Last Licks (16 page)

Shadow was definitely in a bad mood when it came to Will. He elaborately circled around, far out of reach, from the chair where Will sat working. Even so, Shadow kept a wary eye on his new nemesis—at least that was the way it seemed to Sunny, given all the tail lashing that was going on.

Sunny herself he seemed to regard with more sorrow than anger. When she got the glasses from the cabinet over the sink, she discovered Shadow at her feet, gazing up at her.
Sorry,
she silently told the cat.
I’m not sure if this is a love-of-your-life kind of thing, or if it’s simple biology. Some days I really wish you could talk and tell me.

She deposited a plate and glass in front of Will and then did the same for herself. He held up a piece of paper. “As you no doubt noticed, there were a few names that appeared once. Three names appear more than once. I’ve got one turning up twice, another three times, and a C. Thibaud five times.”

He thought for a moment. “You know, five would be exactly the number of extra deaths.”

Sunny frowned, staring at the list. She’d only paid attention to the last names, not the first initials.
C. Thibaud,
she thought.
Could that be Camille?

Aloud, she said, “I guess our next step is to head over to Bridgewater Hall and talk to this Thibaud person,” but inside, she really, really hoped that friendly, helpful Camille wouldn’t turn out to be their latest suspect.

Sunny closed her eyes, trying to recall the surrealistic scene that night as she rushed down the long, dim corridor to Room 114. The staff had all seemed gathered at the nurses’ station . . . Sunny tried to bring that into sharper focus. No, she definitely didn’t recall seeing Camille. But it was still possible that the girl had been somewhere else on the floor, tending another patient, or even somewhere mundane, like the ladies’ room.
Or hiding out.

Will’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “We never got a chance to talk to Luke, either, what with all his new fans mobbing him.”

Sunny managed a laugh. “I hope he didn’t take too much of his pay in beer.”

The doorbell rang. Over by his food dish, Shadow brought his head up suddenly, but at the sound of barking outside, he slowly brought it down again.

“I’m going to go get that,” Sunny said as the bell sounded again, accompanied by more barking. She opened the door a crack, pretty sure she already knew who the visitors were.

Sure enough, she saw Mrs. Martinson wrestling with a leash as Toby tried to stick his nose into the house.

Sunny shot a quick, nervous glance over her shoulder. No Shadow waiting to make a dash for freedom. And no hisses and screams from the kitchen. She relaxed a little and opened the door wider. That got an inquiring canine nose thrust at her and an apologetic smile from Helena.

“Sorry about the delay in answering,” Sunny said. “We had a little incident with Shadow trying to get out earlier, and—” She fluttered her hands. “And here I am. What can I do for you?”

“Toby and I were out for our walk, and we heard two very odd stories,” Mrs. M. said. “One was from Florence Gaddis. She was driving back from town last night, and she swears that she saw you, Will, and Mike standing in the parking lot of O’Dowd’s.”

“Well,” Sunny admitted, “she’s right. We were actually there last night.” She hurried on at the shocked expression on Mrs. Martinson’s face. “A friend was playing some music there, the therapist I’d told you about from Bridgewater Hall.”

“The young man.” Now Helena’s expression looked disappointed. Not only had she not been included in an outing with Mike, but she’d missed a chance to meet possible matchmaking material for Sunny.

“We couldn’t think of asking you there,” Sunny said desperately. “I’m sure you’ve heard what a cesspool it is.”

“I went to O’Dowd’s once . . . years ago,” Mrs. Martinson said. “If your friend does another show there, let me know.”

Sunny knew when she was licked. “Of course,” she promised.

Helena nodded and tightened her grip on Toby’s leash, not meeting Sunny’s eyes.

“You, ah, said there were two odd things?” Sunny finally prompted.

Mrs. M. looked as though she’d been roused from a reverie. “Goodness, where does my mind go sometimes? That’s right, another friend mentioned that Alfred Scatterwell is having a memorial for his uncle at the mansion tomorrow evening.”

“Oh, really?” Sunny said.

Mrs. Martinson nodded. “It will be the first time the place will be open since Gardner stopped giving parties—which has to be twenty-five years now. With all his absences, traveling and so on, I wonder how the old place has held up.”

“You should go and see,” Sunny suggested.

But Mrs. Martinson shook her head and looked down.

