Murders of a Feather, page 20
Once again he chuckled. “It’s about time. So you’ve got a date for Valentine’s Day?”
“Yes, I’ve got a date for Valentine’s Day. I’m as surprised as you are.”
“Tell me a little about him, Katie. What does he do for a living?”
Gramps always cut to the chase. “Mike’s a mixed-animal veterinarian based near Rhinebeck. That means he works on large and small animals. We met at one of my farm calls. He was delivering triplet goats, and I was examining a litter of puppies.”
“Very romantic so far,” he said with a chuckle.
“I got him confused with someone else and thought he was married, so we started off as friends.”
“Best way to begin a relationship. Your partner should be your friend, too.”
“Some partners of mine should have stayed in the friend zone,” I commented, thinking of Luke. We’d been great friends, but there’d been plenty of warning signs I chose to ignore.
“So, tell me more.”
“He graduated from Cornell ahead of me, and his grandparents ran a dairy farm. He’s kind and thoughtful and gentle and a very good veterinarian who cares about his clients and patients.”
“Just like you, sweetie. He sounds cut from the same cloth. This one I’d love to meet.”
“Only one thing, Gramps,” I said. “He’s not sure about continuing to practice or heading back to school and going into research or teaching.”
“In other words, he’s trying private practice for now to see if it’s a good fit. That sounds like a practical plan.”
“I’m hoping to spend more time with him, but I’m feeling guilty. Cindy wanted help in solving Babs’s murder, but I’ve learned very little. The chief and the rest of the police aren’t getting much further either. No witnesses, no clues, except for the coffee cup.”
“What coffee cup?” he asked.
After I told him what we suspected, he agreed with our premise.
“We older people develop pretty set habits,” he explained. “If she always washed out her cup and dishes, she wouldn’t suddenly put a dirty cup away. I’d consider it a deliberate act on her part. Babs sounds like a pretty smart woman.”
“She was.”
“Then, if she served her killer coffee, she must have known them, or felt comfortable being alone with them in the hospital. Now you have to figure out who. I’d rule out anyone who showed antagonism to her. I doubt she’d want to have coffee with someone like that.”
“I agree. Unless they wanted to make up with her.”
“You’ve got a point,” he said. “You might want to check out her other acquaintances.”
What he said made sense. I took another sip of tea and wrote myself a note.
“It’s important that the victims get justice, Gramps. That someone is punished for these crimes, however many people are involved.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning we might be looking at two murderers. The car thing doesn’t add up. They found José’s car pulled off a forestry road, with Alicia’s purse but only José’s phone inside with no charge. Alicia’s phone hasn’t been found. That stumps me. In case of an emergency, I would have expected one of them to keep their cell phones with them.”
Gramps thought a moment before saying, “One thing I’ve noticed. You kids are never without your cell phones.”
“That’s true. Plus Alicia loved to take selfies. They’re all over her media sites. If they were planning a wedding, wouldn’t they want pictures?”
Gramps coughed then cleared his throat. “That’s supposition, but anything’s possible. Perhaps her phone is at the bottom of the lake? Can’t they track her phone with one of those apps?”
“Listen to you talking apps.”
Gramps ignored my technology comment. “If you discover something, turn it over to the police right away. Don’t keep any information to yourself. That makes you less of a target.”
“Okay.”
He cleared his throat. “Remember, kiddo, you’re a veterinarian, not a detective.”
I’d heard that line before but not paid it much heed. “Gramps, I’m going to blame you for my crime-solving curiosity. Who brought home his investigations and taught me how to proceed in a logical fashion?”
“That must have been me. What was I thinking?” he laughed.
“Thinking about your cases removed me from my real-life problems, helped me climb out of the gigantic hole I’d dug for myself after Mom and Jimmy died. Did you know for a while I wanted to become a fire investigator like you?”
“I’m glad you didn’t. Working cases with you helped me too,” he confessed.
“Don’t worry about me so much,” I told him. “I’m sitting here in my office at the hospital with my pepper spray in my pocket, an upgraded alarm system, new outdoor cameras, and one dog who barks at anything—birds, squirrels, leaves…”
“Alright, I know when to stop. Keep me posted, Katie, and if I can help out, I will. I trust your instincts.”
“Which one of your lady friends will be your Valentine date this year?” I asked him, with a valiant attempt to change the subject. “Vicki? Or the widow you do ballroom dancing with?”
