“Dorothy made me take that stupid bag,” Mr. Peterson said, slipping through the entrance to the dog park. “The one the black girl mentioned. She never would have remembered me if it weren’t for that bag.”
Kat held Tom close to her chest, shielding him from the rain as best she could. She blamed the way it had picked up for the lack of people in the park now. She, Tom, and Matty were on their own.
She decided her best option was to keep Mr. Peterson talking. If she could stall him long enough, perhaps someone else would show up before he had a chance to hurt her or the cats. With her cell phone still on the floor inside her apartment she had no way to call for help, and she refused to leave Tom and Matty to fend for themselves.
“It’s a nice bag,” Kat said, trying to come up with something to say. “Where did Lady Fairchild get it?”
“She gets all sorts of promotional items like that. It certainly makes it easier to steal from a person when they have so many things they aren’t likely to notice a few of them going missing.”
“You’re stealing from your girlfriend?” Kat couldn’t keep the disgust from her tone.
“I’m not taking anything she needs. Have you seen her house? She’s loaded.”
Kat couldn’t argue there. And, judging from the look on his face, Mr. Peterson didn’t feel an ounce of remorse.
Of course he wouldn’t, she reminded herself. The man was capable of murdering another human being. Why would he be concerned about a little theft?
“Ironically enough, that bag comes in quite handy for my purposes.” Mr. Peterson headed for a tree, taking shelter under the branches. “It’s spacious and zips at the top so nobody can see inside. I can hide a lot of items in there.”
Kat stopped walking, goosebumps breaking out on her arms. The tree Mr. Peterson had chosen was where she had found Jeff’s body the day before.
“Dorothy is such a fool she never realized I’d only started going out with her in the first place so I could get into her house.”
The missing puzzle piece fell into place. “Jeff caught you stealing. That’s why you killed him.”
“That was the inciting incident, yes. But it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
A raindrop hit Kat’s eye. She ignored it. She refused to go anywhere near that tree or Mr. Peterson, even if that meant getting soaked in a rainstorm.
Tom, however, had a different opinion. He meowed and shifted in her arms.
“You can put it down,” Mr. Peterson said. He adjusted his grip on Matty. “I see no sense in holding onto this one either, now that I have you where I want you.”
Before Mr. Peterson could release Matty—or toss her aside—the cat wrenched herself out of his arms. She landed on the grass, shooting him a nasty look over her shoulder before she turned her tail up and sauntered a couple feet away.
Kat set Tom on the ground, nudging him in the hopes that he would wander somewhere safe. But he didn’t get the message. He stood there, his eyes growing huge as he tried to take in everything.
“Tell me what happened with Jeff,” Kat said to Mr. Peterson.
“A few days ago I had let myself into Dorothy’s house. She had an appointment at the hair salon so I knew she’d be a while.”
“You have a key to her house?”
“Yes.”
“And Jeff had a key too,” Kat guessed.
“Dorothy is a very trusting soul.”
Kat folded her arms across her chest. “She probably never expected her boyfriend to take advantage of her.”
“Oh, it wasn’t just me,” Mr. Peterson said. “Jeff started it.”
Kat’s brow furrowed. “But I thought you killed him because he caught you.”
“It wasn’t as simple as you’re making it out to be. We were partners.”
Kat swayed backward a little. She hadn’t been expecting that.
Mr. Peterson leaned against the tree trunk, as if he were getting comfortable for a long story. “I know his parents and had gotten to know Jeff fairly well over the years. He didn’t have much drive. He was always on the lookout for a quick buck. So, I ran an idea by him.”
“That you would steal from people?”
“That he would start a dog-walking service, and while he was inside people’s houses he would swipe things of value. We met in this park every Tuesday morning.” Mr. Peterson swept his arm to encompass the area around them. “He would bring the valuables he had pilfered that week, and I would take them home to sell online. Then we’d split the profits.”
