I swung up, grabbing the bottom branch, and began to scale the tree. The wind buffeted my hair as I climbed to the topmost branch, and I shimmied to the window.
It was open.
Sounds of a scuffle came from inside. I shoved my way through the window and tore through the hallway. I was going to kill my father.
But apparently not unless Meg was going to get him first. She was swinging a blush-pink hand mixer at my father, who was bleeding profusely from his nose. Also, one of his fingers was at an odd angle.
I ran toward them and narrowly missed being brained with the kitchen appliance.
Meg shrieked when I appeared in her peripheral vision. The beater flew out of her hands and conked Leif on the head.
He cursed and stumbled, tipping backward to fall down the narrow staircase.
“Oh shit!” Meg cursed. “My mixer better not be banged up.”
“How come you’re not dead?” I asked.
“My bestie is in the police force.” Meg shrugged. “She taught me a few tricks, especially since things can get heated at town hall meetings. Never hurts to be prepared!”
At the bottom landing, my father groaned.
“Too bad he’s still alive,” I said, putting myself between Leif and Meg.
“You ungrateful, worthless—”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “Heard it before. Don’t care. I’m calling the police.”
“You’ll never find me!” my father declared, jumping up then staggering down the stairs.
“Don’t,” Meg said when I started to run after him. “He’s not worth it.” She petted her hand mixer as we made our way downstairs. Sirens blared in the distance.
“I think your sister sent the police here,” I explained as we walked out onto the porch.
Blue and red lights flashed. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw that the neighbors on the street had gone out onto their porches to watch the commotion. Several people were on the street, gawking and filming something with their phones. I blinked in the flashing lights.
“Is that my father?”
“Holy moly,” Meg said. “Is that an alligator?”
My father was groaning on the ground. A six-foot-long alligator had his leg in its viselike jaws.
A sewer manhole cover popped open, clanging onto the street. Mr. Boyde popped his head out.
“I got him!” He cackled. “Behold, people of Harrogate! I give you the great Harrogate alligator!” He stared up at the clouds. “Grandpa, I have vindicated you!”
“I need a drink,” I said.
“You owe me!” Mr. Boyde yelled, heaving himself out of the sewer then tossing his walker on the street.
“Help me up! Help me up!” he demanded. I ran over, giving a wide berth to the reptile, and hauled Mr. Boyde out of the sewer.
“You don’t have any proof that thing’s been living down there,” Art hollered, trotting over, waving his cane around.
“I bet you bought that on one of those dang websites, eBay or Craigslist or whatever it’s called, and planted it here.” Art gestured to the gator with his cane. The reptile released my father and snapped at the old man. Several women screamed.
“Catch him before he runs away!” Mr. Boyde demanded.
“I don’t think my father is going anywhere,” I said as Leif groaned on the ground, clutching his leg.
