Pet in Peril

by Marie Celine

  ‘I think that’s a splendid idea,’ Dr Newhart replied. ‘Seize the day.’

  Kitty grinned. That was exactly what she had in mind.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Kitty dropped Barney off in the room, making sure he had plenty of food and water. Cats weren’t big hikers. She changed into a comfortable pair of jeans and a lightweight gray sweater. Though it was fall and they were in the mountains, the weather report for today promised the temperature would be mild. She laced up her sneakers, wishing she’d brought hiking boots, and hitched Fred up to his lead. He pranced excitedly and tugged at the leash to pull her along as if he knew exactly where they were going and couldn’t wait to get there.

  Kitty waved to Howie who was sauntering along the curved drive then cut across the grounds. Steam rose off the water of the Olympic-sized and dog bone-shaped pool. Loungers and tables sat scattered generously about the patio. Bright blue and green striped umbrellas jutted out from the center of the tabletops like lollipops. Two waiters skittered around serving food and drinks.

  Rick Ruggiero pulled up in a golf cart alongside Kitty as she rounded the corner past the half-dozen tennis courts. ‘How are you today, Miss Karlyle?’ Before she could answer, he added: ‘I want to apologize again for last night. Perhaps it’s best if you avoid the kitchen, especially after dark.’

  Fred sniffed the manager’s feet. Kitty gently pulled him back before he left slobber all over the squeaky clean black shoes. ‘I confess I’m a little tired, but otherwise none the worse for wear. How about you? I’m sorry you had to get dragged down to the police station in the middle of the night.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me,’ the manager replied, rubbing his hands along the cart’s black steering wheel. ‘All part of the job of running a place like this.’ He waved his arm, indicating the resort grounds.

  ‘I can’t imagine what Chef Moutarde was doing there at that hour …’ She left her words dangling there. Would Rick take the bait?

  Rick seemed to shrug off any idea of there having been something unusual about the chef’s behavior. ‘Henri told me he was trying to catch up on the quarterly inventory reports.’ He smiled. ‘I have to confess that I’ve been hounding him about keeping better track of food costs.’ His hands drummed the wheel. ‘So,’ he said, abruptly changing the subject, ‘where are you off to? Can I give you a lift?’ He waved to the cart’s empty seats.

  Kitty declined, explaining that she and Fred were going to try one of the hiking trails she’d heard so much about.

  ‘Good idea. You’ve got the perfect day for it.’ Rick put the cart in gear and turned around on the narrow sidewalk. ‘I’d suggest the Matterhorn Trail.’ He pointed up the path. ‘If you follow this walkway another fifty yards or so you’ll see a large wooden sign that traces the paths of three of our trails: the Schilthorn, the Wendenhorn and the Matterhorn. We’ve named them after three peaks in Switzerland.’

  ‘Looks like we’ve got plenty of choices, eh, Fred?’ She patted the Lab’s side.

  ‘The Schilthorn is the shortest, not much more than a half mile out and a half mile back,’ explained Rick. ‘The Wendenhorn is an easy walk and goes around the lake. Personally, I like the Matterhorn.’

  That figured. ‘The Matterhorn, you say?’

  Ruggiero nodded. ‘If you’re looking for a bit of a challenge and some great scenery, that’s the one I’d choose.’ He disappeared, the little cart buzzing down the walk.

  Kitty followed Rick’s advice. She found the large brown sign marking the trails in yellow as they snaked through the countryside. Rustically carved text provided descriptions, an indication of each trail’s distance and difficulty level. The Matterhorn wound in a five-mile loop through the mountains, coming back down on the other side of the resort. It was rated moderate. How hard could it be?

  ‘You up for it, Fred?’ Why was she even asking? Fred was always up for anything. He was a dog after all, and dogs were born ready.

  The hike began easily enough, rising slowly uphill. The path was reasonably wide and consisted mostly of packed earth with the occasional log or small boulder thrown in the mix. After tripping a couple of times, Kitty realized she was going to have to keep one eye on the ground to keep from breaking a leg or landing on her face. Fred, of course, being fleet of foot and possessing whatever innate ability it was that every dog possesses, was having no troubles at all.

