Cat Among the Fishes

by Louise Clark

  “We’re going up to the towels,” Quinn said. He was looking at Sledge, who had dropped his hand, but not in a way that indicated he felt guilty at being interrupted in a personal act. “Would you like us to take Noelle up with us?”

  So you can continue to fool around without your daughter getting in the way. He didn’t say the words, but Christy felt her cheeks burn as if he had. Tamara raised her brows and looked from Christy to Quinn. Sledge didn’t say anything, but his smile heated a notch and the look in his eyes began to smolder.

  “No, it’s okay,” Christy said hurriedly. She stood up. “If Noelle is ready to go up, I’ll come along.”

  Quinn nodded abruptly. “Fine.”

  Sledge sighed theatrically. “I’ll come too.” He turned to Tamara, giving her one of his patented rock star smiles. “If I don’t get more sunscreen on, I’ll fry to a crisp.”

  She laughed, since Sledge’s skin was already sun kissed and he had a solid base tan. They met up with Noelle, who announced that she was going to read her book. She put her hand in Christy’s and said by way of explanation, “Dylan decided to help Haley build her sandcastle.” Which was why they’d come to the water in the first place.

  “Is there a problem with the children?” Tamara asked.

  “Dylan is bored with sandcastles and does more demolition than construction,” Christy said.

  “The kids are tense,” Quinn said. “Patterson told us earlier that Adam Farnsworth is the local cop’s number one suspect. The family is melting down.”

  “That wasn’t precisely how she phrased it,” Christy said. “But she’s worried.”

  “You discussed the murder?” Tamara asked.

  Christy slanted her a look. Tamara’s mouth was pinched, her expression disapproving. “She wanted to talk. Quinn and I listened.”

  He smiled faintly. “We also gave her a couple of ideas to run with.”

  “Hardly a topic of conversation for the beach,” Tamara said. Her tone was light, but critical nonetheless. Christy had the sense that Tamara wasn’t about to go after Quinn directly, but she hoped he’d get the message anyway.

  “If we want to help her solve the crime, the beach is as good a place as any to talk,” Quinn said.

  The look Tamara shot him was clearly disapproving, though he didn’t seem to notice.

  Sledge grinned at Christy. “My offer is still open.”

  Quinn frowned, clearly curious about exactly what it was Sledge was offering, but unwilling to ask for details.

  Christy raised her brows. The offer, of course, was to do a little sleuthing by interviewing Dean Kelloway, the mayor, and Rhonda Hicks, the councilor. With Patterson worried that the local cop wouldn’t look further than Adam Farnsworth, she wanted to help. So she nodded in response and said, “How about tomorrow?”

  “Done,” Sledge said. There was mischief in his smile and his eyes danced with it.

  Was that because Quinn’s frown had deepened? Was Sledge just indulging in some good-natured teasing? More likely, he was excited about playing detective. Christy decided not to worry. Tomorrow could take care of itself.

  Chapter 10

  “How are we going to handle this?” Christy asked as she pulled the van into a parking slot in the lot adjacent to the Loyal Scotsman Regional District Administrative Building. “We both met the mayor in a rather spectacular manner on the day of the info session.”

  Christy had a point, but Sledge wasn’t worried. He had his ways. Turning his head as he slipped off his sunglasses, he set his expression in the look that made the girls in the front row at SledgeHammer concerts scream and stare starry-eyed, and had interviewers gushing and hanging on to his every word. Then he smiled, a slow lifting of first one side then the other of his mouth as he shrugged. “I’m Sledge. The mayor will be happy to talk to us.”

  Christy’s brows went up. “Yikes,” she said. “Will that stuff really work?”

  Her reaction turned the seductive smile into a grin. “You bet,” he said cheerfully. He unhitched his seatbelt.

  Of course it will. That came from the back where Stormy was curled up on one of the seats.

  “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Christy said, ignoring Frank as she unfastened her own belt. “I’ve had enough experience with people reacting to the Jamieson name.” She shot him a look. “The Jamiesons are rich, and I guess you could call us local celebrities, but SledgeHammer is in a whole other league.” She sent him a critical look. “And you use it.”

