Cat Nap полностью

“Look,” she said, “I really am sorry about messing up your breakfast. Why don’t I pick up the bill for it?” She had a few extra bucks in her wallet—household money, meant to pay for the food shopping.

Guess I’ll have to find a few places to economize, that’s all, she thought.

They finished their coffees, Sunny paid, and then Will said good-bye. “I think I’m gonna get some more sleep.” He stifled a yawn and climbed into his pickup, heading back into town while Sunny aimed her Wrangler deeper into outlet-land. There were a couple of supermarkets out there as well, and Sunny was working on a diminished budget.

She was pretty lucky, managing to get everything on her list or slightly less pricey alternates. The only problem, weirdly enough, was the low-sodium turkey she needed to get for her dad.

“Sorry.” The guy behind the deli counter apologized. “The low-sodium turkey was on sale, and we just had a run on it. There’s none left, not until Tuesday.” He turned around to the racks of deli meats and ran a big chunk of turkey through the meat slicer. “I’ve got this. A lot of folks like it.”

He handed Sunny a single slice on a piece of waxed paper. She chewed, swallowed, and shook her head. “Way too salty.”

“Sorry,” he said again.

“No problem,” Sunny told him, and then pushed her shopping cart to the checkout line.

But it was a problem. She had gone for all the bargains, starting at the farthest store and working her way back toward town. This should have been her last stop. She didn’t want to turn back now with a carload of all the other food she’d gotten.

Well, she thought, I could stop off at home, unload the car, and then go down to Judson’s for the turkey. It might be a bit pricier than I’d hoped, but I can swing it.

Sunny came quietly into the house. Mike was sprawled asleep on the couch with some sort of NASCAR race going on the television. From the middle of the sunny spot near the window, Shadow drowsily raised his head, slit his eyes at her for a moment, then rested back on his paws again.

“You’d think that he at least would be a little more enthusiastic, knowing I was coming home with food,” Sunny muttered as she unloaded her grocery sacks into the refrigerator.

Then she went back out. Perversely, parking downtown was much worse on the weekends than on weekdays. Even on a wintry Saturday, Sunny found herself walking for blocks to get to the strip of shops known as the New Stores.

Judson’s Market took up the equivalent of two storefronts. This was the second location for the grocery, Mike often told her. The original Judson’s had opened four generations ago in the redbrick part of town. Her dad’s friend Zack Judson had moved the market to the New Stores in search of more space and more customers. Over the years, to compete with the supermarkets springing up farther out of town, Zack had taken his operation considerably upscale. You could get exotic coffees, fancy cuts of meat, fine chocolates, and foreign cheeses. Even his cold cuts were expensive. But they were also very, very good.

Sunny walked in the front door to find the aisles jammed as if Zack were giving the stock away. Well, Saturdays were always busy at Judson’s. The rich folks over in Piney Brook called in their orders for delivery. The not-so-rich folks in their McMansions drove in to do their weekend shopping. And local residents still came in to get their milk and bread.

The meat and deli departments were in the rear of the store. Sunny had to wend her way through the shoppers to get back there, and then join a long line waiting for service.

This is a hell of a thing to go through for a pound of turkey, she thought, but nevertheless she stood and waited, until finally there were only three people ahead of her. And then she heard a loud, complaining voice over by the meat counter.

“I hope you have an explanation for this, Mr. Judson.”

That woman sounds familiar. Sunny turned to see Zack Judson making placating gestures to an older woman who looked like a cranky Persian cat—Carolyn Dowdey. Mrs. Dowdey was waving something in Zack’s face, a brown paper parcel—the old-fashioned packaging that Zack’s butchers used. In this case, though, the original packaging was wrapped in a clear plastic bag, and with good reason. Even ten feet away, Sunny could see that half of the brown butcher paper was soaked with blood.