Pouncing on Murder (33 page)

From the dock, I heard Duvall, still trying to entice Eddie into his reach. “Come here, you flea-ridden mouse brain. You’re useless and pointless and the world will be better off without you, so come here and—ouch!”

This time I did smile. Eddie had given him full warning; I’d heard both his growl and the hiss that always came right before a paw swipe, claws extended.

“I’ll get you for that,” Duvall said in a low voice, “you crappy little cat. More trouble than you’re worth. And . . . ah. Gotcha.”

Trees and fire pits and fences didn’t matter any more. I jumped into a trot, then a run. I had to get to Eddie before . . . before anything happened. The heavy weight of my wet clothes dragged at me, trying to sap my speed, sucking at my strength, but that couldn’t matter now.

“Stop wriggling,” Duvall said, accompanied by metallic creaks as he climbed off the boat lift. “This won’t take long. Soon you’ll be together with your mistress and won’t that be nice for both of you?”

I was running full force, arms pumping, legs pistoning.

“That’s a good kitty,” Duvall said almost jovially as the dock creaked underneath him. “We’re almost there.”

The thick clouds that had been in front of the moon blew past, and the lakeshore was gently illuminated. It should have been a scene of great beauty, but all I could
see was a great hulk of man on the end of a dock, about to toss my cat out into deep and frigid water.

“Leave him alone!” I shouted, and ran toward the steps to the dock.

Duvall whirled and cursed.

Suddenly bright lights glared all around us. “Mr. Duvall,” blared a voice through a bullhorn, “this is the police. Please put your hands up.”

But Duvall didn’t. I could tell that he was intent on sending my cat into the water and nothing anyone said was going to stop him. He turned around and I could see that he held a spitting and struggling Eddie with one outstretched hand.

I hurtled down the steps and reached the dock.

“Mr. Duvall,” the bullhorn said. “Put your hands up.”

Mr. Duvall did not. He kept walking, out to the very end of his dock.

I pounded down the wooden slats. “Put him down!”

“I’ll put him down all right,” Duvall said. “Right in the—”

“MRR!” Eddie flung himself around and latched his claws straight into the back of Duvall’s hand.

“Ah!” Duvall yelled and dropped Eddie. “You miserable cat, I’ll—”

But that was all he got out before I caromed into him with all my weight. Shoulder first, head down, elbow tight to my body, I thumped him and I thumped him good.

Duvall, still yelling, flailed about with his arms, trying to recover, but I’d caught him off guard and off balance and he fell into the water with a great splash.

I scooped Eddie off the dock and snuggled him close. “Are you all right, pal? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Feet hurried toward me. I turned and saw multiple officers rushing toward me. Sheriff Kit Richardson led the way, followed by Detective Inwood, followed by Ash, followed by two other deputies.

The sheriff stood at the dock’s end, flashlight in hand, and took in the situation. “Wolverson, make sure he gets out of there fast. That water’s cold.” She glanced at me. “Ms. Hamilton, you need a hospital. No arguments. Your lips and fingers are blue. A deputy will take you. Now.”

The command was sharp and crisp and I did not dare disobey. But . . .

Sheriff Richardson smiled. “If he’ll let me,” she said, “I’ll take care of Eddie until you get home. From what I can tell, he’s the hero of the hour.”

“What d-do you s-say, Ed-die?” I asked through chattering teeth as a deputy put an emergency blanket around my shoulders.

“Mrr,” he said, and bumped my chin with the top of his head.

Chapter 22

S
unday afternoon, Kristen thundered out a laundry list of unnecessary orders to her staff, gave them a good long glare, and ended with “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Don’t burn the place to the ground when I’m gone, okay?”

Each and every one of the white-coated staff members rolled their eyes, right in front of their boss. “We’ll be fine,” the head chef said as she stirred something in a huge pot. “Go have some fun before you forget how.”

Kristen sniffed loudly, turned to me, winked, and together we headed into the sunshine, destination: the party at Josh’s house.

“Ash Wolverson, huh?” she asked as we walked along. Her elbow caught me in the middle of my upper arm. “He’s pretty hot. What are you going to do on your date?”

“Go to a different town,” I said promptly. “Or maybe Canada. It’s not far, really, and it’s a nice drive across the bridge.”

