Hiss and Tell

by Claire Donally

  What really worried him, though, was how Sunny had stayed quiet while the Clumsy One came after him. Shadow knew she’d seen him, but she didn’t come to him or even say anything. It was as if she were pretending she didn’t even know him. That hurt, and the feeling began to turn to anger.

  He’d also caught traces of the made smell while he’d stood on top of the wall. Did Sunny ignore him because she was with the one who wore that scent? Shadow silently snarled, stretching his paw so the claws slid out. He’d mark that one, too. But not Sunny, of course. He’d never do that to Sunny. But he’d remember. She’ll have to do a lot before I forget how she deserted me, he promised.

  Yes, he’d make her pay—as soon as he found her. But where could he do that? He headed back to that odd-smelling house where she seemed to be staying.

  *

  Sunny zigzagged across Neal’s Neck, looking for places where a cat might hide. She tried the pool area, since Shadow had successfully mooched a meal there. But he wasn’t in the cabana. So she strolled on, paying special attention to plantings and shrubs. Shadow always surprised her with his ability to scrunch down and blend his tiger-striped body with the stems and leaves, especially in failing light. But she didn’t find much in the way of animal—all vegetable.

  She remembered her dream from earlier, seeing Shadow in her bedroom window. Or had it really been a dream at all? At the time, she’d thought Shadow was still home. Now she knew he was here.

  That’s why there was cat hair on my clothes, she realized. He didn’t roll on them in a snit, he stowed away in my bag!

  On a surge of hope, Sunny set off on the path back to the guesthouses. Maybe Shadow had gone back to her room.

  She’d almost reached the edge of the compound when she heard shouting ahead. Sunny picked up her pace, afraid of what she’d find. Black-jacketed security men were dashing around the house where she was staying. One of them brandished an old fish-landing net, like an oversized butterfly catcher.

  Sunny broke into a run. She reached the edge of the house to see Lee Trehearne and six security guys pounding after Shadow, who dodged and evaded. The man with the net tried to snag him, but Shadow wasn’t there when it landed, hitting the ground so hard that the wooden handle broke.

  Shadow leaped away into the street, legs flashing.

  Trehearne charged headlong after him, so focused on the cat that he almost crashed into the roadblock sawhorse when Shadow darted under it. The security chief skidded to a halt, suddenly aware of the state troopers staring at him . . . and of the photographers across the street. Shadow swerved to check on his pursuers, saw that he wasn’t being chased anymore, and slowed his pace to romp away at a trot, his tail held high.

  Sunny had to hold a hand over her mouth to keep the laughter from coming out. The whole episode had looked like some sort of cartoon. But she felt a chill, too. Better be careful if you come back, Shadow, she aimed the thought at the retreating cat. Because now Trehearne might well try to shoot you.

  That wasn’t the end of the incident, however. One of the troopers—Hank Riker, Sunny realized—walked over to the wrecked net, poking at it with his toe and talking with the security man who’d been carrying it. Then he spoke into the radio unit on his shoulder.

  The amusing episode suddenly took on a more ominous tone, though Sunny couldn’t quite put her finger on what had changed the mood so quickly, and she didn’t feel confident enough to presume on Hank’s friendship with Will to just walk up and ask. But she got an answer about an hour later, when they’d all reassembled for dinner, and the Senator was called away to respond to unexpected guests. Sunny quickly excused herself too and left the dining room in time to see Lieutenant Ellis Wainwright heading up the stairs with a couple of troopers. Hank Riker stood at the foot of the stairway, obviously positioned to prevent anyone from following. The Senator was nowhere to be seen.

  Sunny looked around, and saw they were alone. “Can you tell me what’s up?” she whispered to the trooper. “I saw you checking out the fishing net.”

  “That was enough for Wainwright to get a search warrant,” Riker replied in an undertone. “We found the Nesbit murder weapon left in a storm drain. A very expensive fishing knife. Turns out Lemuel Kingsbury, the Senator’s late son, was a big fishing buff back in the day. The net was part of his old fishing tackle. So the Lieutenant figured it was worth looking into.”

