Last But Not Leashed, page 18
“Kate,” interrupted Rainbow, her social skills definitely lacking.
“Got to run,” I told an embarrassed-looking Elaine. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
My accomplice and I walked out the door. Rainbow strolled next to me, chatting about school and classes. She continued until we got to my truck when she said, “I’ll follow you.”
Her ride was a beat-up Toyota Corolla sedan. Someone had tried to camouflage a rusted dent with flat black spray paint.
I started the F-150’s engine and backed out of the parking spot. The office was only about ten minutes away, but we needed to watch the clock. Just enough time for me to quiz Rainbow on what the heck she was doing at Elaine’s office.
We’d barely pulled in next to the animal hospital when Rainbow flung open her car door and started to do a little dance in the parking lot.
For the life of me I couldn’t figure out what she was so stoked about. “Are you celebrating something?” I asked as I climbed down from the truck. “What was that all about, by the way?”
“I got it. I got it,” Rainbow sang and continued dancing to her own music.
“Hey, hey,” I said, waving my hands. “What did you get?”
“The files. I copied all the files off the reception terminal.”
Her laughter horrified me.
“You copied Elaine’s files without her permission?” My voice began to rise.
Rainbow rolled her eyes. “No, I copied Sookie’s files. That business was Sookie’s until someone whammed her in the noggin. Glenn Overmann is Sookie’s next of kin, since they’re still legally married, so technically the files are his. And we are working for him, once we signed that confidentiality agreement.”
“We haven’t signed it yet. It has to be notarized, Rainbow.” What the heck did she just do?
“Technicalities. We’re getting a jump start on everyone.” She looked at me and must have noticed the look of horror on my face. “Listen. Don’t worry. I’ll call Glenn. I’m only going to load the flash drive on my tablet. This has nothing to do with you.”
Somehow I didn’t think a jury would believe her.
“Go, go.” She shooed me with her hands. “You’re going to be late. See you tonight. Make sure you order takeout for dinner—your treat.” With those words, she slid back into her car and roared out of the parking lot.
Numb, I watched her pull into oncoming traffic without looking. A puff of black smoke backfired out of her exhaust pipe.
What the heck have I gotten into?
Sure enough, Mari had begun my one fifteen appointment. I had my coat on and was waiting in my office when she told me they were ready.
“Any issues or concerns?” I asked her as we walked to the exam room.
“No. They need to get a rabies shot for their pet’s dog license.”
“Well, that should be easy,” I said with relief. My nerves were still jangling from dealing with Rainbow.
“You’d think so,” Mari said, “but they don’t believe in vaccines.”
***
The rest of the day passed quickly, although my afternoon appointments ran late due to an unexpected bladder stone surgical emergency. I’d only just gotten into my apartment when my doorbell rang. Immediately a chorus of barking eclipsed anything I could say. “It’s all right, guys,” I told the dogs. “Desi, stand off.” Mari told me to always specifically address Desi when strangers were involved. The big rottweiler needed to know his alarm status. I pushed the curtain away from the window then opened the door.
“Hi, Rainbow,” I said. “Glad you could make it.” When I stepped aside all the canines surrounded her.
“Doggies!” she cried out and crouched down to greet each one individually. That went on for quite a while until I said, “Let’s go inside.”
Seeing her with the dogs reminded me of how petite a person she was. Probably only five foot one or two, she made up for it by wearing platform boots or stiletto heels. How she could walk in those things, I didn’t know.
“Let’s go inside, babies,” Rainbow told the dogs, who swept into my house, three tails wagging their approval. Over her shoulders hung two large purse/messenger bags. A stylish gray coat worn over dark boots kept her warm. Gone were the spangles and heavy makeup except for the ever-present false eyelashes.
“Where can I work?” she asked, wading through the excited dogs. “Kitchen table?”
“Sure.” My official office was inside the hospital, but since this definitely was not hospital business, I wanted to keep her away from it. “I’ll work over here, on the coffee table.”
Rainbow took a quick glance at my whiteboard, full of different colored arrows and names with question marks hovering over the letters. Most of the time I wrote random ideas that occurred to me. Sort of brainstorming by markers.
“Do you need anything?” I asked.
In the kitchen, Rainbow was making herself at home. She’d divested herself of coat and bags. A new-looking laptop computer rested on the kitchen table, with two other tablets and several additional devices unknown to me. She’d brought her own extension cords and swiftly connected them all up, like a spider unfurling its legs.
