Free Trawling for Trouble by Shelley Freydont

her to wait for Bill, she just didn’t like it. She watched Chaz sneak toward the back of the house, wondering how many times he’d been called on to do this kind of snooping when he’d been an investigative reporter in Los Angeles. How many times he’d had to risk his life. How many times he’d had to risk the lives of others. No wonder he didn’t want to get involved.
    She promised herself she would be more sympathetic in the future. If there was a future. Maybe he wasn’t sure there would be a future. That must be why he’d kissed her.
    Chaz paused under a window. Listened. Shook his head. No one was on the enclosed porch. He continued around the near side of the house. Paused again, longer this time. Then he pointed upward and looked back at where Liv was waiting behind a forsythia bush.
    They were in the kitchen. But how many of them were there?
    Chaz was still under the window. She didn’t know what he was waiting for until she saw the partially opened window. The sisters hardly ever had to use air conditioning because of the attic fan.
    Liv watched him while she listened for the sound of a car, hopefully Bill’s cruiser. Chaz turned and held up his finger, then another. Then shrugged.
    What? Again one, two, and the shrug.
    Two people maybe? At least that he could hear. She gave him a thumbs-up. Everything seemed to stop for an eon, then Chaz bolted around the house and ran up the back steps.
    Something must be happening. Liv’s first instinct was to run after him. But discipline was called for now, no matter how much she wanted to help, or how afraid she was that Bill wouldn’t arrive in time with backup.
    She watched as Chaz yanked the back door open and stepped inside. She also heard a bark. They had Whiskey! “You better not hurt my dog,” she said through clenched teeth.
    Liv eased forward, staying as low to the ground as she could. Moved from the forsythias to a rhododendron, then to a buddleia bush—which wasn’t nearly as much cover, but she had to see what was going on.
    She slowly slid her hand through the branches and peered out. Strained to hear anything, then reared back when a pop sounded from the house. Almost immediately the kitchen window exploded into a million pieces of tiny glass shards, and Liv forgot about discipline and waiting for Bill and ran straight for the back door.

Chapter 9
    Liv didn’t even make it into the house. She was grabbed on the porch before the screen door slammed behind her. It never slammed and she realized—much later—that someone had shoved his foot in the opening to deflect the sound. At the same time he was smothering her with his palm.
    She didn’t even bother to scream. She knew who it was. She immediately relaxed, and Chaz slowly released the hand he had covering her mouth, then turned her around and put his finger to his lips.
    As if he needed to remind her to be quiet. Then again, she
had
run across the yard half tilt in full panic.
    When she finally made eye contact with him, he pointed in the direction of the mudroom that led to the kitchen.
    A man stood with his back to them, perfectly framed by the open kitchen doorway. Liv could see him brandishing a pistol at a wide-eyed Edna and Ida, who held Whiskey in her arms. The sisters must have already taken him for his morning walk, as they invariably did when Liv was not at home.
    Liv didn’t see Seamus or Gus. Hopefully they were safe somewhere else. They were ornery and maybe a little weird, but she didn’t want them to either be murderers or get murdered.
    She looked a question at Chaz, and mouthed,
Who?
    Even before Chaz could answer, the man holding the gun turned slightly, and Liv recognized Manny Corada, the manager of the fish camp.
    Maybe he and the old fishermen were in on it together, whatever
it
was. But why come here?
    Stupid question. He’d probably seen her note saying that she’d taken the fish to the