by Paige Sleuth
Kat ran through their encounter yesterday morning. She hadn’t seen where Mr. Peterson had been coming from when she’d raced downstairs after Matty. All she knew was that he had been waiting for the elevator when she emerged from the stairwell. That suggested he’d just returned home from somewhere—somewhere that could have been the dog park.
Mr. Peterson had also been the person who had told Andrew that Jeff was dating someone on the third floor. What if he’d only said that to throw Andrew off of his own trail? What if Jeff had never been in the building at all but Mr. Peterson had claimed otherwise to make the police think Kat might have had a motive to kill him?
“Well, I ought to get going,” Janice said.
Kat snapped back to the present, nearly jumping out of her skin when she spotted Mr. Peterson staring right at her.
Janice tugged on the Irish setter’s leash and headed for the door. “If Bubbles doesn’t get outside soon he’ll leave a mess on the carpet.”
Mr. Peterson tore his gaze away from Kat to sneer at the dog. “If it does I’ll be talking to Larry about getting you evicted.”
Janice paused by the door, her jaw working as though she were debating over whether to respond. A second later she shrugged and ducked outside.
Mr. Peterson spun on his heel and strode over to the elevator. The doors parted right after he pressed the button.
He held them open. “After you,” he said to Kat.
Her heart skipped a beat. “Actually, I think I’ll take the stairs. I need the exercise.” There was no way she would be getting into a confined space with a man she believed might be a murderer.
Mr. Peterson let his arm drop and boarded the elevator. “Suit yourself.”
Fully aware that he was watching her, Kat held her breath as she walked over to the stairwell. She focused on pacing her strides, trying to feign a nonchalance she didn’t feel. She only started breathing again when Mr. Peterson disappeared behind the closed elevator doors.
No longer needing to pretend, she shoved the stairwell door open and raced up the steps. She had to alert Andrew, and the sooner the better.
CHAPTER TEN
Kat was breathless by the time she made it to the third floor. Running up two flights of stairs wasn’t something she wanted to make a daily habit.
She fished her cell phone out of her pocket as she hurried down the corridor. As soon as the burning sensation in her lungs subsided and she felt capable of speech again, she would place the call to Andrew.
She pulled up Andrew’s contact information with one hand while she slipped her key into the apartment lock with the other. She was only half paying attention when she pushed open her door.
Both Matty and Tom streaked by her, nearly knocking her to the floor. She lost her grip on the phone, and it skidded inside her apartment.
“Fiddlesticks!” Kat raced after the cats, who were hustling toward the elevator. “No treats for either of you!”
She was just formulating a strategy for wrangling two cats back into her unit when the elevator dinged. Kat’s heart lurched. If both cats made it outside, they could easily separate and get lost.
“Lucy, hold the elevator!” Kat yelled, refusing to take her eyes off of the runaways.
Both cats slipped through the elevator doors before they even finished opening. Luckily, Kat caught up with them a second later.
She stuck her hand between the doors, holding them open. “Lucy, you . . .”
Kat broke off, her words fading away when she realized it wasn’t Lucy in the elevator at all.
“I see you’re still letting your mangy felines run loose,” Mr. Peterson said, his lip curling up.
Kat didn’t reply. Her mouth had gone dry, and her tongue felt frozen. What was Mr. Peterson doing on the third floor?
“It was fairly obvious from the look on your face downstairs that you’ve figured me out. I decided I ought to make sure what you know doesn’t go any further.”
Kat struggled to muster up some saliva. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Liar.” He glared at her, the steel in his eyes turning Kat’s body cold. “You’re not good at hiding your emotions, Kat.”
She started to take a step backward, but Mr. Peterson grabbed her hand before she could pull it away. Panic exploded inside her. She kicked her foot out, bracing it against the wall. She expected him to fight her but, although he didn’t let go of her hand, neither did he attempt to drag her closer.
“I’ve already got your filthy animals, so you might as well join us,” he said. “Otherwise, there’s no telling what I might do to them.”
