Murder On The Menu: The 1st Nikki Hunter Mystery (Nikki Hunter Mysteries) (22 page)

“Wait,” I said over my shoulder. I turned toward the stateroom. “I’ll need my keys to get into the office.”

Keys make an excellent weapon when gripped firmly and directed at the eyes. Plus I had a canister of pepper spray in my bag.

“I already have your keys,” he said, grabbing me by the hair again. He jerked me back against him and gave me a shove toward the steps. When he released me I spun around, coming up under his gun arm and grabbing his wrist with both hands. I pushed upward, trying to loosen his grip on the Glock, but he was a lot stronger than I was, even with the adrenaline rushing through my system. He wrenched free and slammed the gun into my forehead. I staggered backwards, dizzy from the blow, and fell to my knees.

I wiped the blood from my forehead and glared up at my captor. If he wouldn’t let me near my purse and the pepper spray, maybe I could get close enough to scratch his face. Get some DNA under my fingernails for the forensics people to discover after I was dead, and leave some marks he wouldn’t easily be able to cover. Of course I was feeling reluctant to piss him off just now. One more push and he might kill me first and search my office for the fictitious flash drive later. I was in no hurry to die.

He pointed the gun at me and took a step back. “Let’s go.”

I leaned against the steps and pulled myself up. My forehead was throbbing and my legs felt like they wouldn’t support me. I climbed up into the pilothouse with Derrick close behind me.

I keep a machete next to the door in case there’s an earthquake and I need to cut the dock lines in a hurry. I looked down at it as I passed through the small room. I was afraid I wouldn’t be fast enough.

The fear was paralyzing me, keeping me from taking any action that might save my life. Like a deer caught in the headlights, I could see my own doom coming and was too frightened to get out of the way. I’d never been in a life and death situation before, and I was disappointed by my reaction, but that did little to change the panic I was feeling.

I walked out the pilothouse door. The night air was bracing. I took a deep breath and thought about jumping in the water. I felt lightheaded, I’m a poor swimmer, and the Bay water is icy, even in the summer. Besides, I didn’t have a clear shot at the water from where I was standing. Instead I pushed off hard from the deck, jumping over the steps onto the dock and hoping to throw Derrick off balance with the motion of the boat. He was behind me, his forearm around my neck, before I could take two steps.

“Behave yourself,” he muttered in my ear.

He held the gun in his left hand, the muzzle pressed against my jaw, as we walked down the dock. His other hand gripped the waistband of my jeans. The gun I could handle, but the feel of his gloved fingers on my lower back was intolerable. Held at this angle, the gun was likely obscured by my hair. In the dark, the matte black Glock wouldn’t be visible from more than a few feet away.

I remembered the loaded Ruger I keep in the office under my lap drawer. He’d have to give me my keys to get into the office, or risk the time it would take to try each one. The same thing would be true with the desk. Surely he’d trust me to unlock a drawer. After all, he had my gun.

I tried dragging my feet to slow things down.

“Keep moving,” he whispered. “I’d hate to have to kill any of your neighbors.”

I walked on, periodically wiping the blood from my head wound to keep it out of my eyes.

When we reached the end of the dock and turned left I felt rather than saw the black streak in front of my face. It was like a hot gust of wind and it landed, teeth first, on Derrick’s left wrist. Everything dropped into slow motion while a dozen things seemed to happen at once.

D’Artagnon’s body slammed into Derrick and the impact knocked me aside. The Glock went off with a deafening crack and a flash of light, and I felt the burn on my temple. I sat down hard on the concrete dock as the gun flew out of Derrick’s hand and skidded away. Derrick hit the dock next to me full force. I scrambled on hands and knees after the gun. D’Artagnon released his grip on Derrick’s wrist and was leaning toward his throat when Derrick backhanded the pup hard enough to knock him into the water just as I retrieved the Glock.

I pulled myself up into a shooting crouch and pointed the gun at Derrick. Assuming I wouldn’t shoot an unarmed man, he lunged at me. This time I was ready for the attack, I was pissed, and I had a weapon. I sidestepped to my right and slammed the Glock into his left cheek as he turned. He covered his face with his hands and I kicked him in the balls as hard as I could. When he bent at the waist clutching his injured package I clobbered him on the back of the head with the Glock again. Good thing I didn’t have my finger on the trigger.

