Catch as Cat Can

by Claire Donally

  “Not as many ‘Ahhhhrrrs’ as I expected, although it looks as though he almost wound up with an eyepatch.” Sunny frowned. “I don’t think I’d go so far as to call him a pirate. He says he’s a businessman, but he’s got a whole set speech to justify anything he does to screw over people he deals with. Somehow, I don’t see him getting good citizenship awards anytime soon.”

  Will nodded. “Think I should bring him in and tighten the screws?”

  “I think he’d just batten down his hatches, if you’ll excuse the term, at the sight of a cop. The only reason he talked to me is that he didn’t take me seriously. A lot of what he had to say started out with ‘tell your boyfriend.’”

  “He don’t know you very well . . . do he?” Will said in his best Bugs Bunny impersonation.

  “He knows enough to trot out an alibi,” Sunny told him. “According to Vane he was out to sea, fishing with two witnesses.”

  Will lost some of his good humor. “Anyway, if he had a problem with Garret, why would he kill Treibholz by mistake?”

  “Unless someone else was doing the job,” Sunny suggested. “Somebody who didn’t know Garret by sight.” She frowned. “But it would have to be someone he really trusted. His son and son-in-law were on the boat as his alibi witnesses. And from the way he complains about money, I don’t think that Vane could afford to hire a pro.”

  “We’ll look into Vane’s associates and finances,” Will said. “But I still think the root of this whole situation can be found next door—or rather, that it comes from California, like Treibholz.”

  “I was just next door, and Neil Garret was fooling around with Shadow, tossing scraps of fish for him to catch. Can you kill a person one day and do that the next?”

  Will shrugged. “Distraction, maybe.”

  “And everything that happened, discovering the body, what was that? An act? Was Neil ready to throw that little production for whoever walked in first thing that morning? He knows you and I are going out, so was it aimed at me?”

  “Well, you are next door, a perfect witness, and he is behind on what he owes for the month. Maybe he kinda expected you to come by—or rather, that Ollie would send you over to dun him for the rent.” Will shrugged. “Or maybe he just panicked when you walked in.”

  “Right,” Sunny scoffed. “The guy’s a mobster, and he just panics.”

  “Nick Gatto was just a money-shuffler for the mob, not a made man.” Will frowned impatiently. “Or maybe he killed Treibholz and staged that whole rigmarole to confuse the issue. Amateur killers—first-timers—have been known to do that.”

  Sunny remembered the way Neil Garret had frozen in the doorway to the freezer, staring at the dead body on the floor. “Well, if he’s an amateur killer, he’s a professional actor. I’d swear that he didn’t expect to find Treibholz when he opened the freezer door.”

  “Back in California, the guy was little better than a swindler,” Will said. “That involves some acting ability.”

  “Yeah, but there’s a difference between convincing a grandmother to invest her life savings and reacting to a dead body,” Sunny argued. “I know how I felt and acted when I stumbled over poor Ada Spruance. I remember it. Sometimes I dream about it. Neil didn’t look as though he was faking when he saw that body.”

  “Didn’t look.” Will emphasized the word. “When I look at this case, I see motive sticking out a mile high. Phil Treibholz was a mortal danger to Neil Garret. He recognized him as Nick Gatto and could have hit men turning up here to cash in on the contract Jimmy the Chopper decided to put out on him. As for opportunity, Garret still says he was home reading when Treibholz got whacked.”

  Sunny stared. “You mean he doesn’t have an alibi at all? He didn’t say anything more?”

  “Poor planning on his part,” Will said. “Or maybe no planning at all. Maybe he didn’t expect to need an alibi. It might have started off as a meeting that took a sudden, dangerous turn. Val Overton has been working some federal sources to get the story on Treibholz. He didn’t just dig up information, he used it. Word is that he had a thriving side business in blackmail. Maybe he made a demand and things went downhill fast.”

  “And Neil just happened to shoot him?” Sunny didn’t hesitate to put a pin in that notion. “I thought Neil came here after serving a term in prison. How would he get hold of a gun?”

