Authors: Claire Donally
Fiona Ormond stepped onto the terrace like a general commanding her troops. Indeed, she had a single file of people carrying covered trays behind her. “Ladies and gentlemen, our cake candidates!” she announced.
The folks with the trays marched to the serving table, placed their burdens down, and removed the covers.
The cakes came in a wide range of varieties, some in small round tiers, others square. The frostings ranged from fondant to butter cream to cream cheese and even cannoli filling, decorated with spun-sugar blossoms or cunningly created leaves or petals, climbing vines, and in one case, what looked like a bunch of grapes dangling down the side. They weren’t all white, either. Some bore designs in contrasting colors. One had stripes, which made the tiers look like stacked hatboxes to Sunny’s eyes. Then there was one in delicate lavender with purple polka-dots. And one bakery had apparently decided to go completely nontraditional, with a chocolate ganache cake.
The cake servers themselves were an equally unusual assortment, from the thin guy in chef’s whites (including a toque with a poofy top) to the the curvy girl in a shirt emblazoned with the legend, “
LA PATISSERIE DE MAINE
.”
Sunny blinked when she realized who was wearing the sweatshirt—Robin Lory. Ben Semple’s girlfriend was staring around so avidly that she almost missed the table when she put her tray down. She looked very disappointed when Fiona shepherded her and the others back to the kitchen.
La Patisserie’s entry was more on the traditional side, a stepped set of round tiers ringed with pink frosting flowers, whimsically surmounted by a miniature bride and groom.
They’ve got serious competition,
Sunny thought.
But at least Robin had her moment as a waitress to the rich and famous.
Apparently, Beau had a similar notion. “I’ll be the bartender,” he volunteered, heading for a sideboard with bottles of wine and aperitifs. Most of the crowd gravitated after him to get their glasses filled or freshened.
I suppose I might as well play waitress,
Sunny thought. She headed for another table which held platters of various finger foods.
But as she edged around the crowd and got a full view of the table, she froze.
Standing on one of the platters was an all-too-familiar figure, happily scarfing down all the snacks.
Shadow!
Holding her breath, Sunny advanced on the table.
That crazy cat isn’t even looking up from the stuff he’s gobbling,
she thought with a stab of annoyance.
He had people chasing him all over the place. Doesn’t he know how dangerous
this is?
Then she thought,
He must really be hungry, usually he doesn’t like to fool around with people food.
Sunny was right beside him now. She gave out a low “Pssst!” to get Shadow’s attention.
He looked up from licking something off a cracker, saw Sunny, and his ears went back. They stood for a moment, and then Sunny heard a commotion breaking out behind her.
Sounds as though Old Augustus has noticed Shadow again,
she thought.
“It’s back!” she heard the big man’s voice quavering. “Get rid of it!”
As if on cue, Lee Trehearne came hustling out onto the terrace. His eyes took on a maniacal gleam when he spotted Shadow. But the cat saw him, too, launching into a leap for the table with the wedding cake samples. He skidded a little, upsetting La Patisserie’s entry. The tiers collapsed, sending the bride and groom under Shadow’s paws.
The security chief was beyond noticing or caring what else was on the table. After playing Elmer Fudd to Shadow’s Bugs Bunny, he saw a chance to recover his self-respect—not to mention to catch that rascally cat.
Trehearne went into a dive, squishing more cakes under his bulk as he went for the cat. Still distracted by Sunny, Shadow clearly hadn’t expected such an extreme assault until it was too late and Trehearne actually had his hands on him. Trehearne reared back, lifting Shadow like some sort of victory trophy. He had traces of at least six cakes smeared down the front of his Windbreaker, but he didn’t care. His face was a mask of lunatic glee.
“Gotcha, ya little—” The security man tightened his grip on the cat’s midsection.
Not the best move,
Sunny thought as she came around the table to try and take Shadow.
Obviously, he hasn’t eaten in a while. All that strange, rich food on an empty stomach. And now you put the squeeze on him . . .
She was too late. Shadow made a husky, rasping sound, and then all the food he’d been gorging on came back up. The stream caught Trehearne right in the face and dribbled down, half-digested and undigested, to join the mess he was already wearing. Fiona Ormond screamed, whether from repugnance or because of the destruction of her carefully presented tasting, Sunny couldn’t tell. Other guests gasped and turned away from the spectacle.
Trehearne himself made a loud, involuntary sound of disgust, and his hold on the cat slackened.