  “Priscilla’s dad?” Not to mention the father of Governors Lem and Tom, Sunny realized.

  Riker nodded. “According to the Senator, the tackle box was still kept in his son’s old room.”

  Sunny frowned.

  Where Lem Junior and his wife are staying now.

  A moment later, Wainwright appeared on the upstairs landing, not looking happy. “The knife is gone, but the gear’s all scattered,” she overheard him say as she stepped back out of his sight. “Whoever went to get that net must have been in a hurry. I think his are the only prints we’re likely to find.”

  Sunny tried to edge even farther back, when she heard someone behind her and turned to find that she wasn’t the only eavesdropper. Thomas Neal Kingsbury, former U.S. Senator, stood scowling at her.

  The Senator couldn’t call her out for doing what he himself had been attempting, especially not within earshot of the state police homicide investigator. But he obviously wasn’t happy with a reporter knowing about the latest development in the case; one that implicated his own grandson. Neither he nor Sunny enjoyed the meal after they returned to the dining room.

  As the diners broke up, the Senator gestured for Sunny to join him, causing a lot of people to glance at her in surprise. That certainly didn’t untie the knot in her stomach.

  For once, though, he didn’t launch into oratory. “I suppose I can’t fault your instincts,” he said. “But this has been difficult enough without having our name further splashed around.”

  “I’m a guest here, sir, and I’m aware that involves obligations,” Sunny told him. “I’m not here to break any sensational stories.”

  Sunny’s conciliatory manner seemed to placate the Senator. For now, at least. But just because she wasn’t putting out the news on her blog or the Courier, that didn’t mean Sunny intended to keep it all to herself. She headed off to the guesthouse and the privacy of her room, got out her cell phone, and called her father. “Hi, Dad. Just checking in.”

  “With everything else that’s going on, I’ve been debating whether to call you,” Mike said. “The furball has disappeared—apparently right after you left. You know how he takes off sometimes for a few days. I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “No worry,” she assured her dad. “Turns out, he followed me here—stowed away in my bag, no less. You won’t believe the trouble he’s caused.”

  “Oh, I’d believe it,” Mike replied in a dry voice. His relationship with Shadow definitely had its ups and downs. “Have you gotten hold of him again? Should I drive over with the cat carrier?”

  “Right now he’s still on the loose, but I’ll do my best to try and coax him.” Sunny shook her head at the mental picture of trying to get Shadow into the carrier against his will. “I don’t think we have to worry about transporting him yet. How are you doing?”

  “Enjoying a cat-free house.” As Mike replied, Sunny heard a female voice speak in a scolding undertone. Mrs. Martinson?

  Don’t ask, don’t tell, Sunny decided. She chatted for a moment more and then hung up. But she didn’t put the phone away, instead dialing Will Price’s number.

  “Can’t really talk, I’m busy crime busting.” He must have recognized her caller ID, because he was doing a perfect Dudley Do-Right impersonation.

  Sunny laughed. “And where are you pursuing this crusade?”

  “They’ve got me patrolling the interstate through outlet-land,” he replied. “No demon speeders rushing to get last-minute bargains will avoid the long arm
of the law.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” Sunny said. “But when you finish your righteous work, maybe you can come by and talk to me. There’s been a development.”

  Will dropped the voice. “You think you’ve got something?”

  “I think Lieutenant Wainwright has something,” she responded, “and I think we should talk about it. There are a couple of things to consider, and I think two heads are better than one.”

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll call you when I’m up there.”

  Sunny closed her phone and then debated what to do. Maybe a quiet stroll through the nearby streets to see if she could get in touch with the feline avenger . . .

  That thought got interrupted by an almost timid tap at her door. Sunny opened it to find Cillie Kingsbury and Carson de Kruk outside.

  “Can we talk?” Cillie was almost whispering.

  Sunny motioned them inside and closed the door.

  “I saw that my grandfather spoke to you after supper,” Priscilla said. “I hope he wasn’t—too much. But you have to understand, this can be embarrassing.”

  Murders often are, Sunny’s snarky alter ego silently wisecracked.

