“Not exactly like the old days. How’s the family, Randall?” Sunny ruthlessly poured cold water over his enthusiasm. “Speaking of family,” she went on without waiting for a reply, “I’m in this small town to be closer to my dad. Maybe you remember I came back here to take care of him after his heart attack. He’s much better now, thanks for asking, but he still needs someone around. As for that photo you praised, I took classes to make myself a more valuable employee for the Standard. Funny how that worked out. At least some of the media stuff I learned helps me run a tourism website. That’s how I earn a living around here, along with doing the occasional piece for that little paper you mentioned.”
She paused, partly to draw breath but mainly because of the pained look on Randall’s face. Maybe it would have been better if I’d gone with my first plan and just smacked him, she thought. Instead, she stood up. “You stay and finish your food. I’m going home to sleep.”
Sunny got up and left the Redbrick, her steps a little wobbly, both from exhaustion and a little leftover adrenaline from what she’d just said to Randall. That made her laugh a little. Folks will think I had a liquid lunch.
She walked back to the MAX office, but no way was she going to try and drive the Wrangler home. Sunny made up her mind. “You’ve been covering for me all day as it is,” she said to Nancy. “I’m going to make it official and head home to bed.”
Then she called the number she’d known since childhood. Mike answered the phone.
“Hi, Dad,” Sunny said. “I need some help. Do you think you could drive me home?”
Mike came to pick her up on the double, his eyes anxious as he came through the office door.
“Don’t worry,” Sunny told him. “I’m just tired.” She yawned. “Really tired.”
Sunny kept yawning the whole way home, bigger and bigger until she was afraid she’d dislocate her jaw. “Maybe that hamburger for lunch wasn’t a good idea.”
“Not when you’ve got a drive ahead of you,” Mike agreed. He ought to know, having been a trucker who’d delivered road salt to over half of New England.
He escorted her into the house and up the stairs. “Do you want to take a shower?”
“After I wake up,” she replied. “Maybe in a day or two.”
Sunny kicked off her shoes and sat on the bed fully clothed. The sheet and light blanket lay in disarray. She hadn’t had time to make the bed after Ken had called. Swinging her legs up, Sunny pulled the sheet over herself. Her dad’s face loomed over her and he bent down to give her a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll take care of supper. You just rest.”
He left, and for a moment Sunny seemed to float on her mattress. Yes, eyes closing, just sink into the darkness . . .
All of a sudden, she felt a weight on her chest. Sunny’s eyes popped open, and she found herself nose to nose with Shadow, who sniffed very determinedly at her.
“If you start talking again,” Sunny murmured, but she didn’t finish the sentence. Her eyes closed again, and she was asleep.
*
From his vantage point over Sunny, Shadow tried to inhale every nuance of scent off of her. One of the things he liked about living with Sunny and the Old One was how orderly things usually were, with few surprises. Oh, sometime the Old One’s She would come over with that foolish, yellow-colored Biscuit Eater who’d woof and knock things over, but Shadow could deal with him.
But when people started leaving the house in the middle of the night and not coming back even after the sun had been up for a long time, that was not a good thing.
At least he didn’t smell smoke on her breath, or that pungent stuff the two-legs drank to act silly. He got a whiff of meat and some other kinds of food, and rising from her clothes was that salty aroma she’d come home with the other day. There were a couple of other scents Shadow couldn’t identify, but they didn’t smell like trouble to him. It had taken him a while to remember it, but he’d finally realized that the fragrance he’d noticed on Sunny when she came home yesterday could mean difficulty ahead.
He’d stayed with several sets of two-legs, couples that he’d thought of as mated pairs. Then one of the humans began coming home at odd times, or leaving during the night. And when they came home, Shadow would find traces of made smells on them, sometimes odd, sometimes nice. Then, sooner or later, the humans would end up making loud noises at one another.
