Friday passed fairly normally, with my spending most of my day at the shops, interrupted only by a short shift at the vet clinic.
And on Saturday, I asked all four of my assistants to plan on working for a while. I wanted to go on Neal’s pre-Halloween hike, partly to clear my head and partly to ponder even more what to do next.
An internal conflict? Absolutely.
Around eight a.m., after starting the baking and being there to open the shops at seven, I left Dinah in charge, with Frida also present. Janelle and Vicky would arrive in an hour or so. Loading Biscuit in the car, I drove to the place Neal picked to meet up with those taking his latest hike—the parking lot for the Knobcone House of Celebration, a very special, architecturally unique modern venue for very special events in this very special town. It was south of the resort, fronting on the lake, and at the foot of a small but gorgeous mountain range.
Neal was already there. He’d forgiven me for putting Janelle to work that day, but swore he wouldn’t if I made her hang out in the shops on Halloween weekend. He had taken both days off from his job at the resort.
My brother looked good in his new black sweatshirt decorated with the name of his new website that advertised and described his hikes: KeepUpWithKennersly.com. As always on his hikes, he wore a backpack that contained various useful supplies. He also carried the baton he used to make sure his group knew where he was. He’d dubbed the baton his “staff,” since it was also his assistant in leading folks on trails, particularly up and down hills, and he used it as a walking stick in flat areas. It was four feet long with a crook at the top, and was colored a bright and glossy red.
At the moment, Neal stood at the edge of the nearly empty parking lot with the staff over his head, ensuring that his followers knew where to go. Biscuit and I headed in that direction. I, too, wore a sweatshirt, since the air was nippy. Mine promoted my entrepreneurial enterprises as well, since it contained the names of both Barkery and Biscuits and Icing on the Cake.
Neal had warned me that a couple of cops were likely to be on the hike. He’d been getting more interest lately from members of the local force, and several had joined him on his outings recently. He wasn’t sure who might be coming, since the police department apparently would book several reservations for the hikes and then decide which cops would be able to take advantage of them. But he had at least wanted to let me know.
Which was fine. I could ignore the cops or be friendly, but resolved not to discuss the most recent murder at all with them.
Unless I thought it would be helpful …
As I drew closer, I was surprised to note that the crowd of maybe fifteen people so far included someone I’d not anticipated coming along: Reed. He had Hugo with him, and when Neal lifted his staff even higher to greet me, Reed turned to smile at me.
“Hey,” I said as Biscuit and I caught up with them. “What are you doing here?”
“Just wanted to keep an eye on you,” he said. “In case you thought you’d be stalking a murder suspect on this hike.”
I punched his arm gently as I laughed. “Yeah, of course I am.”
“I was able to take the day off after all,” he added. Which made me smile.
I glanced down. Biscuit, at the end of her leash, was trading nose sniffs with Hugo. There was a big difference in their sizes, but they’d always been friendly with one another.
Which was fortunate, since Reed and I continued to become friendlier with one another, too.
I didn’t recognize most of the others waiting for the hike to begin, which wasn’t surprising, since many of them were undoubtedly guests at the resort whom Neal had encouraged to sign up for his hike—this was completely permitted by his bosses, he’d assured me. It was a good and fun thing for Knobcone Heights Resort guests to do while in town, after all.
I did recognize the cops among the soon-to-be hikers, though. One was Sergeant Himura. I’d met him several months before, when he was my contact when I’d expressed concern about issues involving dogs in and around our town. He hadn’t impressed me as being particularly interested in dogs, nor in being a particularly good cop. Maybe he’d be a better hiker.
The other cop on the hike surprised me even more: Chief Loretta Jonas, boss to Sergeant Himura, Detective Wayne Crunoll, Detective Bridget Morana, and many more—like, the entire Knobcone Heights police force. She had her dog Jellybean, a schnauzer mix, with her.
Neither Loretta nor Himura was dressed in cop gear. They looked as if they were trying to fit in with civilians.