  “It’s just that everybody knows how my father is on TV.” Carson fumbled for words. “I hear how people call him Emperor Augustus and even make fun of him. He hates being laughed at, but he can live with it. That’s just his TV image. But this thing about cats, it’s beyond his control. I don’t know if you’re a cat person . . .”

  Priscilla might have found out when she visited. But Sunny remembered that she’d cleared the living room of Shadow’s toys. And Shadow had been his usual standoffish self, not putting in an appearance when company came calling.

  “I know we asked you here,” Cillie rushed in, “and you are a reporter and all, but do you think you could keep that part private?”

  Carson’s eyes were pleading. “Dad’s not as impervious as he seems, and if this got out, it would really crush him.”

  It took Sunny a moment to switch gears, understanding what they were concerned about. But she said, “Nobody’s going to hear about that incident from me—that’s a promise.”

  The couple gave a simultaneous sigh of relief.

  “But,” she warned, “there are probably tons of pictures and maybe film of Lee Trehearne and his security crew chasing that cat off Neal’s Neck. Some newspeople may begin asking questions.”

  She decided not to reveal what the Senator had actually discussed with her, the discovery of where the murder weapon had come from. The prospective bride and groom had enough on their minds.

  And Wainwright would probably kill me for letting the cat out of the bag, Sunny thought.

  When they asked her to join them downstairs in the living room, Sunny didn’t see any polite way to refuse. She was soon roped into a game of Scrabble, which Beau opted out of, dozing in an armchair. They did teams again. Peter Van Twissel performed a lot better than he had at beer pong—and a lot less belligerently.

  By the time the scores were totaled up, a glance at her watch told Sunny that Will was probably on his way. While the rest of the group headed upstairs, Sunny went outside to sit on the fieldstone porch.

  If this were a movie, I’d look over and find Shadow sitting on the railing, she thought. But when she turned her head, the railing was empty. Sunny shook her head. He never was a cinematic cat.

  Her cell phone began bleating. Sunny opened it and put it to her ear.

  “I’m here,” Will said. “A little down the road from the usual place.”

  Sunny got up, walked down the steps, and past the roadblock. Instead of a blue Kittery Harbor police cruiser, there was now a white sheriff’s department vehicle parked there, with a guy in a forest green uniform behind the wheel. She walked past him and turned the corner. Will’s black pickup sat about halfway down the block.

  “Let’s just sit here quietly,” he suggested, opening the passenger door for her. “So what did Wainwright find?”

  “You may have heard already,” Sunny said. “They found the murder weapon in a storm drain.”

  “The only thing I’ve heard was a lot of standard-issue radio chatter,” Will told her. “Ingersoll wants me as far from this case as possible.” He looked tired after his shift, but his eyes gleamed with interest. “So what was the weapon?”

  “A fishing knife,” Sunny began, but she was interrupted by a thump in front of them.

  Sunny let out a stifled yelp, and Will went for his gun. But this wasn’t the mad murderer who went after people sitting in their cars. They turned to find a familiar figure sitting on the front hood of the pickup. It was Shadow, regarding them with enigmatic, gold-flecked eyes.

  15

  Shadow sat looking in the window, his tail twitching back and forth. After being wakened from his new sleeping place, he’d thought the go-fast thing rolling to a stop looked familiar. Then he saw Sunny’s He come out. And what happened then? Sunny herself turned up.

  Finally!

  He watched as they talked, creeping closer as they got into the vehicle. He listened, too. The good thing was that they weren’t making any loud noises or hitting at one another. But as he spied on them, Shadow noticed their heads weren’t close together, either. And she and the male two-legs sounded serious rather than happy as they sat together.

  For a wild moment, he’d hoped that maybe Sunny had gotten into the go-fast thing to go home. But she wasn’t carrying anything, and she’d taken a lot of things with her when she’d left her place where the Old One lived.

  Shadow gathered himself for a leap and landed on the front of the go-fast thing. Sunny and her He both jumped as he landed to confront them. Shadow sat very still, staring at them while his tail lashed around. He was angry at Sunny—for leaving, for pretending not to know him when she saw him before, for raising his hopes now when she obviously wasn’t actually coming home.

