The Big Kitty (3 page)

Maybe,
Sunny thought,
if I opened the window, I could sort of push him …
She instantly envisioned herself half out of the car, leaning as far as she could, while Shadow imperturbably positioned himself an inch or two out of her reach.

This guy’s a comedian,
Sunny reminded herself.
He thought it was funny to do figure-eights around Gordie’s ankles while he carried that big bag of food.

Still, she couldn’t sit here all night until the cat tired of amusing himself.

With yet another sigh, Sunny undid her seat belt and heaved against her door, which opened with a screech.
I’ll just have to get out there and move him.

But when she went to do that, the hood was empty.

Sunny went to the far side of the car, then squatted down to look underneath.

No cat.

The noise of the door must have spooked him,
she told herself.

She turned to get back in the car—and froze.

Sitting on the passenger seat, giving her another imperturbable look, was Shadow.

“Oh, come on!” Sunny said.

She made brushing motions, then beckoning ones, but the big cat didn’t move.

She went around to the passenger-side door, opened it, and tried to cajole the cat out.

No way.

When she tried to pick him up, Shadow finally gave up his statue impersonation. He darted from between her hands and squeezed himself under the passenger seat.

Sunny foresaw a real battle trying to extricate him from beneath there. Shadow would probably rip up the floor mat—or maybe her arm.

“Fine, stay under there, you crazy critter.” Sunny slammed the door shut and stomped around the car, already at work on the classified ad.
For sale, 2007 metallic blue Ford Mustang, feline passenger included.

By the time Sunny got back to the driver’s side, Shadow was back on the opposite seat again, sitting and watching her. He suddenly yawned, giving her a view of a pink tongue and surprisingly large, sharp teeth.

Sunny hesitated. Maybe she should get Animal Control. Shadow wasn’t acting like a typical cat. Could he be sick? This wasn’t exactly the country, but the woods weren’t too far away. Raccoons and other wild animals had been known to turn up. What if Shadow had encountered one with rabies?

The cat stretched one forepaw onto the driver’s seat and used the other to tap the steering wheel.

Well, I don’t see any foam around his mouth,
Sunny thought. With a shrug, she bent to get in.

Shadow immediately settled back on his seat as she started the car and headed home. As she drove, she chatted with the cat—it made a welcome change from talk radio. For his part, at least Shadow appeared to listen attentively.

“You know, most of the roads out here are old farm tracks—they sort of follow the lay of the land,” Sunny told him. “It takes a little getting used to, after spending years living in a place with a grid plan like New York. Although there are parts of Brooklyn and Queens where you can really get lost. They’ve got these streets that curve around—crescents, they call them—”

She broke off.
I must really miss New York if I’m discussing it with a cat,
she thought ruefully.

They rolled on in silence until Sunny made the right onto her street, Wild Goose Drive, and pulled up in front of a shingled Cape-style house, painted white with green shutters. It had the kind of simple design that had made it easy for a much younger Sunny to draw pictures of “My House”—a central door flanked by two windows on the ground floor, gabled windows upstairs. The gable on the right was Sunny’s bedroom. This had been the only home she knew until she went to college. Afterward she’d lived in a string of dorm rooms and apartments, but if she had to draw a picture of “Home,” it wouldn’t be all that different from the scrawls she’d made as a kid.

“We’re here,” Sunny announced as she opened her door, and Shadow followed her out. He stood for a moment,
looking as if he were taking in the cylindrical wire cages filled with mulch, meant to protect the carefully trimmed rosebushes until spring. Since his retirement, her father had made a concerted effort to restore his wife’s garden. Not even the heart attack had stopped him. Sunny had done the work of getting everything ready for winter under her dad’s careful supervision.

“A word of warning,” Sunny said to the cat. “Stay away from the foundation plantings.” She shook her head and muttered to herself, “Like he’s going to understand what I tell him.”

After locking her car, she went up the walk with Shadow trailing behind. For a second, Sunny hesitated at the door. Shadow simply sat looking up at her with those curious gold-flecked eyes.
Well, he can’t ask for a formal invitation,
she thought as she unlocked the door.