  Will laughed—sourly. “In the home of the brave and the land of the second amendment? Maine isn’t the strictest state when it comes to gun laws. You can get a piece, especially if you’re not a law-abiding type.”

  “So Neil rates high on the MOM chart—motive, opportunity, and means,” Sunny had to admit. “But—”

  “But you’ve got a feeling about our strongest suspect,” Will finished.

  “He’s not the only one,” Sunny argued.

  “The only one who doesn’t need to be seriously near-sighted, taking Phil Treibholz for Neil Garret,” Will replied.

  “We haven’t really mentioned that Deke Sweeney guy yet.” Sunny frowned. “Charlie Vane threw out a theory that Sweeney might have sent someone to lean on Neil.”

  “Another case of mistaken identity getting Treibholz shot?” Will sat in silence for a moment. “I talked to some old buddies from the Portsmouth PD. Sweeney doesn’t have a criminal record—exactly. Years ago, though, one of the guys in the fish market accused him of pulling a gun and threatening him.”

  “And that didn’t turn into a criminal record?”

  Will shrugged. “Charges never got pressed, and the fish merchant left town.”

  “No part of that story makes Sweeney look very good,” Sunny pointed out.

  “We’ll have to talk to him. And by ‘we,’ I mean the sheriff’s department.” Will didn’t look happy. “There’ll probably be all sorts of jurisdictional hoops to jump through.”

  “It may be worth it, though,” Sunny said. “I’m convinced whoever killed Treibholz wasn’t familiar with this area. Otherwise, why leave the body?”

  “As a warning—or a message?” Will suggested. “Like the way Treibholz tried to string up your little buddy here.” He gestured toward Shadow, who regarded him with unblinking eyes.

  “If there’s a killer still around here, then why isn’t Neil dead?” Sunny wanted to know.

  “Maybe he—or she—had orders to make Garret worry. Or suffer.”

  Sunny didn’t like the sound of that. If the killer knew about Abby Martinson, she could wind up at the top of the hit parade. Another reason to keep her secret safely buried, she thought. “Well, I think we’ve talked ourselves into circles long enough.” Will glanced at the wall clock. “How do you feel about lunch?”

  “I’d love to grab a bite. But”—Sunny pointed toward Shadow—“I’m afraid my lunch hour is going to be spent getting this little guy home. Dad should be done with his walk and his errands. I’m going to give him a call and get Shadow back where he belongs.”

  As if anticipating that the humans were finishing their business and that Will would leave, Shadow had already started edging toward the door.

  “Oh, no.” Sunny sprang from her chair and managed to grab Shadow before he could dodge. She caught hold of him by the fur at the scruff of his neck and brought him up. That was the handle that mama cats used to move their kittens around. Sunny had read that holding a cat that way could trigger old kitten instincts.

  It seemed to work. Shadow calmed down and drew in his paws for easier carrying. Sunny took some of his weight in her other hand and said, “Wouldn’t you like to go home where it’s warm and you have your own food? You didn’t like it last night when we went out at a strange time. You’re doing the same thing now. Let’s go home.”

  Will gave her a skeptical look. “How much of that do you think he understands?

  “More than we probably think.” Still holding Shadow, she dug out her keys and gave them to W
ill. “I’ll have to depend on you to lock the door and open the car,” she told him. “Holding onto Shadow may be a two-handed job.”

  Sunny put him gently down on the desk and got her coat. Shadow sat watching her. When she came toward him again, he didn’t run away but submitted to being picked up by his scruff. Sunny wrapped her free arm around and under him, supporting his weight while still maintaining her scruff hold.

  “Hang on,” Will said, moving ahead and opening the door. Sunny exited and walked to her truck while Will locked the office door. Then he hurried on ahead to unlock the Wrangler. Sunny took her seat, bringing Shadow down onto her lap as Will inserted the key into the ignition.

  “I’m surprised you made it this far,” he said as he closed the door. He leaned close to the window, his voice muffled as he said, “Good luck getting him out.”

