More praise for
The Big Kitty
“In this debut, Sunny Coolidge, with the able assistance of a ‘big kitty’ named Shadow, proves she has the skills to make a successful amateur sleuth. Cozy mystery lovers will adore Shadow and pine for many more adventures for him and Sunny.”
—Miranda James, New York Times bestselling author of the Cat in the Stacks Mysteries “Applause for paws—Sunny and Shadow take Best in Show!”
—Susan Wittig Albert, author of Widow’s Tears
“Deftly combines heartwarming humor and nail-biting suspense for a fun read that leaves you looking forward to Sunny and Shadow’s next adventure.”
—Ali Brandon, author of A Novel Way to Die, a Black Cat Bookshop Mystery “A purrfect debut. Four paws up and a tip of the tail.”
—Carolyn Hart, author of Death Comes Silently
“A charming, witty, exciting new entry in the genre, featuring the best realized and most personable fictional character on four legs. You’ll love Shadow. And Sunny’s fun, too.”
—Parnell Hall, author of The KenKen Killings
“A fun amateur-sleuth tale . . . [A] whimsical spin to the lighthearted whodunit.”
—The Mystery Gazette
“With a deft hand at plotting, an appealing small-town setting, and a determined protagonist, Donally has created a series opener that aficionados of whodunits and felines will find rubs them exactly the right way.”
—The Richmond Times-Dispatch
“[Sunny and Shadow are] a cute twosome . . . I am looking forward to the next in the series!”
—Book Dilettante
“Interesting and engaging . . . [An] enjoyable novel.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Claire Donally
THE BIG KITTY
CAT NAP
Cat Nap
Claire Donally
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
USA Canada UK Ireland Australia New Zealand India South Africa China Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England For more information about the Penguin Group, visit penguin.com.
CAT NAP
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with Tekno Books Copyright © 2013 by Tekno Books.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group.
BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
ISBN: 978-1-10162230-8
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / May 2013
Cover illustration by Mary Ann Lasher.
Cover design by George Long.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
To Mom,
who always likes to be remembered.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to Larry Segriff of Tekno Books and Shannon Jamieson Vazquez of Berkley Prime Crime, who have so ably shepherded this project along.
And many more thanks to Beth, the wife of the late Dr. Pergola (a very dear high-school friend), for sharing her knowledge of pets . . . and vets.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
1
The winter morning air was clean and clear as glass—and sharp enough to cut like glass, too. But he didn’t mind the cold. After all, he was rested, invigorated . . . and he had a good coat.
He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes against the dawn sunlight. It had been so wonderful this morning, waking up and finding himself lying in bed with Sunny, enjoying the shared body warmth, the closeness, the intoxicating smell of her. And when she’d sighed sleepily and put her arms around him . . . oh, yes, that had been wonderful.
Now he felt badly about the way he’d treated her after they’d gotten up. He’d quietly followed her down the stairs while she blearily bumbled her way to the kitchen to start breakfast. She’d opened the back door and stood there for a moment, sucking in her breath and then retreating with a sneeze when the chilly weather outside invaded the room with a blast of air that seemed to penetrate to every corner.
He’d taken his opportunity while she was distracted, darting out before the door shut. Maybe he should have let her know he was going, but that just seemed like more trouble than he wanted to deal with. What was wrong with going outside for a few moments to enjoy the freshly fallen snow? All his life, he’d found it was better to beg forgiveness than to ask for permission.
He hadn’t planned on getting distracted, following a set of squirrel tracks across a neighbor’s lawn. When he realized how far he’d gone—and how much time he’d taken—he’d sprinted across several driveways to get back to Sunny’s house. But by the time he got there, her big car was gone. That was bad. He had a good thing going here, and now his own thoughtlessness was going to leave him out in the cold. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Worse still, his foot was beginning to throb with pain. He hadn’t paid attention while he was racing back to Sunny. Several times he’d skidded on ice or slush. That hadn’t been good. Maybe he’d injured himself on something unpleasant on one of those driveways he’d dashed across.
His pride hurt as much as his foot as he limped, step by unwilling step, around to the back door of the little white house. It wouldn’t be easy, talking his way back inside. But he’d have to do it. Maybe it was the pain, or moving slowly after his brisk run, but all of a sudden, it felt much colder out here. He took a deep breath and then let it out in the most plaintive tone he could manage: “MMMMmmmrrrowwwww!!!!!”
