The barricade at the foot of the spiral staircase had been knocked over and shoved to the side, reminding me that ever since I was a kid I'd been warned about how dangerous it was to hang around the lighthouse. My overly cautious mother had even used the word deadly on more than one occasion to keep me and my best friend, Caroline, away from it. It hadn't always worked, but now Mom's choice of adjectives kept repeating in my head.
"Dottie," I called out. "Dottie Holmes. Don't go any further. It's dangerous." The sound of her footsteps continued, and I added, "Deadly."
Evidently that word didn't terrify Dottie Holmes the way it did me.
"Go away!" she yelled down the stairs.
"You're scaring the dog." I yelled back. "Think of him."
"You're not taking him." Her footsteps clattered away.
"Okay." I breathed out. "Fine."
I began to mount the rusty metal stairs slowly, holding my breath and praying they hadn't rotted out completely.
But Dottie hadn't fallen to her death, so hopefully neither would I.
The lighthouse must have been fifty feet tall. However many steps that was wore me out long before I got to the top, and I went slower and slower.
Above me, the sound of pounding found my ears. What was she doing? As I climbed the last few stairs I found out. The moonlight through the last tall window revealed Dottie leaning back pounding against the ceiling. No, not the ceiling, the service hatch to the light room. Doogie circled around her legs, barking nonstop.
Dottie was as unpredictable as the path of a hurricane, so I stopped a few stairs down from her. "Dottie."
She turned and saw me before turning back to pull and pound on the hatch again. She would never get it opened. The padlock on the handle was in plain sight. She had to give up sooner or later and realize her goose was cooked. "The police will be here soon." Although it wasn't likely that they would—no one knew we were here. "You need to stop this. Look at your poor little dog. He's scared to death."
I took a couple more steps up, and Dottie whipped around, picking up Doogie and squeezing him to her chest. The terrified pup yelped and sunk his teeth into her hand. She cried out and jerked her hand away, dropping the dog.
"No!" I didn't remember moving, but I must have because suddenly Doogie was in my arms and I was lying prone on the metal platform.
Dottie screamed something so obscene I wasn't even sure what it meant. Then she launched herself at me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I rolled to protect the dog, brought my knee up, and pushed, knocking Dottie sideways.
With a loud curse, she hit the railing belly-first and kept going, her weight and momentum carrying her over the side. Her hand connected with the top of the rail and latched on.
Oh my God.
I gasped as Dottie hung there, legs kicking, body twisting. Making small mewling noises of distress, she kept trying to bring one of her legs up to hook through the rails for support, but couldn't manage it.
I opened my arms, releasing the dog, got my feet under me, and pushed up, standing there horrified and immobile.
What should I do? What could I do?
Doogie's shrill barking made it impossible to think as he skittered down a few stairs then back up, jumping around nervously, literally screaming his head off.
Dottie raised her panicked eyes to my face, "Please." I could barely hear her over the clamor. "Please help me. I don't want to die."
Her plea brought me out of it, forced my brain and body to sync up. I took an instant inventory of how things were. Dottie was bigger than I. How was I going to get her back up?
I moved down a few steps. "Dottie, listen. If you can kick one of your feet up to me, we can take some of the weight off the railing, and I can grab your hands and lift you back over."
Her eyes were enormous. "My hands are getting sweaty."
I was scared, but I knew it was nothing compared to what she must have been feeling. I lowered my body stomach-down onto the hard steps—the metal edges biting into my breasts, belly, and legs. Doogie's panic brought him to me. He licked my face and whined. With one hand I gently pushed him away, trying not to frighten him further. "Good boy. Good Doogie."
The cold seeped through my jeans. I rolled onto my side and slid both my arms between the rails as far as I could. "Dottie, try to kick your foot up here. I'll grab hold."
Her eyes locked onto mine, she moved her left leg, kicking up and out. But not hard enough or far enough.
"That's good, Dottie, almost had it." She hadn't been anywhere close. "Try again."