“What’cha got to eat?” Rainbow didn’t look up, intent on something on the screen.
“Not too much.” The dogs were busy munching their food, but my cupboards looked a little naked.
“Let’s get takeout. Chinese is good. I’ll have tofu moo shu with extra pancakes, and a side of stir-fried broccoli. I’m mostly vegan.”
I stood there thinking about my order when she blurted out, “Hurry up and call it in. I’m starving.”
This must have been why Rainbow was always being fired. If she spoke to a boss like that, she’d be toast.
Meanwhile, Desi had finished his food and, after a long stretch, walked over to Rainbow and lay down at her feet with a grunt.
So much for a collaborative relationship. Since I had the restaurant’s phone number on speed dial, I placed our takeout order. The last time I’d eaten Chinese food was here in the apartment with Luke, when things were good between us. Associating takeout with Luke was another habit I needed to let go of.
“When will it be ready?”
I started, for a second forgetting Rainbow was here.
“Twenty minutes.”
“Why don’t you get going? In case it’s ready early.”
There was something about her eagerness to get rid of me I didn’t like. “I’ve got a better idea,” I told her. “Why don’t you pick it up, Rainbow, since you’re in such a big hurry?” The truth was I’d suddenly realized I didn’t want her to be alone in my apartment, not after the hack she performed on Sookie’s computer. Her answer to my request was unexpected.
“Now you’re catching on.”
Surprisingly, we worked well together. I suggested we track both women who passed away, Sookie and Posey. I did all the phone interviews and hard-copy checking involving the actual person, their habits, friends, interests, and work. Rainbow worked on their electronic presence. Then we tried to piece together what they did in the last four weeks of their lives. Anything unusual got put on the whiteboard.
My sources were mostly Daffy and Cindy, Posey’s coworkers; Sookie’s assistant, Elaine; and any of Sookie’s clients who would talk to me.
Tackling Posey’s life was pretty straightforward. She lived modestly and worked several part-time jobs including her shift at Circle K. Her home was a second-floor apartment in a large family home, a one-room studio outfitted with a hotplate and small refrigerator. One shared stairwell led to the driveway, so the landlord often saw his tenant. Posey’s lease was a strict one: no pets, no loud music after ten p.m., and a host of petty restrictions. The upside was cheap rent. One of her coworkers mentioned she thought Posey seemed particularly excited the week before her death, but no one else I spoke to noticed anything unusual.
Her landlord said she paid her rent on time.
Sookie, on the other hand, lived a more chaotic existence. Everyone described her endless battles with Glenn. He wouldn’t agree to the terms of the divorce. He constantly verbally and physically harassed her. No one had anything good to say about her ex, and most believed he killed her. Everyone seemed to know about the boyfriend in the city whose first name might be Morris, but that didn’t help much.
“Sookie was full of life,” Daffy said during our phone call. “Being with her was invigorating. There were always new projects, new ideas she was working on. She was a creative force of nature.”
Others weren’t so kind. One of her former clients expressed annoyance about a project that dragged on, even after paying in full for an overhaul of her kitchen cabinets. Another commented on Sookie’s design, complaining that although it was innovative, it wasn’t practical for her or her family. The Oak Falls Community Center, on the other hand, had been thrilled with how professional her lectures were and had decided to offer her another seminar on the topic of her choice. It seemed as though you either loved her or hated her.
I was waiting for several people to call me back when I realized I’d forgotten one important source.
“Excuse me, Rainbow. Can I ask you something?” I’d stood next to her for a few minutes hoping she’d stop, but she hadn’t looked up from her monitors or acknowledged me.
“What?” Her voice sounded annoyed.
“Do you think your mom would talk to me about Posey?” I figured a friend could give me some background info on the Circle K clerk.
“What day is it?” Rainbow asked.
“It’s Tuesday.”
The girl looked up at the ceiling for a moment then answered, “Go ahead and call her. Casino nights are Wednesday and Saturday.”
“Your mom works at a casino?”
Her laugh didn’t sound funny. “If you call gambling with money you don’t have ‘working,’ then yes, she works at every casino within a hundred-mile radius.” She scribbled a number down on a piece of paper. “Her name’s Linda.”
I felt odd calling while Rainbow sat nearby so I diplomatically moved as far away as I could and dialed the number. In about five rings a woman gruffly answered.