A simple headshake might have meant that the event was invitation-only and good manners prevented Helena from going. But Sunny knew why Mrs. M. didn’t want to meet her eyes. She didn’t want Sunny to see the struggle going on inside—between the Kittery Harbor Way, which demanded that everyone’s passing be marked; Helena’s negative history with Gardner and her desire to have nothing to do with him; and of course, a curiosity as lively as Shadow’s own over what had become of what had once been one of the swankiest homes in Piney Brook.

“I know I’m going to see what I can find out about Gardner and Alfred, even if it means crashing, and so is Will,” Sunny told her neighbor. “As for Dad, well, if he was visiting Gardner when he was laid up, I’m sure he’ll feel obliged to go to the memorial. I don’t want to put words in his mouth, but I suspect he’d be glad to have you come along, too.”

Helena finally looked up, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you, dear.”

“No problem at all,” Sunny assured her. “I’ll have Dad call you.”

Mrs. Martinson got Toby back from the door and waved good-bye.

Sunny waved back.
Isn’t that part of the Kittery Harbor Way?
she asked herself.
Helping your neighbors?

Sighing, Sunny closed
the door and headed back to the kitchen. “Any excitement here?”

“None whatsoever,” Will reported. “No noise, no attempted jailbreaks. The prisoner just drank some water—and sent a few dirty looks my way.”

Sunny laughed. “Welcome to my life.” She noticed that while she was gone, Will had collected the lunch dishes and washed them. A definite point in his favor. But her heart sank when she saw the pile of paper on the otherwise bare table.

The incriminating files. Or rather,
she corrected herself,
the possibly incriminating files. If we’re right, they may show a whole series of criminal acts. And of course, the blasted things will be incriminating for us, too, if we get caught with confidential files.

“Hey, Will, have we got what we needed from these papers now?” she asked.

Will showed her the piece he’d been writing on. “I’ve got a list of the night shift people plus the three fill-ins, and the dates of the deaths in question. Cause of death is all the same—a stroke. I’d say that’s more than we’d have hoped for.”

She bit her lip. “Then what do you say we get rid of them?”

“Good idea.” Will nodded toward the cat. “I vote we give Shadow the job of shredding them.”

Sunny groaned. “I’ve got a decent paper shredder, but it’s in the garage with my New York stuff.”

“Will we have to move a lot of boxes to unearth it?” he asked.

“Just the winter clothes,” Sunny said.
And maybe a few other things,
she silently added.

*

Shadow followed Sunny
and her He out the kitchen door to the little house in the back. Some humans he’d known kept their go-fast machines in these houses. But Sunny and the Old One filled the space with things that were much more interesting—cardboard boxes of all shapes and sizes, just perfect for a cat to climb on—and maybe sometimes use as a scratching post.

When he entered the little house, his eyes went wide. Sunny and her He were rearranging the boxes, piling them up in new configurations. The He made “oof” noises and didn’t seem all that happy with the work. But Sunny kept talking, pointing deeper into the space as they cleared a path on the floor.

That wasn’t too interesting as far as Shadow was concerned. What he watched was the way the two humans piled boxes higher and higher as they moved farther in.

Maybe Sunny wants the He to make up for grabbing me,
Shadow thought,
watching a tower of boxes by the door that rose several times his height. He gathered himself, then launched into a vertical leap that just cleared the top. The construction swayed a little as he landed, but that was okay. This was fun!

Shadow played it safer getting back to the floor, jumping down a series of shorter piles, staircase fashion. When Shadow finally dropped to the concrete floor, he looked up to find that Sunny’s He had created a real challenge. This was the tallest stack yet, looming not just over Shadow but over Sunny. Shadow backed up—he’d need some momentum for this leap. It would be a record-setter.

Still keeping his eyes on the target, he retreated right out of the little house, until he felt the warmth of the sun on his hindquarters. Then he made a wild charge, moving from a lunge to a lope to a run. The huge pile came closer and closer, he’d have to time this right, or he’d end up crashing into the cardboard tower. Now!

Shadow pushed off with his rear legs, getting the most out of his running start. Up, up, up he went, but the cardboard mountain rose higher. Was he going to fail? He didn’t like the idea of taking a tumble back to that hard floor.

But no, there was the flat top of the crowning box. Shadow pounced with his forefeet, his claws sinking into the cardboard, letting him hold on as he scrabbled with his rear legs. It wasn’t the most elegant landing, but he’d made it! He was at the top of the world!

Except . . . the pillar of boxes began to sway, a scary, sickening movement. Shadow wasn’t sure whether he should hang on or jump.