I’d been joking, but it wasn’t a bad idea. No one would know either of us in Canada, which held great appeal, because I’d had many a romantic meal hijacked by friends who’d wanted to stop and chat. And then there’d
been the memorable occasion when I took a date to Kristen’s restaurant and she played waitress for us.

“With Trock in town for the book fair,” I said, “why isn’t Scruffy hanging around you like a lost puppy dog?”

“They’re behind on the TV show,” she said. “Flew back to New York this morning. I barely saw him at all.”

“But he’ll be back for the summer, right?” Kristen and Scruffy made a wonderful couple. I didn’t like to think of them apart for too long a stretch.

“Memorial weekend,” she said, happiness clear in her voice. “Then on through to Labor Day.”

I sent an elbow her way, which smacked into the top of her hip. “Should be a good summer, then.”

“Only if you finish telling me what happened to you last night.”

“How much did I tell you?”

It had been Kristen who’d picked me up from the hospital, where I’d been delivered, so to speak. Ash had driven my car to the houseboat, and after the emergency room doctor said my body temperature was at a safe level, I used the hospital’s phone to summon my best friend. My cell phone was in the hands of Detective Inwood, who would be taking it to their computer forensics guy, who would do his best to recover my audio recordings of Duvall’s threats to me and his acknowledgment of what he’d done to Henry and Adam.

Kristen had been full of questions last night, but I’d fallen asleep within two blocks and had barely woken when she gently pulled me out of her car, walked me to my houseboat, and dribbled me into bed.

“For clarity’s sake,” Kristen said now, “let’s say you didn’t tell me anything.”

This was sensible, because whatever I’d told her last night couldn’t have been very coherent. “Well,” I said, “it all started when Cole Duvall called me after the book fair and said that he had Eddie.”

Kristen made a T with her hands for a time-out. “Sidebar. How is Mr. Ed?”

“He’s fine. Kit Richardson brought him home this morning. I think he likes her better than he likes me.”

“Hang on,” Kristen said. “You’re talking about the sheriff?”

“Well, yeah. Is there any other Kit Richardson in Chilson?”

She shivered. “You let her take Eddie? You sure she didn’t eat him and bring a substitute in his place?”

“What? No, of course not. What’s the matter with you? She’s perfectly nice.”

“I doubt that word has ever been associated with Sheriff Richardson,” Kristen muttered, then looked around to see if anyone had heard her.

“You’re an idiot,” I said.

“And you’re what, smart?” She made a rude noise. “Going off to meet a guy you suspected of murdering Henry Gill and trying to run over Adam Deering isn’t what I’d call stellar brainwork.”

“It wasn’t as bad as you make it sound,” I said. “Matter of fact, I—”

“Say,” Kristen interrupted. “Isn’t that your aunt? And Otto?”

I clutched at her arm. “Don’t tell her anything about last night. I’ll talk to her later.”

But Aunt Frances was headed straight in my direction. “Minerva Joy Hamilton,” she called, “I need to talk to you.”

“Okay,” Kristen said, grinning. “I won’t tell her a thing.”

“What were you thinking?” my aunt scolded as she enveloped me in a huge hug, smushing my face against her shoulder. “Going off like that without a word to anyone, walking straight into danger . . . For heaven’s sake, I thought you knew better!”

“I do,” I said in a muffled way.

“What? Speak up, child.” She held me away from her. “You don’t look the worse for wear, but what on earth possessed you to do something so stupid?”

I knew an eye roll would get me another scolding, so I kept it internal. I also wanted to know how she’d known about last night—I certainly hadn’t told her—but Chilson was a small town and I should have called her earlier to let her know I was okay.

“Can we sit down?” I asked. Then, without waiting for an answer, I ushered all three of them to a nearby bench and sat them all down in a row, Otto in the middle. I stood in front of the trio and started my lecture.

“No interruptions, please,” I said, clasping my hands behind my back and rocking back a little on my heels. They agreed and I started to enjoy myself. “Last night, I got home late because of the book fair. Soon afterward, I got a phone call from Cole Duvall, saying he had Eddie
and that I had to be at the Duvall’s cottage in an hour to get him back.”

Kristen, Aunt Frances, and Otto all nodded. This part they already knew.

“I’m going to be completely truthful here,” I said. “I panicked. Freaked out, actually. I didn’t know what to do and I was scared.”

“Why didn’t—” Aunt Frances started, but Kristen shushed her to silence.

