Sunny frowned thoughtfully as she took in that information.
“I hope that expression isn’t a reaction to my cake,” Mrs. Martinson said.
“Sorry,” Sunny apologized. “I’m afraid my thoughts took me away for a moment.”
“Thinking about a not very nice man,” the older woman said. “And maybe a girl to match?” She shook her head. “The problem is, the women I talked to all liked Dr. Rigsdale. He fit in with them socially. When it came to Dawn, though, they talked about her ‘trying to get her claws into him.’”
Sunny laughed. “They didn’t know him very well. He was very equal opportunity when it came to picking up women.” She told her dad and Mrs. Martinson the story she’d heard from the waitress.
“Yeah, well, maybe she’s right,” Mike said. “I remember my days out on the road. There was something about waitresses—” He shut up when he saw the looks he was getting from both Sunny and Helena.
Mrs. Martinson perched herself on the end of her seat, her petite features alight with curiosity. “So, are you intending to solve this mystery?”
Sunny repressed a shudder. “Definitely not,” she replied. That was the last thing she wanted going out on the local gossip hotline. “I’m just worried about Jane Rigsdale. It’s bad enough that she found her ex-husband dead, but now the cops are asking questions—”
She bit off the end of that sentence. “I’d appreciate it if that didn’t get out and around.”
“There’s already a lot of talk going around about Jane,” Mrs. Martinson said. “The scene in the Redbrick is public knowledge by now—probably with a lot of embroidery. I suppose the Portsmouth police know all about it.”
Sunny nodded. “But we don’t need to spread any more stories.”
Helena fluttered her hands. “You wouldn’t believe some of the things I hear. Carolyn Dowdey has been complaining that Jane overstepped her bounds in running the animal foundation. She claims that Jane is discriminating against people who took their pets to Martin instead of to her.”
“Dowdey?” Sunny repeated. “Sort of a big woman in fancy clothes that don’t suit her—face like a cat and a stinky perfume?”
“I’ve been with Carolyn while she shops for perfume,” Mrs. Martinson said. “Believe me, it’s not the kind of stuff you’d find discounted up in outlet-land. It would probably cost you a week’s salary.” She named a designer fragrance that was horrifyingly exclusive, not to mention pricey.
Sunny grimaced. “Make that two weeks’ salary.” She gave her neighbor a quizzical look. “Does that stuff really smell so awful?”
“Only after it hits Carolyn’s skin.” Helena sighed. “It’s some kind of unfortunate chemical reaction that turns the best perfumes rancid. This wasn’t the first, I’m afraid. I’ve tried to be tactful about it—several of us have—but she just doesn’t seem to listen.”
“Yeah, I kind of noticed that about her,” Sunny said. “She barged into Jane’s office last night, complaining that Jane was holding up a cat adoption on her.”
“Was she?” Mrs. Martinson asked.
“Sort of, but not because she was upset about Martin. Jane wants this Dowdey woman to take a class on how to take care of pets. Apparently, she’s killed two cats with kindness—overfeeding them.”
“Really?” Mrs. M. looked a little worried. “Maybe I should sign up for that class, too. Toby seems ready to eat anytime—”
Mike broke in, rolling his eyes. “And anything.”
“I think that’s pretty standard when it comes to puppies,” Sunny said. “Looks as though the two of you are going through a learning curve.”
But her neighbor was on to a different subject. “Carolyn has been through some big changes, and hasn’t handled them well. Her husband left her well off when he passed away. She’s invested heavily in altering her house and her wardrobe—neither for the better. She wants very badly to be modern.”
“Young?” Sunny interjected.
Helena gave an uncomfortable nod. “I suppose so. And even though she buys the best, it’s not always the best for her.”
“You sound sympathetic,” Sunny said.
“And you sound surprised,” Helena Martinson replied.