I gave them a small smile of greeting without getting close to them. Not now, at least.
I turned to Reed, who stood beside me watching Neal for any signals. “Did you tell Neal not to let me know you were coming?”
“Would I do a thing like that?” he asked, which gave me my answer. “I figured I’d surprise you just for fun, without any hidden motive.”
“Of course.”
A couple of other people in sweatshirts and boots were now clustered around Neal with the rest of us. It was time to go.
“Okay, everyone,” my brother said. “Here’s what we’re going to do.” He turned to point at the path at the far side of the parking lot from the House of Celebration. It quickly disappeared into a forest of trees that decorated a steeply sloping mountainside behind it. “We’re starting there and making our way upward. This is going to be a fairly short hike, just around an hour and a half, but you’re going to see some pretty spectacular vistas, including the lake and rocky overlooks from which you can view the town below and more of the mountains around here. Everyone ready?”
A low roar of yeses chorused around us.
“Then let’s go!” Neal waved his staff in the air. “Follow me.”
Everyone obeyed. In minutes we were well ensconced on the dirt path and moving quickly forward—well, as quickly as is possible on a narrow trail where no more than a couple of people could walk side by side.
Reed and I kept up with the rest of the group of around twenty, now, even preceding most of them. We both started pointing out things to see, such as a hawk flying up above and lizards on the ground skittering to get out of the way.
After a while, Reed said, “Remind me again. How many of Neal’s hikes have you taken?”
Both Hugo and Biscuit pulled gently ahead of us on their leashes as the dirt path wound beneath some tall knobcone pines. The air was cool and breezy, and branches waved above us. We were near the front of the group, partly since I wanted to stay as close to my brother as possible.
“Probably half a dozen,” I replied. “Some were just hikes around the lake, and there were a couple where Neal took groups to see some of the more interesting residential areas in and near Knobcone Heights. I’ve taken this one a couple of times, too.”
“Is it all Neal described that it’d be?”
“Definitely. Wait till you see some of those vistas he’s described.”
Previously, I’d looked back to see who was behind us, and it appeared a group of tourists was following. Nevertheless, I now heard a female voice say, “I’ve done this hike before but without your brother, Carrie.” I turned slightly. Chief Loretta, dressed in her warm civilian wear, followed us closely now, preceded by Jellybean. They must have maneuvered around some of the crowd. “This is one of my favorite trails, so I decided to give Neal’s guidance here a try and asked for one of the slots the department booked.”
“He’s a great tour leader,” I said, hoping all went well on this outing. The latest murder was unlikely to be mentioned, and no one who was a suspect was with us—or at least no one I knew about.
“So I heard from a few of my officers,” the chief said.
Neal stopped us in several clearings, mostly overlooking mountain vistas, and waved for the group to cluster around him. He described where we were and what we were seeing.
At the fourth
such stop the three dogs all started acting odd, pulling toward the cliff’s craggy edge. “No, Biscuit!” I commanded, and Reed and Chief Loretta did the same with their pups.
They all began barking, though—and then I heard it. The sound of a fourth dog yipping. Could it be something wild, a coyote or wolf or some other kind of canine?
I didn’t see it, though it sounded as if it came from the edge of the cliff but below us. I needed to find out what was going on, and so I moved away from the crowd, which included Reed. I told Biscuit “Sit!” and as she obeyed, I hooked my end of her leash up to a substantial-looking bush nearby. I moved forward to the rocky outcropping, walking carefully but determined to see downward. I pulled out my phone, ready to take a picture with my extended arm if I couldn’t maneuver the rest of my body at an angle to see.
As I drew slowly closer, my feet started sliding on the slick rock surface. I screamed, even as I noticed that I wasn’t the only one sliding. Neal and Sergeant Himura were, too. We were all heading toward the cliff’s edge, and there was nothing close by to stop us.
Were we all going to die?
Twenty-Seven
The answer, fortunately, was no.
As I scrambled wildly to try to find something to grab onto, or some other way to stop, I heard Reed yell, “Neal! Your hook!”