Shadow never understood that. Between cats, a hiss, maybe a cuff or a show of claws, would settle the question of who was boss. But the two-legs would go in for loud noises and sad noises, wet faces and throwing things. It could get on a peaceful cat’s nerves.
Then, all too often, one of the humans would leave. And the next thing that happened was that Shadow would find himself back on the street.
He really, really didn’t want that to happen here. Sunny lived with the Old One, but Shadow thought she might end up mating with the He that kept coming around. Shadow had his problems with that one, but he didn’t seem too bad for a human male.
And he didn’t wear made smells.
But Shadow had detected another smell on Sunny. Maybe it was nothing, but it made him nervous, just like Sunny coming home to sleep while the sun was out made him nervous.
He skulked around on her bed, his tail lashing to show his displeasure. Usually he’d at least consider snuggling with Sunny, to enjoy an occasional drowsy pet from her. But she was fast asleep already, her mouth open and making that odd skrawwwk noise that humans sometimes made when they slept.
No, Shadow wouldn’t nap with her.
She’d probably turn over on me right when I got comfortable, he thought.
*
Sunny woke up feeling a bit more human, if not fully rested. The shadows were growing long in her room, so it must be almost evening. She must have zonked off for three or four hours. Sighing, she stretched, sitting up in bed. Her blinking eyes caught a flash of movement down at the bottom of her ajar bedroom door. A small, gray striped face peered suspiciously in at her, then disappeared.
“What’s the matter, fella? Did Dad forget to feed you?” Sunny got up and went to the door, but the hall was empty. Shadow had already darted off somewhere after letting his displeasure be known.
Heaving a deeper sigh, Sunny went to get her bathrobe and then headed for the shower. She wasn’t about to give Shadow another show.
After a long session under the rushing warm water, Sunny felt cleaner on the outside but definitely empty on the inside. She put on shorts and a T-shirt and headed downstairs. Mike was already at the table, arranging rolls and cold cuts. “It’s all ‘food police’ approved,” he told her. “Low fat, low sodium, low taste.”
“It’s not that bad,” she protested, and Mike shrugged.
Sunny noticed that her father had put out a bowl of salad. He’d also cored and sliced several McIntosh apples. “Figure we could do like you see in restaurants, and use them on the sandwiches with a little mayonnaise, or whatever they call that healthy stuff in that jar you bought.” He smiled. “I figured you must be up when the mange-ball came down and got something to eat.” Mike nodded at Shadow, who was crunching away at his dry food, apparently unaware of their presence until Sunny went over to pet him. Somehow he managed to avoid her hands while still keeping his head in the food dish.
Sunny gave up and returned to her father, who laughed. “He’s miffed with you for creating a stir when he’s the only one who’s supposed to be up and patrolling the house.”
“How did you feel about the stir?” Sunny asked.
Mike’s smile slipped a little. “It worried me, not knowing what you were going off to do. After reading the Courier, though, I don’t think I’d have felt any better if I had known what you were letting yourself in for.” He sighed. “At least Ike Elkins was about the safest guy you could have picked for a midnight boat ride.”
“I’ll give you the whole
story while we eat,” Sunny promised. “If you don’t think it’ll ruin your appetite.”
“Just try,” Mike said stoutly, plunking a bottle of seltzer water on the table.
They made healthy inroads into the food, though Mike shook his head in dismay at Sunny’s description of spotting Eliza Stoughton. “She sounds like just a kid.”
“Definitely younger than I am,” Sunny said.
“And you saw her when you were there before?”
“Parading through the compound in her purple bikini and dancing by the pool as if she didn’t have a care in the world.” Sunny frowned, snagging a slice of apple and chewing on it. If Randall’s story was right, Eliza had had a lot of cares. Enough, maybe, to prove fatal.
Mike rose from the table and began setting up the coffeemaker, something he never did after supper.
“Are we expecting company?” Sunny asked. If it turned out to be Mrs. Martinson, there was a good chance of scoring a piece of her famous coffee cake.
