Shadow carefully hooked
his claws into one of the ceiling squares and pulled, peering down into the room below through the opening he’d made. Yes, this was the place where he’d been imprisoned. He pulled the square aside, disentangled his claws, and dropped to the shelf below. For a long moment, he crouched in silence, straining his senses to the fullest. The room was empty.
He glanced toward the window. Good, it was long dark. He’d feared that his wanderings in the dimness above might have thrown off his internal sense of time. But he’d obviously made the right choice about when to scout this area. This was an hour when most humans slept.
He crept down to the floor level, sniffing about. His nose wrinkled at a bad scent, but this was good news. The One Who Reeks had been in here not too long ago. As he came to the wall, he detected a more welcome smell. Shadow quickly stepped forward to eat and drink.
She may smell terrible, but I have to admit, this one is generous.
Shadow ate enough to take the edge off his hunger and drank greedily. It was dry and dusty up beyond the ceiling. Then he took a quick trip to the litter box and started climbing back up again. Humans were supposed to sleep at this time of night, but he couldn’t be sure about the One Who Reeks. Best to be gone in case she came in to check the room.
Although she’s welcome to all the gifts I left.
He hadn’t covered up the deposit he’d left in the litter box.
*
Dawn Featherstone told
Sunny and Will to back up. “You a cop?” she asked Will, who nodded.
“Okay. Take out the gun, just with the tips of your fingers, and put it on the ground. And then both of you, drop your cell phones,” Dawn ordered, following the TV cop show writer’s rules of procedure.
Will disarmed himself, and he and Sunny dropped their phones.
“You have handcuffs?” Dawn asked. “Yeah. Toss me the keys. Then take the cuffs and put ’em on your right wrist. Stick that hand over here.” Dawn pointed to a sturdy metal ladder on the side of the play structure. “Now, you. Come around and click the other side of the cuffs to your left wrist.”
When Sunny complied, they were pretty well attached to the jungle gym. The ladder was kid-sized, the rungs set too closely together to squeeze through. Its base was set in concrete, and the top was welded to one of the metal pipes supporting the structure,
Looks like we’re here for the duration,
Sunny thought as the cuff snapped shut.
“Good.” Dawn might get most of her ideas from TV, but she seemed to know her way around firearms. She picked up Will’s pistol and efficiently removed the magazine. After throwing that and the handcuff keys in one direction into the darkness, she kicked the empty pistol and the phones the opposite way.
Then she checked the bag that Sunny had brought. “Newspaper. It figures. Those rich old broads, they’re really cheap.”
Dawn shrugged. “Well, I still have what I came with. And by the time anybody finds you, I’ll be long gone.” She repacked the duffel, slung it over her shoulder, and left.
Sunny tugged against the cuff, wincing as the hard metal cut into her wrist. “What are we going to do?”
“Looks as if Dawn knows lots about TV cops, but not so much about real ones.” He twisted around, trying to get his free hand into his right pocket. “For instance, in the real world, it’s a good idea to carry a spare set of keys.”
He fished the keys out, freed himself and Sunny, then retrieved his pistol. “You also carry a spare magazine or two.” He clicked one in place, worked the action, and started after Dawn.
“Stay back,” he warned Sunny. “I don’t know if that gun she was waving around is loaded, but she seems to know how to use it.”
Sunny let him lead, but she was almost on his heels as he ran in the direction Dawn had taken. “Carrying all that cash, Dawn won’t want to run far. She must have a car close by.”
They exited the darkness of the park and looked up and down the street ahead. It was empty. Keeping his pistol down by his side, Will ran to the first intersection, looking first right, then left.
Halfway down the block, Sunny spotted Dawn dangling from a big figure’s right hand. His left hand held out her gun. Olek gave the girl a shake and then deposited her in the street. Beside him, Dani was shouldering the duffel bag as Will and Sunny came up. “It was just as well we give you the backing,” Dani said. “She was a trickier one than you thought.”
Olek kept a cold eye on the pistol in Will’s hand, Dawn’s gun ready in his.
