Had Trumbull and Fitch actually gotten alibis from the Venables family members, or was this misinformation? And if it was real, why were they discussing it in front of her? Was this to serve notice that, as Will had predicted, Trumbull was bursting to eliminate Christine Venables as a suspect so he could get back to nailing Jane?
Whatever mind games he was trying to pull, Trumbull was decent enough to arrange for a lift to get Sunny back to Kittery Harbor. She wound up in the back of another patrol car, perched on the edge of her seat. From some of the stories that Will told, who knew what could be lurking on the seats from previous occupants.
She was very glad to escape the perp’s-eye view of life by the time the car arrived at the MAX office.
Unfortunately, Ollie the Barnacle was still there, seated behind her desk. He looked at the oversized, expensive watch on his wrist. “Two hours gone. If I’m a nice guy and subtract an hour for lunch, that means you still owe me an hour.”
Sunny slipped off her parka. “And were there any important developments during my absence that you need to bring me up to speed on?”
He gave her a sour look. “Don’t push it,” he warned. “Damned phone didn’t ring at all. Sometimes I wonder what I’m paying you for.”
“You know that winter is our slow season,” Sunny told him. “What you’re paying me for is to have a human on hand to take care of things when they need to be taken care of.”
As if on cue, the phone rang. Sunny reached across the desk to pick it up. She grinned as she listened.
“And you’ll need accommodations for how many?” she asked in her most professional voice. “A full busload—twenty-six people! Will they want motel or B&B lodgings?”
Sunny came around the desk, shooing Ollie away. He vacated the chair—making money was more important to him than comfort. Sunny began calling up pages on her computer, discussing locations and rates. By the time she was done, she looked up to discover that Ollie had quietly left.
Well, now he knew what he was paying her for. It wasn’t the hours; it was what she knew.
*
Shadow lay on the topmost shelf of the bookcase, surveying his prison. It had been a good thing to work off some of his pent-up energy in climbing. And it was always good to be able to look down on everything around him.
He stared at the door between him and freedom. However hard he wished, though, it wouldn’t fall down, or break, or just swing open. But the next time the One Who Reeks opened it . . .
Shadow tried to estimate the angles. If he pushed off from here with all his strength, how high would he be when he reached the other side of the room? If he were head high, he could go for the face of the human who imprisoned him. The last two times she’d come in, she’d been carrying food, so her hands would be occupied.
He blinked that thought away, pleasant as it might be to consider. It was a long, dangerous leap from up here to down there, and most likely he would be much lower by the time he reached her. If he landed on her clothes, he wouldn’t be able to do much damage. And Shadow knew he’d have to hurt her, not just surprise her, if he really hoped to escape.
Finally, there was the thought of landing on her, of having to cling to the source of that awful stench . . .
He shuddered for a second, fighting to make that thought go away. Then, laying his head on his paws, he closed his eyes, trying to relax. Speaking of scents . . .
Maybe Shadow’s sense of smell had suffered, being trapped in close quarters with a human that emitted such an offensive odor. But up here, as he put his face close to the wooden shelving, he caught a trace of a different fragrance, a trace left by one of his own kind, not a human smell.
He rose on all four paws, nosing along the wood. Yes, definitely he was sniffing another cat. It reminded him of the scent of a she that he’d encountered down on the floor by the bowls. But he’d sensed sickness down there, pain and sickness nearly to death.
Then he realized. This was the scent of the she before she became ill. Yes, it made sense. A cat that sick wouldn’t be able to climb any great height. This was where she had gone before she became weak.
He followed the spoor to the other side of the shelf, noticing it get stronger as he moved. Not only did she come up here, but she spent a lot of time coming up here.