  There were few hikers on the trails. Many, like her, had brought their pets. Though did that guy with the Dachshund really think his dog was enjoying the strenuous walk? With those cute but stubby legs? She didn’t think so.

  Others hiked solo or in small groups. Kitty watched jealously as one couple hiked past her holding hands. That should be her and Jack. A couple of ridiculously fit-looking men and women came along pedaling madly on mountain bikes, grunting as they whizzed past. Kitty couldn’t begin to imagine how they managed the steep incline. Some folks were cut out for the Iron Man competition; she feared she wouldn’t even be competitive in the Marshmallow Man competition.

  About two miles in, with the sun beating down and her unexercised muscles and limbs squawking, Kitty paused, leaning against a large Douglas fir for support, taking in deep, rasping breaths. Fred, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content. She regretted she hadn’t brought snacks and water for both of them. The air was cool and dry. Her throat was parched and the sneakers she had on were designed more for long shopping trips to the mall than hiking up the sides of mountains.

  Kitty’s phone vibrated in her pocket. She’d turned off the ringer for her meeting with Dr Newhart. ‘Yes?’ It was Jack. Her heart jumped. ‘How are you?’ His voice was distant and crackly.

  ‘Hi, sweetie. Can you hear me?’

  ‘Just barely. Fred, don’t go too far.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘I was telling Fred not to wander away.’ Kitty explained that she was on one of the hiking trails near the resort. The land actually belonged to the California Department of Parks and Recreation. She’d spotted their sign along the trail a ways back. ‘Jack? Jack?’

  She glanced at her phone. Zero bars. She’d lost him. Kitty punched in his number from her directory and it went straight to voicemail. She hung up and tried again. Still nothing. As she debated whether or not to try a third time, her phone rang and she answered. ‘Jack?’

  ‘Sorry about that,’ he said. ‘I guess we’ve got lousy reception.’

  Sure, she had to be out in the boonies now of all times. ‘I miss you,’ Kitty said quickly, fearing they’d be disconnected once more.

  ‘I miss you, too, Kitty. I wish you could have come with me instead of having to be there.’

  He was so sweet. ‘How did your demonstration with the lieutenant go?’

  Jack groaned. ‘Terrible. Don’t get me started. You know I hate being in front of crowds.’

  She knew. Jack was fairly reserved – except when he was in detective mode. He told her what a bad time he’d had and how boring the conference had turned out to be.

  ‘What about you?’ Jack inquired. ‘Who was that guy that answered the phone in your room the other night?’ He laughed. ‘Should I be jealous?’

  Jack was not the jealous type and he’d been in love with Kitty practically from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. What he saw in her, she didn’t know, but whatever it was, she was sure glad he saw it.

  ‘That was Ted. He’s a guest here. Greg, that’s the director, roped him into participating in a spot for the show.’

  ‘I see. Maybe next time you can let him rope me. I can’t cook, but—’

  ‘Hello? Grrrr …’ Kitty squeezed the phone in her hand. They’d been disconnected again. Kitty wouldn’t mind being tied up with a rope to Jack right now. Not to mention it beat being out in the wilderness with no food or drink. And no cell phone coverage. She growled again. A clear sign that she’d been spending too much time with dogs lately.

  She moved to the edge of the trail that swept up severely on her left and
even more severely down on the right. She held up her phone and scanned the trees looking for a clear spot where she might get better reception. If she had to, she’d climb to the top of one of the big firs. Just as she saw the hint of a second bar rise up on her cell-phone screen, a hard blow to the back of Kitty’s right shoulder sent her spinning around then tumbling down the mountainside. The cell phone flew from her grip and, as she twisted her head and threw out her arms, she saw a brown hiking boot hit the ground.

  All she heard after that was the sound of her own body as she fell willy-nilly through the brambles and over the rocks. She covered her head with her hands as best she could and prayed that she would come to a stop soon.

  THIRTY

  She must have passed out momentarily. When she came to her senses Fred was standing there licking her cheek. She reached out to pet him. ‘Fred,’ she said, extending her fingers painfully. At least he appeared to be OK. ‘Oooh.’ She groaned and fell back, her head banging against a small rock. She saw more stars in that moment than a cosmonaut on the International Space Station saw in a week.

  What had happened?

  What kind of idiot had run into her? A jogger? Some nut on a mountain bike?