Once I explained who I was she became much more friendly. Unfortunately, I also noticed Rainbow’s mom was slurring her words.
“Posey should have talked to me,” Linda said, her voice choking with emotion. “Suicide like that is a horrible thing. Thank God I wasn’t there.”
No, I thought. But your daughter was.
“Did you have any idea she was depressed?” I asked.
There was the sound of someone lighting a cigarette, and then Linda answered, “Posey was always depressed about one thing or another. It all boiled down to no money and a crappy job. I kept telling her to come to the casino with me, but lottery tickets were her big deal. Every week Posey played lotto, Powerball, Mega Millions, and Scratch Off.”
“How much did she win on those?”
“Like a buck here, a buck there. Go for broke, I used to tell her.”
“So nothing much out of the ordinary the last few weeks?”
“Naaah.” Linda paused to take a drag of her cigarette. “Well, she had taken my advice and prettied herself up a bit. We were having lunch, and she told me she took my advice and went for broke.”
“Went for broke about what?”
“She never said.”
Were those the words of someone contemplating suicide? I asked Rainbow’s mom what she thought.
“Truthfully,” she said, “I don’t know. She tried to off herself before, and I didn’t see that one either. Drew up a secret will that time and gave me everything.” Linda paused to blow her nose. “Last time I saw Posey she seemed pretty happy. She’d even bought me a present for New Year’s, a fancy china cup for my tea. It’s covered with forget-me-nots.”
I listened to her sobs and said, “I’m so sorry, so sorry you lost your friend,” until the crying stopped.
After receiving a text, Rainbow abruptly left, saying she had to meet someone. I wasn’t that sorry to see her go. The dogs and I got ready for bed, the icy night air on their walk making the heated apartment that much more enjoyable. I telephoned my Gramps and asked him what he thought of Linda’s recollections of her friend Posey.
Gramps thought for a while before replying. “I’m no expert, but I’ve read that some people who decide on suicide actually appear happier, or euphoric, before they die. Psychologists think it’s because they are at peace with the decision and are looking forward to ending their lives. Giving away possessions, cleaning their homes, writing a suicide note are all part of their letting go. Then there are others who kill themselves with little warning. Perhaps impulsively.”
His words hit home. One of the members of my veterinary class had committed suicide. Supposedly she had planned everything out. Only a few details about her death were released, but she’d given some textbooks away, and even gifted her expensive stethoscope to her former lab partner.
Another one of our class jumped to his death after failing Topographical Anatomy. Not many people know that veterinarians have a high rate of suicide.
“As much as we try,” Gramps said, “we can’t see into another’s heart. Were Posey’s friends surprised by her suicide?”
“Not really,” I answered. “The only thing that surprised them was the method, and how public it was.”
“So you’re seeing if there is some kind of connection between the organizing woman’s death…”
“Sookie Overmann.”
“Sookie’s death, and the death of Posey, who worked at Circle K, right?”
“Right.”
“Didn’t you mention Posey was writing a book?”
“Yes.” I took a moment to remind him how I’d scooped the notebooks containing her historical mystery out of the dumpster.
Gramps coughed a bit, then asked, “Did they help at all?”
I was embarrassed to admit I hadn’t read them yet.
“Well, I suggest you start.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
After I hung up with Gramps I sat on the sofa, snoring dogs all around me, and opened the first notebook from the stack of three I’d rescued from the garbage. The emotional wear and tear of the last week had taken up so much of my time that Posey’s books had been overlooked. A quick look at the inside cover pages revealed they were numbered. I brewed a pot of tea and started reading.
Now, I normally don’t have much time for reading anything but veterinary-related magazines and articles. An Edwardian Age vampire mystery with aliens was new to me. I wasn’t even sure what the Edwardian Age meant so I looked it up. The Edwardian Age referred to the time period after the death of Queen Victoria to the death of King Edward, or the start of World War One. There seemed to be differing opinions on it. That was close enough for me. My knowledge of British history was murky at best.
Before I continued, I fluffed my pillow and drew a blanket over my legs and feet. The first notebook was titled The Search for Answers. It began with the story of a young woman betrayed by those around her, mostly the men. Alone and penniless, she takes a menial job in the castle of the local duke. It wasn’t much of a stretch to assume the fictional Pansy was modeled after the author, Posey, except for the physical description. She wrote:
She was a tall girl with lusty bouncing bosoms and luxuriously long red-blond curls; men couldn’t keep their ravaging eyes in their pants when she skipped past. Many a boy longed for the touch of her elegant hand on their sobbing chests.