I saw my brother scrambling, too. He must have understood what Reed meant, for instead of trying to stab his staff into the unyielding rock surface, he turned and held it out, hook side backward. From the corner of my eye I saw Reed seize that end. He wasn’t sliding, so he must still be on solid, non-oily ground.
“Carrie,” he yelled then. “Sergeant. Grab on.”
I somehow changed the way I was sliding to aim myself in that direction and I did, in fact, clutch onto Neal’s staff. He still held the straight end, and Sergeant Himura stuck his hand out to take hold, too.
I then saw that along with Reed, a bunch of the other hikers were holding the staff tightly, anchoring it. As we all clung to it, they pulled us back off the terrible oily surface.
Soon we were safe. I saw that one of the other hikers held Hugo’s leash, and Chief Loretta held not only Jellybean’s but Biscuit’s, too —a good thing, since my little girl was straining to get closer to me.
Plus, I still heard that yappy little dog voice from over the cliff. What was that about?
I wasn’t the only one concerned. “Glad you’re all okay,” Chief Loretta said, “but I think a dog needs help.”
“I think we can check from down below,” Neal said, and after telling most of the hikers to stay where they were—but away from the edge—he quickly led a bunch of us down the path we’d hiked up.
I was panting like an overheated dog, more from fear and stress than warmth in this brisk air, but no way was I going to ignore that yapping.
Sure enough, from a sideways angle, looking up, we could see what appeared to be a little Yorkie jumping around on a narrow ledge. He was still yapping, and sounded and appeared frenzied.
How had he avoided falling? “We have to help him,” I cried out quietly.
My sweet and skilled brother pulled a rope from his backpack, turned one end into a noose, and tossed the looped end until he hooked it onto a large bush that grew from the cliffside near where the dog was.
“No, Neal!” I yelled to him as, holding the rope, he began to pull himself upward. Sure, it looked as if the end was tied fairly securely onto that bush—but “fairly” didn’t mean tightly enough.
Plus, who knew how strong that bush actually was?
But Neal kept going.
Fortunately, there was a rough surface below the area where my brother climbed, and he was able to swing himself slightly sideways—enough to grab onto the dog.
Soon, amazingly, both of them were back safely on the ground near where I stood shaking.
“Hey, dog-lady sis. You want this little guy?”
“You saved him!” I rushed forward to take the Yorkie and hug my brother. “You’re a hero, Neal.”
The hike was over. Neal was exhausted, as were the rest of us.
Reed and I walked slowly toward the rear of the group as Neal led us all back down to the parking area. Chief Loretta and Sergeant Himura hung back with us, too. We talked about the little Yorkie, now held by Reed. He believed the pup was okay, just scratched here and there, but he would dash off to the clinic with him to perform a checkup.
I’d head there too, a little later, once I checked on the shops. But right now we were talking with the cops about the situation and how they were going to attempt to find out how the dog had gotten onto the ledge.
I had some ideas and voiced them, at least somewhat. It didn’t look like the poor pup could have gotten there all by herself. She didn’t have a collar, but maybe she was microchipped. Where was her owner? Surely the owner wouldn’t have done such a heinous thing.
We finished our conversation in the parking lot. Neal said goodbye to those who’d paid to hike with him, promising them a big discount next time—and also a different location.
I headed toward the far side of the lot toward my car, allowing Biscuit to sniff on the way. I pushed the button to unlock my elderly white Toyota, then hesitated before getting in, but Biscuit jumped right onto the passenger seat so I followed her.
“You’re such a good girl,” I told her. “I know you’re looking out for me.”
We soon reached the parking lot behind my shops. “Wish we could close early today,” I told Biscuit as I pulled my car into a vacant spot. “I’m pooped—er, tired. Not the way you think of poop.”
I wanted to check in with my assistants, of course. But I’d no intention of going home early. I would, however, take an hour or so to drive to the vet clinic to see how that little Yorkie was doing.
As soon as I opened my car door to get out, though, Biscuit started barking.