“Okay, you got what you wanted.” Will’s voice went into tough cop mode. “You’ll be heading out of town now?”
“Right now,” Dani promised. “We finish with the doctor’s business, so you tell the other cops to check his bank. Not so good. I don’t know if I come back.” He sighed. “More trouble.”
Then he looked at Sunny. “But remember this. I owe you a favor.”
She watched the Ukrainian odd couple head off for their car. “Guess we’d better start looking for our phones so we can call Trumbull,” she said. “I bet he’s going to love this.”
*
Detective Trumbull was
definitely not in a good mood. Even Fitch was staying out of his way. “You’ve got a hell of a nerve,” the big man rumbled at Sunny. Then he glared at Will. “And why in God’s name did you help her?”
“We were trying to break up an extortion attempt,” Will said. “Preferably in a way that wouldn’t cause any embarrassment for an elected official.”
“Yeah? Well, you’ll find that Maine officials don’t have much pull on this side of the river,” Trumbull said, but that was mostly bluff. One thing that Sunny had learned from her dad was that politics was definitely the art of the possible.
Trumbull regarded them sourly for a moment. “So you thought that you could talk this girl out of blackmail, and she turns up with a duffel full of money—money that Rigsdale had gotten his hands on.”
“Money that these two foreign guys turned up and claimed,” Sunny said.
“They’re some sort of Ukrainian loan sharks,” Will said. “I thought things were going to get hairy, but they had paperwork proving that the money belonged to them.”
“You can check with Martin’s bank,” Sunny added.
“Right,” the detective said with heavy irony. “Everything nice and neat. I know when I’m being handed a package. And don’t keep smiling at me like a nine-year-old, young woman. I should rat your boyfriend here out to Sheriff Nesbit and get his butt roasted but good.”
Sunny continued to give him a bright smile.
But you’ve got other things to worry about, like a murder investigation circus that’s just gained two more rings. And I’ve done some checking. As annoyed as you might be with Will, you really don’t like Frank Nesbit.
Finally, Trumbull made a cutting gesture with his hand. “All right. Thanks very much for your statements. I’ll be questioning Ms. Featherstone. Good-bye.”
As they got back into Sunny’s Wrangler, she was still in a good mood. “Well, that could have gone much worse. Feel like having a very early breakfast?”
Will shook his head, frowning in thought. “We’ve dumped a lot on Trumbull’s plate, but it still doesn’t clear Jane. And even worse, we’re clean out of murder suspects.”
“Then we’ll have to look for more,” Sunny replied. “And considering the way Martin liked to spend his time, I expect that they’ll be female.” She drove for a moment in silence. “In fact, I’m pretty sure there must be another lover in the underbrush.”
“What leads you to that conclusion, Sherlock?” Will asked.
“Martin’s secret doorway to paradise,” Sunny replied. “It has to be the way the killer got in. I expect Dawn didn’t know about it—after all, that was how Martin was sneaking Christine in, literally behind her back. Dawn was on the front desk, and we were the only people who came in that way—that’s why she keeps insisting that Jane did Martin in.”
Will nodded slowly. “We know the back door was unlocked for Christine. Now we just have to find out who used it instead.”
“At least we’ve gotten Jane and Tobe some breathing space.” The conversation lapsed for a moment as Sunny negotiated the bridge crossing. “In the meantime, I’d like to suggest a new project.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with blackmail and foreign money launderers, does it?” Will asked warily.
“No,” Sunny told him, “it’s a lot farther down the scale—catnapping.”
As they got off the interstate and began negotiating the winding country roads, Sunny related the other story that Mrs. Martinson had passed along.
“So you think this Dowdey woman might be holding Shadow against his will?” The skeptical, tough-cop tone crept into Will’s voice.
“Shadow is a wanderer,” Sunny said. “That’s the first thing Ada Spruance told me about him. And I guess he proved it when he wandered off from my house. If someone is locking him up in the hopes of turning him into a house cat, I don’t think that’s going to turn out well.”
Will sighed. “So what do you want to do?”
“Tomorrow—or later this morning—”
“Try ‘early this afternoon,’” Will suggested.