“Lusty bouncing bosoms?” This was quite a change from my veterinary textbooks. If Posey patterned her heroine after herself, she’d created an idealized vision. And why not? An author can create anything in their fictional world. After jotting down the Posey/Pansy connection in my notes, I kept on reading.
At the duke’s palace, the servant watches everything and everyone around her. Basically, she snoops. She tells of a grand lady who impulsively discards a gold charm by throwing it across the room. Almost instantly regretting her action, she makes her servants hunt for the piece of jewelry on their hands and knees for hours. Pansy, the servant, finds the charm and hides it in a tear in her apron hem. Soon other small items disappear in the castle, unnoticed among the piles of excess.
The fictional Pansy didn’t feel taking the charm was stealing.
Small items purloined from the palace, the lovely servant girl believed, were her rightful due. Shining jewels and gold, her birthright.
I paused. It might be a good idea to see if any petty thefts happened at Circle K or at any of Posey’s other jobs. I recognized that pattern of thinking you’re actually entitled to take things from work. But why did Posey use the word “birthright”?
Twenty minutes later during a royal banquet, I dozed off. After two sleepy nose-dives into the notebook binding, I gave up and crawled into bed.
That night I dreamt of Posey. In my dream she rode triumphant on the back of a gilded snake, slithering into people’s homes at night, stealing their trinkets as they slept.
The next morning before work I skipped to the second notebook titled True Love Blooms. This introduced the duke’s children’s tutor, who morphs into a sexy vampire each night. Pansy immediately falls for him, but their love must remain a secret. Her new lover promises to bring her wealth and eternal life. Together they begin to plot against the duke—and enjoy a number of sexual encounters in unusual places.
His vampire love flowed across her porcelain globes like peanut butter on jelly.
Posey certainly had a vivid imagination.
***
In the truck on our way to the first house call, I described the plot, so far, of Posey’s book to Mari.
“It sounds like a romance,” she commented, while booting up the laptop. “Those are really popular. Some women love to read about a strong man sweeping them off their feet.”
“Got to run,” I told an embarrassed-looking Elaine. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
My accomplice and I walked out the door. Rainbow strolled next to me, chatting about school and classes. She continued until we got to my truck when she said, “I’ll follow you.”
Her ride was a beat-up Toyota Corolla sedan. Someone had tried to camouflage a rusted dent with flat black spray paint.
I started the F-150’s engine and backed out of the parking spot. The office was only about ten minutes away, but we needed to watch the clock. Just enough time for me to quiz Rainbow on what the heck she was doing at Elaine’s office.
We’d barely pulled in next to the animal hospital when Rainbow flung open her car door and started to do a little dance in the parking lot.
For the life of me I couldn’t figure out what she was so stoked about. “Are you celebrating something?” I asked as I climbed down from the truck. “What was that all about, by the way?”
“I got it. I got it,” Rainbow sang and continued dancing to her own music.
“Hey, hey,” I said, waving my hands. “What did you get?”
“The files. I copied all the files off the reception terminal.”
Her laughter horrified me.
“You copied Elaine’s files without her permission?” My voice began to rise.
Rainbow rolled her eyes. “No, I copied Sookie’s files. That business was Sookie’s until someone whammed her in the noggin. Glenn Overmann is Sookie’s next of kin, since they’re still legally married, so technically the files are his. And we are working for him, once we signed that confidentiality agreement.”
“We haven’t signed it yet. It has to be notarized, Rainbow.” What the heck did she just do?
“Technicalities. We’re getting a jump start on everyone.” She looked at me and must have noticed the look of horror on my face. “Listen. Don’t worry. I’ll call Glenn. I’m only going to load the flash drive on my tablet. This has nothing to do with you.”
Somehow I didn’t think a jury would believe her.
“Go, go.” She shooed me with her hands. “You’re going to be late. See you tonight. Make sure you order takeout for dinner—your treat.” With those words, she slid back into her car and roared out of the parking lot.
Numb, I watched her pull into oncoming traffic without looking. A puff of black smoke backfired out of her exhaust pipe.
What the heck have I gotten into?
Sure enough, Mari had begun my one fifteen appointment. I had my coat on and was waiting in my office when she told me they were ready.