*
Sunny Coolidge leaned back from her computer keyboard with a grin of triumph, pulling loose the pencil she’d used to hold her wild curls in a topknot and out of her face. The hairstyle probably wasn’t pretty, but it had been effective—sort of like the job she’d spent the entire day tangling with. Except for the occasional e-mail or phone call, she had devoted all her time today to updating the Internet website for the Maine Adventure Xperience, MAX for short.
It never failed. Whenever she upgraded the system, the components never worked together properly. She had to strip things down to the barest basics and then build the sys
tem back up again, finding and resolving whatever conflicts had been introduced via new versions of software. Sometimes that process could take days. But after putting it off all week, today she’d managed to score a personal best in wrestling with recalcitrant computer code.
Sunny looked through the big plate-glass window to the street outside. It had already gone dark, and the traffic was sparse, to put it mildly. Just a few cars passed while she watched. But then, nightfall came early in southern Maine at this time of year. That and the winter cold tended to discourage tourists from flocking to the delights of Kittery Harbor in January, February, and March. The busy season usually came in summer, when people sailed along the rocky coasts, or in the autumn, when they came to see the foliage or engage in traditional pastimes such as apple picking. Add in an unseasonable early winter warm spell, and the winter activity fans had gone out west instead of up north. That warmth looked likely to change now, though. Yesterday had brought a little snow, and a lot of talk from local weather forecasters about the threat of a bigger storm on the horizon.
Not that weather concerns had done much to slow Sunny’s tourist business, though. Bargains were something that brought people to the area year-round, and two busloads of shopping tourists had simply pushed up their schedules and started trolling the miles of outlet malls to the north of Kittery Harbor tonight instead of tomorrow morning, just in case a blizzard blew in. Nor had the four couples booking rooms in quiet bed-and-breakfast establishments canceled on her. If we really get a blizzard, they may find their romantic weekends running a little longer than anticipated, she thought. But then, being stuck with someone you love couldn’t be all that bad, could it?
Not having anything romantic on the agenda herself, Sunny couldn’t say. Oh, there was a guy she was interested in—smart, good-looking, and he carried a gun. But getting Constable Will Price to notice her “that way” made the toughest systems upgrade seem like child’s play in comparison.
For one thing, I’m not sure I can delete all his memory when it comes to Jane Rigsdale, Sunny thought wryly. Jane was a former classmate of hers, and the local vet—not to mention an all-too-successful rival for Will Price’s attention. She finished the last of her tests on the website, grinned again at the results, and muttered “TGIF” as she started shutting down her computer. Then the phone rang.
Sunny tensed a little—all too often, she’d catch some disaster just as she was ready to escape from the office. It seemed to go with the territory in the tourist biz.
Hearing her father’s voice on the other end of the line didn’t automatically let her relax her shoulders either. She’d come back to Kittery Harbor from New York when Mike Coolidge suffered a heart attack and needed someone to take care of him. It had been a scary time, made a little scarier when the newspaper she’d worked for back in the city had laid her off in absentia from her job as a reporter. Sunny had had to face the challenge of handling an irascible patient while also finding some way to turn her work experience into a paycheck. Ken Howell, the editor of the local paper, couldn’t fit a full-time reporter into his small operation. So in the end, she’d wound up at MAX. Her salary was pretty pitiful, but at least she got a chance to do a little writing for the site in between sieges of grunt work.
But now, as she listened to her dad over the phone, he sounded pretty cheerful rather than scared or aggravated. Sunny had to admit, he’d definitely improved over the past few months. Mike had even recently started driving a little on local errands, and had undertaken a walking program—putting in three miles a day of indoor hoofing around the outlet malls.
Still . . .
“Give me the bad news first,” Sunny told her dad.
“Nothing exciting,” Mike quickly said. “I found your friend Shadow yowling outside the kitchen door this morning. Dunno what happened, but when he came in, he was limping. Now I see that he’s still favoring one paw since he got up from his latest nap.”
“Did you look—” Sunny began, but her father broke in unceremoniously.
“Uh-uh,” Mike objected. “Even on a good day, I don’t think that cat would tolerate me poking at him—especially in a place that hurts.” He gave a sour chuckle. “And he has the claws to back up a hands-off policy.”
Sunny sighed. Her dad had a point. He and Shadow had settled into a sort of wary truce following some friction when the cat had first adopted Sunny. Shadow had since settled pretty comfortably into the Coolidge household in spite of Mike’s initial fulminations, and now, having enjoyed a couple of months of peace and quiet, Mike certainly didn’t want to get on Shadow’s bad side again.
“Did you give Jane Rigsdale a call?” Sunny asked.
“Of course, especially since she promised you that the mangeball gets a free ride whenever he needs it,” her dad replied, every inch the thrifty Yankee trader. “She said she’d fit you in at the end of her Saturday hours.”