That was all Shadow needed. In an instant, he’d twisted loose, dropped to the table, and streaked away again, leaving Trehearne pop-eyed, his face red and distorted, disgusted . . . and disgusting.
*
Shadow ran full
out, even though his ribs hurt and his throat felt raw. But the part that hurt the most was his feelings.
How could Sunny do that to him? How? How?
The thought pounded in his head in time to the pounding of his heart.
She caught my eye and kept me staring until the Clumsy One could sneak up and grab me. What a nasty trick!
He didn’t even want to think what was wrong with him to let a noisy two-legs stalk him successfully. But he decided to blame that on Sunny, too.
This was bad, bad, bad.
Shadow finally took cover in some bushes and lay low
to get his breath back. He put down his head and hissed.
To let some stranger come up and grab me—to help them.
. . . He rested his chin on his paws, trying to call up his anger again. But it was gone. His chest felt empty.
So did his stomach. All that nice food, gone. Although it was almost worth being sick to see the look on that big, red, mean face.
That’s another thing Sunny owes me,
Shadow thought.
She made me lose a meal.
Nothing like an
ailurophobic breakdown and cat barf to start things off with a bang,
Sunny thought as she looked at the strained faces around the table. They had moved indoors, away from the dreaded cat, after the tasting debacle. Augustus de Kruk was reduced to weak tea and toast after this second visitation, and Fiona Ormond ate nothing, zombie-like after the catastrophic outcome of her big show. And Lee Trehearne had gone off to wash up and cool down after his latest misadventure.
Julia Kingsbury, Priscilla’s grandmother, made a valiant effort to carry on some sort of conversation, but her efforts fell flat when no one else seemed able to join in.
Sunny herself just wanted to leave, but she didn’t want to be the first to go. The food tasted like ashes in her mouth, and all she could think of was Shadow, wandering
around Neal’s Neck with Trehearne ready to go full Elmer Fudd on him, shotgun and all.
I’ve got to find him.
The thought kept running through her mind.
I don’t know what I’m going to do when I get him, but I’ve got to find him.
Beau Bellingham’s emergency room training overcame his reticence. “Are you sure you’re okay, sir?” he asked Augustus de Kruk, who sat toying with one of the toast slices. “That was another really nasty shock for you. Maybe you should—”
“I don’t take medical advice from a kid with hair like a goddamned sheep dog,” the Emperor roared, as loudly as on any of his TV appearances. “An
unclipped
goddamned sheep dog.”
Carson tried to come to his best man’s defense. “Dad, he’s got a hell of a schedule—”
But Magda de Kruk obviously paid more attention to what Beau had said. “Maybe it would be better to go upstairs,” she suggested in her slight accent. “We could rest in bed.” Augustus let himself be persuaded, and that was pretty much the end of lunch. Sunny waited until the de Kruks rose from the table and headed for the stairs before she made a move toward the French doors that led to the outdoor buffet.
That’s where I last saw Shadow,
she thought.
Although God knows where he’s gotten to since.
“Um, Sunny?”
She turned as Beau Bellingham came over to her, running an embarrassed hand through his blond thatch.
“That’s the second time Mr. de Kruk nailed me for my hair,” Beau said. “You’re local. Can you suggest a place where I could get a decent trim?”
When she didn’t answer immediately, he only got more embarrassed. “I know I haven’t been all that sociable. I’d ask Priscilla, but she and Carson are going up with Augustus.”
“It’s not that, I’m just trying to sort out a place for you,” Sunny explained. “I’ve got a troublesome head of hair, and not everybody does a good job. It took a while for me to find a good stylist, but she’s in a women only salon and day spa.”
She thought a little more. Will went to Harbor Barbers, not too far from the MAX office. They were fine for buzz cuts and the sort of hair styles a police officer might want, but Sunny shuddered at what they might do to Beau’s mop. Where could she send him?
Finally, inspiration struck. She dug out her cell phone and pulled up the number for MAX. Nancy answered on the second ring. “Maine Adventure X-perience. How can I help you?”
“Hi, Nancy, it’s Sunny. Everything going okay?”
“We’re getting a lot of calls and e-mails about apple picking,” Nancy reported. “Otherwise, no excitement. How about you?” Her voice got more animated. “I love your blog posts—those presents were hilarious! Have you figured out whodunit? Can I help with a clue?”
Sunny quickly cut off that line of discussion. “What you can help me out with is that a fella here needs a haircut,” she said firmly. “He has to look presentable, and he’s got very thick, curly hair. Can you check our local business database and find a place nearby with good recommendations?”
