Not the best move, Sunny thought as she came around the table to try and take Shadow. Obviously, he hasn’t eaten in a while. All that strange, rich food on an empty stomach. And now you put the squeeze on him . . .
She was too late. Shadow made a husky, rasping sound, and then all the food he’d been gorging on came back up. The stream caught Trehearne right in the face and dribbled down, half-digested and undigested, to join the mess he was already wearing. Fiona Ormond screamed, whether from repugnance or because of the destruction of her carefully presented tasting, Sunny couldn’t tell. Other guests gasped and turned away from the spectacle.
Trehearne himself made a loud, involuntary sound of disgust, and his hold on the cat slackened.
That was all Shadow needed. In an instant, he’d twisted loose, dropped to the table, and streaked away again, leaving Trehearne pop-eyed, his face red and distorted, disgusted . . . and disgusting.
*
Shadow ran full out, even though his ribs hurt and his throat felt raw. But the part that hurt the most was his feelings. How could Sunny do that to him? How? How? The thought pounded in his head in time to the pounding of his heart. She caught my eye and kept me staring until the Clumsy One could sneak up and grab me. What a nasty trick!
He didn’t even want to think what was wrong with him to let a noisy two-legs stalk him successfully. But he decided to blame that on Sunny, too.
This was bad, bad, bad.
Shadow finally took cover in some bushes and lay low to get his breath back. He put down his head and hissed. To let some stranger come up and grab me—to help them. . . . He rested his chin on his paws, trying to call up his anger again. But it was gone. His chest felt empty.
So did his stomach. All that nice food, gone. Although it was almost worth being sick to see the look on that big, red, mean face.
That’s another thing Sunny owes me, Shadow thought. She made me lose a meal.
17
Nothing like an ailurophobic breakdown and cat barf to start things off with a bang, Sunny thought as she looked at the strained faces around the table. They had moved indoors, away from the dreaded cat, after the tasting debacle. Augustus de Kruk was reduced to weak tea and toast after this second visitation, and Fiona Ormond ate nothing, zombie-like after the catastrophic outcome of her big show. And Lee Trehearne had gone off to wash up and cool down after his latest misadventure.
Julia Kingsbury, Priscilla’s grandmother, made a valiant effort to carry on some sort of conversation, but her efforts fell flat when no one else seemed able to join in.
Sunny herself just wanted to leave, but she didn’t want to be the first to go. The food tasted like ashes in her mouth, and all she could think of was Shadow, wandering around Neal’s Neck with Trehearne ready to go full Elmer Fudd on him, shotgun and all.
I’ve got to find him. The thought kept running through her mind. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get him, but I’ve got to find him.
Beau Bellingham’s emergency room training overcame his reticence. “Are you sure you’re okay, sir?” he asked Augustus de Kruk, who sat toying with one of the toast slices. “That was another really nasty shock for you. Maybe you should—”
“I don’t take medical advice from a kid with hair like a goddamned sheep dog,” the Emperor roared, as loudly as on any of his TV appearances. “An unclipped goddamned sheep dog.”
Carson tried to come to his best man’s defense. “Dad, he’s got a hell of a schedule—”
But Magda de Kruk obviously paid more attention to what Beau had said. “Maybe it would be better to go upstairs,” she suggested in her slight accent. “We could rest in bed.” Augustus let himself be persuaded, and that was pretty much the end of lunch. Sunny waited until the de Kruks rose from the table and headed for the stairs before she made a move toward the French doors that led to the outdoor buffet.
That’s where I last saw Shadow, she thought. Although God knows where he’s gotten to since.
“Um, Sunny?”
She turned as Beau Bellingham came over to her, running an embarrassed hand through his blond thatch.
“That’s the second time Mr. de Kruk nailed me for my hair,” Beau said. “You’re local. Can you suggest a place where I could get a decent trim?”
When she didn’t answer immediately, he only got more embarrassed. “I know I haven’t been all that sociable. I’d ask Priscilla, but she and Carson are going up with Augustus.”