“Sounds simple enough,” Kat said.
“It was. And everything was working out just fine until this past weekend, when Jeff caught me stealing directly from Dorothy. See, he told me about her place once, about all the stuff she had piled up and how there was no way she would notice anything missing from that mess.”
Kat conjured up a mental image of Lady Fairchild’s living room, seeing Jeff’s point.
“I realized I could make twice as much by eliminating the middleman and swiping the goods myself,” Mr. Peterson went on. “Then I wouldn’t have to share my profits with anyone. That’s when I began courting Dorothy.”
Kat recalled Lady Fairchild’s claims that she could no longer remember where she put things, and she felt sick on the older woman’s behalf. Her dislike of Mr. Peterson was growing by the minute.
“Since I knew Dorothy had a hair appointment this past weekend, I let myself into her house,” he said. “Unbeknownst to me, Jeff was on his way over to walk Muffin. Had I been on the ground floor when I heard the front door opening I could have jumped out of a window, but upstairs there wasn’t anywhere to go.”
“And Muffin was upstairs,” Kat surmised.
He nodded. “It had followed me. Jeff called for it, and the annoying little thing barked. When it didn’t run down to greet him, I ducked into a guest room to hide until Jeff left.” He glanced down at the ground, toeing the grass with one shoe. “Except the worthless cur stuck to me like a burr, barking its fool head off and alerting Jeff to my location.”
Kat was distracted by movement behind Mr. Peterson. Matty had evidently grown tired of sniffing the grass and was now sharpening her claws on the tree.
Mr. Peterson sighed. “I heard Jeff climbing the stairs, and still that dog wouldn’t leave me alone. So I tried to cover my tracks by tossing the tote bag in the closet. But I was nervous, clumsy. I had just shut the closet when Jeff appeared. Except the bag had tilted over and blocked the door from closing.”
“And Jeff saw the bag.”
“I made up a story about cleaning Dorothy’s closets to surprise her when she came home, but he wasn’t buying it. He knew she’d given me that bag. He’d seen it before, when I brought it to our meetings here.”
Kat swallowed hard. “So you killed him.”
“Not right away, no. And I would have been content to leave it at that if Jeff didn’t threaten me yesterday.”
“He threatened you?”
“After our run-in he figured out I’d been helping myself to Dorothy’s belongings without telling him. He demanded I hand over half of whatever I’d made from my solo endeavors. ‘His half,’ he called it.” Mr. Peterson snorted. “Naturally, I refused. He hadn’t done any of the work, why should he get a cut of the earnings?”
“But he was the one who told you about all the stuff in Lady Fairchild’s house,” Kat pointed out.
Mr. Peterson scoffed. “Please. That knowledge wasn’t worth fifty percent of my profits. Do you know how much goes into stealing things and selling them online?”
“No.” Kat’s hands balled into fists. “I obey the law.”
Mr. Peterson’s eyes narrowed. “Well, it’s a lot of work. I’m not just coasting. I don’t simply post things for sale and wait to get paid. I have to box things up. I have to package collectibles so they don’t break. And I have to ship everything. Do you know how long the lines can be at the post office? I’m definitely earning my money.”
A flush crept up Kat’s neck. It infuriated her that he was trying to dredge up sympathy over how much he had to do to sell stolen goods.
“But Jeff wouldn’t listen to reason,” he continued. “He seemed to think he was entitled to part of my money simply because he had found Dorothy first. That’s when he threatened to go to the police.”
“He wasn’t worried about getting arrested himself?”
“I asked him the same question, since I wasn’t going down without revealing our partnership. But he pointed out that a record of my transactions existed whereas there was no hard evidence against him. It would be my word against his.” Mr. Peterson’s jaw tensed. “Well, I couldn’t let him walk away then, could I?”
Kat scooted a little farther from the tree. She could picture how that conversation had played out, and it made her stomach turn over.