With Derrick temporarily incapacitated I reached over the side of the dock, grabbed D’Artagnon’s collar, and helped him climb out of the water. He shook himself nose to tail, spraying salt water all over me, licked my left hand once, and then promptly clamped his jaws around Derrick’s exposed throat.

D’Artagnon’s people, Kirk and Jonathan, had appeared on deck, wondering what the hell was going on. I told them briefly how he’d saved my life, shouting to compensate for my inability to hear due to the proximity of the gunshot, and asked if I could borrow a cell phone. Kirk fished his out of his pocket and leaned over the rail to hand it to me.

I felt the dock vibrate rhythmically behind me and turned, expecting to see another neighbor awakened by the commotion. Elizabeth came running down the dock in a short cotton nightgown and bunny slippers. She looked back and forth between me with the Glock in my hand and Derrick with D’Artagnon at his throat. She was speechless. Elizabeth is rarely speechless.

I quickly dialed 911 holding the phone tight against my ear with one hand, still holding the gun on Derrick with the other. I got a recording. A moment later a California Highway Patrol operator came on. I asked to be connected to the Redwood City emergency dispatchers.

I explained the situation to the dispatcher and asked her to page Detective Bill Anderson. She assured me that help was on the way.

Finally Elizabeth spoke. “D’Artagnon must be getting tired. Should we call him off?”

After a moment’s consideration I decided she was right. He’d probably need a tetanus shot too.

“Good boy, D’Artagnon,” I said. “You can let go now.”

He wagged his tail, but did not release Derrick.

Kirk told him to drop it, but he maintained his grip. It finally took both Jonathan and Kirk to drag the snarling, slobbering beast from Derrick’s throat. Remarkably, the skin on his neck was barely broken. What a good dog.

Bill arrived a few minutes later, followed by four uniformed officers. After they’d heard my story a still dazed Derrick was cuffed, Mirandized, and taken away in a patrol car with lights flashing. Bill stayed behind to take my full statement, and to make sure I was okay.

Once Derrick had been removed and I’d given a full report of events to Bill, I started shaking badly. In spite of the balmy weather my teeth were chattering and I began to feel the head wound. I sat down on the dock and wrapped my arms around D’Artagnon, who licked my face causing me to dissolve into tears.

I waited until the uniforms gave me a receipt for the Glock, which was being taken as evidence, so I could reclaim the gun when the case was resolved. Then I allowed Elizabeth to drive me to the emergency room. Bill had gone to the station to handle the paperwork.

My forehead didn’t need stitches, but the doctor used a butterfly bandage to hold the split flesh together. He cleaned and bandaged the gunpowder burn on my temple, and suggested I have the stippling removed by a plastic surgeon as soon as possible. He examined my eyes, telling me how lucky I was, and said the ringing in my ears would probably dissipate in a few hours.

When we got home from the hospital, Elizabeth walked me to my boat. The emergency room doctor had given me a couple of Norco for the pain, and I was feeling a little bit wobbly. She helped me get out of my clothes and gently tucked me into the bunk.

“You want me to stay, honey?”

“I’m fine. But thanks for asking.” I glanced at the bedside clock. “Is it really two a.m.?”

“Yes. I’m taking tomorrow off. I’ll check on you in the morning. Get some sleep.”

She kissed my bandaged forehead, and let herself out.

I dozed for a while, but when my cell phone sounded from my purse I nearly jumped out of my skin. Who would be calling at this ungodly hour?

I dug the phone out of my bag, and looked at the number on the screen.

“Elizabeth?”

“Hi, honey. I just wanted you to know I let Detective Hottie in the gate. He’s on his way.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“No problem. Sweet dreams,” she said, and giggled before hanging up.

I grabbed a short terry cloth robe off the floor and covered myself before climbing up the companionway and sticking my head out the pilothouse door. Standing on the dock next to my slip was Detective Bill Anderson, illuminated only by the light shining through my port holes.

“You coming aboard?” I asked.

“If you’re not too tired for company.” He looked pretty ragged himself.

“Come on in,” I said. “I’ll make coffee.”