“It’s not that, I’m just trying to sort out a place for you,” Sunny explained. “I’ve got a troublesome head of hair, and not everybody does a good job. It took a while for me to find a good stylist, but she’s in a women only salon and day spa.”
She thought a little more. Will went to Harbor Barbers, not too far from the MAX office. They were fine for buzz cuts and the sort of hair styles a police officer might want, but Sunny shuddered at what they might do to Beau’s mop. Where could she send him?
Finally, inspiration struck. She dug out her cell phone and pulled up the number for MAX. Nancy answered on the second ring. “Maine Adventure X-perience. How can I help you?”
“Hi, Nancy, it’s Sunny. Everything going okay?”
“We’re getting a lot of calls and e-mails about apple picking,” Nancy reported. “Otherwise, no excitement. How about you?” Her voice got more animated. “I love your blog posts—those presents were hilarious! Have you figured out whodunit? Can I help with a clue?”
Sunny quickly cut off that line of discussion. “What you can help me out with is that a fella here needs a haircut,” she said firmly. “He has to look presentable, and he’s got very thick, curly hair. Can you check our local business database and find a place nearby with good recommendations?”
Nancy muttered for a moment, and Sunny heard the clack of computer keys. “Okay. The top of the list is a place called Wilawi Cuts, on Wilawi Wharf Road. Twelve reviews, all of them positive. One guy even said it’s the only place that doesn’t make him look like a poodle.”
“A ringing endorsement if I ever heard one.” Sunny repeated the address Nancy gave her to Beau. “Wilawi Wharf Road is a major business street in town,” she told him. “I’m sure that any of the security guys here will know how to find it.”
Getting back on her phone, she thanked Nancy, was reassured again that there were no office problems that couldn’t be handled, said good-bye, and cut the connection.
Beau still stood in front of her, looking pretty impressed. “Can you do that with anything around here?”
Sunny grinned. “Anything legal.”
“I better get going,” Beau said, heading out the French doors and circling around, aiming for the path that led back to the guesthouses. Sunny took the same route, but much more slowly, stopping to check out every clump of brush or flowers for a hidden cat. That turned out to be wishful thinking, though. She didn’t find a trace of Shadow.
Then, up ahead, she heard loud orders squawking over radios and saw security guys converging at a run. Sunny’s heart squeezed into a little ball. This is it, she thought. What are they going to do with him? Turn him over to Animal Control? Will they spot the little tag with my name and number on it? In the excitement of Shadow’s earlier brushes with security, she hadn’t even thought of that before.
A second later, she sighed with relief to find it was a false alarm. It turned out to be a large, fat squirrel that went scampering up the trunk of a tree to disappear into the foliage. The security men dispersed, and Sunny continued with her solitary search.
Somehow, I don’t think walking around saying, “Here, Shadow-Shadow,” is going to work. Even with only herself as an audience, that thought fell flat in the humor department. Sunny had a sinking feeling that if Lee Trehearne had his way, Shadow would wind up in a bag full of rocks flying off the end of the point—or maybe get made into a hat. Almost unconsciously, she bega
n to walk faster. I’ve got to do something. Trehearne and his men in black are really on Shadow’s case.
Her hunt took her past the pool, where she saw Carson, Peter, and the Neals already reinstalled on the lounges. Unfortunately, Shadow wasn’t there mooching anything from Yardley.
Sunny continued to work her way toward the guesthouses, one hiding spot at a time. At one point she knelt, trying to pierce the shadows in a lush planting by the path, and was startled by the sound of a car horn behind her. She scrambled to her feet and out of the way as one of the ubiquitous town cars rolled past. Beau Bellingham leaned out of the rear window, running a hand through his tousled curls. “You can say good-bye to them,” he said with a grin. “I’ve already got an appointment!”
Laughing, Sunny waved him on, watching as the car passed the troopers and the roadblock. Her eyes went from the disappearing car to the guys’ guesthouse, and her mood got more thoughtful.