“Will Price said he’d drop by,” Mike replied. “I spoke with him on the phone while you were in the shower.” He seemed very interested in his coffee preparations. “I’m afraid it’s going to be tiresome politics. You may find yourself dropping off again.”
“We’ll see.” After helping her dad with the dishes, Sunny zipped around the living room, piling up the newspapers and collecting some of Shadow’s cat toys from the floor.
Will arrived late and still in uniform, the expression on his face warning of a foul mood. “Well, even though I was short on sleep, I liaised brilliantly with the other crime busters out on Neal’s Neck,” he announced. “Kept traffic moving smoothly in spite of all the news trucks stopping in front of the compound to do remote shots. Not to mention all the idiots rubbernecking to see the crime scene.” He shook his head sourly. “At least all the evening newscasts are done for the time being. I’ll probably have to get back there for the ten and eleven o’clock broadcasts.”
“It’s going no better with the people out there?” Mike said.
“Trehearne considers me persona non grata,” Will replied. “He doesn’t even want to let me past the troopers’ roadblock. Says I’ll pass along everything I see to the Courier.”
“We kept your name out of the story,” Sunny said defensively. “Mainly, we discussed things we’d seen while we were there ourselves, either for the press conference . . . or later.”
“You did mention the arguments Eliza got into,” Will pointed out. “I was the one who told you that.”
“We kept it vague, only mentioning that there were reports of arguments, not going into specifics, and not naming a source.” She remembered how heated her discussion with Ken had gotten over how they should treat some of the stuff that Will had mentioned on the ride back to Kittery Harbor. Ken had wanted to go whole hog, but Sunny had wanted to soft-pedal Will’s revelations, arguing that they’d ruin him as a source. Journalistic sugarcoating. She hadn’t wanted the story to blow back on Will, but from the look of him, her attempts at concealment hadn’t worked.
Will shrugged. “Trehearne’s still blaming me.” He looked over to Mike. “So, how much hay has Nesbit been making, while I was away on glorified traffic duty?”
“It’s more of a whispering campaign,” Mike reported. “Frank’s not coming out and actually saying anything, but after the big show of turning the responsibility to you, a lot of his online supporters are suggesting you weren’t up to the job, letting a murder happen on your watch.”
“What a crock!” Will burst out, following up with some choice epithets about the Internet, then apologized to Sunny.
“You won’t get an argument from me,” she said. “I probably say the same thing about ten times a day.”
“Considering the scope of my authority there, the only way anyone could hold me responsible for someone getting killed would be if they got run over by an out-of-control dump truck.” He finally sat down, and Sunny gave him a cup of coffee. “So what does the rest of the kitchen cabinet say?” he asked Mike.
“That it hits at what should be your strongest point, your experience and competence.” Mike frowned. “Now, we can’t afford to run any sort of a poll. But Zach Judson’s been sounding out people in his market, and some of the fellows with connections up near Levett have been asking around, and I won’t sugarcoat it, it looks as if this has hurt you.”
“So what should I say?” Will asked.
Mike dithered for a moment. “The boys think it’s not so much what you should say as what you’ll have to do. They think you’ll have to find whoever killed that girl.”
Sunny kept her hand firmly on her cup. At least she hadn’t had a mouthful of coffee for this latest news flash from crazy-town.
Will sat in silence for a moment. Then he turned to Sunny with an inquiring expression.
“Don’t look at me,” she told him. “I was asleep while Dad and his cronies hatched this nutty idea.”
“What’s so nutty about it?” Mike argued. “You and Will have investigated mysterious deaths before.”
“But in those cases, someone we knew was involved first,” Sunny said. “We never butted into a case.”
“That goes double for me. I’m a cop. I can’t just go off investigating cases I haven’t been assigned to,” Will said. “Besides, I wouldn’t say that Kingsbury compound is impregnable, but it’s darn close. It’s almost impossible to get into Neal’s Neck right now. And Lee Trehearne, the head of security out there, doesn’t even want me inside his perimeter,” Will added. “So how could I even talk to any of the witnesses?”