  Sunny gently petted the cat in her lap before getting out her cell phone. After a quick phone chat with her father, she started the engine. “One thing at a time,” she said. “One thing at a time.”

  *

  Shadow rested his head on his paws as he lay across Sunny’s lap. It was cold, even inside the go-fast thing, and she was warm. Sunny’s other place could be interesting. It certainly had some odd smells. But he looked forward to the familiar scents of home. It would be good to come back to his bowl of water and food. He stirred a little. And his litter box. He was going to need that soon enough, after the fish the Generous One had given him.

  He settled down again as Sunny’s hand gently stroked his fur. They were going home. He didn’t have to look out the windows to see that.

  *

  Midday traffic was fairly thin. Sunny managed the drive out to Wild Goose Lane without any trouble. After parking in the driveway, she gathered Shadow up in her arms and headed for the front door.

  Mike must have been watching for her, because the door swung open. “No blood spilled. And I didn’t see you engaged in a spirited game of Catch the Cat after you parked. What’s the matter, furball?” he asked Shadow. “You feeling tired?”

  Sunny carried Shadow into the kitchen and set him down. The cat walked over to his bowls and lapped up a quick slurp of water. Then with a quick glance over his shoulder, he headed away—toward his litter box, Sunny realized.

  “Well, Dad, I think we avoided a cat-tastrophe,” she told Mike. “I guess I should be glad Will stopped by the office. I don’t know how I’d have gotten Shadow outside and into the Wrangler without him.”

  “It’s a shame you’re wasting your lunch delivering the furball instead of spending time with Will,” Mike said. “I know which I’d prefer you to be doing.”

  “Oh?” Sunny asked. “And were you going to come to town and collect the dreaded cat?”

  Mike’s startlingly blue eyes twinkled. “Do you want the fatherly answer or the honest answer?”

  “The honest one,” Sunny told him, laughing.

  “I wouldn’t touch that job without a cat carrier, a dart gun, and reinforcements,” Mike said. “I’ve seen what that animal can be like when he decides to be uncooperative.”

  Shadow returned, took a slow spin around their ankles, and turned to his food bowl.

  “There’s a good idea,” Mike said. “I could make you a sandwich before you head back. We’re well stocked with all that healthy stuff you insist on feeding me.”

  He quickly whipped up a low-sodium turkey and low-fat cheese sandwich on grainy bread with a shot of honey dijon mustard. It went down pretty well with a glass of seltzer. Mike joined her at the kitchen table with the same lunch. “I still think you’d have a better time with Will,” Mike insisted after chewing a bite.

  “He came by for work,” Sunny told him. “Wanted to hear what Charlie Vane had to tell me.”

  “He was pretty forthcoming, I thought.” Mike took a sip of seltzer and grinned. “Didn’t have to bring out the rubber hose or anything.”

  “Yeah, but most of it was covering his you-know-what.” Sunny frowned in thought. “He did take a swipe at Deke Sweeney, though. What do you know about the guy?”

  Mike prided himself on his near encyclopedic knowledge of people and things around Kittery Harbor. Portsmouth, though, was a little out of his orbit, as he himself admitted.

  “That is across the river,” Mike said. “Most of what I know about Sweeney I get from my fishing buddies. He’s the boogeyman of the Portsmouth fish market. Buying or selling, his word is pretty much the law.”

  “Who died and left him boss?” Sunny wanted to know. “Was he a fisherman or a fish merchant?”

  “He was—muscle, I guess,” Mike replied. “Back in the day, the Portsmouth market was a pretty rough place. Different factions of merchants were competing to run the place, getting in one another’s way, and fighting. That was bad for business. Several of the bigger merchants brought Sweeney in to impose some order. But by the time the dust settled, they weren’t giving the orders, he was.”

  “Will told me a story about him pulling a gun on someone.”

  Mike nodded. “I heard that story, too. It happened shortly after he came into the market. One of the merchants ran his mouth and made the mistake of picking up a fileting knife. I guess in that case, gun trumped knife. Usually, though, Sweeney was more indirect. Troublemakers had accidents, or suffered business disasters.”

