“Did you lose something, Emily?” His voice was pitched low, his mouth almost against my ear.
I stood still, blocking him from getting past me and perhaps cleaning the remnants of sugar off the table and the floor. I repeated inanely, “Lose something?” I stared at my bag and the napkin I’d left on our table.
“Why were you bending over and looking at the floor?”
Quickly, I made up a likely story. “I thought I kicked something, and I checked to see if it might be someone’s earring, but all I saw was a piece of . . . I think it was a nut or a crumb.” I still didn’t meet his gaze.
“The moon’s up. Come for a walk on the beach with me.”
The moon had been up for hours. “I promised my friends I’d wait here.”
“You’ll be nearby. You’ll hear their cars arrive. Besides, you’ve already eaten and the kitchen’s closing.”
“The kitchen is staying open for my friends.”
“Why are you lying?”
Finally, I turned to look him in the eye. “I’m not. After you left, the hostess came and told me they’d wait. They like Samantha. The bride.”
“Come with me.” His cajoling tone sent shivers up my spine.
“I can’t.”
He gripped my arm just above the elbow. “You can, and you are.” He squeezed so hard he was pinching a nerve.
Chapter 32
I didn’t want to disturb the other diners or the staff. I kept my voice as quiet as Alf’s. “Ouch. Let me go.”
He repeated, “You’re coming with me.” He pulled at my arm.
Locking my knees, I resisted, but he was bigger and probably stronger. The rubbery black soles of his shoes had good treads. The soles of my sandals were flat leather. As if I were wearing skis, I slid unwillingly behind him.
It was time to stop trying not to make a scene. I yelled, “Let me go!”
Diners and waitstaff turned their heads toward me. With my free hand, I grabbed the nearest thing, the platter of desserts.
It was heavy. I couldn’t hang on to it with only one hand. It tipped. The sample desserts started sliding downward. I tightened my grasp and hurled the entire thing at Alf. It slammed into his upper chest.
He lost his grip on me and fell flat on his back on the floor. The platter landed upside down on his face.
People ran toward us. Hoping for help, I turned toward them.
Two elderly men grabbed my arms.
Their female companions arrived only seconds later. “Why are you holding her?” one of the women demanded. “That man had his hand on her.”
The other woman agreed.
The two men didn’t let go of me. One insisted, “She attacked him. See? She’s standing up and he’s . . .”
The hostess and a couple of waiters knelt beside Alf. The hostess lifted the tray. Alf’s face was covered with meringue, lemon and pecan pie filling, crème brûlée, and cheesecake, complete with gobs of bright red cherry topping.
I wanted to giggle about giving Alf everything on a silver platter, but I managed to restrain myself. “Serves him right,” I muttered.
The men tightened their hands around my arms.
The restaurant staff swabbed some of the goo off Alf’s face. As soon as his eyes were uncovered, he glared at me.
One of the men holding me announced, “You assaulted that man. I’m placing you under citizen’s arrest.”
One of the women snapped, “That’s ridiculous. No man should be able to force his date out of a restaurant if she doesn’t want to go.”
The other woman, however, pointed out, “She ruined a lot of perfectly good desserts.”
The two men’s grasp became painful. Apparently, the loss of baked goods was enough to turn the tide against me.
The restaurant staff helped Alf to his feet.
“Let’s all wait here calmly,” I suggested. “The police are on their way.”
The woman who had complained about the ruined desserts ordered, “Don’t clean anything up yet. It’s evidence against her.”
I’d definitely lost her support, but I agreed. “Right. Don’t change anything.” Hoping the hostess would fulfill her promise of not cleaning the table and the floor around it until after my friends arrived, I sent her a pleading look. She smiled and nodded as if all of this was bachelorette party fun.
Alf leaped to his feet, dashed to the door, shoved it open, and ran out into the night.
His departure must have stunned my captors. They relaxed their hands.
Knowing that Brent and Misty would arrive soon and might be pulling into the parking lot that very moment, I wrenched myself free and tore outside after Alf. I told myself that I wouldn’t get close to him. I just needed to see which way he went so I could tell Brent and Misty.
