Лори Касс - Tailing A Tabby

I hunted around in the darkness for the cushion I’d tossed up earlier. “That’s a nice forecast. I hope it’s true.”

Cade chuckled. “You, me, and all the merrymakers over there.”

Tonight’s marina party was roaring at full throttle. The two docks and multiple boats between us weren’t doing much to muffle the music and laughter. I sat cross-legged on the cushion, tempted to reach for the picnic basket, but knowing I shouldn’t start down that snack-filled road so early.

Cade and I talked quietly. He told me that he’d always wanted to spend a night in Sweden’s ice hotel; I told him that I’d always wanted to watch a horse race at every track Dick Francis had mentioned in his mysteries. Cade said he’d never been able to cook bacon properly and I confessed that I’d never once made a biscuit worth eating.

It might have been an hour later when Cade stood and stretched. “I’m getting downright old,” he grumbled. “Can’t even—“

Crash!

I knew exactly what had happened. I stuck my head out over the edge of the roof. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the dim light, I could see well enough, or almost. “That’s my bucket of rocks,” I said. “You must have kicked it over. Leave them for morning. They’re just, you know, rocks.”

But he was already stooping down to pick them up. “Can’t have a mess,” he said, glancing sideways, “now, can we?”

He stopped abruptly. With a rock in each hand, he looked straight up at me.

Chapter 20

I stopped breathing. Looked at Cade’s taut face. Looked at the stones in his hands. Looked at Cade. Had I been wrong? Had all this been a complicated maneuver to get me in a place where he could kill me and blame it on the ex-boyfriend?

“No!” Cade shouted, and pulled back with his arm, cocking it to throw.

I yanked myself back, shouting who knew what, stunned that I’d been so wrong, angry that Cade was trying to murder me, and pumped full of determination that I’d get out of this situation. Somehow.

“Leave us alone!” Cade shouted, and the rock flew across the boat’s deck and crashed against something that went “Oww!”

I lifted my head. Someone was standing on the dock. A male figure, nondescript, not short and not tall, not wide and not thin. He was standing with one foot on the dock and one on my boat, grasping his shoulder where Cade’s rock must have hit him nice and square, but it was an awkward look, because the hand doing the grasping was holding a deadly looking handgun with an attachment that every moviegoer knew was a silencer.

“It’s him,” I gasped, part of me very relieved that it wasn’t Trock, or Greg, or Hugo, or even Randall Moffit.

“Stay still,” Cade ordered. He reached for another rock, cocked his arm again, and let it fly.

Brett Karringer ducked. Cade’s stone hit a piling and splashed harmlessly into the water.

Cade was grabbing stone after stone, throwing, fighting as best he could, but there were only so many rocks in the bucket. All Karringer had to do was wait it out, and then he could come after us with the gun and do… well, whatever he’d been planning on doing.

I was yelling, shrieking for help, but the music from the party was drowning me out.

There had to be a way out of this. There had to be, but calling 911 wouldn’t get the police here anything close to fast enough.

Frantically I looked around for a weapon. I didn’t have an accurate aim—I’d always been one of those kids picked dead last for softball teams in gym class—so even if there were more rocks, it wouldn’t have done us any good. What we needed was to get that gun away from Karringer. What I needed was something… ah.

I lunged for the picnic basket. Sticking out high was the cutting board I’d stuffed in to work as a serving tray. I yanked it free.

“Minnie, call the police!” Cade shouted, still throwing rocks at Karringer.

Rocks weren’t going to work much longer and there was no time to hold a committee meeting about this. Karringer’s head was down and he was fumbling with the gun, trying to bring it up and around into shooting position.

Though the last thing I wanted to do was approach a guy with a loaded weapon, there wasn’t much choice. Well, I could have screamed like a little kid and crumpled into a ball of fear, but that wouldn’t be very productive. It wouldn’t have helped my self-esteem much, either.

I sucked in a quick breath and, as quickly and as quietly as I could, climbed down the ladder. How close did I have to get? I had absolutely no idea.

With all my heart and might I wished that I’d spent more time in the backyard playing catch with my brother. If only Greg Plassey were here to give me some pointers. Then again, if Greg were here, he would have beaned Karringer in the head with that first rock and I wouldn’t have to be doing any of this. An empowerment exercise, that’s what this was.

I was aware of the stupidity of the thoughts running through my brain, but I didn’t try to stop them. If I stopped them, I might start thinking about how scared I was, and there was no way that could be a good thing.

Closer. I had to get closer…

A loud metallic crash hit the dock, followed by an odd wooden thumping sound. Cade had run out of rocks. He’d heaved the bucket at Brett and now he had nothing left to throw.

It was up to me.

Karringer lifted the gun in Cade’s direction. Time slowed. I saw nothing except the end of that gun, felt nothing, heard nothing except—

“MRRR!” Eddie’s yowl came from the roof.

Karringer jumped when Eddie shrieked, and let his gun arm drop.

Perfect, because I knew what had happened. That wooden sound I’d heard. The picnic basket. Eddie had oozed himself into his old cat carrier, hoping he was going to get a ride on the bookmobile. No wonder Cade had said it was heavy. Now Eddie was out and wanting off the roof.

I planted my feet, pulled my arm back across my body, cocked my wrist, and whipped the cutting board at Karringer, Frisbee-style.

“Uhh…” Karringer staggered back, his arms flailing.

I’d hit him! From the way he was clutching at his side, I’d skimmed his ribs instead of knocking away the gun, but I’d actually hit him!

Karringer staggered forward, falling against the boat’s railing, trying to recover his balance, his arms whirling.

Something long and skinny whizzed past my head. Cade’s cane thumped Karringer in the wrist. The gun clattered to the boat’s deck and skittered away.

I dashed forward and scooped it up, pulling the lethal thing out of Karringer’s reach.

He glared at me, a look full of such malevolence and hate that I took a step back. Librarians are used to many things, but pure unadulterated hatred is not one of them.

“Minnie,” Cade said. “Do you… ?”

I pointed the business end of the gun straight at Karringer’s center mass. “Yes,” I said confidently, sliding back the pistol’s chamber. “I do.” My self-defense classes hadn’t just included lessons in close combat. I didn’t know if I could actually fire a gun at a human being, but Karringer didn’t know that.

He glared at me, glared at Cade, uttered an extremely rude curse, then turned and ran down the dock. For the briefest fraction of a second, I paused. Chase him? Let him go? If I let him go, what were the odds that he’d disappear?

“I’m going after him,” I yelled to Cade as I scrambled over the railing. “Call nine-one-one!”

“Minnie, I dropped my phone. I think it’s in the water.” He stumbled over to his cane and picked it up.

I reached into my pocket and tossed my cell over to him. “That button on the bottom turns it on and—”

“Tell me in the car,” he said. “I’m coming with you.”