Cat Nap полностью

“It’s the maroon Jeep Wrangler outside,” Sunny said. “I know it’s pretty cold out, but if you check, my hood should still be warm. We only got here about half an hour ago. We were barely in the door before we found Martin.”

Trumbull glanced at Fitch, who hurried back outside. “Considering the storm they’re predicting any moment,” the big detective went on, “you must have had urgent business with your ex-husband, Dr. Rigsdale.”

That put a dent in Jane’s self-confidence. “We had things to discuss.” She stepped aside as Fitch returned. “Car’s still warm,” he confirmed, and then resumed his prowling around the room.

Good luck, Jane, if you think you put an end to that topic of discussion, the tough reporter who lived in the back of Sunny’s head silently jeered.

The skinny detective suddenly stopped on the other side of the exam table, bending down and briefly disappearing. “Got something here, Mark,” he reported. “Looks like a rubber tube—the kind doctors use to tie off an arm and make the veins pop.”

“His sleeve is rolled up on the right side.” Trumbull’s voice went down to a low rumble. “Seems as if Dr. Rigsdale might’ve gotten an injection in his right arm.”

That rocked Jane a bit. “Martin had his vices. But I don’t think he’d turn to drugs.” She paused for a second, then went on more slowly. “Besides, he’s right-handed. Why would he inject himself with his left hand?”

Fitch impatiently shook his head. “More to the point, where’s the hypodermic?” He gestured around the room. “I’ve looked. Nothing.”

“It may still turn up,” Trumbull said. “I guess there must be stuff around here to put animals to sleep, right?”

In spite of Sunny’s look of warning, Jane opened her mouth again. “Oh, sure. From what he told me, Martin was trying to get in with the horsey set. He’d need a good supply of sodium pentobarbital if he thought he might one day need to euthanize a fifteen-hundred-pound animal.”

“Enough to kill a horse,” Trumbull said quietly. Fitch just glared at Jane in silent suspicion.

Sunny bit her lip. I know you came here in a bad mood, Jane, and you’ve had a shock. But these are cops. If you’re as smart as I always thought you were, you’d be shutting up now.

“Look”—Sunny desperately spoke up—“why don’t you check us out? We barely got in here before Dawn joined us, and we haven’t been out since. I know that neither of us has that needle. If it left here, it left with somebody else.”

Jane endured a quick search in rigid silence, but Sunny figured the indignity was a small price to pay to get off the suspects list. As she expected, the cops came up empty.

“I think we should get you ladies downtown for a statement.” Trumbull looked even more morose than he had when he’d entered. “And you, too, Ms. Featherstone,” he added over his shoulder.

*

Sunny had seen the Portsmouth city hall, a vaguely Colonial brick building facing the South Mill Pond, but that part of the complex was like the top bar of a capital T. A string of less grandiose civic buildings made up the body of the T. The entrance to the police station, for instance, looked very much like the door to Sunny’s MAX office . . . not counting the large sign in the shape of a badge and the pair of globe lamps labeled POLICE on ether side of the entryway.

Sunny, Jane, and Dawn had been split up at the veterinary office and ferried to the station in separate cars. Guess they didn’t want us talking, she thought. On arrival, Sunny had her fingerprints taken on a gizmo that reminded her of the multipurpose printer/scanner in her bedroom. Then she’d been stuck in an interrogation room for an interminable wait until finally Detective Fitch came in. He leaned way over the table, invading her space, his ferretlike nose twitching as he asked questions.

“What kind of relationship did the Rigsdales have?” He watched Sunny closely.

She took a moment to decide on an answer. “I only saw them together once.” Honest, but not too revealing. Considering the way this guy had looked at Jane, Sunny wasn’t about to tell him about Jane throwing her wine in Martin’s face.

Although they’ll probably find out about all that if they ask around, she thought glumly. Upwards of a hundred people saw that performance, and the gossip was sure to get around.

“You only saw the Rigsdales together once?” Fitch pressed, his face full of disbelief. “And yet you’re close enough to Mrs. Rigsdale that she asked you to give her a lift to her husband’s office?”

“I’ve only been back in Kittery Harbor for about a year,” Sunny told him. “Jane and Martin had split up by the time I came home.”