“Thank you,” I said. “I called Deputy Ash Wolverson”—this was for Otto’s benefit, because my aunt and Kristen were well aware of what Ash did for a living—“but had to leave a voice mail message.” Last night’s fear came back full and strong. I shook it away and went on.

“I knew it would take more than half an hour to drive to Duvall’s place and I’d already used up almost fifteen minutes of the hour by calling Ash and making sure Duvall wasn’t playing some cruel joke and that Eddie wasn’t still on the houseboat somewhere. So I got in the car.”

Kristen started to say something but stopped when both Aunt Frances and Otto glared at her.

“Halfway there,” I went on, “I pulled over. I had a few extra minutes, so I used them to think.”

And I had, after I’d pounded the steering wheel in frustration until my fists hurt. I’d jumped out of the car and paced up and down the side of the lonely road, trying to assemble a plan.

I told my audience how I’d called the sheriff’s office and coerced Dispatch into transferring me to Detective Inwood, who, I later found out, had been at home about to bite into a freshly grilled steak. I made a mental note
to send him and his wife a gift certificate to Kristen’s restaurant and continued my tale.

“The detective told me he’d spent the day making a case against Duvall and said he’d call Sheriff Richardson as soon as he got off the phone with me, and to go home, that they’d take care of everything.”

Otto stirred. “But—”

Two female elbows, one from each side, jabbed him into silence.

I smiled at him. “But there was no way I was going to wait, not while Duvall had Eddie. When I told Inwood that, he told me to . . .” I paused, not wanting to repeat the detective’s exact words. It was Sunday, after all, and besides, my aunt didn’t approve of cursing at any time. “Let’s just say my subsequent actions weren’t sanctioned by the sheriff’s office.”

Kristen snorted, Aunt Frances sighed, and Otto chuckled.

Ignoring them all, I continued. “The detective told me they’d be there as soon as they could, and instructed me to wait until there was a police presence before approaching Duvall.” I looked away for a moment, remembering and reliving. “But I couldn’t do that,” I said quietly. “He’d said an hour. I couldn’t risk it, not when he had Eddie.”

My aunt sighed again, but this time I could tell it was a sigh of understanding. She’d lived with Eddie all last winter and she loved him, too. Kristen cast a glance at the heavens and slouched down on the bench. She understood. Otto gave me a soft smile and a nod.

I told them about going down to the dock, about
finding Eddie, about my short dip in the water to avoid being clonked over the head with a blunt object, and the appearance of the police to save the day.

“So,” I finished, “it was a risk, but I knew help was on the way. And it all turned out okay, so there’s no reason to tell Mom, is there?”

This last was to my aunt. Who, as my mother’s sister-in-law, knew all about my mom’s tendency to drama and overprotectiveness.

Aunt Frances gave me a keen look. “I hear you’re dating Ash these days.”

I closed my eyes briefly. How did she know these things? “We haven’t been on a single date yet. Next weekend will be our first.”

She
hmmph
ed and stood. “Maybe he’ll do a better job of keeping you safe and sound than that doctor did.”

Otto laughed and got up. He leaned over and whispered, “I think you’re doing a fine job of that all by yourself, Minnie. Keep up the good work.”

The two of them made their good-byes and walked off, hand in hand.

Smiling, I watched them go, then turned back to Kristen, who remained on the bench as if she meant to stay there for months. “What?” I asked. “We’re going to be late.”

“Details,” she said, holding out her hands, palm up, and making “come here” motions with her long fingers. “There are more details to come and I’m not moving until I hear them all.”

Though I’d glossed over my near death from hypothermia in the story I’d just related to my aunt and Otto,
since Kristen was the one who’d picked me up from the hospital, she was aware of those particular circumstances. “What details?”

“That Seth, for one. I thought you’d thought he was a murder suspect. Say, did I ever tell you that I finally saw Tony Wartella?”

I shook my head.

“Oh. Well, I did. He and his wife came in the other day. I asked if he had a relative named Seth, and he said he did, a cousin of some sort. But Tony also said that since his dad had passed away, and that was years ago, he’d never once seen him.”

I thanked her, but it hadn’t mattered, not since Irene realized she’d mistaken a law enforcer for a lawbreaker. And I’d also heard, via Ash that morning, that Detective Inwood had tracked down Seth via his probation officer and made the appropriate inquires. “They checked,” I said. “Turns out Seth had a solid alibi for the day Henry was killed.”