And no wonder. Someone had come up to my car and was standing right there.
Someone with a gun at her side, as if to try to hide it in case anyone from the neighboring shops happened to be looking in our direction.
Someone I’d kind of figured I’d be confronted by—although not here and now.
“Hi, Gwen,” I said.
She climbed into the backseat of my car and was now arranging herself into a slump so that her head was probably not visible through any of the windows. That angle might make it hard for her to shoot me—but I didn’t want to take any chances.
I held Biscuit on my lap, though my little dog kept trying to leap out of my arms and into the back. Did she just want to say hi to Gwen? I didn’t think so. She was acting uncharacteristically stressed, and I figured it was at least partly because she sensed my fear and worry.
I figured Gwen would instruct me to drive somewhere. That could be the end of me. And Biscuit.
I wasn’t going to let that happen.
I had to at least try to distract her.
The first thing on my mind probably shouldn’t have been the first, but I had to ask. “You obviously knew I was on Neal’s hike. Did you have anything to do with endangering that little dog that was trapped on a ledge?”
I gritted my teeth as I heard her bark of a laugh. “Of course. I also spread some oil on the ground since I figured you’d be the first one to try to help the creature. But obviously you didn’t slide off the cliff like I’d hoped.”
“You endangered other people,” I said angrily. “Not to mention that poor dog.” But she clearly knew me well. Of course I would attempt to save a dog who was in danger.
“I saw you all get away from there, unfortunately,” she responded offhandedly. “I stayed in the area to watch.”
So she wanted to see me die, and maybe the dog, too. Any other hikers who were injured would be collateral damage, I supposed.
I might become furious with people, but this wa
s one of the few times I would have liked to inflict on her what she’d hoped to accomplish with me.
“Now,” she said, “I think it’s time for us to go. You need to start driving.”
“Not yet,” I said quickly. “I have some more questions. And if you just shoot me right now, you’ll make noise people will hear and you’ll have to get out of the car to run, or drive away.”
“Yeah, it would have been a whole lot easier if you’d just fallen off the damned cliff. But we’re getting away from here—or I’ll shoot your dog first.”
I hugged Biscuit even closer to me, trying to shield her in case this clearly insane woman decided to act immediately. Even so, I attempted to maintain a calm demeanor.
Reed had told me to only talk one-on-one with the person I believed to be the killer if I was in public and safe.
He’d also said I couldn’t always choose the time and place to talk, and that certainly was the situation now—despite my wishes otherwise.
“No shooting necessary,” I told Gwen. “I’ll do what you want—soon. But before we go anywhere, I’d really like to know why you killed Wanda in the first place. I mean, she wasn’t very likeable and other people might applaud that you got rid of her. But why? Was it because you like Jack? Or was it something about VimPets?”
“VimPets,” she spat. “And it wasn’t Jack I liked but your miserable brother.”
Interesting, I thought. Maybe she’d intended for Neal to fall off the mountain, too.
“But I thought you told him you had a guy who lived somewhere else.” I glanced out the windshield, seeking a means of escape if it became necessary. I’d pulled straight into the space, so I only saw the wall of the building. I supposed I could start the engine again and drive into it, in the hopes the collision would harm Gwen, but Biscuit and I were likely to get hurt first.
“I lied, to try to get him interested in winning me away from another guy. But then he met Janelle and obviously liked her more than me, so I pretended not to care. And when Jack started flirting with me, well, I played along, thinking I could get him to find me a new job with VimPets far away from this hokey town, get me a job that really counted with a good company. And Jack agreed. I was waiting for him to come up here again and take me back with him, even just for a short visit while I met the VimPets people and interviewed for the job we’d talked about as his assistant. It sounded so good. But instead of just coming up here to see Billi and you, he brought Wanda with him. And when I took him aside to ask about our plans, she butted in. Laughed at me. Said I was just some crummy little waitress in a crummy little town and that was that. There’d be nothing at VimPets for me.”
Bad to the Bone Page 23