The decision was taken out of his paws as the pile moved too far over and began to topple. That box he’d struggled so hard to reach slid off and then went out from under him, leaving Shadow scrabbling with all four legs in thin air. He let out a yowl of surprise that was pretty well lost in the crash of boxes landing back in the open space the two-legs had cleared.

Actually, Shadow had to count himself lucky. Some of those boxes were heavy. If one of those had landed on him, that wouldn’t have been a good thing. But he managed to bounce from falling box to falling box, getting his claws in another pile of boxes, riding out a vertical descent to the floor, where he crouched as cartons bounced around him, finally coming to rest.

He lay in a sort of cave created when two boxes landed on either side of him and a third dropped to create a roof. The top box landed on its side, and its contents spilled out. Shadow came out to sniff, but it was nothing exciting—just more of those strange paper things that Sunny kept on the shelves in her room. Sometimes she’d take one down and flip papers over, staring at the things for hours. Shadow would come up behind her shoulders to watch, but nothing exciting ever happened. No food fell out from between the papers, and all he ever smelled was dust. He stopped paying any attention to them.

From the sound of things, though, there was plenty of excitement nearby. Sunny raised her voice, calling Shadow’s name. And the male human made some loud, angry noises.

The two-legs worked their way back to him, moving boxes out of the way. Sunny gave a great cry when she finally spotted Shadow, scooping him up in her arms, making sure he wasn’t hurt, looking concerned.

Shadow relaxed as she cradled him, a faint purr rising from his chest. Yes, she was definitely sorry for the trouble earlier. Shadow was happy until he glanced over to the male human. The look he was getting there made him glad he wasn’t living with that one. Glares like that usually meant he’d be out on the street in two shakes of his tail.

The humans went back to clearing space on the floor, but this time they didn’t pile the boxes so high. That was fine with Shadow. He’d had enough of jumping for the time being. Instead, he watched Sunny and her He work. Finally Sunny exclaimed something, pulling out a carton.

Shadow couldn’t figure out what the big deal was. But Sunny and her male friend took it to the open front of the little house, tearing open the top of the carton and removing a strange, boxy thing. It had a tail, and Sunny took the end and stuck it into the wall. The box started to hum. Shadow got down from his perch and cautiously advanced, almost stalking his way forward. When Sunny touched it and it growled, Shadow jumped back. This wasn’t good. Sunny was bigger than the thing, but what happened if it bit her? At least it didn’t seem to have legs, so it couldn’t chase her . . . or him.

Sunny’s male friend came with papers in his hand, thrust them into the top of the boxy thing—and it ate them! Not only that, but it made loud growling and crunching noises while it did.

Shadow carefully stayed behind Sunny’s leg, peering suspiciously at the strange hungry box. This was like a lot of the stuff two-legs kept around. Shadow wasn’t sure whether they were alive or not, like the go-fast things humans rode in, or the box with pictures of people inside. This one didn’t move around, but it seemed to like chewing up paper. And even stranger, you could look into its belly and see all the chewed-up paper lying in a heap!

That might be a good idea,
Shadow thought.
If Sunny could see into my belly, she’d always know when I was hungry and feed me.

But then, what would happen to his beautiful fur coat? This eat-’em-up thing with its see-through belly lived in a box. Even stupid Biscuit Eaters wouldn’t put up with that. They’d want to run around, woofing.

The box-thing stopped growling, and Sunny and her He stepped away from it. Shadow crept forward, extending a wary paw. He gave the boxy thing a tap. It didn’t growl; it didn’t even move. But that transparent belly-thing seemed to wobble. That gave Shadow an idea. He pushed harder, shoving with both forepaws, and the boxy thing fell over, its clear belly falling away and all those little strips of paper spilling all over the floor.

This was wonderful! Shadow leaped on the largest pile of paper, scattering the strips, rolling on them, having a grand old time until Sunny and her friend came back. Sunny had a big, black, plastic bag, and oh, did she make noise when she saw Shadow in the make-believe snowdrift he’d created.

Shadow expected Sunny’s He to make even more noise—human males usually got angry and loud in the houses Shadow had lived in.

But this one just stood quietly, shaking his head.

*

Sunny and Will
spent a remarkable amount of time collecting the paper shreds, bagging them . . . and keeping them out of Shadow’s reach. “If we ever have to do this again, I vote we burn the evidence instead,” Will said, glaring down at the cat. “You are one crazy creature.”