Sometimes it pays to have someone feel she owes you a favor, Sunny thought. Aloud, she asked, “And is there any good news?”
“A little,” Mike said. “I thought we might eat out tonight. Picked up a little football pool money on last night’s game.”
Sunny laughed. “I thought it sounded like you were cheering harder than usual for the Pats.”
“Yeah, well,” her dad responded. “I thought we might grab a bite at the Redbrick.” He hesitated for a second. “Unless you and Will have plans.”
I wish, thought Sunny. Why did everything seem to remind her of Will—or rather her lack of success with him? But when she told Mike she was free, his voice grew brighter over the phone line. “So what do you think? Dinner at the Redbrick? We haven’t been there in a while.”
“Sure, why not?” Sunny replied. “I’m just closing up the office.”
“Would you mind coming to get me?” Mike broke off in embarrassment. “I’m still not ready to go driving at night. And besides,” he went on, sounding a bit more like his usual self, “we’ll save on gas, using only one car.”
Sunny calculated the amount of money in her pocket and the amount of gas in her SUV. They’d be awfully close to E on the gas gauge on the way back into town. Maybe some of Mike’s ill-gotten gains could finance a fill-up at Sal DiGillio’s service station. “I can be home in half an hour,” she told him. “With luck, we can get to the Redbrick in time to beat the dinner rush.”
Sunny said good-bye, feeling pleased with the plan, but no sooner had she hung up the phone than it started ringing again. One of the romantic couples was having GPS problems and had gotten completely turned around. Sunny stayed on the line, verbally guiding them through winding country roads, until the couple reached their B&B destination. By the time she managed to leave the office, pick up her dad, and get back into town, they couldn’t even find a parking spot near the Redbrick Tavern.
Kittery Harbor was an old town, and the oldest part was crammed in around the harbor. The streets were crooked relics of that long bygone time, as were the surviving buildings, constructed in the New England Colonial style of hemlock and spruce, with clapboard siding and shingled roofs. Their destination tonight, though, came from a more recent era, in a neighborhood with slightly wider streets and, as the tavern’s name suggested, brick construction. Wider streets didn’t necessarily mean better parking, though. Sunny and her father had to walk several blocks to get to the Redbrick, their breath steaming in the night air. Mike walked along steadily, his face ruddy from the chill, his white curls bobbing. Sunny couldn’t help noticing how much his hair had grown out since his Christmas haircut.
Almost without thinking, she raised a hand to her own reddish mane. She’d finally found a hairdresser who could tame her unruly curls, but the price of looking good was constant—and expensive—vigilance.
Mike climbed the steps to the entrance and opened the door. Once inside, they faced a blast of heat and loud, cheerful chatter bouncing off the big room’s tin ceiling and brick walls. The hostess warned them that they’d face a wait of nearly half an h
our. What else could they expect from a Friday night? The place was jammed with diners.
Mike gave their names, and then he and Sunny found seats at the bar, where he surprised Sunny by ordering a seltzer with lime.
“At least the fruit makes it look like I’m having a real drink,” he said with a grin.
Maybe he’s finally taking the idea of healthy eating to heart, Sunny thought.
She asked the bartender for a diet cola; it didn’t seem fair for her to flaunt a beer under her dad’s nose while he sipped a seltzer. She had an instant to enjoy the warm glow of satisfaction at having finally gotten through to him . . . until her dad added, “I’m hoping that being good here might earn me some slack from the food police when I order a hamburger for supper.”
“A hamburger—not a bacon cheeseburger.” Sunny was willing to bend a little, especially since the Redbrick was famous for its burgers. “And no fries—how about a salad?”
Mike rolled his eyes but agreed.
*
“I guess that blasted foot is really giving Shadow some trouble,” Sunny said, trying to change the subject. “He didn’t come charging up as usual when I came home. And I didn’t like the way he kept licking at his paw. And then, every time I tried to get a look at it, he shied away.” The worry in her voice shaded into a hurt tone as she spoke.
Mike patted her arm. “I know, I know, he’s usually all over you. Look at it this way—he wouldn’t even come near me after he came limping in today.” He scowled, looking a little defensive. “I don’t even know how he got out.”
“My own stupid fault.” Sunny took her glass from the bartender and had a sip. “I opened the kitchen door this morning to wake myself up with a blast of fresh air. Shadow must have sneaked out while I was busy shivering.” Her tone went from self-accusation back to worry. “I hope Jane won’t find something really wrong when I bring Shadow over to see her tomorrow.”
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