Kat sucked in a breath. He was right, of course. There was no way she could leave Matty and Tom alone with this madman. She would never forgive herself if he hurt them. And she knew if he were capable of killing a man he wouldn’t hesitate to harm an animal.
Her gaze drifted toward Lucy’s door. Maybe if she screamed Lucy would hear and call for help.
“She’s not home,” Mr. Peterson said, as if reading her mind. “When I was at the post office I saw her heading to work.”
Kat’s lungs felt as if they were collapsing. With nobody else around, she was pretty sure she was doomed.
Mr. Peterson gave her hand another tug. Kat slid her foot away from the wall and slunk toward the back of the elevator. He seemed to have sensed he’d won. He let go of her and pressed the button to bring them to the lobby.
Kat felt sick as she watched the doors shut. Needing something to steady herself, she leaned against the elevator. Her knees felt so wobbly she thought she might fall over without the support.
Matty and Tom ambled over to her. Matty arched her back against Kat’s leg, and Tom rubbed her shoe with his chin. She considered reaching over to reassure them but thought any movement might make her vomit. Just the feel of the elevator shifting beneath her feet as they descended was causing bile to rise up her esophagus.
Mr. Peterson turned toward her. “Who else have you told about me?”
Kat forced herself to look at him. If she could keep her cool, there was a chance she could convince him she didn’t know anything and he would let her go. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Mr. Peterson’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t insult my intelligence. I saw your expression when the black girl mentioned seeing me at the dog park.”
So much for playing dumb, Kat thought, her throat closing up.
Tom grew bored with Kat’s shoes and moved over to inspect Mr. Peterson’s. Ignoring the way her stomach was roiling, Kat grabbed the feline before he could get himself injured.
Mr. Peterson regarded her. “You’re really attached to those things, aren’t you?”
Kat didn’t reply. Instead, she cradled Tom against her chest. She could feel his body quaking, but she wasn’t sure if he was trembling or if that was the effect of her holding him with shaky hands.
“I can’t imagine what you see in them,” Mr. Peterson went on, his eyes zeroing in on Matty. “They’re nothing but flea magnets.”
Feeling a sudden burst of strength, Kat stepped in front of Matty. She would die before she let Mr. Peterson hurt her cats.
The elevator stopped, and the doors began to separate. Kat craned her neck, searching for any signs of life in the lobby. If she spotted someone, she was going to yell at the top of her lungs.
But there was no one. The lobby was empty.
Matty nosed around Kat’s ankle, making her way out of the elevator. For once, Kat actually hoped she made a run for it.
Without warning, Mr. Peterson reached over and snatched the tortoiseshell off of the floor. “This is just a little insurance to make sure you do as I say,” he said to Kat. “You disobey, and I break its neck.”
Matty hissed and squirmed, but the little eight-pound cat was no match for Mr. Peterson.
Kat’s heart pounded. She yearned to lunge at this vile man and claw out his eyes but held herself back. An attack would endanger Tom and Matty.
<
br /> Mr. Peterson jutted his chin toward the lobby. “After you.”
Kat inched toward the elevator doors. As much as she didn’t want to go anywhere with Mr. Peterson, she had no choice as long as he was holding Matty hostage. Her best bet would be to do whatever he said and hope they would run into someone who could help her.
Mr. Peterson nudged her in the back. “Head for the exit. And don’t try anything funny. I’ve still got your cat.”
Kat ignored how weak her legs felt and continued across the lobby. When she reached the door, she nearly collapsed against it.
“Open it,” Mr. Peterson commanded. “Head for the dog park.”
Kat did as she was told, but each movement felt forced. Her whole body had turned to ice.
When they reached the sidewalk, Mr. Peterson fell into step beside her. “If you see anybody, smile and nod like you’re having a good time. Otherwise, say goodbye to this pesky creature.”
Matty hissed at him again, her legs and tail flailing. Kat willed her to escape. If Matty got away, Kat wouldn’t hesitate to run herself.