Bill smiled at that. Probably remembering the Kona I’d served him when he came to my office. He followed me down the companionway, mirroring my actions by backing down the steps. I enjoyed the view as he descended. Bill Anderson has an exceptionally fine ass. My face flushed as I busied myself with the coffee maker.

Bill seated himself at the galley table, watching me in my little terry cloth robe as I fussed with the filter. When I’d finished the set up and switched on the machine I turned to face him. He scooted over a little and patted the settee. I eased down beside him.

He stroked my forehead gently with his fingertips, sending little jolts of electricity all the way to my toes. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I said. “But ask me again in the morning.”

He gave me a slow smile and tilted his head. I licked my lips self-consciously. His eyes lowered to watch the motion, and then he leaned in and kissed me.

Epilogue

D
errick Howard was charged with five counts of first-degree murder with special circumstances, and was convicted in less than six weeks. I think the process was accelerated because the judge refused to allow the media into her courtroom.

It turned out Derrick
had
left a trace of his DNA behind. One of his eyelashes had been found inside a knife wound on Andrew McConnell’s back.

My testimony made a difference too. Derrick had confessed everything to me, and PIs are excellent witnesses because we’re trained to commit details to memory. The second PI Derrick had hired was also a witness. This was the tall red-haired man I’d seen outside my office who had followed me in the Volvo. His name was Jim Sutherland, and he testified that Derrick had requested that he follow me and give him daily reports. The night I’d found Derrick aboard my boat he’d called Jim on his cell phone and told him the job was over and he could go home. Jim had stuck around long enough to see one of my neighbors let Derrick in the gate, and he’d been on shore watching as Derrick led me down the dock, not to mention the chaos that followed.

Derrick is appealing his sentence now, and will probably continue to do so for the next decade. His attorney tried for a diminished capacity plea based on Derrick’s personal history of childhood sexual abuse at the hands of his father, but the D.A. was able to prove premeditation. When the press published Derrick’s photograph, the owner of a knife shop in Oakland came forward and testified that Derrick had purchased the knife with the spikes on the hilt the day Laura was killed.

The morning after Derrick was arrested I had received an e-mail from my friend Michael Burke, saying that Fred did his banking at Wells Fargo and did not rent a safe deposit box or a storage locker. He asked if I was interested in hearing about Fred’s indecent exposure arrest. I e-mailed him back, thanking him for his help, and took a rain check on any additional information about Fred. This was out of character for me, but I’d had enough of other people’s insanity to last me a while. Michael and I made plans to have dinner.

Fred called my office during the height of the media circus that surrounded me, saying he’d been fired after details of his sex life hit the tabloids. He asked if I’d like to make it up to him. I declined.

I never did get a return call from Gerald Kuhlman, and he remains something of a curiosity to me, although it didn’t surprise me that he chose not to represent Derrick at trial. An attorney who represents politicians has to be careful about his image.

Kate came to court every day, and when it was over, outside the Hall of Justice, she slipped me an envelope with three thousand dollars in it.

“A little bonus,” she said. “I can never thank you enough for what you’ve done for Laura. I should have known what was going on in my own family. I should have seen what a monster Derrick was. Maybe the signs were always there and I just ignored them. I’ll never forgive myself for not protecting her, but I hope she can somehow forgive me.”

“I don’t think you can blame yourself for not seeing through his mask, Kate. Sylvia didn’t even know, and she’s his sister, and a psychologist.” But we both knew she would blame herself for the rest of her life.

I considered refusing the reward, but I had earned it.

We shook hands and parted on the courthouse steps. I silently wished her luck with what was left of her future.

D’Artagnon and I have been taking long walks in the Bair Island Nature Preserve. I also took him with me the day after Derrick was sentenced, when I brought flowers to Laura’s grave. He sat on the ground next to me while I told her about what had happened since her death, that her father hadn’t gotten away with it, and that it looked like he’d spend the rest of his life in prison. I cried over the injustice of what had happened to her. After that visit, in spite of my tears or maybe because of them, I felt a sense of peace.

When the trial was concluded Bill took some vacation time and I taught him how to sail. He learned quickly, once his stomach was empty. With practice he’ll probably become a decent first mate.

~THE END~