Catch as Cat Can

by Claire Donally

  “We’ll come with,” Val offered. “You’ll feel safer with two armed officers on either side. Although with a windfall like that, maybe you ought to take us out and treat us.”

  Will glanced at his boisterous companion. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out.” He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. “To make up for that lunch. Val offered to come along.”

  “Ollie, you should come, too,” Val said with her gleaming smile. “We’ll make it a double date.”

  Ollie tried to back out, but Val wouldn’t hear of it. “Come on. You can go to the bank, and then we’ll head over to the Brickhouse.”

  “That’s the Redbrick,” Will said.

  “Why not?” Ollie said, trying to accept defeat gracefully. Sunny shut down the computer, she and Ollie got their coats, and they left the office.

  Sunny shivered as a blast of wind caught her in the face. “Damn. It’s gotten even colder.”

  Ollie just hunched down, clutching the bag of cash. They caught the bank just before it closed, Ollie hurriedly filling out the deposit slip.

  Guess they’ll be a little later getting out tonight, counting all of that, Sunny thought. A problem I don’t encounter these days. She took the opportunity to take out her cell phone and call her dad. “Will asked me out for the evening,” she reported. “Will you be okay for supper?”

  “So you’ll get to see him after all. That’s good,” Mike said. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got soup and lots of that healthy glop to make a sandwich. And your friend won’t miss you. At last report, he was asleep on the couch.”

  Sunny laughed. “Okay, Dad. I won’t be too late. It’s a school night, after all.”

  “Not to be a party pooper, but early would be better,” Mike told her. “I’ve been watching the news, and they’re talking about a storm blowing in later.”

  “The wind’s getting stronger even now.” Outside the bank, Sunny watched a woman vainly clutch for the hood of her parka as a stiff breeze flipped it back. Sunny said good-bye to her father and then turned to Will and Val. “Dad says the weather is going to take a turn for the worse. So if we do this, we should keep it short.”

  Val Overton watched Ollie come back from the teller’s counter. “Just have to make the most of our time.” She grabbed his arm and wrapped it in hers. “Lead on, you gorgeous man.”

  Her outrageous flirting kept Ollie flustered all the way to the Redbrick and through the first round of beers. By the second round, his face was pinker, but he’d loosened up. Val asked him about local business conditions, and he gave his opinions freely while she seemed to hang on to his every word.

  Sunny glanced at Will, who gave her a crooked smile and a shrug. Well, this is turning into a real hot date for a cold night, she thought. I could have had a better time if I’d stayed in the office and worked.

  Then Val steered the conversation to the fishing business, and Sunny realized that Will and the Fed actually were working.

  “Sportfishing, as a tourist attraction, still holds up,” Ollie said. “But the thing there is the excursion, the experience, rather than the catch.”

  “My dad says a lot of people go on those jaunts for the beer rather than the fish,” Sunny remarked. “If they catch anything, they leave it to spoil.”

  “Just as I was saying.” Ollie nodded. “Commercial fishing, people who have to depend on what they catch, that’s something I’d never touch.” He went on to give a pretty detailed and thoughtful history of local fishing and its problems—especially with government control.

  “With the government cutting down the fishing season for some types and reducing maximum catches, I don’t see any way the local fishermen are going to get back to the good old days they’re always talking about,” he said. “Seems to me like a very expensive way to go out of business.”

  “How about business when the fish finally get to land?” Val asked.

  Ollie looked as if someone had mixed vinegar in his beer. “Frankly, it’s not as good as I had thought. As you know, I rented a property to a fellow opening a fish store, and I got taken in by statistics showing that American households were trying to get more fish in their diets.”

  “That’s what everybody says,” Will said.

  “Yeah, but around here, how do you expect that to happen when a pound of fish can cost as much or more than a pound of prime steak?” Ollie gave his beer a rueful look. “That pile of cash you were kidding me about was late rent on that store. I’m not at all sure Neil will be able to come up with next month’s payment.”