  It wasn’t the kind of thing he could settle with hisses and claws. But he could show Sunny how he felt. She’s not the only one who can go away, he thought.

  “That cat is worse than your dad,” Will burst out. “He shows up whenever we’re alone in the dark. But how did he manage to do it a half hour’s drive from your house?”

  “He followed me here,” Sunny explained, stretching out a hand to the windshield. But Shadow didn’t respond with his usual paw against the glass. “Or rather, he stowed away in my bag. Shadow was pretty upset when I left. And he caused a pretty big stir today.” She explained about Augustus de Kruk’s reaction to seeing Shadow and the ensuing pursuit.

  “Well, I can’t say I’m thrilled to see him turn up here.” Will took a long, deep breath. “What are you—we—planning to do about this?”

  “I don’t know,” Sunny admitted. “After all that happened, I can understand him being skittish. But now he’s Public Enemy Number One on Neal’s Neck. I’m afraid he’s going to get hurt. And even if they only catch him, what am I going to do? Say, ‘Oh, that’s my cat,’ and take him away? I don’t think that will cut much ice with the de Kruks, Trehearne, or the Kingsburys, for that matter.”

  She stared at the cat still sitting on the hood, and gave him the evil eye. “Problem is, I don’t think Shadow’s just going to go back home quietly.”

  “I suppose we should try to catch him,” Will said. “Try and get your hand on the door handle without letting him see it.”

  Sunny groped over, keeping her eyes on Shadow. “Got it,” she reported.

  “And I’ve got mine,” Will said. “We’ll go for a count of three. I’ll take the left side, you take the right, and with luck we’ll have him surrounded. One, two . . .”

  When Will yelled “Three!” Sunny flung her door open, jumped out, and went for the hood. She saw a wild-eyed Will on the opposite side—but no cat.

  “He must have ducked under when he saw us coming
out.” Will returned to the pickup, coming back out with a flashlight. “I’ll see if I can spot him—”

  “There!” Sunny pointed as Shadow streaked out from under the pickup and disappeared into a stretch of roadside underbrush. The circle of light from Will’s flashlight was about a second behind him.

  “It’s hopeless to try and find him in that jungle.” Will gave Sunny a sidewise glance. “He must be pretty peeved with you.”

  “He must be.” Sunny couldn’t keep the forlorn tone out of her voice. “One of the members of the wedding party gave him something to eat today. But heaven knows how he’s getting along.”

  “Knowing Shadow, he’ll manage to land on his feet.” Will changed the subject. “Tell me more about this knife.”

  “Seems it belonged to Priscilla Kingsbury’s father, Lem,” Sunny said. “He was quite a fisherman before that landslide caught his campaign bus. Anyway, there was a big chase scene where Lee Trehearne and his security people tried to run Shadow down. One of the guys was carrying a fisherman’s landing net, and your friend Hank Riker saw it. Lieutenant Wainwright came with a search warrant to look at the late Lem’s tackle box and came down saying that the gear had all been disarranged and the knife was gone.”

  Will frowned in thought. “So what does this tell us?”

  “Going by MOM, Beau Bellingham is still a possible candidate for the first murder,” Sunny said. “He had a nasty fight with Eliza Stoughton—motive. She was strangled, and he’s a big guy—means. And he has no alibi other than sleeping alone, which leaves him open on opportunity. None of it’s a slam dunk, but he’s the likeliest suspect.”

  “But now there’s been another murder, and Beau had no known beef with Sheriff Nesbit—no motive.” Will took up the line of reasoning. “Unless I suppose Nesbit found out something about him that the rest of us haven’t. He left your beer pong tournament early, which again leaves him open on opportunity. But means . . .” His voice trailed off, then came back. “You’d need a very sharp knife to slit someone’s throat like that, and a knife used to gut fish would be ideal. And if it had been sitting around in a tackle box for years, that knife probably wouldn’t be missed, unlike grabbing something from a kitchen.”