“Whenever,” Sunny said impatiently. “I’ll print out some more posters. Then we’ll visit Mrs. Dowdey, pretending we’re going door to door.”
“Try to shame her into giving up Shadow if she’s got him?” Will nodded. “Sounds like a workable plan.”
“And if that doesn’t do it, we’ll try some old-fashioned snooping,” Sunny added. “I’ll mention this system for getting cats acclimated, and ask to see what sort of setup she uses.”
“I’m glad you started using ‘I’ instead of ‘we,’” Will said.
“Well, of course you’re coming along,” Sunny told him. “I’ll have a lot more clout if I come knocking at her door with a town constable at my side.”
*
The weather was
chill and blustery that afternoon as they made their way up Carolyn Dowdey’s walk. But that wasn’t the reason that Will looked so very ill at ease. “After last night, I’m going to be on pretty thin ice with the sheriff,” he muttered. “This could be considered a misuse of authority.”
“You’re helping to look for a lost kitty,” Sunny said. “What could be more innocent?”
She gave the bell a healthy ring and held her lost cat posters up. After a moment, Mrs. Dowdey opened the door a crack, peering doubtfully out at them. “Can I help you?”
“Oh, I hope so.” Sunny tried to put a little excess enthusiasm into her voice. “Have you seen this cat in the neighborhood?” She went to hand over a poster and then brightened. “Wait a minute, you’ve actually met Shadow. It’s Mrs. O’Dowd, right?”
The woman stiffened at having her name mistaken for that of the town’s worst dive bar. “It’s Dowdey,” she corrected.
“I’m so sorry.” Sunny went for her best contrite look. “It’s just that I’m nearly out of my mind with worry over this little guy. He went off wandering in this horrible weather.”
Mrs. Dowdey nodded, an odd expression on her face. “Some cats do that, I’m told.”
“Even if he’s adopted another family, I just want to know that he’s safe,” Sunny implored. She turned to Will. “Constable Price here has been kind enough to volunteer his time to help me search.”
“Constable,” the older woman repeated, giving Will a sidelong look. Will nodded, looking a little at a loss for words when confronted with the stink of spoiled perfume that wafted out the door.
“Yes, ma’am,” he finally managed in his best good-cop voice. “Any help would be appreciated.”
“I don’t know what help I can offer,” Mrs. Dowdey said dismissively. Then the Kittery Harbor Way kicked in as she added, “Other, perhaps, than inviting you in for a warm drink.” Will turned to Sunny, giving her a you’re-going-to-owe-me look.
Mrs. Dowdey led them into what had been a large, graceful center hall in the home’s original incarnation. A formal parlor stood off on the left, but the woman led to the right, down a short hallway with a drop ceiling, and into what would have been the family room if a family had been living there. Large glass windows let in pale daylight—and probably let out a lot of heat. No wonder Carolyn Dowdey was wearing a heavy sweater. And she had a large, high-end brocade reclining chair pulled right up in front of a built-in fireplace that seemed a little small for the room.
“How lovely,” Sunny lied through her teeth. “This looks like something Mr. Allerton would do.”
“That’s right.” Her hostess smiled, obviously pleased.
“A friend of my dad’s is considering some renovations, and that’s one of the contractors he’s considering. I understand he did a lovely job on Dr. Rigsdale’s office—the one in Portsmouth.”
“That’s true,” Mrs. Dowdey said, a bit less pleased at the turn in the conversation.
I wonder how much Allerton talked about that project?
Sunny asked herself.
Who might know about the secret panel?
“I heard he installed several exotic built-ins,” Sunny went on, keeping an eye on the other woman. Something was going on there, but she wasn’t sure what. “But there were some cost overruns. I guess you have to expect that with construction.”
“And with other things.” Mrs. Dowdey went to the fireplace, opening the glass doors that protected the hearth. She picked up the poker and turned to Will. “Would you mind, Constable?”
“Certainly not,” Will replied, stepping forward and reaching for the fireplace tool.
As he did, Carolyn Dowdey used it to whack him on the side of the head. Will went down in a heap.