“Catch her!” one of the men behind me yelled.
“I’ll be back!” I called over my shoulder. “Watch my purse.”
The door shut behind me.
Alf had been right that the moon was up, but it was only about half full and was not yet reflecting on the lake. A walk on the beach would have been less than romantic. I didn’t think that walking on the beach had been Alf’s goal, however. His goal was probably more like dragging me into the water and attempting to hold me down or pushing me into the gray sedan and driving me to a spot where he could stop me, forever, from telling the police what I had pieced together about him.
Although the resort didn’t seem to have any lights on its road or paths, the moonlight was enough for me to see Alf’s white shirt bobbing along. He was running down the resort’s road toward his cabin.
My cornflower blue sweater might have blended with the shadows, but my yellow dress was almost as pale as Alf’s white shirt. Afraid that diners and resort staff might chase me and prevent me from finding out where Alf was heading, I ran, but I stayed far behind him and hoped that the sound of his feet hitting the gravel would prevent him from hearing mine. And that he wouldn’t turn around.
Hanging back wasn’t entirely successful. I was almost at the driveway to Birch cabin when the road curved, and I lost sight of him. If he understood that I knew he’d killed Zippy, he would probably jump into that gray sedan and flee.
I did not want to be on or near the resort’s narrow road when he raced past in the car. He might do a better job of hitting me than he had on Saturday when Dep’s sudden action had saved Nina and me. I didn’t dare continue in the direction Alf had been going. Turning back toward the restaurant where I could meet Brent and Misty wouldn’t be safe, either.
Hoping to conceal myself, I stepped into a thicket of bushes and small trees at the side of the road. The moonlight didn’t penetrate well between the branches of trees above me.
I heard footsteps on Birch’s wooden porch. There was a sound like a screen tearing, the yowl of a highly annoyed cat, a crash, and then a muffled curse.
Alf’s voice. Not the phony sexy one, but the angry one.
A window rattled as if Alf were trying to shake it out of its frame.
The rattling stopped.
Hard shoes hit the wooden steps leading down from Birch cabin’s porch. I thought I heard someone running down the gravel driveway, someone who was trying to be quiet.
Something rustled in the brush beside me.
Ears flat against her head, and the rest of her body double its usual size, Dep streaked out of the woods and into the road.
Chapter 33
Dep galloped toward the lodge. All sorts of terrible things could happen to a kitty in the woods at night. She was used to the safe confines of our yard, our house, and Deputy Donut.
Ignoring the need for stealth, I dashed after her down the moonlight-speckled road.
Joyful barking erupted. Dog tags jingled.
Barely slowing, I looked over my shoulder. The big fluffy puppy galumphed down the road from the direction of Alf’s and Kassandra’s cabins, and toward Dep and me. In the darkness I could barely see more than the white patches in the puppy’s fu
r. He did not appear to be carrying sheets of paper.
I hoped that Dep would stop, arch her back, and allow me to capture her, but she seemed to have forgotten the tricks she’d used to scare the dog twice before. She also seemed to forget that she had never learned how to back down trees. She scooted up the broad trunk of a tall pine tree. Its lowest branches were about thirty feet up. She stopped about two feet beyond where I’d be able to reach her, clung to the trunk with her claws, and looked down at me.
I whispered up toward her, “Dep! Come down.” I held my arms out to encourage her to jump into them.
The giant puppy was no help. Sniffing, he ran around the base of the tree.
“Mew.” Fortunately, Dep didn’t attempt to climb higher.
Whimpering and wagging that giant plume of a tail, the dog stood on his hind legs, placed his front paws as high as he could on the tree trunk, and let out a muted woof.
Looking down at his puppy face, I muttered, “If I can’t reach her, you can’t, either. And if you keep doing that, she might keep climbing away from me. She could be up there all night!”
Far behind me, a whistle sounded.
I added to the puppy, “And I think you’re being called.”
The puppy paid me and the whistle no attention. He kept whimpering and jumping as if he could climb the tree as easily as Dep could.
In my fear for Dep, I’d almost forgotten about Alf.