Sunny had to go along with that opinion, but it seemed to be the only thing they agreed on for the whole trip to Bridgewater Hall. Sunny tried to lay it out logically. “Okay, maybe we’ve got a new lead here. But how do we find some proof? More importantly, who even gets to hear it?” she asked. “If we go to Dr. Reese for corroboration, we’ll open exactly the can of worms Rafe was afraid of. Reese will know we’ve been looking at files illegally. Do we talk to Rafe and let him know one of his union people might be a viable suspect? Where will his loyalties lie?”

Will kept his eyes on the road. “I say first we find out who this C. Thibaud is. Then we talk to him or her. Then we make up our minds.”

“What kind of questions can we even ask?” Sunny wanted to know. “I can’t see us strolling up and saying, “Gee, have you noticed that a lot of people die when you happen to work the late shift?”

Will’s lips quirked. “Whenever you talk to a murder suspect, you have to expect that they’re on their guard, even if they’re innocent.”

“But here we don’t even know if there
are
murders,” Sunny burst out. “We went to outside doctors, and they told us that Gardner could have died of a stroke. We have a handful of deaths that we think are statistically relevant based on the numbers. Strokes, according to the cause of death in the papers Rafe gave us. Maybe five really sick patients in a row got transferred from a hospital to the nursing home and then died. I don’t think it’s impossible. That article my dad mentioned to me said that nursing homes get patients who are frailer and sicker these days. That three years is an average life expectancy. Some live longer, and some go quicker. Maybe a lot quicker.”

“That’s an interesting philosophy for someone who’s looking for foul play,” Will said.

“I suppose that’s what Ollie wants. But call me naïve, I have a hard time believing that someone is stalking the corridors in that place looking to bump people off. I might expect it in a big city like New York, but this is my hometown, for crying out loud. I rode my bike around town. The dangerous neighborhood was the streets around O’Dowd’s on a Friday night, because people might get liquored up and drive like idiots.”

Sunny glanced over at Will. “I know you’re a cop, you see a lot of things I don’t. And I know things have changed. Crimes that only used to happen in big cities are turning up in small towns now. But in my heart, I can’t imagine that stuff happening in Kittery Harbor . . . or Bridgewater.” She grinned. “This isn’t like Dr. Gavrik’s hometown, where her relatives were ready to kill the neighbors.”

“I can understand what you’re saying.” Will’s voice got softer. “I grew up around here, too, remember. But as you say, I’ve been a cop. I’m trained to look for foul play.”

In the end, they decided to ask Rafe about C. Thibaud without explaining the possibilities. Sunny called his number, forgetting until the phone was ringing that he was probably sound asleep after his night shift. But he answered anyway, and didn’t sound too upset.

“Sure I know her,” he said. “You probably know Camille, too. The last name is pronounced Tee-bow, like the football player.”

“Camille the aide?” Sunny asked.

Rafe confirmed it, and she thanked him then clicked her cell phone closed as Will parked his truck at Bridgewater. He gave Sunny a long, thoughtful look. “So you know her.”

“I had a suspicion I might,” Sunny admitted.

“And you like her, which is why I’ve been getting this song and dance from you about people possibly being innocent.”

“I won’t deny that, but I also don’t think we have a convincing case to present.”

They walked inside in silence until they reached the nurses’ station. “Do you want to talk to her?” Will lowered his voice.

“She’s little more than a kid,” Sunny told him. “I think you’d scare her to death. Why don’t you check and see if Ollie is in therapy and I’ll look for Camille.”

Will gave a nod and strode off. Sunny cruised the hallway and easily spotted the aide in another room. The girl waved to her, and Sunny waved back. A few minutes later, she came out of the room and walked over. “Anything I can do for Mr. Barnstable?”

“I’ve been thinking about something and don’t know who to ask,” Sunny replied. She’d been thinking about the approach. “How has my boss been sleeping since Mr. Scatterwell passed away? He’s been so upset about it, more than he wants to let on. Do you think there’s anyone from the night shift I could ask?”

“I know just about everybody who works the overnights.” Camille shrugged. “Whenever someone is sick or can’t make it, I fill in.”

“Really?” Sunny did her best to look impressed. “Were you here when Mr. Scatterwell had his stroke?”

“Yeah, I was working that night.” Camille made a face, but seemed unself-conscious about admitting it. “A patient down the hall did a big load in his bed, and I was in there cleaning him up when the excitement started. So I missed it all. To tell you the truth, what I was doing was pretty gross, but I’m kind of relieved I was busy.”

“That had to be tough.” Sunny gave her a friendly smile. “Weren’t you here the next day, too?”