“Overruns are all right when you’re adding on to a house,” the woman said to Sunny as if nothing had happened. “It’s a different thing when your pet’s life is at stake. Dr. Rigsdale deserved what I did to him.”
In the dimness
beyond the ceiling, Shadow crouched, trying to sleep. Every movement he made raised a cloud of dust. How much longer could he stay up here? He’d explored every place he could get to and hadn’t found a way out.
Sooner or later, he’d come down for food or a drink, and the One Who Reeks would appear from behind the door. She’d find his hiding place and ensure he wouldn’t even have that empty escape.
Sunny, why did I leave you?
For the thousandth time, he asked himself the question. And as he did, his ears suddenly flicked forward. He was wishing so hard, he thought he heard Sunny. Her voice seemed to come from the big room. Shadow charged along the metal path and squashed himself through the hole in the wall. Could it be? Had she found him?
As he came through, he heard a crash. Yes, that was definitely Sunny’s voice, getting louder.
*
“Excuse me?” Sunny
popped out of her chair as Carolyn Dowdey advanced on her. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure I get to stay with my new cat,” Mrs. Dowdey said, hefting the poker. “Mrs. Purrley got sick, and everything that so-called doctor recommended just made her sicker—and cost more money. Intravenous this, surgical that, and in the end I was giving daily doses of something to keep her going from a syringe. And finally, when my poor cat just couldn’t keep going anymore, he suggested that she be put to sleep. Of course, he charged for that, too.”
“I’m sorry.” Sunny maneuvered to keep the chair between her and this crazy lady.
“And then, when Mrs. Purrley was gone, he gave me a movie disc that was supposed to make me feel better.” Mrs. Dowdey’s cat face wasn’t quivering; it was twitching. “It didn’t. And then he had the nerve to charge me for it! That was when I decided it was time to give Dr. Rigsdale some of his own medicine.”
Okay, that’s enough,
Sunny decided.
You’re younger and faster than this old woman. Just dodge around her, get out the door . . .
Before Sunny could try, Mrs. Dowdey launched a wild swing that struck the chair Sunny was sheltering behind. It toppled over.
Don’t know that I’m stronger.
Sunny backpedaled, darting behind an occasional table. Mrs. Dowdey shattered the thing, knickknacks and all. “It was easy enough. Joe Allerton had mentioned that silly secret door. Dr. Rigsdale was at his desk, with his back to me. The first thing he said was, ‘Did you bring the money?’” She laughed, an ugly, rasping sound. “It was the last thing he said, too.”
She waved the poker. “I came prepared, you see, and I was lucky, too. It was easy enough use his chair to roll him into the examination room after I hit him. Getting him onto the table was a little more work, but I managed in the end. Then it was just a question of finding the right drug among his supplies. He’d already taught me how to do the injections for Mrs. Purrley.”
Her face crumpled a little at the memory of her cat but then brightened as she returned to her story. “I found a vein and emptied the hypodermic into it. His arm jerked, breaking off the tip, but he was well on his way by then. It’s remarkable, really, how easy it is to kill someone when you put your mind to it.”
Or when you lose your mind,
Sunny thought.
Got to get to the door. Can’t turn my back on her.
She faked left, dodged right, and took cover for a moment behind another table. Her pursuer destroyed that one, too.
An irrelevant thought popped into Sunny’s head.
This is going to cost a fortune to redecorate. After they clean up all the blood.
She tried to grab the poker from Carolyn’s grasp and nearly got her wrist broken for her trouble. Shaking her hand, Sunny ducked behind another chair. She was running out of furniture. This time when Mrs. Dowdey came at her, Sunny shoved the chair so it fell onto the woman. Carolyn stumbled back, and Sunny ran for the door. She got as far as the fireplace before a reflection in the glass door gave her a second’s warning.
Sunny ducked and rolled as that damned poker swooped through the spot where her head had been a moment before. She scrabbled back on her hands, knees, and butt. Carolyn Dowdey came straight at her, the poker raised in both hands to bring it down in a death stroke.
She paused for a second as a weird noise came from above—a keening, guttural, coughing and sneezing noise.