They entered the front hall, with a flight of stairs leading to the bedrooms. Sunny heard television noise off to the left in the living room. “Dad? I’m home.”

Better not to mention her guest.

She poked a head through the open archway. Mike Coolidge sat on the couch watching some sort of sitcom, judging from the laugh track. His white hair rose in an unruly mass of curls—he was way past his usual time to get a trim. His face was on the pale side, the heart attack having robbed him of the high color Sunny remembered from days gone by. He’d also picked up a few wrinkles, partly as a result of losing some weight. But his blue eyes were as bright and piercing as ever when he turned to her. “So did Ollie Barnstable have you toting barges or lifting bales?”

“I was helping a bunch of people with an unscheduled stopover at Pease,” Sunny told him.

Mike grunted. He didn’t like Ollie. “Make sure he knows about the extra hours you put in. At least next week’s paycheck will be bigger than the one you got today—” He broke off at the expression on her face. “He did give you your pay, didn’t he?”

Sunny shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “He wasn’t in today.”

Her dad scowled. “Been doing that a lot lately—usually when payday comes around.”

“I’m sure he’ll be in tomorrow,” Sunny said.

“Yeah, or Friday, or whenever he feels like it. I don’t know why you stick with that Barnstable boy. Ever since he came back to town, he’s been strutting around like God’s gift to the local economy.”

Why do I stay at MAX?
Sunny silently responded.
Because given the state of the local economy, there aren’t any other jobs out there. And I’m too old to work behind a soda fountain anymore.

She shook her head noncommittally. “Did you have dinner?” she asked.

“Made myself a sandwich,” Mike said.

Sunny went back to the hall and down to the kitchen, this time accompanied by Shadow. “Dad!” she called when she opened the refrigerator. “You ate
all
the turkey and cheese?” She glanced in the trash bin. “And all the mayo?”

She’d carefully shopped around for the best low-fat, low-sodium stuff she could find. But that wouldn’t help much if her father ate several days’ worth of supplies in
one sitting. “It’s only Tuesday. I didn’t expect we’d need to restock until Friday!”

“I must be going deaf.” Mike’s voice grew louder as he padded toward the kitchen. “Shouldn’t there be a siren to announce that the food police have arrived?”

He arrived at the kitchen doorway, stopping in his tracks when Shadow poked his head around Sunny’s ankles to give him an inquisitive stare. “What’s that?” Mike’s blue eyes sparked with annoyance as he glared at Sunny, just as they had in about a million disciplinary encounters over the years. “And don’t act smart, telling me it’s a cat. What’s it doing here?”

“He followed me home,” Sunny ventured. That at least got a blink out of her dad, breaking his blue laser stare of death. The glare didn’t seem to work on Shadow. He leaned down and licked his shoulder. Having seen the cat annoy Gordie Spruance—and play “catch me if you can” with her in the car—Sunny suspected Shadow was acting a little too innocent.

She told her dad how Shadow had appeared on the hood of her car and then wrangled himself a seat inside. The cat didn’t show much interest in hearing about his exploits. He just sat quietly, facing the refrigerator, occasionally flicking his whiskers.

“Probably one of the strays that are always coming over here to do their business in the plantings—especially under my window.” Dad aimed an unfriendly look at Shadow. “So what do you figure on doing with this fool animal?”

“Ada Spruance said he’s a bit of a wanderer,” Sunny
replied, hoping to smooth things over. “He’ll probably just stay for the night and be on his way.”

“And why were you talking to the crazy Cat Lady in the first place?” Mike wanted to know.

“She came into the office this evening,” Sunny began.

Mike regained a little color as he listened to her story—
not necessarily a healthy sign,
Sunny thought.

“That dingbat thinks she has a winning lottery ticket? And you’re going to search that cathouse of hers for it?” He shook his head, definitely unhappy. “Better wear the oldest clothes you can find—stuff you can burn in the backyard when you get back here.”

“I thought you’d be more against it,” Sunny admitted.

“You already told her you’d do it,” her dad replied. “And you should be as good as your word.” That was a real, strict-construction Kittery Harbor answer. But his voice held a definite “you’ll be sorry” tone as he spoke.