He must have been following me almost silently. He pounced out of the darkness and grabbed my arm again. “I said you’re coming with me.”
The puppy turned around, stood up, and plopped his front paws on Alf’s far-from-clean shirt. Between the dog’s enthusiastic greeting and my attempts to jerk myself out of Alf’s grip, Alf lost his balance and fell on his back on the road.
Wagging his tail, the puppy held Alf down with those big front paws while he licked desserts off Alf’s neck and shirt. The puppy was not only huge, he was enthusiastic and thorough.
Alf flailed his arms ineffectively. “Get him off me! He’s trying to kill me!”
I couldn’t help it. I stated calmly, “No, he’s only washing your dirty shirt for you.” If the desserts had contained chocolate, raisins, or nutmeg, I would have pulled the puppy away from Alf, not for Alf’s protection, but for the dog’s. Thanks to the restaurant staff, the puppy couldn’t find much besides raspberries, cherries, sugar, and dairy products, none of which should harm him in such small quantities.
Alf yelled, “He’s going to bite my neck and sever an artery! He’s going to tear open the wound on my arm where that cat scratched me!”
I was certain the playful puppy was not hunting for blood. He was merely enjoying the unexpected sweet treats he’d found. I asked Alf, “Are you Nina Seaster’s and Zippy Melwyn’s cousin?”
Alf batted at the puppy’s front legs. “Zippy had no business disguising herself as Nina, but she got what she deserved, and now both she and Nina are out of the way of the inheritance that should be mine. And you’re next.”
A shy and very feminine voice spoke out of the woods on the other side of the road. “Zippy claimed she was almost an heir to the Seaster fortune. She also kicked me out of our apartment, wouldn’t let me have the pictures I’d been painting for months, and changed the locks.”
Alf turned his head toward the newcomer, who was staying out of reach of all of us. “Who are you? I know. You’re the waitress in the pub across from Nina Seaster’s, I mean Nina Lapeer’s, apartment. You must have worked with Nina to kill my dear cousin Zipporah.”
“I never hurt anyone.” Kassandra’s voice was farther away, as if she were backing into the woods.
I called to her, “Don’t go away. Do you recognize this man?”
She had stayed nearby. I could still understand her quiet words. “He’s the one I told you about, the man who spent Friday afternoon and evening looking out the window of Suds for Buds.”
Alf hollered, “No, I’m not. Get this mutt off me!”
I listened for the sounds of Brent, Misty, and Samantha driving up to the lodge, but footsteps pounded toward us from the opposite direction. “Havin’ trouble here?” a man asked. “Can you ladies use some help?” I recognized the drawl.
Kassandra and I both answered, “Yes.”
The puppy jumped away from Alf and would have headed toward Rodeo Rod if I hadn’t grabbed a handful of fur at the back of the puppy’s neck.
Alf sat up.
“Stay where you are!” Rodeo Rod shouted.
I froze, and so did the puppy. I still couldn’t see Kassandra.
Alf jumped to his feet.
There was a whoosh and a zinging noise and then a loud thump as Alf fell on his back on the road again, this time with a rope around his ankles.
“I told you to stay where you were,” Rodeo Rod drawled.
Chapter 34
“Untie me!” Alf sounded short of breath.
As if expecting more desserts to materialize, the puppy investigated Alf’s face again. I didn’t stop him, but Alf flapped his hands between his face and the dog’s eager tongue.
I was still hoping to hear my friends coming from near the lodge, but beyond Rodeo Rod, someone ran toward us. A flashlight blinded me. “Stay, Ivan,” a woman commanded. Bewilderment made me almost woozy. What was Detective Gartborg doing here?
I felt around the puppy’s neck and discovered a collar underneath all that fur. Grasping the collar, I asked Detective Gartborg, “Is this puppy yours?”
“Yes. Thanks for catching him. Good boy, Ivan.” She handed me a soggy piece of paper and clipped a leash onto Ivan’s collar. I hadn’t pulled him away from Alf, and neither did Gartborg. She asked, “What’s going on, Emily?”