  “So is it a retail problem, or a wholesale problem?” Val asked.

  “Both,” Ollie replied. “The local wholesale fish market is in Portsmouth. It doesn’t do the business of big markets like New York or Boston, or even Gloucester, where there are still some processing plants. They’re caught between a declining number of fishing boats servicing them, subpar catches, and rising prices. Like I said, not a business I’d want to put money into.”

  Sunny exchanged a glance with Will. If business is getting bad at the market, maybe Deke Sweeney isn’t sitting as pretty as Charlie Vane thinks he is.

  Their burgers arrived, and the conversation went into other channels. Sunny kept an eye on the time, and even though Val Orton pouted, the party broke up pretty early. The marshal did plant a big smooch on Ollie, which turned him bright red and left Sunny wondering how far Val was taking this joke.

  The weather had gotten even worse when they emerged from the Redbrick, continuous blustery winds and a very fine sleet that left exposed skin feeling as if it had been sandblasted. Val was staying at a national chain motel. “It’s on a main road, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” she said.

  Will turned to Ollie. “Can you follow her in your Land Rover? This has all the signs of turning into an ice storm.”

  “I can handle it,” Val insisted.

  Will shook his head. “That’s what people think until the weather really turns on them. I’d do it myself, but I’ve got to get Sunny home.”

  For a second, Sunny was tempted to argue, but the memory of her mother’s accident shut her up. Let’s not tempt fate, she thought.

  From the look Ollie was giving her, he must have remembered what had happened to her mom, too. “I’ll be your wing man up to the motel,” he told Val in a gruff voice. “Bad weather in these parts is nothing to fool around with.” His Land Rover was actually parked the nearest to the tavern, so he gave them lifts to their various vehicles. Sunny stayed in her Wrangler, warming it up, until Will’s pickup truck pulled up beside her.

  The ride to Wild Goose Drive wasn’t all that bad. They kept a careful speed, and except for a couple of times when the wind did its best to rock the boxy SUV, nothing exciting really happened. Sunny parked her Wrangler and then climbed into the cab of Will’s truck to say good night. “So did Ollie have anything to add to your case?” she asked as Will put an arm around her.

  “Just more reason to have a chat with Deke Sweeney—as soon as the weather permits.” He turned to look at Sunny. “I’m sorry that this turned into a fact-finding mission instead of a date date. But Val was kind of insistent.”

  “On information, or going out with Ollie?” Sunny asked. “She played it for laughs before, but now she’s got me wondering if she’s got a thing for older guys.”

  “Is that a problem?” Will asked, looking puzzled.

  “In case you didn’t notice, Neil Garret is a good-looking older guy,” Sunny pointed out.

  And Val Orton is a lonely gal who doesn’t have much of a social life—and incidentally carries a gun, she silently added. Could she have more going on with Neil Garret than a witness and protector relationship? And could she have used that gun if Phil Treibholz threatened Neil?

  11

  The air outside the car seemed even colder after the warm good night kiss. And the sleet had turned s
loppy, more like icy mush flying into Sunny’s face as she hung onto her hood. She turned back and knocked on the window. Will brought it down. “Forget something?” he asked.

  “Just that I want you to call when you get home,” Sunny told him. “It’s getting worse even quicker than we thought, and I want to be sure that you get back safely.”

  Will rolled his eyes. “Okay, Mom.” Then, belatedly remembering what had happened to Sunny’s mother, he said, “Sorry. I’ll call. Promise.”

  Sunny leaned in through the window for another kiss, then stepped back, waving, as Will drove off. She turned and made her way up a driveway that seemed to get slicker with every step until she reached the front door. Fumbling with the key, Sunny got the door open and stepped inside, stamping heavily to remove the slush sticking to her boots.

  Shadow arrived in the middle of her ice removal dance. Sunny noticed that he didn’t do his usual circle and sniff routine, avoiding the melting glop sinking into the bristly fabric of the foul-weather rug they kept near the door. He waited until he had her boots off, intercepting Sunny as she headed for the arched entrance to the living room. Even then, he kept his inspection brief, wrinkling his nose at the cold that clung to Sunny’s legs after her short trip through the storm.