  Why hadn’t they stopped to help? Had she been intentionally pushed?

  Her blood froze as she heard the sound of a herd of feet shuffling down the embankment toward her and gasped. Did feet come in herds? Was she hallucinating? Delirious? Fred woofed a couple of times but his tail was wagging. She took that for a good sign.

  Besides, she was in no position to run away.

  ‘You OK there?’ It was Sheila Shepherd, the lady from the pet shelter. She had four dogs with her on separate leashes. She wore khakis, a multicolored tie-dyed peace sign T-shirt, hiking boots and a yellow bandana that held back her hair. With all the dogs and leashes fanning out in front of her in all directions she looked like a weird hippie-dog hybrid. Was she on her way to Woofstock?

  OK. With thoughts like that, Kitty was sure she was delirious. She nodded. ‘I-I think so.’

  Sheila dropped the leashes and the dogs, free to wander, danced around her and made quick friends with Fred. ‘Can you stand?’ She held out a free hand.

  Kitty reached out, stifling a moan, then hesitated. Sheila was wearing hiking boots. Had Sheila pushed her off the cliff and now returned to the scene of the crime? Possibly to see what harm she’d done? Maybe even to finish her off?

  It could even be a ruse to give herself an alibi.

  Sheila looked concerned. ‘Are you OK?’

  Kitty gulped. She let Sheila take her hand and pull her to her feet. She didn’t have a lot of options. Every bone in her body screamed but she could barely hear them because every muscle, every tissue, every organ was screaming all the louder.

  ‘Anything broken?’

  Kitty looked herself over, slowly, carefully. ‘I don’t think so. Only some scrapes and bruises.’ Her jeans were ripped in a dozen places. She could probably get top dollar for them now on Rodeo Drive.

  Sheila shook her head. ‘You gotta be careful out here.’ She wagged her finger. ‘A young girl like you shouldn’t be out hiking alone in these woods. You could get hurt. Attacked, even.’

  Kitty examined her torn hands. Her broken fingernails. That ship had sailed. ‘You seem to be alone,’ Kitty said. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Sheila plucked a twig from Kitty’s shirt. ‘I come out this way all the time. No one’s going to bother me. Not when I’ve got these guys with me.’ She indicated the dogs. ‘I like to take a few of them out at a time. It’s not healthy for the dogs to always be cooped up inside the shelter.’

  That made sense. Besides, what possible reason could the pet-shelter operator have for wanting to push her down a cliff anyway?

  ‘What’s going on there?’ A male voice sounding oddly familiar shouted from above.

  ‘Down here,’ called Sheila. ‘Give us a hand, would you. My friend fell.’

  ‘Be right there!’ called a second voice.

  Moments later Steve and Roger appeared with the Corgis. ‘Good grief, Kitty,’ said Steve. ‘What did you do?’

  Kitty cocked her head to one side. Did he really just say that? Her hand instinctively reached for a rock. Oh, not a big one. A small one would do.

  ‘You three know one another?’ Sheila scratched her jowl.

  Kitty explained that she worked for Steve and that Roger was a friend of his.

  ‘Let’s get her up on the trail and to the medical center,’ Sheila commanded.

  ‘No, that won’t be necessary,’ argued Kitty. ‘It’s OK, really. I’m fine.’ She dusted herself off, biting her tongue to keep from shrieking in agony. ‘I can walk, see.’ She tottered a few unsteady limping steps by way of demonstration.

  ‘That’s it, boys,’ ordered Sheila. ‘I’ll mind the dogs.’ She put two fingers to her lips and whistled sharply. The dogs came running. Even Fred shot to attention. ‘You two grab hold of that girl and let’s get her to the ER.’

  ‘Is that really necessary?’ Steve asked rather cattily.

  ‘We’ve got to make sure no bones have been broken.’ She poked a finger in Kitty’s face and pushed up each eyelid. ‘She may even have a concussion.’

  Kitty frowned and massaged her freshly bruised eyeballs. Up until the moment that Sheila had thrust her fingers in her face, her eyeballs had been just about the only part of her that didn’t hurt. Now they hurt like the dickens.