“Does Gordie still live over there with his mother?” she asked.

Mike’s shock of white curls bobbed as he shook his head. “He moved out when the cats began moving in. And then for a while he was a guest of the county, some sort of thing about missing car parts.”

After taking in that information, Sunny thought for a moment. “In that case, there’s a phone call I’d better make. Then I’ll come out and check your meds.”

Mike turned around and headed back to the living room, muttering something about the “pill police.”

Sunny went to the phone extension on the kitchen wall, paused for a second, and then went to the cabinets. She took down a can of tuna, got the opener, and spooned half
the contents of the can onto a small saucer. Shadow didn’t even come close to the food until she’d deposited it on the floor and stepped away.

“Just remember, there’s no litter box in here,” she warned the cat as he investigated the plate of fish. “And you heard what Dad said about the garden.”

While Shadow went to work on the tuna, Sunny stood frowning at the telephone as she recalled what she’d heard from Ada Spruance—and what she’d seen. Finally, she went up to her room and dialed the number for the
Harbor Crier
. Ken Howell was still in his office—he seemed to spend most of his time there, from what Sunny could tell.

“What do you want?” he demanded as soon as Sunny identified herself.

“A polite greeting would be a good start,” she shot back. “Listen, I heard something that might turn out to be a good human-interest story.” She told him about Ada Spruance’s errant ticket, adding, “Ada mentioned that the expiration date is coming close. So there’s a suspense element, too.”

“And I suppose
you
want to write this … burning news story?”

Sunny was surprised that the editor’s words even came through, what with all the suspicion clogging the phone line.

“No, I’m handing it to you to run with,” she told him virtuously. “Check the facts. I just thought it could be a good piece for the paper.”

“If Ada won an amount like you’re saying, maybe she’ll move that menagerie of hers out of town,” Howell said sourly. “A lot of people would consider that good news.”

But it won’t be good news if somebody—like skeevy
Gordie—has glommed on to the ticket, hoping to cash it in quietly right at the deadline,
Sunny thought.
A little publicity might lead to the ticket mysteriously reappearing, and save me from having to search through the Cathouse from Hell.

*

Shadow poked his
head into the room, listening to the Young One talk. He’d followed her up the stairs, eager to explore the new house. It was much cleaner than the last house he’d stayed in—the dust in most of those rooms had been so thick, it made all the cats there sneeze.

He’d already amused himself a little, skidding along the bright, shiny floors. But when the Young One went upstairs, he’d decided to tag along. Still, he kept in the hallway, barely poking a nose in wherever he found an open door. Some of the smells—especially from the room where the Young One was—were pretty interesting.

Even so, Shadow didn’t go in. He’d discovered early on that some of these two-legged people had some odd ideas about privacy. And he was leery about following her into a space where a slammed door could leave him trapped in a small area. He hated the idea of being a prisoner; worse, a cat could get hurt if he didn’t have space to run from danger.

Not that this one seemed dangerous. But harsh experience had taught him to be careful. He’d been in houses where seeming kindness had abruptly turned into kicks and curses—usually from males when the female wasn’t around. When that happened, Shadow hadn’t stayed around for any second helpings.

But for all his wariness, he couldn’t help himself when
he saw the young woman get into her car. He’d leaped on the front of the thing to play with her. He’d taken a big chance, letting himself get locked up in that go-fast thing, especially after the young woman had tried to shoo him away. But something deep told him the time was right, and after watching from afar for so many days, he couldn’t resist the urge to come a bit closer. And he’d been right. She’d spoken to him gently, taken him to this nice place, and even fed him despite the objections of an Old One who apparently lived here, too.

A male Old One—that would take some thinking about. Males could be dangerous, very free with their fists and their feet. But Shadow smelled illness on this one. Between that and the male’s age, it wouldn’t be too hard to dodge whatever he came up with.

Almost all the older two-legs that Shadow had lived with were females, like the one in the place full of other cats. She was a needy one, always clutching at her four-legged companions, petting and cooing at them. It was more than a self-respecting cat could stand, although some of the horde in that house put up with it to get treats.