Mr. Peterson smacked his palms together, nearly causing Kat to lose all bladder control. “There, now you know everything. Of course, that means you can’t leave here alive.”
Her heart stopped beating for a second. The calculating glint in his eye made it clear he was deadly serious.
“But you already knew that,” Mr. Peterson said, pushing away from the tree.
Kat took a step backward. “No matter what you do to me, the police are bound to catch you eventually.”
“I doubt that.”
“I figured it out. What makes you think they won’t too?”
“You only figured it out because of that blabbering ninny who wouldn’t keep her mouth shut about spotting me here.” Mr. Peterson smirked. “I’ll have to take care of her too, right after I eliminate you.”
Kat realized the rain had stopped. She looked around, her spirits sinking when she still failed to see anyone else in the park. She had no idea how she was going to get out of this situation without outside help.
A twig cracked overhead. Kat looked up, spotting Matty perched on one of the branches above. She must have climbed the tree from the other side while they were talking.
Kat’s pulse quickened. If Tom had also found a safe haven, she would only have herself to worry about. In that case, there was nothing stopping her from making a run for it.
She located Tom lying mere inches away from Mr. Peterson’s feet, and her heart sank. She couldn’t run now. Tom was too friendly for her to trust that he wouldn’t approach Jeff’s killer for belly rubs.
“What the—Ouch!”
Mr. Peterson’s shout drew Kat’s attention back to him. When she saw the reason for his outburst, her jaw dropped open.
Matty was clinging to his head. She had her front paws buried in the hair by his temples and her hind paws braced on his shoulders. Her teeth were bared, and Kat thought she might be hissing but she couldn’t hear above Mr. Peterson’s yelling.
Mr. Peterson spun around in circles, swatting at his head as if he were being attacked by a swarm of mosquitoes. But Matty held on tight, her tail swinging wildly as she fought to maintain her balance.
The sight had Kat rooted to the spot. She’d never seen Matty behave so fiercely.
Tom stood up, staring at Matty with oversized eyes. He recovered his ability to move before Kat did, slinking out of Mr. Peterson’s way.
Mr. Peterson clamped both hands around Matty’s body. “Get off me, you vermin!”
But Matty refused to let go. From the way she clung to her prey Kat had a pretty good hunch her claws were out.
Mr. Peterson yelped as he continued to dance around. When his eyes briefly met Kat’s, he howled, “Help me!”
With the shock of the moment wearing off, Kat considered whether she should try to pry Matty from Mr. Peterson’s head, not for his benefit so much as for Matty’s. She would hate for the little cat to get hurt in this scuffle.
She had just stepped forward to intervene when Tom proved once again that he was much quicker than her. He wiggled his rump and vaulted onto Mr. Peterson’s pants leg. His fur standing on end and his tail puffed up to the size of a baseball bat, he sank his teeth into the flesh above his victim’s knee.
“Ahhh!” Mr. Peterson slammed into the tree behind him. He let go of Matty and doubled over to bat at Tom. Something slid out of his breast pocket, landing on the dirt by his feet.
Matty jumped back into the tree. With his sister no longer in harm’s way, Tom released Mr. Peterson’s leg and retreated a few feet away. His eyes stayed fixed on the enemy, his tail cutting through the air.
Kat squinted at the ground, trying to see what had fallen out of Mr. Peterson’s pocket. Her heart lurched when she saw it was a cell phone.
“You’re going to pay for this, Kat Harper!” Mr. Peterson worked to drag the cuff of his pants up his leg. “If those flea-infected beasts gave me rabies, you’re going to be very, very sorry.”
His knee exposed, Mr. Peterson bent over to inspect the damage.
Recognizing her chance, Kat charged forward and kicked Mr. Peterson’s injured knee. As he crumpled with a wail, she plucked the phone off of the ground and pressed the emergency call button.
She glowered at him while she waited for her call to connect. “For the last time, my cats don’t have fleas.”