“Any issues or concerns?” I asked her as we walked to the exam room.
“No. They need to get a rabies shot for their pet’s dog license.”
“Well, that should be easy,” I said with relief. My nerves were still jangling from dealing with Rainbow.
“You’d think so,” Mari said, “but they don’t believe in vaccines.”
***
The rest of the day passed quickly, although my afternoon appointments ran late due to an unexpected bladder stone surgical emergency. I’d only just gotten into my apartment when my doorbell rang. Immediately a chorus of barking eclipsed anything I could say. “It’s all right, guys,” I told the dogs. “Desi, stand off.” Mari told me to always specifically address Desi when strangers were involved. The big rottweiler needed to know his alarm status. I pushed the curtain away from the window then opened the door.
“Hi, Rainbow,” I said. “Glad you could make it.” When I stepped aside all the canines surrounded her.
“Doggies!” she cried out and crouched down to greet each one individually. That went on for quite a while until I said, “Let’s go inside.”
Seeing her with the dogs reminded me of how petite a person she was. Probably only five foot one or two, she made up for it by wearing platform boots or stiletto heels. How she could walk in those things, I didn’t know.
“Let’s go inside, babies,” Rainbow told the dogs, who swept into my house, three tails wagging their approval. Over her shoulders hung two large purse/messenger bags. A stylish gray coat worn over dark boots kept her warm. Gone were the spangles and heavy makeup except for the ever-present false eyelashes.
“Where can I work?” she asked, wading through the excited dogs. “Kitchen table?”
“Sure.” My official office was inside the hospital, but since this definitely was not hospital business, I wanted to keep her away from it. “I’ll work over here, on the coffee table.”
Rainbow took a quick glance at my whiteboard, full of different colored arrows and names with question marks hovering over the letters. Most of the time I wrote random ideas that occurred to me. Sort of brainstorming by markers.
“Do you need anything?” I asked.
In the kitchen, Rainbow was making herself at home. She’d divested herself of coat and bags. A new-looking laptop computer rested on the kitchen table, with two other tablets and several additional devices unknown to me. She’d brought her own extension cords and swiftly connected them all up, like a spider unfurling its legs.
“What’cha got to eat?” Rainbow didn’t look up, intent on something on the screen.
“Not too much.” The dogs were busy munching their food, but my cupboards looked a little naked.
“Let’s get takeout. Chinese is good. I’ll have tofu moo shu with extra pancakes, and a side of stir-fried broccoli. I’m mostly vegan.”
I stood there thinking about my order when she blurted out, “Hurry up and call it in. I’m starving.”
This must have been why Rainbow was always being fired. If she spoke to a boss like that, she’d be toast.
Meanwhile, Desi had finished his food and, after a long stretch, walked over to Rainbow and lay down at her feet with a grunt.
So much for a collaborative relationship. Since I had the restaurant’s phone number on speed dial, I placed our takeout order. The last time I’d eaten Chinese food was here in the apartment with Luke, when things were good between us. Associating takeout with Luke was another habit I needed to let go of.
“When will it be ready?”
I started, for a second forgetting Rainbow was here.
“Twenty minutes.”
“Why don’t you get going? In case it’s ready early.”
There was something about her eagerness to get rid of me I didn’t like. “I’ve got a better idea,” I told her. “Why don’t you pick it up, Rainbow, since you’re in such a big hurry?” The truth was I’d suddenly realized I didn’t want her to be alone in my apartment, not after the hack she performed on Sookie’s computer. Her answer to my request was unexpected.
“Now you’re catching on.”
Surprisingly, we worked well together. I suggested we track both women who passed away, Sookie and Posey. I did all the phone interviews and hard-copy checking involving the actual person, their habits, friends, interests, and work. Rainbow worked on their electronic presence. Then we tried to piece together what they did in the last four weeks of their lives. Anything unusual got put on the whiteboard.
My sources were mostly Daffy and Cindy, Posey’s coworkers; Sookie’s assistant, Elaine; and any of Sookie’s clients who would talk to me.
Tackling Posey’s life was pretty straightforward. She lived modestly and worked several part-time jobs including her shift at Circle K. Her home was a second-floor apartment in a large family home, a one-room studio outfitted with a hotplate and small refrigerator. One shared stairwell led to the driveway, so the landlord often saw his tenant. Posey’s lease was a strict one: no pets, no loud music after ten p.m., and a host of petty restrictions. The upside was cheap rent. One of her coworkers mentioned she thought Posey seemed particularly excited the week before her death, but no one else I spoke to noticed anything unusual.