Nancy muttered for a moment, and Sunny heard the clack of computer keys. “Okay. The top of the list is a place called Wilawi Cuts, on Wilawi Wharf Road. Twelve reviews, all
of them positive. One guy even said it’s the only place that doesn’t make him look like a poodle.”
“A ringing endorsement if I ever heard one.” Sunny repeated the address Nancy gave her to Beau. “Wilawi Wharf Road is a major business street in town,” she told him. “I’m sure that any of the security guys here will know how to find it.”
Getting back on her phone, she thanked Nancy, was reassured again that there were no office problems that couldn’t be handled, said good-bye, and cut the connection.
Beau still stood in front of her, looking pretty impressed. “Can you do that with anything around here?”
Sunny grinned. “Anything legal.”
“I better get going,” Beau said, heading out the French doors and circling around, aiming for the path that led back to the guesthouses. Sunny took the same route, but much more slowly, stopping to check out every clump of brush or flowers for a hidden cat. That turned out to be wishful thinking, though. She didn’t find a trace of Shadow.
Then, up ahead, she heard loud orders squawking over radios and saw security guys converging at a run. Sunny’s heart squeezed into a little ball.
This is it,
she thought.
What are they going to do with him? Turn him over to Animal Control? Will they spot the little tag with my name and number on it?
In the excitement of Shadow’s earlier brushes with security, she hadn’t even thought of that before.
A second later, she sighed with relief to find it was a false alarm. It turned out to be a large, fat squirrel that went scampering up the trunk of a tree to disappear into the foliage. The security men dispersed, and Sunny continued with her solitary search.
Somehow, I don’t think walking around saying, “Here, Shadow-Shadow,” is going to work.
Even with only herself as an audience, that thought fell flat in the humor department. Sunny had a sinking feeling that if Lee Trehearne had his way, Shadow would wind up in a bag full of rocks flying off the end of the point—or maybe get made into a hat. Almost unconsciously, she began to walk faster.
I’ve got to do something. Trehearne and his men in black are really on Shadow’s case.
Her hunt took her past the pool, where she saw Carson, Peter, and the Neals already reinstalled on the lounges. Unfortunately, Shadow wasn’t there mooching anything from Yardley.
Sunny continued to work her way toward the guesthouses, one hiding spot at a time. At one point she knelt, trying to pierce the shadows in a lush planting by the path, and was startled by the sound of a car horn behind her. She scrambled to her feet and out of the way as one of the ubiquitous town cars rolled past. Beau Bellingham leaned out of the rear window, running a hand through his tousled curls. “You can say good-bye to them,” he said with a grin. “I’ve already got an appointment!”
Laughing, Sunny waved him on, watching as the car passed the troopers and the roadblock. Her eyes went from the disappearing car to the guys’ guesthouse, and her mood got more thoughtful.
Carson and Peter are at the pool,
she thought.
With Beau going off to get shorn, that means no one’s home. Maybe I can snoop a bit somewhere Lieutenant Wainwright can’t get a warrant.
Trying to look casual, she strolled across the private
road to the fieldstone steps that led to the front door of the other guesthouse.
Here goes,
she told herself.
I just hope nobody’s looking.
*
From his hidey-hole
under the porch, Shadow watched Sunny approach. This wasn’t a good sleeping place—it was too cool and damp. But with bright sun coming down, it was a good place to keep out of sight, while keeping a lot in view. He’d watched the big, black go-fast thing come rolling past. And now here came Sunny, apparently heading straight for him!
Had he been wrong all this time about her? Was she able to track him by scent?
No, she turned to go up the steps to the door. Shadow rested his chin on his paws and thought.
This isn’t Sunny’s place. Her things are in the house across the way. Why would she come here? This place only has males. . . .
A horrible suspicion dawned. A female visiting a house full of males. Was Smells Good in there somewhere? Was Sunny going to see him?
Shadow almost flew from his hiding place, scrambling up the stairs. Sunny was quietly opening the door. She seemed to be looking around a lot, but not down on the ground where Shadow was. He slunk through the space between her feet, careful not to touch her, and rushed down the hall, casting around for a trace of scent.
It was much like the other house, many dead smells from a place shut up too long. Some interesting aromas came toward his questing nose on a puff of breeze from
the rear, probably from the room of food. Some of them smelled like food going bad. There was also a strong odor of that sour stuff the two-legs liked to drink, the stuff that made them get silly.