  He was free of the belt now. He could open the door and hop out. Instead, he said seriously, “It’s a trade-off for living my life on stage. When I can, I’m just me.” He shrugged. “If I need to be Sledge of SledgeHammer, then I am and I play it up to the hilt.”

  She studied him for a minute, then she nodded. “Then let’s go put Dean Kelloway on the hot seat.”

  Before setting out today, they’d decided Christy would be Sledge’s assistant, and so would make the initial contact with whatever office staff Kelloway employed.

  Sledge thought he’d be pretty lucky if he really did have an assistant like Christy. Before they’d come out on this expedition she’d decided she needed to minimize the recognition factor, since she’d been front and center in the fiasco that ended the information session. That day she’d gone casual, but today she looked all woman in a sleeveless dress with a skirt that flowed nicely around her knees. Her not-much-to-them sandals with narrow heels made her already great legs look longer, a bonus in his eyes. She’d added shadow and mascara to her eyes, somehow making them seem bigger and more beautiful, and applied a coat of lip gloss.

  She looked great and when she came out of her tent the reaction to her makeover was priceless. Tamara frowned, Ellen’s eyebrows went up, and Roy’s eyes had widened. Quinn’s eyes had widened too, and for just a minute Sledge thought he might say something nice, like you look terrific. Having Quinn compliment Christy wasn’t in his plans, though, so Sledge took that moment to let go a wolf whistle. Quinn’s expression hardened, then he looked away without speaking.

  That was fine with Sledge. Christy was a softie and Quinn needed to get his priorities straight.

  They convinced the cat to settle into the tote bag, which Christy slipped over her shoulder, and reminded Frank he was to keep Stormy inside and listen, not get involved. Then they set off for the building.

  Sledge didn’t have a whole lot of hope Frank would stay silent, but with luck only he and Christy would tune into his broadcasted comments. Though, come to think of it, it wouldn’t be a bad thing if this Kelloway guy could hear him. It would certainly shake the guy up and maybe cause him to spill something interesting.

  They found the mayor’s office without difficulty. Christy led the way in. That was when things started to fall apart.

  The mayor’s administrative assistant was proving difficult. She didn’t want to let them in to see the mayor. Unresponsive to Christy’s polite request, she straightened the already straight piles of paper on her desk and said, “The mayor doesn’t take drop-in visits during his workday. I can schedule an appointment for you for next week.”

  “Next week,” Christy said, raising her eyebrows in a way that made Sledge suppress a chuckle. Between her Jamieson princess haughtiness and his rock star cool they were about to shock this poor woman into tomorrow.

  The assistant saw Christy’s raised brows and upped the ante with a condescending smile and cool expression. “That’s correct.” She was young, probably not long out of university, but she exuded the confidence and indeed, the bossiness, of a much more experienced individual. She clicked her mouse, apparently consulting an online calendar. “The mayor has nine a.m. next Thursday open.” She looked from Christy to Sledge. “Shall I book the appointment?”

  Sledge shouldered past Christy so he was front and center. “Well, you see…” He paused as he perched on the edge of her single pedestal steel desk. She looked annoyed. He enjoyed that. He glanced at Christy and smiled. She smiled bac
k. That was their pre-arranged signal that he was about to reveal his identity and she was okay with it.

  “Really, sir,” the secretary said, her voice strident with annoyance. “Will you please remove yourself from my desk?”

  Sledge grinned at her, the smile a few notches up from the one he’d showed Christy in the car. He used it on reporters and radio announcers who wanted to prove they were somehow cooler than Sledge of SledgeHammer. The results were instantaneous. While the woman didn’t immediately promise to get them into see the mayor, she did stop worrying about his perch on her desk. She frowned and fiddled with the perfectly aligned papers, even while her eyes remained riveted to his. He’d deliberately worn what he thought of as his rock star cool look—the distressed jeans, a black T-shirt, and a leather jacket, even though it was already over eighty outside. Now he reached up and with one hand pulled off his baseball cap. With the other he removed his sunglasses.

