About an hour later, things were definitely rolling—downhill.
Will Price came into the office, his face tight and strained. “Did you tell Trumbull about my”—he paused for a second, trying to find the right word—“history with Jane?”
Sunny gave him a look. “No ‘Hello’? No ‘How are you?’”
“Hello, how are you? Did you tell Trumbull about Jane and me?” Will went quiet again. “Not that there’s necessarily anything going on right now,” he muttered.
“I didn’t say anything about the two of you, past, present, or future,” Sunny told him. “Maybe he saw—” Now she broke off. What she wanted to say was, “Maybe he saw Jane all over you,” but that might not be helpful under the circumstances. Sunny cleared her throat. “Maybe he saw you and Jane together. I think he passed by the door while we were out on the porch.”
“Damn!” Will burst out. “That was the whole reason I told her to wait outside. I didn’t want anyone to see me.”
“Looks as if that didn’t work out so well,” Sunny told him with a shrug.
“Ah, man!” He dropped in the chair by Sunny’s desk. “Trumbull woke me up at the crack of dawn with a bunch of questions about Jane. He said he was just contacting me informally, since he knew I used to be with the Portsmouth PD.”
Sunny frowned. “So why is that a problem for you?”
“It’s a kind of quiet blackmail.” Will grimaced. “The alternative is that he makes it official . . . and goes through Frank Nesbit.”
Frank Nesbit was the sheriff of Elmet County, and technically Will’s boss. But a bunch of Kittery Harbor community leaders had persuaded Will to take a job as a town constable. Will was the son of the previous sheriff, and a lot of people—including Sunny’s father—hoped that a Price would soon be sheriff again. The political overtones did not make for a smooth working relationship between Will and Frank.
“At the very least, that will put me on Nesbit’s radar,” Will said. “I won’t be able to do anything to help Jane. And I think she’s going to need some help. Whatever happened between them last night, Mark Trumbull isn’t as disinterested in her as she thinks.”
He sat for a moment, looking deflated—and embarrassed. “I know this is . . .”
“Awkward?” she suggested when he went silent.
Will leaned toward her across the desk. “But you’re the only one I can talk to who might understand.”
Sunny nodded. For just a little while, Frank Nesbit had thought she’d shot two guys. She wouldn’t wish a full-scale murder investigation on her worst enemy. And Jane wasn’t an enemy exactly. More like a rival.
“So what do you think I can do?” she asked.
“Talk to her,” Will urged. “Maybe she’ll listen to you.” He rose to his feet. “She sure isn’t listening to me.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Sunny promised, following him to the door. She put a hand on his arm. “But Jane’s a big girl. She’s going to do whatever she wants.”
“Oh, yeah.” Will went out. “I know.”
Sunny returned to her desk, frowning in thought. Jane had made it pretty clear that she didn’t take Trumbull all that seriously. How could Sunny even bring the matter up?
“Could you call the animal hospital and make an appointment for Shadow? They have evening hours tonight. I’m afraid that will mean a quick supper, though. Soup and sandwiches sound okay?”
*
When she closed the office for the day, Sunny stopped off at Judson’s Market, splurging on a half pound of fresh-cooked turkey breast, some of their homemade vinegar and oil coleslaw, and the frozen low-salt minestrone soup her dad liked.
She arrived home to a warm greeting from Shadow and a suspicious one from her father. He turned down the volume on the news as she came into the living room. “Okay, you have a seven o’clock appointment lined up,” he said. “You got off the phone pretty quickly, before I could wake up and ask any questions—what’s this appointment all about?”
Sighing, Sunny recounted her conversation with Will. “I need a reason to go and talk with Jane, and it can’t be something like, ‘Oh, I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d drop by.’” She shrugged. “Maybe it will still sound pretty lame—”
As if on cue, Shadow leaned down and licked his paw.
“But it’s the best I’ve got to work with.”
Sunny headed back to the kitchen, where she put the soup in the microwave to heat up and worked on making the turkey sandwiches. She toasted the bread, then arranged turkey slices and tomato on one side, the coleslaw on the other. A quick squeeze of honey mustard, and the sandwiches were ready.
Mike came in and got the soup bowls while Sunny brought the sandwiches to the table. She took a spoonful of soup. Well, it was obvious why her dad liked this stuff. Unlike canned soup, the vegetables were crisp, as if they were fresh—you could really taste them.