Carson and Peter are at the pool, she thought. With Beau going off to get shorn, that means no one’s home. Maybe I can snoop a bit somewhere Lieutenant Wainwright can’t get a warrant.
Trying to look casual, she strolled across the private road to the fieldstone steps that led to the front door of the other guesthouse.
Here goes, she told herself. I just hope nobody’s looking.
*
From his hidey-hole under the porch, Shadow watched Sunny approach. This wasn’t a good sleeping place—it was too cool and damp. But with bright sun coming down, it was a good place to keep out of sight, while keeping a lot in view. He’d watched the big, black go-fast thing come rolling past. And now here came Sunny, apparently heading straight for him!
Had he been wrong all this time about her? Was she able to track him by scent?
No, she turned to go up the steps to the door. Shadow rested his chin on his paws and thought. This isn’t Sunny’s place. Her things are in the house across the way. Why would she come here? This place only has males. . . .
A horrible suspicion dawned. A female visiting a house full of males. Was Smells Good in there somewhere? Was Sunny going to see him?
Shadow almost flew from his hiding place, scrambling up the stairs. Sunny was quietly opening the door. She seemed to be looking around a lot, but not down on the ground where Shadow was. He slunk through the space between her feet, careful not to touch her, and rushed down the hall, casting around for a trace of scent.
It was much like the other house, many dead smells from a place shut up too long. Some interesting aromas came toward his questing nose on a puff of breeze from the rear, probably from the room of food. Some of them smelled like food going bad. There was also a strong odor of that sour stuff the two-legs liked to drink, the stuff that made them get silly.
No made smells here, although some of the more pungent stinks wafting down from upstairs could certainly cover the more delicate fragrance he was searching for.
Sunny seemed to agree, because she started up the stairs. When she reached the hallway above, though, she stopped as if she wasn’t sure where to go. As Shadow stealthily crept after her, he caught traces of male and female scents from one of the rooms. But Sunny merely peered into that room and went away. She stopped at another room that smelled as if no one had been in there for a long, long time. Shadow could tell that, even from his spot crouched by the wall. Couldn’t Sunny scent anything at all?
She continued across the hall. The next room had some interesting smells that Shadow had never come across before, some of them nose-twisting, some of them metallic. For a second, he considered slipping past her to investigate.
But what happens if she closes the door? That thought held him in his place, keeping watch. Besides, Sunny didn’t go in there either. She continued to the last room, the one where the strongest stinks came from.
Shadow charged. Is that why Smells Good covered himself in a made smell? Was his natural scent too strong? Shadow came through the doorway ready to unsheathe his claws and draw blood, to punish the interloper who had stolen his Sunny.
But she stood alone, pulling out furniture drawers.
The rest of the room reminded Shadow of some male places he’d seen. The bed things were rumpled and hanging down to the floor. Old clothing also lay around. Shadow couldn’t help himself from sniffing at a sock rolled up on the floor. Yes. Very male indeed.
What he didn’t detect, though, was any trace of the sweetish, spicy scent he’d caught on Sunny. This wasn’t the place of Smells Good. What did Sunny want with this other He?
Shadow went over to the bed to see if there was anything to find there. A rumpled green shirt hung half on, half off, clinging to a blanket. He stretched up for a sniff and recoiled with a mew of surprise.
There were traces of blood there.
*
Normally, Sunny might not have heard the faint sound. But she was standing alone in an empty house, and the noise hit her ears like a small explosion. She whirled guiltily around from the dresser she’d been searching to find Shadow staring up at her.
“Shadow!” She knelt to scoop him up in her arms, but by the time she reached for him, the cat wasn’t there. He’d bounded onto the mattress, although it was heavy going for him through the tangled bedclothes.
Sunny pursued, calling his name, pleading with him. “Everything’s okay, I’m not angry with you, I want you to come home!”
