Being The Steel Drummer Part 33

I threw on clothes and opened the gun safe in record time. I stowed my gun in my shoulder holster and pulled on a ballistic vest. I hit the street at a run and made it to the back alley behind Fen House in minutes.

Jessie was at the back gate. Farrel had just joined her, out of breath. She'd run all the way there, as soon as Jessie had texted her.

"Where's Kathryn?" I asked panting.

"Inside," said Jessie. "She followed Buster into the house and then after a few minutes Nora went in too. Who knew Buster could open this gate by ramming it with his head?"

"Nora! How did Nora... And why doesn't Kathryn just come out?" asked Farrel.

"Kathryn and I saw Nora on our walk and she came along. Kathryn just texted that she thinks there's someone else in the house and to tell you that. I'll just call her," said Jessie.

"NO! Don't call! The killer could be in the house and hear Kathryn's phone. Kathryn is texting because she doesn't want anyone to hear her voice. You and Farrell go around to the front and ring the bell. I'm going in."

"Wait. Killer? It wasn't Gabe?" asked Farrel.

I shook my head, straining to see into the upstairs windows.

"But who? And why be in there?" asked Farrel.

A huge Baskerville howl rose from inside the house. It made birds flit from the trees.

"Oh c.r.a.p, go to the front. NOW. Ring the bell and then move back. And call the police!"

I slid through the gate and into the backyard. I waited until I heard the front doorbell ring to peek through the backdoor gla.s.s. Buster barked when he heard the bell. There was no one in sight. I heard the bell ring again and then, faintly, a door creaked in the middle of the house.

I squatted and squeezed through the dog door. The barrel lock on the inside was snapped off. There was a dog-head dent in the middle of the oak panel. Buster had broken into his own house because he knew something was wrong there. I could see his fresh paw prints and some human knee-scuffs following after him.

Where was Buster? Surely he'd have heard me. His ears were as big as satellite dishes.

I decided to chance that if Kathryn was hiding, she would have put her phone on vibrate.

I texted, < im="" in="" house="" where="" r="" u=""> Kathryn texted back, < 3rd="" fl.="" someone="" else="" in="" house.="" i="" think="" it's="" x.=""> I stood up, reached in my holster for my gun and listened. No sounds.

I took two steps through the mudroom and pushed open the door to Suzanne's office. I peered through the other office door for a better view into the living room. Everywhere seemed empty.

If there was anyone else in the former home of Evangeline Lavender Fen and Victoria Willomere Snow, they were either hiding on the upper floors or had headed into the bas.e.m.e.nt via the steps under the main

staircase. I scanned the floor in the little hallway between the office and the living room and found a clue that I didn't even need a big magnifying gla.s.s to see. Dusty footprints headed from the bas.e.m.e.nt door into the downstairs powder room and back. Kathryn was right. The dust clinched it. X was probably in the house.

I moved silently up the steps to the second floor. It had a large bedroom toward the front of the house and a smaller room at the back.

No sign of anyone on that floor save muddy snowshoe-sized paw prints on the hallway rug leading to the third floor staircase. Buster howled again. I could hear Kathryn shus.h.i.+ng him. I ran quietly up the stairs.

There was a large open bedroom on the top floor. It had one window on the right, facing the street and two windows facing the back. All three windows were covered by thick curtains. The room was dark.

There was no one in there, but I could smell Kathryn's perfume. I crept up to a large oak closet door, taking those big toe-pointing steps that should have been punctuated by sneaking around music.

When I got near, I heard Buster scratch the door, shake his dog tags, and then woof softly. Kathryn shushed him again.

I cupped my hands to a crack and said, "Kathryn." I tried to open the door, but it was locked.

I heard the key turn inside. It was a large walk-in. A front window overlooking the street allowed in sunlight. It picked up Buster's white spots and the rich s.h.i.+ne of Kathryn's hair.

"Fancy you hiding in the closet," I whispered.

"It doesn't suit me," Kathryn whispered back.

Buster flipped his ears. He was listening.

"Am I about to be fired or is this something Dr. Watson always does?" said Kathryn.

"Where's Nora?"

"I left her outside. Did she come in too?"

"Wait..." I was listening along with Buster and I heard what he heard. There was someone moving around on the first floor again. I heard a door creak and some steps heading toward the kitchen.

"Maybe it's just Nora?" said Kathryn.

"If it's Nora, then why doesn't she call out? I'm guessing she's hiding from who's walking around down there, making dusty footprints."

Kathryn nodded.

Suddenly Buster jumped up, barked, and ran full speed past me,

nearly knocking me over. He rocketed down the steps, crash-landing on the ground floor.

Kathryn tried to call him back, but he wasn't interested.

"What the h.e.l.l," the killer mumbled downstairs. I heard a scuffle and then a gunshot, a yelp, a strangled scream. And Buster rapidly padding two flights back to us with something in his mouth and a few dots of blood on his ear. He'd been grazed, but not deterred. He was very happy with himself.

"Bring that back, you f.u.c.king mutt!" grunted the voice.

"Uh oh," whispered Kathryn.

I nodded, clicking the safety off my gun.

We could hear footsteps coming up the stairs.

Buster said, "Woof." In full voice this time.

We all backed up. Buster turned to face the stairs. The silhouette of an angry figure with a scarf wrapped to the eyes burst into the dark room. We couldn't see a face clearly but I was pretty sure it was the person I'd suspected since the first moment I saw the wound in Suzanne's neck. And somehow even before that.

Buster tinkled his dog tags, just as the killer flashed a small silver gun in our direction.

"Stand back," I said to Kathryn, waving her deeper into the walk-in. I took a deep breath, bent my knees to make a smaller target and raised my gun, holding my other hand under it to steady it.