  The result was exactly what he wanted. Her eyes widened as her mouth open in a little O of surprise. He let his smile warm his eyes to add a smidgeon of intimacy. He didn’t move from the desk.

  Christy said, “Next Thursday won’t work.”

  The girl dragged her gaze away from his face to stare uncomprehendingly at Christy. Christy raised her brows and looked haughty. The woman gulped. He wanted to laugh, but he kept it under wraps.

  “I,” the secretary said. She stopped, cleared her throat and tried again. “The mayor doesn’t like surprise visits.”

  “I expect he’d like a surprise visit from me,” Sledge said. He pitched his voice low and silky and watched her swallow hard.

  “I… Yes, well… Maybe.” She cleared her throat again. “Can I… Can I tell him what it’s about?”

  Sledge swung his sunglasses lazily. “I want to talk to him about his pretty little town.”

  “Oh.” Suddenly her eyes brightened and excitement colored her voice. “Oh! Does that mean… are you thinking… of buying property here?”

  Sledge only smiled.

  Christy said, “The other towns have been much more cooperative.” She was examining her nails as she spoke and her tone was a combination of bored and snooty.

  The tote containing Stormy squirmed. Sledge was pretty sure it was Frank who wanted to see what was going on, not Stormy. Christy clamped her arm tighter. The squirming stopped.

  “Patience,” Sledge said, as much for Frank and the cat, as for the humans in the room. He was rewarded by a large, relieved smile from the secretary, who immediately lifted up her phone.

  “Mayor Kelloway,” she said, “I have two visitors to see you.” There was squawking from the other end of the line. “Yes, I know you asked to keep your schedule free, but—” More squawking. “Sir, I think it’s important you see these individuals.” The squawking subsided into a resigned mutter and the secretary hung up. She smiled brilliantly at Sledge. “I’ll show you in.”

  He levered himself off her desk and let Christy slip between him and the secretary as they followed her. The woman put her hand on the doorknob and looked back at them. Annoyance skittered across her face as she realized Christy and not Sledge was directly behind her. Christy raised her brows again and offered her a thin smile. The secretary frowned and flung open the door. They went inside.

  In the excitement of saving the cat and warring with Shane Higginson at the information session, he hadn’t taken much notice of Dean Kelloway. Now he took the opportunity to scrutinize the man.

  Kelloway looked to be in his early forties, though an Internet search had revealed he was actually only a couple of years over thirty-five. His hair was thinning, and he combed it in an artful way to hide the flaw, rather than going the shaved head route. At the info session, he’d been wearing a well-cut, expensive dark blue suit, along with a pale blue shirt and a red tie. Today, his suit jacket was hung up somewhere and he wore a white dress shirt with a dark blue tie. He looked up when they entered. His eyes were brown, his cheeks pudgy, rather than chiseled. His nose was rounded at the end and his chin receded just a little. Put together, the features created blandness. Not good looking, not ugly, a little on the positive side of plain.

  “Good afternoon,” he said. Christy’s makeover must have worked, for he stared at them in puzzlement, clearly recognizing that he’d seen them before, but not sure where.

  Sledge stuck out his hand, taking control. “Rob McCullagh,” he said.

  The mayor nodded, but didn’t take Sledge’s hand. “Mr. McCullagh.”

  The secretary sucked in her breath. “Mr. Kelloway!” Disapproval permeated her voice.

  He frowned at her. Sledge chuckled and Christy sighed.

  Is he serious? He’s an idiot.

  The secretary sucked in her breath. Sledge looked at Christy. Her eyes were wide as she scrutinized the secretary, who was now looking rather confused. Well, this was an interesting complication. He wondered if Kelloway could hear Frank as well.

  The mayor glanced pointedly at his watch. “I’m a rather busy man, Mr. McCullagh. How can I help you?” He didn’t ask them to sit.

  Sledge perched on the edge of his desk. “I’m thinking about buying property in this area.”

  Annoyance flickered over Kelloway’s features, tightening them from bland into annoyed. “There are realtors who can help you with that, Mr. McCullagh. My assistant can provide you with some names. Now, if that is all?” He didn’t quite make a shooing motion, but the thought was there in his eyes.