From the corner of my eye, I saw her flex her fingers against the rail. Had her hand slipped, or was it just my imagination? "Let's do it, Dottie. We have to get you more stable."
Even the dog seemed aware of how desperate the situation was. He'd moved back against the wall and stood shivering.
Dottie nodded, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her arms beginning to shake.
I strained as she tried kicking her left leg up to me one more time, but this attempt fell shorter than the first.
"I can't do it." A sob broke through her voice. "I can't."
This wasn't good. She'd fall the forty or so feet to her death if I couldn't figure out how to get her back on the good side of the stair rail.
I pushed myself up and went back to where her hands gripped the rail.
"My hands are tired. I don't know how much longer I can hold on."
"I'm going to take hold of your right wrist, Dottie, with both hands. You need to let go of the rail, and let me try to pull you up and over."
"Are you crazy? Let go?" Hysteria made her voice high-pitched and shaky.
"Just let go with the right hand. I'll pull, and you'll pull with your left. I don't know what else to do. The only other thing is if I go for help."
"God. No. Don't leave. I can't hold on for long. I'll fall."
"I know," I said, reaching over the rail and taking a good solid hold on her right wrist with both hands.
One finger at a time, she released her hold on the top of the rail, and I felt the pull of her weight transfer as she did. I silently prayed for the strength I'd need to help her pull herself up. My arms felt strong, my grip was solid. This just had to work. I didn't think I could live with it if she fell. One of the big ones in Lizzie's Rulebook was: Always do the right thing or at least try to. Saving Dottie Holmes seemed to fit that rule perfectly.
But once her hand was off the rail, the strong pull of her weight nearly tore her arm from my grip. I lifted, strained, and pulled as hard as I could. "Move your other hand up to the top of the rail," I said. "I think I can hold you."
"Think?" she screamed.
"I can, but you have to do it now before my strength gives out."
"No," she said. "No. You'll drop me. I know you will. I killed your friend. You'll let me go."
"She's not dead. And I wouldn't…"
I looked down into her face. The terror in her eyes went straight to my heart, but the scariest thing I saw was the hard set of her mouth. She had no intention of moving her hand for a better grip on the rail, and it would be just a matter of time before she gave out or my grip on her arm did.
She began to shriek and cry. It was pitiful and only served to frighten me even more. Fight it. Be strong. You can do this.
But down deep, I didn't believe it. The pounding of my heart and the anguish of her shrieks filled my ears. The tears welled up, but I couldn't give in to them or to the buzzing in my head. I had to help her, had to, but how?
There didn't seem any way to—
Dottie stopped shrieking, and in the relative silence, I heard footsteps pounding up the staircase and the wail of sirens in the distance.
A pair of strong arms reached down for Dottie.
"Hang on, chica," Tino said in my ear. "We got this."
It was my turn to whine, but not in distress, in relief. I wanted to grab him and kiss him until his toes tingled. Of course that would have to wait unt
il later.
"Ready?" he asked.
I nodded, took in a huge breath, and held it, as he counted. "One. Two. Three. Go!"
We began to pull.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
By Thursday afternoon it had only been five days since Carlos Ramirez was killed on the beach, but so much had happened that it seemed more like five weeks.
In the late hours of Wednesday night, Tino and I had pulled Dottie back up over the rail and onto the lighthouse stairs then helped her down to the ground level. Detective Lester Marshall, along with three two-man squad cars, had responded to the 9-1-1 call Tino made when he saw the van and my Vespa, Jasper, in the parking lot. The police had arrived quickly and taken custody of Dottie Holmes.
Tino called in to BS 24-Hour Security and asked for a relief guard to patrol the beach, and one arrived in less than fifteen minutes or so. Tino and I both gave statements then left to go straight to the hospital where Fran had been taken and treated for the gunshot wound.
We met Jimmy John in the lobby.
