Free Cat Nap by Claire Donally Page B

still had a hold on your feelings.” Sunny remembered the editor back in New York whose divorce had been coming through, coming through . . . but then, when people’s jobs were on the chopping block, he’d gotten back with his wife, and not only broke things off with Sunny, but laid her off as well. Even so, on cold, dark nights, Sunny found herself thinking about what might have been.
    Jane obviously had a different idea. “I should have burnt that stuff.” She directed a venomous glance at the cardboard container. “But I can’t now, because that might look like if I was trying to destroy evidence.”
    She turned back to Sunny, her expression showing the same sort of strain that Will’s had when he visited Sunny’s office—and for the same reason. “Has Detective Trumbull been in touch with you?”
    Sunny shook her head.
    “Well, he called three times today, asking for a few little details. Like, was it true that I’d thrown a glass of wine in Martin’s face at the Redbrick?” Jane scowled at the memory. “He’s like that old detective on TV, the one who was always leaving and asking one more question.”
    “Columbo?” Sunny said.
    Jane nodded. “I used to watch that show when I was a kid, thinking it was pretty funny. Let me tell you, though, it’s not so funny when it happens to you in real life. More like death by a thousand cuts.”
    She went silent, and for a second they watched Shadow move restlessly between them.
    “I guess he’s picking up my bad vibes.” Jane extended a hand to the cat. “Sorry, Shadow. Nothing for you to worry about.”
    Shadow nuzzled Jane’s fingers and then came over to rub against Sunny.
    “That’s good,” Jane said. “You’re the person he should go to for comfort.”
    Sunny drew her hand from between his ears and down his back. Shadow immediately thrust his head at her for a second helping. Then he went back to Jane, getting a laugh out of her.
    “Hey, greedy,” she said, rubbing his chin with a finger. “I guess that’s the best you can do for me—unless you have an in with the Portsmouth police.”
    Her hand and voice stopped dead, and she looked over at Sunny. “I didn’t mean—”
    “I know.” Sunny’s brain raced, trying to figure out what to say. Had Will talked with Jane? It hadn’t seemed so when he came into the office. She decided to play dumb. “If Trumbull found out about what happened in the Redbrick, he probably knows that you and Will have been going out. And if he decides to ask a bunch of official questions . . .”
    Jane nodded in comprehension. “That could get sticky, considering how Will and the sheriff get along.”
    “So I guess you’ll have to grit your teeth and get through all the questions. I know that’s not much fun.” Sunny paused for a second. “Do you have a lawyer you can talk to?”
    That brought a spark from Jane. “What do I need a lawyer for? I didn’t do anything!”
    “When you’re in an interrogation room—” Sunny began, when a woman appeared in the exam room entrance to interrupt her.
    “Mrs. Dowdey!” Jane’s receptionist Rita Greene’s voice came down the hallway, sounding upset. “You can’t just go walking back there—Dr. Rigsdale is with a patient!”
    The woman in the doorway paid no attention, entering and marching straight up to Jane. “The animal shelter told me that my application to adopt a cat had been turned down—and that you’re responsible!”
    She had a large, round face, with the features sort of squeezed together in the middle. Add in the wispy fringe of hair that was supposed to look sophisticated but just looked wrong, and the overwhelming impression was of a Persian cat—in this case, a very annoyed Persian cat. Incipient jowls quivered with indignation. Sunny figured the lady—which was definitely what this woman would consider herself—was about her father’s age or a tad older. She dressed stylishly, maybe too stylishly. The dress under her opened fur coat