Buster leapt up and charged the enemy's weapon, and his tree-branch tail whipped my gun and sent it flying across the room, under a low couch against the wall.

"Oh c.r.a.p," I said, wildly calculating plan B, as the intruder who had murdered three people skirmished with Buster to regain hold of a s.h.i.+ny little automatic. Kathryn came to the closet door.

"Back up!" I shouted to Kathryn. "Get back in there! Buster, come!"

"Buster rolled over and cantered into the closet with us. I slammed the door and turned the key. The gun looked like a Stuhtline .25 ACP. A peashooter like that could kill you but probably couldn't pa.s.s a bullet through a thick oak door.

"I thought you said Buster didn't know about guns," said Kathryn as we ducked to the back of the closet.

"He learned when he saw Gabe get shot," I said as I pushed past the hanging clothes to unlock the double window and swung both panes in. "Kathryn, go. Now!"

She hesitated. "Maggie, remember when I told you about my irrational fear of heights? Aren't we safer in here?"

"Only until the realization that any key in the house will open that door. Then we'll be fish in a barrel."

Kathryn took a deep breath when she heard the doork.n.o.b rattle. She hurried through the window onto the roof. Her feet slid over the cold slate s.h.i.+ngles, but one of the metal snow birds stopped her and she was able to half-stand, half-crawl toward the next house.

I reached in my pocket to pull on my gloves, hoping they'd help me climb down off the roof.

Outside the closet, the lock held. I heard a shot thud into the door but the bullet didn't go through. Another slug came after, but nothing made it to the other side. Here's to the mighty oak.

I whistled at Buster to jump out and dove after him, holding onto the sill to keep from flying out into s.p.a.ce.

On the street, Farrel and Jessie looked up at us. They were supposed to have called the cops but as yet I couldn't hear any sirens. A second later I heard Farrel yelling into her cell that shots were being fired. That would get them here in a hurry.

Buster scrambled on the s.h.i.+ngles, then slid down the roof and right off the edge. I heard Jessie cry out. I stared transfixed as Buster plopped down onto the second floor roof, stood up, and gracefully leapt toward the yew tree next to the front door. He landed on a big branch that dipped under his weight and swung him lightly to the street, where he calmly stepped off and trotted up to Farrel. He dropped what he had in his mouth at her feet. It made a metallic ring when it hit the pavement.

I didn't have time to shake off my disbelief at Buster's Disney-style escape, because the killer was yanking open the other front bedroom window.

Kathryn was two houses along, inching her way north over the steep roofs. I followed, wis.h.i.+ng she would hurry up. Kathryn's foot slipped but she grabbed the sill of the dormer on the next house and righted herself.

I looked back and saw an arm reach out the window and begin to level a gun at us, trying to rub out the witnesses.

Just ahead, the dormer window Kathryn was steadying herself on swung in. Arms reached out, grabbed Kathryn by the collar, and hauled her out of sight.

A shot rang out. It skittled over the dormer's roof, sending shards of slate into the air.

With Kathryn now out of the way, I crouched and ran along the roofs at top speed past two more houses. A moving target is very hard to hit with a small gun like a .25 ACP.

When I got to the last house, there was nothing but a three-story drop to the sidewalk. I looked back. The killer, with scarf wrapped high to avoid identification, was taking aim again.

There was a telephone pole about four feet from the roof corner with a streetlight a yard below. The pole had a heavy guy wire angling down to the sidewalk. In moments like this, it's best not to spend too much time thinking. The pitch of the roof was too steep to walk to the edge, so I gauged the distance, took two giant steps and jumped. A shot whizzed over my head.

I caught the arm of the streetlight with both hands, then swung over and slid down the guy wire to the street, ripping the palms out of my gloves as I went.

I ran to the front and looked up, but now there was no one brandis.h.i.+ng a gun in the window.

Amanda Knightbridge had scooped Kathryn into her third floor window. I realized that it was her house we'd been climbing over.

Amanda and Kathryn came out of the house together. Before I was conscious of moving, I was holding Kathryn in my arms and she was hugging me as though the pressure itself would wipe the last fearful moments away. I looked over Kathryn's shoulder into Amanda's eyes. She nodded once, then turned and focused on the door of Fen house.

"Now you're going to fire me?" asked Kathryn, softly.

"Ow," I squeaked.

She held me at arm's length. "Are you hurt?"

"Only because you're squeezing all the toothpaste out of me."

Jessie said to me, "Now you know how I feel when Farrell is on one of those stakeouts with you."

Jessie spied Buster as he ambled his big waggie-dog body up to her. She stooped down to hug him like a giant Teddy bear.

"How did he get down to the ground?" asked Kathryn.

"Well, you may not believe this..." began Farrel. As she described Buster's flight, I looked around the ground to find the coin he'd dropped, then picked it up.

It was a 1910 Morgan silver dollar in average condition. Not particularly rare, but not something you get in everyday change.

Kathryn was looking around the group.

She and I said in unison, "Did Nora come out?"

"I believe she is still inside, with the killer," said Amanda Knightbridge in a measured voice.

Buster woofed quietly.

"We should wait for the police. They'll be here in a minute," insisted Jessie. "It's a small house; there's nowhere to go. Who is it anyway? I thought Gabe was the killer. Whoever it is probably doesn't have any more bullets.."

"The gun was a .25. From the shape, it was probably a Stuhtline. They have six shots and..."

"And five shots have been fired," said Kathryn. "Once at Buster when he went downstairs, twice into the door, twice out the window at us... So that's five. There's probably one bullet left."

I nodded. "We can't wait for the police, because there's a pa.s.sage out of the bas.e.m.e.nt.