  Sunny poked her head into the room to find her father dozing in front of a reality TV show he wouldn’t have tolerated if he’d been fully awake.

  “Hey, Dad,” Sunny called.

  Mike woke up, smiled at her, frowned at the TV, and then used the remote to turn the program off. “A boring night,” he announced. “I hope you had a better time.”

  “I wouldn’t score it high for romance,” Sunny told him. “Val Overton came with, and she dragged Ollie along as her date.”

  “That could have been entertaining.” Mike sat up straighter and stretched. “Did she chase him very hard? Did Ollie let himself get caught?”

  “Mainly Will and Val picked Ollie’s brains about the local fish business and the situation in the market over in Portsmouth.”

  Mike laughed. “Oh, boy. Lots of love stuff.” He paused as the wind suddenly picked up, flinging semisolid sleet against the window. “Sounds as though you got home just in time.”

  Sunny nodded, dropping into a chair. “I asked Will to call when he gets in. Maybe I’m being too much on the nannyish side—”

  Mike shook his head. “No. Not with this kind of weather.”

  She rose and went to give her dad a hug. His arms went around her, and they stood together for a moment, not speaking.

  The moment was broken as Shadow jumped up onto the couch, leaning into the hug as well.

  Mike cleared his throat, and Sunny laughed, leaning down to pet the cat. “You didn’t want to be left out, did you?”

  Reaching out carefully, Mike stroked Shadow’s fur, too. “I think your mom would have liked the little guy.”

  “Right,” Sunny said. “Until he tried to walk along the keyboard of her piano.”

  “Hey,” Mike spoke up in defense, “she barely let me touch that thing.”

  They smiled at the happier memory. Then the phone rang.

  “Safely arrived,” Will reported. “Although I don’t know how long I’ll be here. The weather forecast is getting rougher, and there’s a good chance the sheriff will call everybody in while they can still get to headquarters.” He paused for a second. “But I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “No problems,” Sunny told him. “And look on the bright side. Overtime.”

  “Yeah. When I get a day off again, we’ll have a nice evening out somewhere—without any tagalongs.” Will sighed. “Till then . . .”

  “I know.” Sunny was silent for a moment. “Be careful out there, and good luck.”

  They said good-bye, and she hung up the phone. When she turned to Mike, he was struggling to contain a mighty yawn. “Overtime?” he said. “Is he going out in this weather?”

  “Not yet,” Sunny said. “But he expects to be called.” She put a hand over her mouth as she yawned, too. “Nothing much we can do about it. I vote for B-E-D.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Mike got up from the couch and stretched. Then they headed up the stairs, with Shadow trailing behind them.

  *

  Patrolling the house in the dark, Shadow pricked his ears. He knew it was just the wind outside, but it howled like some huge, angry beast. And the stuff from the skies rattled against the walls as if that beast were scratching at them, trying to get in.

  He trotted over to the stairway and began leaping up the steps two at a time, trying to work off his unease. Upstairs, he made his way down the hall to Sunny’s room.

  Might as well check things out, he thought, easing his way through the slightly open door.

  Sunny lay on her side, unconsciously hunched up against the noises from outside. Shadow lightly jumped up onto the bed and daintily made his way over the hills and valleys of the covers to where Sunny’s head rested on the pillow. Her eyes were closed, and she breathed evenly. Fast asleep. Outside, the howl rose in intensity. Shadow shot a worried glance at the window. But it was closed, and it wasn’t too cold in here.

  He could feel the warmth rising from Sunny’s body, and carefully edged his way under the covers to share it. Shadow crept into her arms. Even in her sleep, Sunny made a pleased noise and ran her fingers over his fur.

  Shadow snuggled closer. Well, if it makes her feel better . . .