  “Like the one he arranged for Charlie Vane and Neil Garret,” Sunny said.

  “Nobody got their kneecaps broken.”

  “But somebody ended up dead in a fish freezer.” When Sunny saw Shadow stop eating to stare at her, she lowered her voice. “Could Garret have been such a threat to Sweeney’s business—to his control over the market—that he had to be taken out?”

  Mike was silent for a moment. “I don’t think so,” he said slowly. “But I don’t know the market, or the man, well enough to be sure.”

  They finished their sandwiches in silence. Then Sunny rose, knelt to give Shadow a head scratch, and told him to be good.

  “Right,” Mike said as he got up from his seat.

  Sunny had a moment of worry as she opened the door, but at that moment a gust of wind blew in like a spike of freezing-cold air. Shadow actually retreated. Sunny closed the door with the cat on the right side, got in her Wrangler, and headed back to work.

  Traffic wasn’t a problem, but parking was. Sunny actually had to walk a couple of blocks to get to the office. She passed Neil Garret’s fish market and noticed several customers.

  That looks like a good sign, she thought.

  No sooner did she come through the door than she noticed the blinking light on the answering machine. “It’s Ollie,” the familiar voice of her boss came from the speaker. “Just checking in on the rent situation with Neil Garret.”

  Sighing, Sunny pulled her parka back on and went next door. “Got a call from Ollie,” she said to Neil as he turned to her after helping a customer.

  He nodded. “Tell him I’ll definitely be in tonight,” he promised.

  Sunny returned to the office to call Ollie’s cell phone and pass along the good news.

  “Fine,” Ollie replied. “I’ll be there.”

  Sunny worked through the rest of the day wondering which was worse—Ollie turning up unannounced, or waiting it out until Ollie arrived? She discovered that Shadow had left a memento from his visit. Somehow he’d managed to sneak into the bathroom and unspool half the roll of toilet paper. In the end, she tossed the evidence and replaced the roll, hoping that Ollie wasn’t monitoring TP use as an office expense.

  She was dealing with a flurry of late-in-the-day e-mail traffic when Ollie finally turned up. He nodded to her as she talked on the phone with a B and B provider, collected a file from the locked cabinets in the rear of the office, and spread papers on a desk to peruse.

  It was dead dark outside when Neil Garret appeared at the office door. Ollie looked up fr
om his reading as Neil came in and shamefacedly approached his desk. He carried a plastic bag printed with the logo of his store which he placed in front of Ollie. “Figured you might as well have it in cash,” Neil said.

  “Better than trying to pay me in fish.” Ollie reached into the bag, removed a sheaf of bills, and began counting them out. “You know, I could charge you a late fee.”

  Neil winced as if he’d taken a body blow.

  “But I’ll let it slide—this month.” He finished counting, nodded, and said, “All there. Sunny, can you make out a receipt?”

  It took longer than she liked, checking through desk drawers to find the printed pad. With so much of the business online, she rarely had to deal with cash anymore. Sunny filled in the appropriate spaces and handed the receipt to Neil, comparing the smiling guy who’d fooled with Shadow earlier in the day with the tense, silent man who took the slip of paper.

  “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Neil.” Ollie’s eyes went back to his papers. “Let’s hope we don’t have these kinds of problems next month.”

  “Yes.” Neil unbent a little as he headed for the door. “Good evening, Sunny.”

  As he went out, a swirl of wind came in the open door. Ollie darted out a hand to hold down the pile of bills on his desk.

  “Should I get the cash box for those?” Sunny asked.

  Ollie shook his head. “I think I’ll make a bank run—” He broke off, grabbing for the money as the door opened again. This time Will and Val Overton entered.

  “Damn, we are definitely in the wrong business, Will,” the federal marshal said, pointing to the cash under Ollie’s fingers.

  “Neil Garret’s rent.” Ollie fumbled the money back into the bag Neil had left. “I’m going to deposit it in the bank.”