. Like this time. Both Sunny and the Old One had growled at him.

Then they had sat down right in front of the flowers, so there was no chance after that. Shadow went down the hall to the room where the humans messed with food, got a running start, and leaped to the top of the box that made things cold.

That was another thing that drove Shadow crazy. They had a box that kept things cold, and they'd take food out of that and put it in a box that made food hot. He sniffed appreciatively at the aroma of chicken and spices filling the room. Okay, that wasn't so bad. But if they wanted to keep their food cold, why not just leave it outside where it was cold already?

I suppose the squirrels might steal it. Or the birds,
he thought. When he was hungry, he sometimes tried the door of the cold box to find something to eat, but he couldn't get inside. He had to go and herd a human over to the place where food was kept.

Sunny came in and did things on top of the hot box. Then she came over and gave Shadow a gentle scratch between the ears, talking to him. He closed his eyes in pleasure, then opened them wide to stare at her, thinking,
I'm hungry, too.

It must have worked, because Sunny went over to the place where his food was kept. She got some of the crunchy stuff and put it in one bowl and refilled the other with fresh water. Then she went to wash her hands and went back and forth in the room, setting things on the table and getting more things to eat.

She went down the hall and called the others, who came in and sat down.

Now might be a good time to go and see about those flowers,
he thought as he watched them pass food around. It would be fun to bat at those drooping heads, maybe even give a shove to that glass thing they were in . . .

He pushed up onto his feet, and his stomach rumbled.

Maybe I'll stop off at the food first.

*

They had a
pleasant meal, Mike happily tucking into what he called “good old-fashioned meat and potatoes.”

Thinking of all the diner food her dad must have consumed during his years on the road, Sunny thought,
At least here the meat isn't covered in grease, and the potatoes aren't fries.

She'd gotten skinless chicken, preparing it with lemon slices and herbs. It went down pretty easily, with no complaints from anyone.

Shadow decided to be sociable and eat, too. He came over when Will held down a morsel of chicken in his hand, but after sniffing it he went back to his own bowl. “Most times, he's not interested in people food,” Sunny said.

“Maybe if I were Neil Garret with some fish . . .” Will gave her a grin.

“The tidbits Neil serves up are uncooked.” Sunny returned the grin. “That's why he wears gloves.” She got a bit more serious. “I don't know how much longer that store is going to stay open. Neil's behind in his rent. Ollie wants me to keep reminding him it's due.”

“That's a shame,” Mike said. “Garret seems like a nice guy. Better than that whacko with the pillows.”

“If he starts pulling fish apart up in outlet-land and dumping the insides on passing shoppers, I'll let you know,” Will promised. He put down his knife and fork. “So, Mrs. Martinson's daughter is back in town. How is she?”

“You'll have to ask Sunny,” Mike said. “She's the only one here who's seen Abby.”

“I played chauffeur for Mrs. M., taking her over to the airport to pick up Abby,” Sunny said. “After two days of cross-country nonsense, I can't say how she stacks up against Hollywood starlets, but she's probably in the top one percent of paralegals.”

“Huh.” Will had an odd look on his face.

“Did you know her?” Sunny asked. Will had grown up in the county seat, Levett. While that wasn't exactly the end of the earth, it wasn't Kittery Harbor, either.

“Not really.” Will returned to his normal self. “She was in a lot of plays around here.”

“I was telling Sunny, a beautiful girl like that, it's surprising she didn't make it in Hollywood,” Mike said.

Sunny shot him a look.
It's one thing to say that to your daughter,
she thought,
and another to say it to your daughter's boyfriend.

“Well, I'm not a Beverly Hills cop, just a plain old Elmet County one,” Will said. “From what I hear, it's mainly a question of getting good breaks. Right now, though, the big question for her is: Will there be cake?”

Mike smiled in anticipation. “Helena told me she was baking.”

Mrs. M.'s coffee cake was famed throughout the county for its deliciousness.

Better to have the conversation swerve to bake-offs instead of beauty contests,
Sunny thought as they finished the meal.

Mike excused himself. “I'm going to go keep an eye on those flowers in case the furball gets ideas.”

That left Sunny and Will alone to do the dishes. He picked up the dish towel while she got the sink's spray attachment. “So did you know Abby Martinson or not?” she asked.

“Not really.” That odd expression was back on Will's face. “But—full disclosure here—I did have a crush on her. As I said, she was in a lot of plays. I went to an all-boys high school, so if we did a show, we had to import actresses from other schools. She was Kate in
Kiss Me, Kate
, and I was a lowly lighting tech. A buddy was kind enough to warn me that I was punching way out of my weight class.”

“B–but—” Sunny sputtered. “You ended up going out with the queen bee from my school. How—”

Will held up a hand. “Yeah, I went out with Jane when
I
was in college. Abby was going out with college guys when we were in high school. It's just the way things were—and one reason why I'd never wanted to be younger than twenty.”

Sunny went to work on the dishes.
Yeah, “the best time of our lives”—phooey.

They finished and headed for the living room to find Shadow in his sphinx pose, his eyes on the vase of flowers . . . and Mike's eyes watching him like a hawk. Back in her youth, Sunny had taken some scorching looks from her father. With the one he was aiming at Shadow, she was surprised that patches of the cat's fur hadn't begun to smolder.

She scooped Shadow and sat in an armchair, depositing him in her lap. Will took the other chair, leaving Mike the couch. After a few minutes of conversation, Mike looked at his watch. “They should be here soon.”

“I'll get the coffee started.” Sunny rose from the chair, letting Shadow leap to the floor. In typically nosy fashion, he trailed after her to the kitchen.

“Nothing to eat,” she told him as she set up the coffeemaker. “And you're probably the only person in the house who's not wild about Mrs. M.'s coffee cake.”

The doorbell rang, and Shadow stared up at Sunny. “There's the company,” she said, walking down the hall to the door. He trailed along, curious but not necessarily eager to get chummy with the outsiders. Mike was already opening the door, greeting Helena, getting introduced to Abby, and then introducing Will.

“And, of course, you know Sunny,” he said as she joined them.

“Nice to meet you now that I'm awake.” Abby handed her parka to Mike, revealing a sweater that hugged her curves up top and some mutant offspring of jeans and leggings that were so tight Sunny could see the play of muscles in Abby's thighs as she walked to the living room. Worse, Sunny noticed that Will had noticed. Since Sunny was wearing a turtleneck, a sweater, and jeans cut to accommodate long underwear, she was not pleased.