I pointed at the man on the ground. “This is Alf Chator. I think you just gave me his family tree.”
Alf accused, “Emily chased me and tripped me.”
From bushes at the side of the road, Kassandra said, barely above a whisper, “No, she didn’t.”
I continued my introductions. “And that is Kassandra Pyerson.”
“Come out where I can see you, Kassandra,” Detective Gartborg ordered. “No one’s going to bite you.”
Arms up and looking about to faint from fright, Kassandra stepped into the glow of Detective Gartborg’s flashlight.
“You can put your arms down, Kassandra.” I’d never heard Gartborg sound so gentle before. “The police have been looking for you.”
Blinking, Kassandra raised her hands higher and stepped back.
Gartborg repeated, “Put your arms down. Forensics experts examined the paintings in the apartment where Zipporah Melwyn illegally locked you out. Zipporah painted over your signature and replaced it with hers. We’ll be returning the paintings and the apartment key to you.”
Wearing that long skirt, Kassandra appeared to almost curtsy. “Thank you.” She covered her face. Her shoulders shook.
“Don’t go away,” Gartborg told her.
Her face still covered and her voice coming out between sobs, Kassandra agreed.
I pointed beyond the circle of Detective Gartborg’s light. “And that’s Rodeo Rod.”
Rodeo Rod strode into the light. “Evenin’, ma’am, nice to see you again. This man seemed to be botherin’ these two ladies, so I lassoed him. Just give me the word, and I’ll untie him.”
Gartborg shook her head. I wasn’t sure I’d ever before seen her so completely at a loss for words. “I . . . um . . . everyone, stay where you are.”
I didn’t move. Kassandra didn’t move.
Alf pushed at the puppy’s inquisitive muzzle. “I wasn’t bothering anyone. These two so-called ladies were bothering me. I was on the ground. They were standing over me. With this vicious animal.”
“He just wants to play,” Detective Gartborg told him. She still didn’t pull Ivan away from Alf.
Alf flapped his hands at the happy-go-lucky puppy again. “Well, I don’t want to play. And then some cowboy came along, endanger
ing life and limb.”
“I told you to stay where you were,” Rod said mildly. “I wouldn’t have roped you, but you got up.”
“You’ve all had your fun,” Alf whined. “Now call off your dog, whoever’s dog this is. Ugh. His tongue is slimy.”
Gartborg shined her light on the paper in my hand. “So, you’re Alphaeus Chator?”
“Of course I am. I’m CFO of Cornwall Amherst and I demand to be released. You’re all going to hear from our corporate lawyers.”
Gartborg ignored the threat and went on with her questions. “And are you descended from Zebadiah Seaster?”
“If you say so. I don’t know.”
I spluttered, “He told me he was.”
Gartborg pointed at the family tree I was still holding where she and I could both see it. “According to this, he is.” I read as much as I could of the damp and tooth-marked page as Gartborg recited the ancestry of Alphaeus Chator and of his fourth cousins Zipporah Melwyn and Nina Seaster, whose last name had been crossed out and replaced, in handwriting, with Lapeer. Gartborg concluded, “If both Zipporah Melwyn and Nina Seaster were eliminated, you would be the heir to the Seaster fortune.”
“The Seasters are willing everything to a ranch for rescued horses and dogs.”
Gartborg answered, “Well, yes, except for that important fact. I’m surprised you know the details of the wills of Nicodemus and Jane Ellen Seaster, considering that they’re both alive.”
“It’s common knowledge. And Nina is the Seasters’ daughter. Zipporah’s only a cousin.”
“Zipporah is, or was, exactly as close to Nina’s parents as you are.”
That seemed to surprise Alf, but he didn’t confirm or deny it. “I didn’t mean to kill her.” The way he put the emphasis on the word “her” gave me chills. He muttered, “I should have left Fallingbrook sooner, but I thought you were cute, Emily. Besides, leaving before I told you I was would have made me look guilty.”
I stomped my sandal down on the gravel road. “You are guilty, and you meant to kill Nina, but when you discovered you’d killed Zippy instead, you tried again.”
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