Last Licks

“Nothing wiggling in there, I hope?” Sunny peered over.

“Just a nasty little thought niggling at my brain,” Will told her. “Your friendly aide essentially said that there’s labor strife going on at Bridgewater Hall. What if some of the union people are taking it too far?”

“You think they’re killing patients?” Coffee slopped out of Sunny’s cup, landing on the hood of Will’s truck. She dabbed at the splotch with her napkin, trying to hide how upset she was. “From what I see, most of the people in that place are like Camille. They want to help people.”

“But if they get stepped on often enough, maybe they don’t go the extra mile anymore.” Will gave Sunny his napkin, too. “There’s something else. You say that Scatterwell wasn’t very backward about telling people how tight he was with Reese. What if someone picked up on that and decided to make a public example out of old Gardner?”

“Striking at Reese through Gardner? Sounds kind of extreme.”

“It would rub Reese’s nose in the problems going on in the facility,” Will argued. “And maybe there’s a personal side to it, too.”

Sunny looked at him, not sure she wanted to hear what Will had in mind. “How?”

“You told me that Reese went out of his way to screw over your friend Rafe.”

“He’s not my friend.” For a second, Sunny felt like she was arguing with her dad. “He just seems like a nice guy.”

“Who has a sick cat that might die if Rafe can’t keep up the payments for chemotherapy,” Will said. “Did you see his shirt today?”

Unwillingly, Sunny nodded her head.

“I’d say he’s pretty close to the edge. Maybe he wanted Reese to find out how it felt to lose someone close to him.”

“But to kill someone?” Sunny objected.

“A not very nice person.” Will’s lips tugged into a sort of smile. “I’ve seen how people act around their cats. You can’t call it strictly rational.”

She gave him a look. “So what do you want to do about it?”

“I’ll ask some friends to check and see if Rafe Warner or Elsa Hogue has ever turned up on the Sheriff Department’s radar screens,” Will said. He stepped around to open the door on Sunny’s Wrangler for her. “We still have Alfred Scatterwell to see tomorrow,” he said.

She nodded. “The guy with the money motive. I vote that if he offers us anything to drink, we say no.”

“I should say not,” Will told her. “If he offers us anything to drink, we take a sample before pouring the rest down the drain.”

*

Sunny arrived home to find an empty driveway. Guess Dad’s still visiting with Ollie, she thought as she parked and walked to the door. No sooner did she step into the house than a four-footed rocket came flying from the living room to orbit around her ankles. Shadow circled her once, then twice, and then drew away, looking almost affronted.

“What’s your problem?” Sunny asked as she walked down the hallway to the kitchen.

Sunny opened the refrigerator and began rummaging in the chiller compartment for salad makings. She brought out a head of romaine lettuce, some tomatoes, a container of mushrooms, a couple of leftover carrots, some radishes, and a jar of marinated peppers. As she closed the door and stood up, she found herself face to face with Shadow, who had somehow gained the high ground on top of the fridge. He lay with his paws primly together, giving her a reproachful look.

“I haven’t forgotten to feed you,” Sunny told him. “I just want to get supper ready.” She washed the vegetables in the sink, tore the lettuce leaves into smaller pieces, chopped the vegetables, and placed all the rabbit food in a large wooden bowl. All the while, she was aware of Shadow’s eyes on the top of her head.

“Dressing,” she said, getting a packet of low-sodium Italian and mixing it with water, olive oil, and balsamic vinegar. Shaking it vigorously in a bottle, she put it aside and looked at the cat.

“All right!” Sunny burst out. “Dinner for you. Happy now?” She went to the cabinet and got a can of Shadow’s regular food, pulled the pop top, and dug the delicious chicken and tuna dinner into his bowl. It had to be delicious, it said so right on the can. Then she refilled his water bowl.

But Shadow remained on his perch, silently regarding her.

“Fine, fine, have it your way.” Sunny ignored the cat, and dug around in the freezer section for more dinner fixings. The previous weekend, Mike had fired up the grill and cooked up a mess of boneless chicken thighs, which he’d had marinating in the refrigerator for two days before. Sunny had packaged all the leftovers, two to a freezer bag, and frozen them. Now she pulled out a bag with a pair of bigger pieces of meat, put them in a microwavable bowl, and nuked them on Defrost.

When Mike came home a little while later, Sunny heated the chicken in the microwave and tossed the salad with the dressing she’d made. Splitting the greens between two bowls, she sliced the hot chicken, put it on top, and doused it with the remaining dressing.