  Sledge smiled at him, not in the least intimidated and certainly not prepared to be swept from the room.

  What is it with this guy? Does he live in a broom closet? Doesn’t he know this is Sledge?

  “All he cares about is being re-elected,” the secretary said. She put her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with dismay when Kelloway glared at her. She looked warily around the room, seeking the disembodied voice.

  Sledge took pity on her. If he let this go on much longer, Frank would have this poor woman tied up in knots. He assumed a depreciating expression and said to Kelloway, “I like to talk to the person at the top. When people find out my connection to SledgeHammer they say what they think I want to hear and that may not be straight goods.”

  “SledgeHammer?” said Kelloway.

  The band, idiot.

  The secretary giggled.

  Sledge nodded. “I’m Sledge.”

  “Sledge of SledgeHammer, the band?” Kelloway said. He was frowning, as if he was having trouble taking the information in.

  “That’s me.” Sledge let him stew.

  Christy said coolly, “As Sledge said, he’s interested in the amenities available in this community. The property he’s looking for is beachfront, of course.”

  “Of course,” the secretary said. She was almost jiggling with excitement. When they left this room, she’d be on the phone to the local news outlet with a tip that Sledge of SledgeHammer was buying property here.

  Christy ignored her. “Mr. McCullagh is concerned that a fish farm is being considered for Loyal Scotsman’s Bay. If he invests, he needs privacy, and a pristine environment, not industrialization on his doorstep.”

  “Sledge of SledgeHammer. Really?” said the mayor.

  “Really,” Sledge said. He let a little frown mar his forehead and impatience enter his voice.

  The mayor cleared his throat. “Of course we would be delighted to have you join our community, Mr. Mc, er, Sledge.”

  “Thank you,” said Sledge briskly. He raised his brows. “The fish farm? I heard there was an argument about it and that the man promoting it was killed.”

  Kelloway cleared his throat again as he nodded. “Granting the company a license is a provincial decision, of course, but I think it is unlikely the government taskforce looking into it will recommend that a license be granted.”

  Taskforce! Who’s he kidding?

  The secretary giggled again. Christy said coolly, “How would you know that, Mayor Kelloway?”

  “Oh, well, you
see, I know the man heading the taskforce. He’s an old friend.” He paused, then added almost guiltily, “As was the man who was the local representative of the firm seeking the license. We all went back a ways. And, you know, personal connections count. While Shane Higginson was alive, I believed the fish farm could be an asset to our region. I trusted him to make sure it was ecologically sound. Now he’s gone?” He shook his head. “I told Chad—that’s the fellow running the taskforce—I couldn’t support the installation.”

  Sledge frowned at him. “Let me get this straight. While your buddy was alive, you were all for the fish farm. Now he’s dead, you aren’t?”

  Kelloway nodded.

  Sledge grinned. “You’ve got an election coming up, don’t you?”

  Ha! Higginson was bribing him in the form of a campaign donation.

  The secretary snorted. “No such luck. Donations are strictly controlled. He was scared of what the guy had on him.”

  “Really?” Sledge cocked his head and looked at Kelloway, who colored.

  “That’s enough, Gillian.”

  Now the secretary colored.

  “Can you confirm this?” Christy said in a bored voice. “When did you speak to this Chad person?”

  “The day Shane had his information meeting,” Kelloway said. “Afternoon, actually. After the meeting ended and the public left, a few of us stayed behind.”

  Sledge raised his brows. “A few of us?”

  Kelloway nodded. “Myself, Rhonda Hicks, who is a councilor here, Chad, Shane and two academics with opposing views, Norman Laing and Adam Farnsworth. There was a private discussion going on between Norm and Adam. Each was trying to persuade Chad that their opinion was the correct one. Chad listened for a while, but neither man was willing to give way to the other, so he left. Once he was gone, the debate died down and Norm departed. I stayed to talk to Shane for a few minutes, then I went too. I caught up with Chad a little later when he and Norm were having dinner.”