And then one of the ceiling panels gave way, and a furious, dusty cat came flying down.
Carolyn had twisted round to see what was going on. Shadow landed against her shoulder. He bounced one way, she went the other, crashing into the oversized recliner. It rocked back and flew open as Carolyn landed face-first against the back.
The woman recovered quickly, swarming over the arm of the chair as Sunny regained her feet.
“Enough!” Carolyn shouted, coming at Sunny again.
Then she let out a scream and lurched back. Shadow circled her legs, darting in to claw again. Carolyn swung low with the poker as Shadow danced away.
She’s right,
Sunny decided.
This is enough!
She leaped onto Carolyn before the woman could swing at Shadow again. They rolled around in a confused and nasty struggle, Sunny choking and half-blinded by the stink of rancid perfume. And then Carolyn was over her again, teeth bared, her cat face murderous.
Is this the last thing a mouse sees?
Sunny found herself wondering.
Then Shadow came whirling up, going for Carolyn’s face. She reared back, Sunny bucked, the woman flopped on the floor . . .
And a foot came down on the poker.
Will weaved a little, but he had his gun out and pointed at Carolyn Dowdey.
“Get out of this house!” she screeched at him. “I’ll say you came in here and tried to rob me! Whatever you think you know, it’s not enough to prove anything!”
Sunny was using the opened recliner to pull herself to her feet when she suddenly stopped. “Or maybe not,” she said. “My dad had a chair like this in our living room. He and my mom got into an awful fight because she said he’d lost one of her silver spoons. Went on for months, until one day he pushed back to recline, and I saw something shiny in the piece of fabric that connects the footrest to the seat.”
On her feet now, she pointed to the hammocklike piece of brocade fabric. Nestled in it was a hypodermic syringe—a syringe with a broken needle.
Still on her knees, Carolyn Dowdey looked down, a dazed expression on her face. “I thought I brought it home, but I couldn’t find it. So I figured I must have lost it on the way.”
“Call 911,” Will told Sunny. “The sheriff’s going to be happy about one thing. This woman is going to another jurisdiction.”
*
Even with the
fatal hypodermic turning up, Carolyn Dowdey might have made a long, drawn-out legal fight of it. But now that the cat was out of the bag—or the ceiling—she told the whole story to the officer who arrived, to Sheriff Nesbit, Detectives Trumbull and Fitch . . . and even to the news crews that quickly gathered. It was as if, after years of being alone, Mrs. Dowdey relished being the center of attention. As for Sunny, she just wanted to get done with the formalities of giving a statement and dealing with the media as quickly as possible. The big thing was to get Shadow safely home. Besides, he didn’t like the bright lights from the cameras.
It was a pretty odd-looking party that convened the next day. Both Will Price and Tobe Phillips sported shiners. Will also had a bandage over his cheekbone. Mike and Mrs. Martinson shared half the couch. Will sat on the other side, with Sunny on the floor at his feet. Across the room, Tobe had an armchair, and Jane sat on the floor.
Shadow occupied Sunny’s lap, purring away. He’d been very attached to her since coming home—sometimes literally. She had pulls in several sweaters from his attempts to climb on her.
“Are you ready?” Jane asked. “Start petting Shadow and making much of him. Let him know you love him.”
While Sunny did that, Jane reached into the bag at her side and took out Toby the pup. He had grown noticeably bigger already, but showed the same bumbling eagerness as before when Jane put his paws on the floor.
Toby spotted Shadow and, yipping like a nut, came toward him. Under Sunny’s hands, she could feel the cat’s muscles tense. But with Sunny holding him, Shadow held his ground until Toby came nose to nose with him.
The cat gave a deep sigh. Sunny wasn’t sure if that was annoyance or resignation. But he stayed there . . . until Toby suddenly came at him with a large, pink tongue.
Shadow tried to jump back, and Sunny lifted him to her shoulders. “Okay, that’s enough for a first try,” she said. “And for the time being, the new house rule is no licking.”
The others laughed and raised glasses. “No licking!”
“At least,” Will leaned forward to mutter, “not on the first date.”