The doorbell rang, and Sunny excused herself to go and answer it. Probably another of Dad’s political buddies, come to offer Will more useless advice, she thought.
But when she opened the door, she didn’t find one of Kittery Harbor’s geezer politicians. Sunny didn’t even find a man.
It was Priscilla Kingsbury. The bride-to-be wasn’t wearing as much makeup as she had when visiting the 99 Elmet Ladies, and her outfit was less formal—though not swimsuit casual. “Hello, Sunny,” she said with a nervous smile. “We didn’t get a chance to talk much the other evening, which is really a shame. Wilawiport isn’t next door, but I’ve read some of your articles in the Courier—and some of the articles about you and Constable Price. I’ve spent more time up at the compound than anyone else in the family, so I’m a little more tuned in to local news. Oh, I’m doing this all wrong.” Priscilla seized Sunny’s hand. “I think you’re the only person I can trust, and I hope you can help me.”
7
“Wha-wha-why?” Sunny asked, staring at the youngest member of the Kingsbury dynasty. “Why do you think I’m the only one who can help you?”
Now Priscilla looked embarrassed. “Sounds a little over the top, doesn’t it? But I’ve heard good things about you from Helena Martinson and other women in the 99 Elmet Ladies. And I have read your stuff.” She bit her lip. “All the other people writing and talking about Eliza make her sound so horrible. They slant things to make it seem as though she brought trouble on herself. Yours was the only story that didn’t pile a lot of innuendo on top of the facts.”
The girl still clung to Sunny’s hand as if she were afraid to let her go. “Eliza was a mess yesterday, and I tried to find out why, but she wouldn’t tell me. She’d always been on the fringes of our crowd, only here because she was Beau’s date. Frankly, I didn’t know her well enough.” Priscilla blinked away tears. “Maybe if I had gotten her to talk—”
She broke off, clamping her lips together for a moment. “I wasn’t a good friend. But I’m hoping you and Constable Price can get to the bottom of this, the way you did that time when everyone else was busy pretending that nothing had happened.”
Whoopee, Sunny thought, we’re a famous crime-fighting duo—sort of.
Priscilla was already rushing on. “I’m beginning to f
ind out what that feels like—the everyone pretending everything is fine part. Mr. Trehearne is trying to keep the whole compound nailed down, and Uncle Cale thinks that’s because he’s afraid that one of the reinforcements he brought in for wedding security may have killed Eliza.”
The girl paused for a moment, looking at Sunny. “Uncle Cale says hello, by the way. He thought you were pretty smart.”
I guess the question is whether he stressed the pretty or the smart part. Sunny took advantage of the brief interruption in Priscilla’s flow of words to get her own thoughts in order. The girl might be petite, but she was like a force of nature once she got going. Sunny led Priscilla into the house. “As it happens, Will Price is visiting right now,” she told the girl. “Why don’t you come in, and we’ll all talk?”
Mike was surprised to see their visitor, but he immediately offered her a cup of coffee. Hospitality was part of the Kittery Harbor Way, the ethos that Sunny had grown up in. So had Will, although he kept a cop’s wariness behind his good manners as Priscilla accepted and joined them at the kitchen table. Even sitting down, she seemed to give off an aura of “full speed ahead.”
“I’m glad to catch you both,” she said to Will and Sunny. “You have to understand that our family is all over the country these days. My big brothers Lem and Tom are responsible for their states, and although I grew up with my grandparents after my folks died, they live mostly at their place on the Connecticut shore. The winters are usually milder there. I’m the one who stays here in Maine, working with Uncle Cale—or rather, for the Act Two Foundation. He travels thousands of miles a year, visiting our local offices and fund-raising. We help programs all over the country, from food insecurity to prisoner rehabilitation. I work closer to home, in Boston, Providence, and of course here in Elmet.”
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