Her landlord said she paid her rent on time.
Sookie, on the other hand, lived a more chaotic existence. Everyone described her endless battles with Glenn. He wouldn’t agree to the terms of the divorce. He constantly verbally and physically harassed her. No one had anything good to say about her ex, and most believed he killed her. Everyone seemed to know about the boyfriend in the city whose first name might be Morris, but that didn’t help much.
“Sookie was full of life,” Daffy said during our phone call. “Being with her was invigorating. There were always new projects, new ideas she was working on. She was a creative force of nature.”
Others weren’t so kind. One of her former clients expressed annoyance about a project that dragged on, even after paying in full for an overhaul of her kitchen cabinets. Another commented on Sookie’s design, complaining that although it was innovative, it wasn’t practical for her or her family. The Oak Falls Community Center, on the other hand, had been thrilled with how professional her lectures were and had decided to offer her another seminar on the topic of her choice. It seemed as though you either loved her or hated her.
I was waiting for several people to call me back when I realized I’d forgotten one important source.
“Excuse me, Rainbow. Can I ask you something?” I’d stood next to her for a few minutes hoping she’d stop, but she hadn’t looked up from her monitors or acknowledged me.
“What?” Her voice sounded annoyed.
“Do you think your mom would talk to me about Posey?” I figured a friend could give me some background info on the Circle K clerk.
“What day is it?” Rainbow asked.
“It’s Tuesday.”
The girl looked up at the ceiling for a moment then answered, “Go ahead and call her. Casino nights are Wednesday and Saturday.”
“Your mom works at a casino?”
Her laugh didn’t sound funny. “If you call gambling with money you don’t have ‘working,’ then yes, she works at every casino within a hundred-mile radius.” She scribbled a number down on a piece of paper. “Her name’s Linda.”
I felt odd calling while Rainbow sat nearby so I diplomatically moved as far away as I could and dialed the number. In about five rings a woman gruffly answered.
Once I explained who I was she became much more friendly. Unfortunately, I also noticed Rainbow’s mom was slurring her words.
“Posey should have talked to me,” Linda said, her voice choking with emotion. “Suicide like that is a horrible thing. Thank God I wasn’t there.”
No, I thought. But your daughter was.
“Did you have any idea she was depressed?” I asked.
There was the sound of someone lighting a cigarette, and then Linda answered, “Posey was always depressed about one thing or another. It all boiled down to no money and a crappy job. I kept telling her to come to the casino with me, but lottery tickets were her big deal. Every week Posey played lotto, Powerball, Mega Millions, and Scratch Off.”
“How much did she win on those?”
“Like a buck here, a buck there. Go for broke, I used to tell her.”
“So nothing much out of the ordinary the last few weeks?”
“Naaah.” Linda paused to take a drag of her cigarette. “Well, she had taken my advice and prettied herself up a bit. We were having lunch, and she told me she took my advice and went for broke.”
“Went for broke about what?”
“She never said.”
Were those the words of someone contemplating suicide? I asked Rainbow’s mom what she thought.
“Truthfully,” she said, “I don’t know. She tried to off herself before, and I didn’t see that one either. Drew up a secret will that time and gave me everything.” Linda paused to blow her nose. “Last time I saw Posey she seemed pretty happy. She’d even bought me a present for New Year’s, a fancy china cup for my tea. It’s covered with forget-me-nots.”
I listened to her sobs and said, “I’m so sorry, so sorry you lost your friend,” until the crying stopped.
After receiving a text, Rainbow abruptly left, saying she had to meet someone. I wasn’t that sorry to see her go. The dogs and I got ready for bed, the icy night air on their walk making the heated apartment that much more enjoyable. I telephoned my Gramps and asked him what he thought of Linda’s recollections of her friend Posey.
Gramps thought for a while before replying. “I’m no expert, but I’ve read that some people who decide on suicide actually appear happier, or euphoric, before they die. Psychologists think it’s because they are at peace with the decision and are looking forward to ending their lives. Giving away possessions, cleaning their homes, writing a suicide note are all part of their letting go. Then there are others who kill themselves with little warning. Perhaps impulsively.”