Shadow didn’t seem to pay much attention. He seemed more intent on evading her, although he didn’t turn to the more drastic tactics he’d used on Lee Trehearne. There was no spitting, no clawing. He just dodged when she grabbed. Sunny managed to head him off when he reached the head of the bed, keeping him from leaping off and hiding under the bed frame.
But he darted back, somehow worming his way between the mattress and the headboard. Sunny hesitated over the bed, trying to figure out where Shadow would pop up next.
Instead, something else popped out. As Sunny knelt, completely distracted by the object on the floor, Shadow disappeared under the bed and then rocketed out the door.
It was a small plastic bag, with one of those resealable zip tops, the kind Sunny used for storing leftovers. Except in this case, the bag was half full of pills. Most of them were white tablets with a score line on the back. They reminded Sunny of one of her father’s heart medicines.
But there was also a blister pack of other pills. Sunny could see them through the little plastic bubbles. They looked pink and crumbly. She jumped up and searched around for something she could use to turn the bag over without letting her fingers touch it. Finally she found a pencil. With a couple of careful pokes, she managed to flip the bag and see the foil-sealed back of the blister pack. There was something printed there, but not in English. It was in an alphabet she didn’t recognize.
A sudden crash brought her to the room next door, where she found a screen on the floor and a cat’s rear end disappearing out the window. By the time she got there, Shadow had made a death-defying leap into the shrubbery below, promptly disappearing.
There goes any hope of catching up with him, Sunny thought as she returned to Beau’s room and the other problem she faced.
Frowning, she tried to decide what to do. For all she knew, this little supply of pills could have been jammed in place years ago. Just because Beau was a medical student, working in a hospital, it didn’t necessarily mean these drugs were his. Though if this is Beau’s stash, she thought, taking it will alert him that someone has searched his room.
Sunny pondered possibilities for several minutes, and finally brought out her cell phone. She activated the camera and began taking shots of Beau’s room, including the bag on the floor. Then she knelt over it and focused several close-ups.
Finally, wrinkling her nose, Sunny used the top of one of the socks on the floor to pick up a corner of the bag and wedge it back into its hiding place. She left the room—and the house—much more
quickly than she’d gone in.
But as she came down the steps to reach the private road, she slowed down, trying to fit what she’d found into what she knew.
I guess a supply of pills might suggest why Beau seems zonked out all the time, Sunny thought. Does the fact that he’s using drugs add anything more to motive, opportunity, and means?
The answer seemed to be “not really.” Despite ticking the most boxes as a suspect, even at his worst, Beau seemed grumpy rather than murderous. Peter Van Twissel, on the other hand, came off more dangerous while under the influence.
Once safely on her side of the street, Sunny sent a text to Will: THIS CLD BE EVIDENCE, and attached photos of the plastic bag. Maybe this was just a distraction from her search for Eliza’s murderer. It could even be a dead end. But she had to follow it.
Beau looked like a new man when he returned from town and came up the path to the pool. The hairdresser hadn’t just trimmed off the shaggy bits of his mop, he’d given Beau a haircut sculpted to complement the shape of his face and his features. He’d gone from looking like a frat boy gone to seed to the young medical professional he was aiming to become.
Sunny caught up to him just before the gate to the pool. She’d been watching for him, trying to devise some sort of a plan. Finally she decided this was the place to brace him, just out of earshot but within view of the other people around the pool. Hopefully, the presence of witnesses would keep Beau from trying anything drastic.
“You look good. How do you feel?” Sunny asked.
“Lighter.” Beau ran a tentative hand along the back of his neck. “Have I got a tan line back there now?”
“No, you were smart enough to spend most of your time sleeping in the shade,” Sunny told him. She decided to jump right in. “Speaking of which . . .” She brought out her phone and showed Beau a picture of the bag of pills. “Is this how you manage to stay so calm and rested?”
For a moment, Beau seemed to loom over her, his face gone blank. Then, as if he’d developed a sudden leak, he deflated. “It’s not what it looks like.”
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