“Stop that.” Mr. Peterson wedged Matty under his arm, still holding firm with both hands. “This should immobilize you.” He looked at Kat. “I learned this from Dorothy.”
“Dorothy?” Kat asked, hugging Tom tighter.
“Muffin’s owner. I believe you were the one to return that annoying little dog to her.”
Kat frowned. “How did you know that?”
“She told me.”
“You’re friends with Lady Fairchild?” Kat never would have guessed a woman who loved animals so much would associate with someone so far on the opposite side of the spectrum.
“We’re involved. Romantically.”
His statement froze Kat in her tracks. He couldn’t have shocked her more if he’d announced he wanted to start volunteering for Furry Friends Foster Families.
Mr. Peterson elbowed Kat in the ribs. “Keep walking. We’re almost there.”
She looked up, seeing that he was right. The dog park was only one block away.
She shivered, remembering the scene that had greeted her in the park yesterday. She prayed she figured out a way for herself, Matty, and Tom to avoid the same fate as Jeff Parr.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Dorothy made me take that stupid bag,” Mr. Peterson said, slipping through the entrance to the dog park. “The one the black girl mentioned. She never would have remembered me if it weren’t for that bag.”
Kat held Tom close to her chest, shielding him from the rain as best she could. She blamed the way it had picked up for the lack of people in the park now. She, Tom, and Matty were on their own.
She decided her best option was to keep Mr. Peterson talking. If she could stall him long enough, perhaps someone else would show up before he had a chance to hurt her or the cats. With her cell phone still on the floor inside her apartment she had no way to call for help, and she refused to leave Tom and Matty to fend for themselves.
“It’s a nice bag,” Kat said, trying to come up with something to say. “Where did Lady Fairchild get it?”
“She gets all sorts of promotional items like that. It certainly makes it easier to steal from a person when they have so many things they aren’t likely to notice a few of them going missing.”
“You’re stealing from your girlfriend?” Kat couldn’t keep the disgust from her tone.
“I’m not taking anything she needs. Have you seen her house? She’s loaded.”
Kat couldn’t argue there. And, judging from the look on his face, Mr. Peterson didn’t feel an ounce of remorse.
Of course he wouldn’t, she reminded herself. The man was capable of murdering another human being. Why would he be concerned about a little theft?
“Ironically enough, that bag comes in quite handy for my purposes.” Mr. Peterson headed for a tree, taking shelter under the branches. “It’s spacious and zips at the top so nobody can see inside. I can hide a lot of items in there.”
Kat stopped walking, goosebumps breaking out on her arms. The tree Mr. Peterson had chosen was where she had found Jeff’s body the day before.
“Dorothy is such a fool she never realized I’d only started going out with her in the first place so I could get into her house.”
The missing puzzle piece fell into place. “Jeff caught you stealing. That’s why you killed him.”
“That was the inciting incident, yes. But it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
A raindrop hit Kat’s eye. She ignored it. She refused to go anywhere near that tree or Mr. Peterson, even if that meant getting soaked in a rainstorm.
Tom, however, had a different opinion. He meowed and shifted in her arms.
“You can put it down,” Mr. Peterson said. He adjusted his grip on Matty. “I see no sense in holding onto this one either, now that I have you where I want you.”
Before Mr. Peterson could release Matty—or toss her aside—the cat wrenched herself out of his arms. She landed on the grass, shooting him a nasty look over her shoulder before she turned her tail up and sauntered a couple feet away.
Kat set Tom on the ground, nudging him in the hopes that he would wander somewhere safe. But he didn’t get the message. He stood there, his eyes growing huge as he tried to take in everything.
“Tell me what happened with Jeff,” Kat said to Mr. Peterson.
“A few days ago I had let myself into Dorothy’s house. She had an appointment at the hair salon so I knew she’d be a while.”
“You have a key to her house?”
“Yes.”
“And Jeff had a key too,” Kat guessed.
“Dorothy is a very trusting soul.”
Kat folded her arms across her chest. “She probably never expected her boyfriend to take advantage of her.”