"She's sleeping," he told us. "Pretty tuckered out. The docs said she took a small-caliber bullet to the fleshy part of her arm. Through and through—didn't hit an artery or bone. Damage to the muscle was minimal, nothing she can't take care of with some PT. They're going to keep her here a few days for observation then turn her loose. If it could ever be said that someone who'd been shot was lucky, Fran was. But, boy, she was mad as a wet hen that woman shot her. Well, you know how my Frannie is."
The tears that had suddenly moistened his eyes were contagious, and my eyes started to burn too. I leaned up against my granddad, and he put his arms around me, comforting me with those familiar arms that had held me almost all my life. We both began to sniffle.
When we pulled apart, Jimmy John said, "I promised her I'd head on out to her place to make sure everything over there was A-okay."
I nodded, accepting the tissue Jimmy John handed me. "I'll be there as soon as I go back and pick up Vader and a few personal things."
Tino had taken me back to my apartment where I packed clean clothes and a toothbrush, picked up my dog, and headed back out to Second Chance. With Fran in sickbay, someone had to be there to take care of the menagerie, and I knew for his own peace of mind that Triple J would need to spend as much time at Fran's side as they'd allow.
By the time we arrived at the shelter, Jimmy John had gone out to the lighthouse and picked up my Vespa, put it in the back of his truck, then had gone back to make sure all the animals at Second Chance were doing well.
I relieved him to either go home or go back to the hospital and had no doubt which option he'd take.
Tino stayed over with me. We were both so drained, practically the only words that had been said between us the entire night were, "So thankful you were on beach patrol."
And.
"I thank God you're safe and that I was in a position to help."
I fell asleep spooned up against Tino, cradled in his arms.
* * *
We slept until after ten on Thursday morning and would have slept longer if not for the in-house rescues letting us all know it was past time for breakfast.
It was well after noon by the time Tino had helped me feed all the animals—every species and breed—so we cooked some eggs, made some coffee, and were sitting on Fran's front porch trying to make sense of everything that had happened.
Vader began to yip and dance, and we looked up to see Sabrina walking up the rise, Rosie on a leash held in one hand. In the other hand she held a second leash with little Doogie on the end and the handles of a small bag wrapped around her wrist. She didn't look much like the Critter Communicator this afternoon. Her flowing skirts and shawls and layers of chains and bangles had been swapped for designer jeans, a sky blue knit top, and a pair of great-looking blue and white espadrilles. Her hair had been tucked back behind her ears and without the exotic makeup worn as the Critter Communicator, she almost looked like a normal attractive woman of a certain age—almost. There was still that haughty lift of the chin and trademark runway strut.
"Hello." She brought the two animals up the steps with her. "Quite a night, wasn't it?"
I agreed. "It was. Can I get you some coffee, Sabrina?"
"Thank you, no." Her quintessential Castilian accent was MIA today. "We're pulling out soon, heading back to LA. Show to tape. The police have given us permission to leave. Paco and Evan are waiting for me back at the motor home." She smiled at Tino. "You know, the RV?"
He winced.
She went on. "Paco is slowly coming to terms with the guilt he's had over feeling so gratified that Carlos is gone. I hope he can work through it all right. And Evan, well, that man's been pretty darn sweet to me lately. I just might give him a promotion." She winked, and I felt my face go warm.
She reached down and let Rosie off-leash, and the pretty little piglet squealed and ran to Vader. The two cuties touched noses, smelled each other's bums, and then went to snuggle together at the far side of the porch.
Sabrina bent and scooped up Doogie. He looked up and licked her chin in a display of adoration. "We're going to get along just fine, this little guy and me. He's told me he really loves the motor coach, and even though he's never seen a pig before Rosie, he's confident they can learn to get along. Rosie asked to come and see Vader. She's feeling quite vulnerable without her collar and wanted his reassurance she's still beautiful without it. I hope the police can return it to us soon."
Tino and I exchanged a look that translated to skepticism.
Sabrina reached into the bag and withdrew a thick envelope which she handed to Tino. "For you, young man, with my utmost gratitude. It's Augustine, isn't it?"