No made smells here, although some of the more pungent stinks wafting down from upstairs could certainly cover the more delicate fragrance he was searching for.
Sunny seemed to agree, because she started up the stairs. When she reached the hallway above, though, she stopped as if she wasn’t sure where to go. As Shadow stealthily crept after her, he caught traces of male and female scents from one of the rooms. But Sunny merely peered into that room and went away. She stopped at another room that smelled as if no one had been in there for a long, long time. Shadow could tell that, even from his spot crouched by the wall. Couldn’t Sunny scent anything at all?
She continued across the hall. The next room had some interesting smells that Shadow had never come across before, some of them nose-twisting, some of them metallic. For a second, he considered slipping past her to investigate.
But what happens if she closes the door?
That thought held him in his place, keeping watch. Besides, Sunny didn’t go in there either. She continued to the last room, the one where the strongest stinks came from.
Shadow charged. Is that why Smells Good covered himself in a made smell? Was his natural scent too strong? Shadow came through the doorway ready to unsheathe his claws and draw blood, to punish the interloper who had stolen his Sunny.
But she stood alone, pulling out furniture drawers.
The rest of the room reminded Shadow of some male
places he’d seen. The bed things were rumpled and hanging down to the floor. Old clothing also lay around. Shadow couldn’t help himself from sniffing at a sock rolled up on the floor. Yes. Very male indeed.
What he didn’t detect, though, was any trace of the sweetish, spicy scent he’d caught on Sunny. This wasn’t the place of Smells Good. What did Sunny want with this other He?
Shadow went over to the bed to see if there was anything to find there. A rumpled green shirt hung half on, half off, clinging to a blanket. He stretched up for a sniff and recoiled with a mew of surprise.
There were traces of blood there.
*
Normally, Sunny might
not have heard the faint sound. But she was standing alone in an empty house, and the noise hit her ears like a small explosion. She whirled guiltily around from the dresser she’d been searching to find Shadow staring up at her.
“Shadow!” She knelt to scoop him up in her arms, but by the time she reached for him, the cat wasn’t there. He’d bounded onto the mattress, although it was heavy going for him through the tangled bedclothes.
Sunny pursued, calling his name, pleading with him. “Everything’s okay, I’m not angry with you, I want you to come home!”
Shadow didn’t seem to pay much attention. He seemed more intent on evading her, although he didn’t turn to the more drastic tactics he’d used on Lee Trehearne. There was no spitting, no clawing. He just dodged when she
grabbed. Sunny managed to head him off when he reached the head of the bed, keeping him from leaping off and hiding under the bed frame.
But he darted back, somehow worming his way between the mattress and the headboard. Sunny hesitated over the bed, trying to figure out where Shadow would pop up next.
Instead, something else popped out. As Sunny knelt, completely distracted by the object on the floor, Shadow disappeared under the bed and then rocketed out the door.
It was a small plastic bag, with one of those resealable zip tops, the kind Sunny used for storing leftovers. Except in this case, the bag was half full of pills. Most of them were white tablets with a score line on the back. They reminded Sunny of one of her father’s heart medicines.
But there was also a blister pack of other pills. Sunny could see them through the little plastic bubbles. They looked pink and crumbly. She jumped up and searched around for something she could use to turn the bag over without letting her fingers touch it. Finally she found a pencil. With a couple of careful pokes, she managed to flip the bag and see the foil-sealed back of the blister pack. There was something printed there, but not in English. It was in an alphabet she didn’t recognize.
A sudden crash brought her to the room next door, where she found a screen on the floor and a cat’s rear end disappearing out the window. By the time she got there, Shadow had made a death-defying leap into the shrubbery below, promptly disappearing.
There goes any hope of catching up with him,
Sunny thought as she returned to Beau’s room and the other problem she faced.
Frowning, she tried to decide what to do. For all she knew, this little supply of pills could have been jammed in place years ago. Just because Beau was a medical student, working in a hospital, it didn’t necessarily mean these drugs were his.
Though if this is Beau’s stash,
she thought,
taking it will alert him that someone has searched his room.
Sunny pondered possibilities for several minutes, and finally brought out her cell phone. She activated the camera and began taking shots of Beau’s room, including the bag on the floor. Then she knelt over it and focused several close-ups.
Finally, wrinkling her nose, Sunny used the top of one of the socks on the floor to pick up a corner of the bag and wedge it back into its hiding place. She left the room—and the house—much more quickly than she’d gone in.