Cat Nap by Claire Donally Read Free Book Online Page A

sort of wound up back in touch when I took my cat to the vet and was surprised to find her. I’d only known her by her maiden name—Leister.”
    Fitch looked disappointed but kept probing. “Do you know what the Rigsdales were going to talk about this evening?”
    Sunny took a deep breath. “I think it was about money,” she said. “From what I understand, Martin Rigsdale had problems in that direction.”
    “And where did you get that impression?” Fitch asked.
    His annoying manner pushed Sunny into a sharper answer than she’d intended. “From Martin himself. He approached me, suggesting that if I persuaded Jane to ‘loosen the purse strings,’ as he put it, we could have some fun with the proceeds.”
    Detective Fitch reared back a little, silenced for once.
    “I’ll admit that I don’t know Jane Rigsdale all that well. From when we were kids, I know she’s smart. From the way she treats Shadow—my cat—I know she’s kind and conscientious. I only met Martin Rigsdale once. But he impressed me as the sort of man who could very easily create all kinds of reasons to get himself killed.”
    Slowly, Fitch nodded. “Okay, I look forward to reading your statement, Ms. Coolidge. I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job.”
    “Excuse me?” Sunny said.
    “Well, you are a newspaper reporter, aren’t you?” the detective replied. “Even though we live on the other side of a state border, we still get the news from Maine. Somebody gave me a copy of the
Harbor Crier
because they thought I’d be interested in the Spruance case. The piece you wrote was very interesting—very professional. Do you cover a lot of murders?”
    Sunny gave Fitch a suspicious look as she took a pen and pad from the detective. Was this part of the interrogation?
    “I was a general assignment reporter in New York City,” she said carefully. “That meant writing about whatever they threw at you.”
    Fitch nodded eagerly. Oh, wonderful. She had a fan. He just happened to be a fan who looked like a bad-tempered ferret, and who was trying to trip her up with this statement. She’d have to get this story down very carefully indeed, because she had no doubt that Fitch was after Jane, as well.
    *
    When Sunny finally emerged from her tête-à-tête with Detective Fitch, she found Jane waiting for her. Even with her hair pulled back in a casual ponytail, Jane looked elegant and slim in boots and riding breeches—and one of those Barbour coats that repelled all weather and cost a serious bundle. Sunny felt frumpy in the parka she’d gotten at the Eddie Bauer outlet during the summer when prices were cheap, but the selection was limited, to say the least.
    Sunny sighed. She’d seen twinzie coats on too many thrift-minded inhabitants of Kittery Harbor. Were Jane’s fancy coat and car remnants of her high-living days with Martin? Or had she bought them with money from her more recent windfall?
    Even with a reporter’s arsenal of questions, there was no polite way to edge up on that subject. Jane was facing away from her, so Sunny stepped forward and tapped her on the shoulder. Jane jumped a little at the contact.
    So, no matter how calm and cool she looks on the outside, inside she’s feeling nervous,
Sunny thought. Aloud, she said, “Looks like you got out pretty quickly. I guess I got the bad cop. Did you get the good one?”
    Jane just shrugged. “More like the bored cop. It seemed pretty cut-and-dried. He was just doing his job, asking about how we found Martin . . .” She made a wry face. “How things were between Martin and me.” She led the way to the door and they stepped out onto the covered porch outside. While they’d been answering questions in the windowless interrogation rooms, the snow had been coming down pretty heavily—big, fluffy flakes that had already frosted the parking area with more than an inch or two of accumulation.
    “Well, I hope Detective Trumbull will be nice enough to offer us a ride back to the office.