That made me smile. No one called him Augustine except his mother. But that was the way Sabrina was. Heck, she called Jimmy John James after all.
"Yes, ma'am. What is this?" He looked up at her in question.
She smiled. "You found my Rosie, and then, according to Lizzie's grandfather, you helped Lizzie hold that Holmes woman until the police could take her into custody. Why, she killed poor Carlos." She paused to sniff sadly. "Then turned sweet Rosie loose to run free on the beach. Who knows what terrible thing might have happened to a defenseless little pig?" She cleared her throat. "There's five thousand dollars in that envelope, the money I set aside for the reward. I gave the other five thousand to Lizzie, along with a few hundred extra for helping me post the reward to begin with."
Tino's jaw dropped. He looked down at the envelope in his hand. "I don't know what to say."
Sabrina smiled. "Just say 'thank you,' young man."
And Tino did, three times.
She set Doogie back on the ground and bent down to where Rosie and Vader were cuddled together.
"Rosie will be coming with me, Mr. Vader," she said. "But I know how much she loves you, and I promise to bring her back to see her big brother as often as I can. I don't believe sympathetic souls should ever be torn asunder. In the meantime, here's a little something to remember her by." She reached into the bag again and brought out a little pink plush toy pig. It wore a tutu and a "diamond" collar. Vader sniffed it, licked it, and—I was pretty sure—he smiled.
Sabrina picked up Rosie, and she and Doogie went down off the porch.
Vader whimpered once, twice, and then trotted to the edge of the porch to watch them without any further sign of distress.
At the bottom of the steps, Sabrina turned back. "And we'll see you soon, Vader."
Vader sat and began to wag his tail. Maybe this woman was a legit critter communicator after all.
Sabrina added, "Oh, and Lizzie, please tell your grandfather I visited Fran at the hospital this morning and made sure she understands that Mr. Jones's heart belongs solely to her. I figured that out the first time I saw him look at her."
My heart warmed to the Critter Communicator, and I got up, went down the porch steps and hugged her, being careful not to squeeze Rosie in between us. "I'll be sure to tell him
. And thanks again for the reward." She'd given me an envelope similar to Tino's earlier that morning.
"You're welcome. Put it to good use, now." She drew back and walked away, saying, "Well, La-La Land and all the sweet critters in need of counseling are calling me home. But don't worry. I'm sure you all will see us here again sooner than later."
I watched her walk away for a while then turned and went back up to sit beside Tino.
He'd opened the envelope and was staring at the cash inside. He looked up as I sat down in the chair opposite his at the patio table. "I never saw so many Benjamins before." He had this sort of whimsical look on his face.
I grinned. "Handsome dude, wasn't he?"
He was quiet for a while, and then he began thoughtfully, "This is a lot of money. More than I've ever seen in one place."
"You deserve it," I said.
"I'll give it to my mamacita," he said. "She's done so much for me and my sisters. She works so hard. She's the one who deserves it."
"You should keep some of it for yourself."
"Half of it."
"Keeping half of it and giving half of it to your mother is still very generous," I said.
"Not keeping half. Half to Mamá, half to you. You can use it for school."
I was stupefied. "School? You're giving me $2,500 for school when I know you hate the thought of it?"
He smiled, took a good hold on the seat of my chair, and pulled it right beside his so he could put his arm around me and hold me close. "You need to follow your dream. I know that now. I was a dope to even think of asking you to choose between me and your dream. I'm so sorry." He handed me the money, and I almost laughed. I'd set that same amount aside for Second Chance Animal Rescue out of my share. "Take this," he said. "Put it with what you've already saved and enroll this fall. I'll be so proud of you when you are Doctor Jones. Finish what you've started, chica."
I was crying for real, tears streaming down my face. I shook my head. "But—"
Divas, Diamonds & Death: a Danger Cove Pet Sitter Mystery (Danger Cove Mysteries Book 15) Page 17