“Oh, it wasn’t just me,” Mr. Peterson said. “Jeff started it.”
Kat’s brow furrowed. “But I thought you killed him because he caught you.”
“It wasn’t as simple as you’re making it out to be. We were partners.”
Kat swayed backward a little. She hadn’t been expecting that.
Mr. Peterson leaned against the tree trunk, as if he were getting comfortable for a long story. “I know his parents and had gotten to know Jeff fairly well over the years. He didn’t have much drive. He was always on the lookout for a quick buck. So, I ran an idea by him.”
“That you would steal from people?”
“That he would start a dog-walking service, and while he was inside people’s houses he would swipe things of value. We met in this park every Tuesday morning.” Mr. Peterson swept his arm to encompass the area around them. “He would bring the valuables he had pilfered that week, and I would take them home to sell online. Then we’d split the profits.”
“Sounds simple enough,” Kat said.
“It was. And everything was working out just fine until this past weekend, when Jeff caught me stealing directly from Dorothy. See, he told me about her place once, about all the stuff she had piled up and how there was no way she would notice anything missing from that mess.”
Kat conjured up a mental image of Lady Fairchild’s living room, seeing Jeff’s point.
“I realized I could make twice as much by eliminating the middleman and swiping the goods myself,” Mr. Peterson went on. “Then I wouldn’t have to share my profits with anyone. That’s when I began courting Dorothy.”
Kat recalled Lady Fairchild’s claims that she could no longer remember where she put things, and she felt sick on the older woman’s behalf. Her dislike of Mr. Peterson was growing by the minute.
“Since I knew Dorothy had a hair appointment this past weekend, I let myself into her house,” he said. “Unbeknownst to me, Jeff was on his way over to walk Muffin. Had I been on the ground floor when I heard the front door opening I could have jumped out of a window, but upstairs there wasn’t anywhere to go.”
“And Muffin was upstairs,” Kat surmised.
H
e nodded. “It had followed me. Jeff called for it, and the annoying little thing barked. When it didn’t run down to greet him, I ducked into a guest room to hide until Jeff left.” He glanced down at the ground, toeing the grass with one shoe. “Except the worthless cur stuck to me like a burr, barking its fool head off and alerting Jeff to my location.”
Kat was distracted by movement behind Mr. Peterson. Matty had evidently grown tired of sniffing the grass and was now sharpening her claws on the tree.
Mr. Peterson sighed. “I heard Jeff climbing the stairs, and still that dog wouldn’t leave me alone. So I tried to cover my tracks by tossing the tote bag in the closet. But I was nervous, clumsy. I had just shut the closet when Jeff appeared. Except the bag had tilted over and blocked the door from closing.”
“And Jeff saw the bag.”
“I made up a story about cleaning Dorothy’s closets to surprise her when she came home, but he wasn’t buying it. He knew she’d given me that bag. He’d seen it before, when I brought it to our meetings here.”
Kat swallowed hard. “So you killed him.”
“Not right away, no. And I would have been content to leave it at that if Jeff didn’t threaten me yesterday.”
“He threatened you?”
“After our run-in he figured out I’d been helping myself to Dorothy’s belongings without telling him. He demanded I hand over half of whatever I’d made from my solo endeavors. ‘His half,’ he called it.” Mr. Peterson snorted. “Naturally, I refused. He hadn’t done any of the work, why should he get a cut of the earnings?”
“But he was the one who told you about all the stuff in Lady Fairchild’s house,” Kat pointed out.
Mr. Peterson scoffed. “Please. That knowledge wasn’t worth fifty percent of my profits. Do you know how much goes into stealing things and selling them online?”
“No.” Kat’s hands balled into fists. “I obey the law.”
Mr. Peterson’s eyes narrowed. “Well, it’s a lot of work. I’m not just coasting. I don’t simply post things for sale and wait to get paid. I have to box things up. I have to package collectibles so they don’t break. And I have to ship everything. Do you know how long the lines can be at the post office? I’m definitely earning my money.”