His words hit home. One of the members of my veterinary class had committed suicide. Supposedly she had planned everything out. Only a few details about her death were released, but she’d given some textbooks away, and even gifted her expensive stethoscope to her former lab partner.
Another one of our class jumped to his death after failing Topographical Anatomy. Not many people know that veterinarians have a high rate of suicide.
“As much as we try,” Gramps said, “we can’t see into another’s heart. Were Posey’s friends surprised by her suicide?”
“Not really,” I answered. “The only thing that surprised them was the method, and how public it was.”
“So you’re seeing if there is some kind of connection between the organizing woman’s death…”
“Sookie Overmann.”
“Sookie’s death, and the death of Posey, who worked at Circle K, right?”
“Right.”
“Didn’t you mention Posey was writing a book?”
“Yes.” I took a moment to remind him how I’d scooped the notebooks containing her historical mystery out of the dumpster.
Gramps coughed a bit, then asked, “Did they help at all?”
I was embarrassed to admit I hadn’t read them yet.
“Well, I suggest you start.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
After I hung up with Gramps I sat on the sofa, snoring dogs all around me, and opened the first notebook from the stack of three I’d rescued from the garbage. The emotional wear and tear of the last week had taken up so much of my time that Posey’s books had been overlooked. A quick look at the inside cover pages revealed they were numbered. I brewed a pot of tea and started reading.
Now, I normally don’t have much time for reading anything but veterinary-related magazines and articles. An Edwardian Age vampire mystery with aliens was new to me. I wasn’t even sure what the Edwardian Age meant so I looked it up. The Edwardian Age referred to the time period after the death of Queen Victoria to the death of King Edward, or the start of World War One. There seemed to be differing opinions on it. That was close enough for me. My knowledge of British history was murky at best.
Before I continued, I fluffed my pillow and drew a blanket over my legs and feet. The first notebook was titled The Search for Answers. It began with the story of a young woman betrayed by those around her, mostly the men. Alone and penniless, she takes a menial job in the castle of the local duke. It wasn’t much of a stretch to assume the fictional Pansy was modeled after the author, Posey, except for the physical description. She wrote:
She was a tall girl with lusty bouncing bosoms and luxuriously long red-blond curls; men couldn’t keep their ravaging eyes in their pants when she skipped past. Many a boy longed for the touch of her elegant hand on their sobbing chests.
“Lusty bouncing bosoms?” This was quite a change from my veterinary textbooks. If Posey patterned her heroine after herself, she’d created an idealized vision. And why not? An author can create anything in their fictional world. After jotting down the Posey/Pansy connection in my notes, I kept on reading.
At the duke’s palace, the servant watches everything and everyone around her. Basically, she snoops. She tells of a grand lady who impulsively discards a gold charm by throwing it across the room. Almost instantly regretting her action, she makes her servants hunt for the piece of jewelry on their hands and knees for hours. Pansy, the servant, finds the charm and hides it in a tear in her apron hem. Soon other small items disappear in the castle, unnoticed among the piles of excess.
The fictional Pansy didn’t feel taking the charm was stealing.
Small items purloined from the palace, the lovely servant girl believed, were her rightful due. Shining jewels and gold, her birthright.
I paused. It might be a good idea to see if any petty thefts happened at Circle K or at any of Posey’s other jobs. I recognized that pattern of thinking you’re actually entitled to take things from work. But why did Posey use the word “birthright”?
Twenty minutes later during a royal banquet, I dozed off. After two sleepy nose-dives into the notebook binding, I gave up and crawled into bed.
That night I dreamt of Posey. In my dream she rode triumphant on the back of a gilded snake, slithering into people’s homes at night, stealing their trinkets as they slept.
The next morning before work I skipped to the second notebook titled True Love Blooms. This introduced the duke’s children’s tutor, who morphs into a sexy vampire each night. Pansy immediately falls for him, but their love must remain a secret. Her new lover promises to bring her wealth and eternal life. Together they begin to plot against the duke—and enjoy a number of sexual encounters in unusual places.
His vampire love flowed across her porcelain globes like peanut butter on jelly.
Posey certainly had a vivid imagination.
***
In the truck on our way to the first house call, I described the plot, so far, of Posey’s book to Mari.
“It sounds like a romance,” she commented, while booting up the laptop. “Those are really popular. Some women love to read about a strong man sweeping them off their feet.”