  Kitty put up a fuss as Roger and Steve carried her awkwardly back up the steep embankment. Neither man was cut out for action. Kitty figured Sheila could have done a better job of it all by herself. Despite her deceptively diminutive size, the older woman could probably toss her over one shoulder and hike straight up the mountain without so much as pausing to catch a breath. Kitty kept her rambling thoughts to herself. No point hurting anyone’s feelings. The guys were only trying to help.

  After what seemed like hours of poking and prodding by the same doctor who’d been attending to Eliza Cornwall the night of her admission, Kitty was pronounced reasonably whole. Dr Peter and an army of nurses now knew her better than she knew herself and seen parts she couldn’t hope to see with a good dental mirror and the flexibility of a carnival contortionist.

  ‘Nothing’s broken,’ pronounced Dr Peter, the emergency department physician. He was an affable young man who must have been in his mid-thirties, with a thick black moustache that covered most of his upper lip.

  ‘That’s good to know,’ replied Kitty.

  His eyes twinkled as he said, ‘It was touch and go there for a while, but—’

  ‘I’ll live,’ Kitty said.

  He patted her arm. ‘Yes. The nurse will be in to have you sign some papers and I’ve written a prescription for a pain medication. Then you will be free to go. Just don’t go hiking again anytime soon.’ He pulled out his prescription pad and looked at Kitty over the edge of his thick brown glasses. ‘You’re not allergic or intolerant to aspirin, are you?’

  Kitty shook her head no.

  ‘Good, then I’ll prescribe Percodan.’

  ‘That’s all right, doctor. I don’t think I’ll be needing anything like that.’ And she had no intention of hitting the trails, at least not for a very long time.

  He smiled a doctor’s all-knowing smile. ‘Miss Karlyle, you may not think you are going to need any medication.’ He arched a brow sagely. ‘But wait until tomorrow; you may wake up wishing you were dead.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘It would not surprise me if every muscle and bone in your body was singing in pain.’ He patted her hand again. ‘Take the prescription. Have it filled,’ Dr Peter suggested, ‘just in case.’ He tore off the prescription and handed it to her.

  She scanned the paper, trying to make sense of his chicken scratch. Maybe you had to be a pharmacist to read the language. Pharmacists probably had to pass at least Chicken Scratch 302 in college to graduate. ‘How is Mrs Cornwall doing, Doctor?’

 
‘Very well. Very well indeed. We’re keeping her one more day. Her body has had quite a shock to the system but she’s young and healthy. I’m confident she will make a full recovery.’ He jotted some notes on his PDA then thrust the device back in his white doctor’s coat. ‘She was very lucky.’

  ‘You mean she could have died?’

  ‘It’s rare, but it does happen.’

  Fran was waiting for her in the lounge outside the nurses’ station. ‘Girl, are you OK?’ Fran jumped up to greet her. A nurse had wheeled her out in a wheelchair. Hospital policy, she’d been told.

  ‘I’m fine, really. I’m sure it looks worse than it is.’

  ‘No, you look good,’ Fran said.

  ‘That’s a bald-faced lie and you know it.’

  They both laughed. ‘OK, busted,’ admitted Fran. ‘You look like, well, like you fell down the side of a mountain.’

  ‘What are you doing here? How did you find out where I was?’

  ‘Steve called and filled me in. I raced right over.’

  ‘Thanks.’ They were alone in the small lounge but for two nurses, one male and the other female, eating yogurts at a small table looking out on a compact, plant-filled atrium with a small koi pond.

  ‘I brought you some clothes.’

  ‘Good. I was afraid I was going to have to leave dressed like this.’ Kitty tugged at the paper weight pale blue hospital gown she’d been dressed in. She hadn’t been looking forward to being seen in public in it. ‘Is there someplace I can get dressed?’ Kitty asked the nurse.

  The nurse told her she could change in one of the small admitting rooms off the ER. Fran offered to steer. ‘That woman from the animal shelter took Fred back to the resort for you.’

  ‘You mean Sheila?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s her. Steve and Roger hung around the waiting room until I got here then took off. I told him he should stay. Steve said he had a coast-to-coast conference call scheduled with the network that was life or death.’ Fran helped Kitty into a loose-fitting skirt and blouse. ‘What a weasel. Couldn’t even stick around long enough to be sure you were OK.’