A Candidate For Murder (Old Maids of Mercer Island Mysteries Book 2) by LYNN BOHART Page A

string of lights along the railing so that boats didn’t ram into it in the dark.
    I surveyed the area, looking for moving shadows, but didn’t see anything. No one was about.
    The lights from the far shore glistened and a breeze rattled the branches of the cherry tree, scraping them against the window. Another storm was probably moving in. No doubt tomorrow would be wet and blustery again.
    I relaxed and glanced over at the dogs, who were oblivious to all else but making mincemeat of the dental chews. Give them a bone, a chew toy, or something with a squeaker in it and they entered a state of complete nirvana. It was like drugging them.
    That’s why the second thud was only acknowledged by Minnie, who glanced at the kitchen door and then went right back to her dental stick.
    It was time to investigate. Perhaps someone had, in fact, come in very late and was knocking at the front door.
    I went to the kitchen door and listened first. A rattling sound raised the hair on the back of my neck. Then I heard a squawk.
    I pushed the kitchen door open and stepped through, allowing it to swing closed behind me.
    The shadow of a large man wearing a hoodie stood at Ahab’s cage. The patio door was open behind him, letting in a draft of cold air. Ahab’s drape was off, and the cage door was open. Ahab squawked again, and the intruder reached in and grabbed him and stuffed him into a bag.
    “What are you doing?” I erupted, starting forward. “You can’t do that!”
    The intruder glanced at me, but his face was draped in shadow. He hurriedly drew the bag closed, trapping the frantic bird inside. As I rushed across the room, he started to turn toward the open door. He was about to escape, but I snagged the back of his hoodie and yanked him backwards.
    “Come back here,” I yelled. “You can’t take him.”
    The man whipped around and shoved me away, but I came at him again, grabbing his left arm. He dropped the bag and whipped me around and put me into a headlock. I kicked over a chair and managed a short cry, which was enough to set off the dogs.
    “Shut up!” the man whispered, his forearm pressing against my windpipe. “Or I swear I’ll kill you.”
    This man was a good six inches or more taller than me and had the strength of a bull moose. I made a feeble attempt to loosen his grip around my neck, all the while gagging from the chokehold and his cheap cologne, with the dogs barking frantically in the background.
    I finally managed a strangled cry and the kitchen door swung open. Mickey rocketed into the breakfast room. Unfortunately, Mickey goes into a frantic spin when he gets excited. So my would-be hero stopped at my feet, turning like an egg beater and barking in circles.
    Good dog, Mickey.
    Minnie was still in the kitchen squealing like a stuck pig at being left behind. The man’s leg shot out and kicked Mickey, eliciting a cry of pain, which sent Minnie into overdrive.
    She must have finally taken a run at the closed door, slamming her tiny body against it. She shot through like a bullet and used the springs in those back legs to leap onto one of the chairs, launching herself at the man’s face.
    I saw her coming and pulled my head to the side just before she slammed into my attacker. There was a cry of pain, and a warm liquid ran down my neck.
    Blood!
    He let me go and began to howl louder than the dogs. I fell forward gasping for air, while he struggled with Minnie, who had attached herself to his face. Mickey continued to turn circles and bark.
    Then a cannon went off.
    “I have another barrel just for you!” a voice called out.
    My ears rang as the intruder finally flung Minnie free and grabbed Ahab. He ran for the front door, followed by two very fast miniature Dachshunds who were mad as hell.
    The dogs followed him out the front door and into the night, their very high-pitched barks ringing through the neighborhood.
    I took a deep breath and stumbled to my feet, one hand to my throbbing throat, and the