“I’d say Olek is good at a lot of things,” Sunny said. “I just wonder if he went a little farther than he intended, asking Martin about the money.”
“Olek?” Dani shook his head. “One of the things he’s best at is hitting people. Look at that young fellow last night. Olek hits him just enough so it looks like maybe he falls down instead of getting punched. He is professional. He would be very hurt to hear you say these things.”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to hurt your feelings more,” Sunny told him. “I find myself wondering if Martin stole from you, you got your money back and killed him, and now you’re trying to double your money by going to Martin’s ex-wife.”
“That’s a smart idea,” Dani said. “I wonder if you get it from your cop boyfriend.”
Sunny forced herself to keep looking into Dani’s eyes, and not show her surprise that he knew about Will. She’d been out with Will often enough; anyone could have spotted them together. It was just a little unsettling that she had missed either the big Ukrainian or his skinny boss.
“Well, I suppose these are things you must wonder. Some people I have done business with, they might do bad things like that. Me, I think that just makes trouble. I think maybe you believe me.”
He spread his hands, a man trying to make a point in a language that wasn’t his own. Then his face got a little chilly, his manner more direct. “But I got to have that much money. Or
Dani nodded emphatically and went to the door, to discover Mrs. Martinson standing right outside. Dani opened the door and ushered her in with a little bow.
“Thank you,” Mrs. M. said.
She got another bow from Dani, and then he was on his way.
Sunny shook her head.
“So what brings you to this neck of the woods?” Sunny asked. “Are you picking up something at Judson’s?”
Helena Martinson shook her head. “I promised you I’d do some more quiet asking around about Christine Venables. Well, I heard something, very much in confidence. A friend of mine had been shopping in some of the Portsmouth art galleries a few weeks ago. She stopped off to have a cup of coffee in a little place in the artsy area. Anyway, she had just finished and was heading for the door when she noticed Christine in a quiet corner.”
“She hadn’t seen her before?” Sunny asked.
“That’s the thing that first struck my friend. She’d been sitting with her back to Christine, but Christine should have noticed her.” Helena cocked her head. “Let’s just say my friend is hard to miss. Christine could have stopped by to say hello—if she’d wanted to.”
Sunny nodded. “So maybe something was up.”
“My friend didn’t think about it at the time. She was almost to the door. Why should she go plowing back through this place to get to Christine?” The older woman leaned forward confidentially. “Actually, she was going to. But then her cell phone rang, so she stepped outside to answer it. That should have been the end of the story.”
From the lift in Mrs. Martinson’s voice, Sunny knew to add, “Except . . .”
“My friend crossed the street, walking back to her car. And who does she see opposite her, going into the café, but Martin Rigsdale?”
Sunny frowned in thought. “Did your friend mention the name of this café?”
Mrs. M. pursed her lips. “From the neighborhood, it had to be something to do with painting . . . or wells.”
“Wells?” Sunny echoed blankly.
“Café Artisan,” Helena Martinson suddenly said. “Whenever I hear the name, I think of artesian wells.”
“As long as it helps you remember,” Sunny told her, chuckling.
But her neighbor didn’t join in. Instead, Helena looked troubled. “There’s something else I should mention. Another friend of mine was up in the outlets last week. She mentioned seeing Carolyn Dowdey at that pet care place with a cat bed and a bag of food.”
“Well, we know it wasn’t a sale that brought her in,” Sunny said. “Maybe she’s getting an early start on preparing for that replacement cat she discussed with Jane.”
“Sunny, that pet adoption class isn’t for another month.” Mrs. Martinson’s voice was troubled as she spoke. “You know that Carolyn isn’t exactly what you’d call retiring. Whenever she got a cat, she quoted chapter and verse from this book on how to get the animals to trust you. It was all about setting aside an empty room where the cat was supposed to get acclimated, providing a bed where the cat could be private, and sitting in the room while they ate.”
The longer she talked, the blunter Helena became. “This all happened since Shadow got out and went missing.”
Sunny blinked. “You think she’s trying to forcibly adopt my cat?”
“Carolyn got something else,” Mrs. Martinson went on, “one of those wooly pet sweaters.”
This revelation almost got a laugh from Sunny. Shadow was about as likely to wear one of those frou-frou outfits as her dad was to don a ballet tutu. “I don’t think—” she began.