  The howling outside seemed to fade a bit as he closed his eyes.

  *

  Sunny opened her eyes, surprised to hear a faint mew as Shadow stirred beside her. “What are you doing here?” she asked him as he pushed his head against her, looking for a scratch between the ears. Sunny obliged, but she frowned. On a good day, she could manage to get her eyes open just before the alarm went off. She’d gotten to bed early last night, so maybe she was up a little earlier than usual. But dim as her room was, it was brighter than her normal wake-up hour. She looked at the clock-radio—no digital display.

  Rising from bed, she shivered as she got her cell phone from the bedside table. An hour past her usual time. She tried the lamp—nothing. Sunny walked to the window, finding the air even colder the closer she came. And there really wasn’t a view. Flying ice had frozen in place, creating a sort of pebbled glass effect.

  She went to the closet, got out her heaviest robe, and headed downstairs. The house was definitely chillier than usual, but as she reached the front hall, she heard voices in the kitchen. Sunny paused for a second, getting a brief head-butt in the back of her right calf. Shadow was sticking pretty close to her this morning.

  After a moment, Sunny realized it was the news radio station and walked in just as the kettle began to wail. Mike rose from his seat at the table, took the kettle, and poured the boiling water into a teapot. “No coffee maker this morning,” he said. “The power’s out.”

  He pointed to the old transistor radio on the table. “Lucky we still have that around, and plenty of batteries. Matches, too, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to light the burner.”

  Sunny stepped over to the kitchen door. This side of the house must have been sheltered from the wind, because she could see through the glass storm door. The backyard had been transformed into a winter wonderland, gleaming even in the dull light thanks to a coating of ice on everything: bushes, tree trunks, the patio fence—even a couple of holdout leaves glittered in the glaze.

  It was as if everything in the world had been carefully preserved under glass . . . except for the tree limb that had broken off and landed on the ground.

  That, and probably hundreds more, Sunny thought, turning back to the table and taking a seat. A moment later, she had a steaming cup of tea in front of her and had woken up enough to make sense of the reports coming from the radio. Foreign wars, politics, and pestilence were all shoved to the back of the line this mornin
g, as the news anchors talked about car accidents and local power outages.

  “You don’t have to worry about work,” Mike told her. “The sheriff’s told everybody to stay in because basically there’s nowhere to go. They’re still trying to clear the bridges to Portsmouth and the interstate. Any of the other local roads are either skating ponds or have downed trees across them.” He glanced over at her. “Looks like we’re in for a siege.”

  He rose and went back to the stove. Sunny realized he’d replaced the kettle with a pot of water. “Looks like oatmeal instead of toast today—unless you figure on grilling the bread outside on the barbecue.”

  Sunny shuddered, looking at the frozen landscape. “Oatmeal sounds fine to me. Nice, warm oatmeal.”

  They spent the day hunkered down, reading as the clouds cleared away and the light got better. Shadow was in his glory, enjoying an unexpected play day with Sunny. Apparently his nighttime nap left him bursting with energy, which he used to race around the house, flying into Sunny’s lap and in numerous vigorous games of Pounce on the String.

  The landline telephones worked, and Mike insisted on calling Helena Martinson.

  Sure, Sunny thought, it’s the Kittery Harbor Way. And she is his girlfriend or whatever.

  After a low-toned conversation with Helena, Mike turned to Sunny. “Abby would like to speak to you.”

  Helena’s daughter seemed in a pretty good mood. “Now I really remember why I moved to California,” she joked. “We were on the phone with the power company. Mom spotted a downed line from our upstairs window. And thank heavens you guys called. Mom was about to dispatch me over there to make sure you were all right. It wouldn’t have been too bad getting down our driveway—Mom had me salting that last night. But the rest of the way, I’d have to see if I still fit into my high school ice skates.”

  Sunny felt a pang of guilt, remembering how Mike had urged her to go out and enjoy herself the night before.

  At least he wasn’t lugging around bags of ice melt, she thought.