“Some things must remain a mystery to my granddaughter,” he said. “But I’ll send you pictures of the big V-Day celebrations.”
“Sounds good.”
“Then, Dr. Detective. See if you can figure it out.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I forced myself back into detective mode. What Gramps said made me think. Did I know much about Babs and her friends? Or enemies? I decided to ask Cindy how the cleanup of Babs’s home was going.
“Why don’t you come over and find out?” she said in a slightly exasperated voice.
“You okay?” I asked her.
“Sorry, but this is sort of rough. I’m thinking about my kids going through my stuff when I’m dead. A great way to spend Saturday night.” It was unusual for Cindy to be so morose.
“Want some help?”
“I’d love it,” she answered. “Maybe bring a healthy snack over? No chips, please.”
“Define healthy.”
“Anything Mari doesn’t eat. Just joking. I caught her eating some grapes the other day.” Cindy had been trying to get Mari to improve her diet since I’ve known them.
“Okay. See you soon.”
Driving into town I debated where to pick up Cindy’s snack. A veggie/vegan place had opened up that specialized in salads and sandwiches to go. I figured it should be perfect.
The parking lot of The Green Revolution was surprisingly full. After pulling in, I reached for my backpack then stopped. Two people exited the store holding hands, quickly walking toward a newer-looking SUV. After hopping inside, they paused for a quick embrace and kiss.
The affectionate couple were Rob and Nora, the roommates of the murdered couple José and Alicia. Interesting. I’d suspected Rob had a flirting thing going with his receptionist, but now he’d added another woman into the mix. Unlike Mike and me, he didn’t seem to care who saw him. It also suggested Rob wasn’t overwhelmed with grief.
Nora also appeared to have recovered quickly from her roommate Alicia’s death. Maybe they simply found solace together. Or something like that.
When Cindy opened the door at Babs’s place, she’d been crying. I followed her inside into the living room packed with neatly labeled cardboard boxes—the graceful midcentury modern furniture almost hidden behind stacks of stuff.
“Thanks for coming over,” Cindy said, blotting her eyes. She sat down on the sleek sofa, a box of tissues nearby.
I decided to give her a few moments to herself, so I brought the food into the kitchen and looked around for some plates.
“What did you end up getting?” Cindy called out.
“Some sort of veggie quinoa and chickpea thing for you and Caesar salad with grilled chicken for me.”
“Thanks. Sounds good,” she said with little enthusiasm.
“What’s upsetting you so much?” I asked when she joined me at the kitchen table.
She popped open the plastic lid of the premade salad. “I found her day planner Babs had two trips booked. One trip to Japan and another to Southern Italy and France.”
“Was she traveling with anyone?” I hoped Cindy had come up with another name we could contact.
“Doesn’t look like it. They’re tours. She paid as a single traveler.”
It felt wrong eating lunch at Babs’s kitchen table while… Once again that image of her lying still on the surgery table overwhelmed me. It must have shown in my face because Cindy admitted, “I’m having a tough time today. Plus, so far we have nothing. Nothing! Only the Xanax in her coffee cup. No clues, no suspects, no one to inherit her stuff. I feel like a big failure.”
Cindy hated loose ends. If she saw a problem, she fixed it. This must be an added frustration.
“What can I do to help?” I asked, finishing the final bite of grilled chicken on my salad.
Cindy picked up a notebook and glanced down at one of the pages. “Could you take a look in her office and go through the paperwork in her file cabinet? Don’t worry. I removed all the legal stuff. Then tackle her day planner from last year. She’s got a stack of old ones, but that’s as far as I got. See if you uncover any notations or correspondence about family.”
“Okay.” After disposing of my trash and recyclables, I made my way down the hallway to the door Cindy had indicated. I didn’t expect what was behind her office door.
The room was large, probably five times bigger than my small double-closet-sized office. Someone must have taken down a wall to make this space. Custom off-white wooden bookshelves lined one side, with a built-in wine cooler and bar sink. She’d opted for bright white walls and ceiling, which made the space feel even bigger. Double French doors led to a patio, with stems of slumbering espaliered roses waiting to burst into bloom in spring.
A comfy office chair upholstered in pale gray leather sat in front of two short filing cabinets.
Now I try to store everything on one or more of my electronic devices, but Babs, like Gramps, grew up in a paperwork world. I decided to get an overview of her filing system first, then concentrate on each section individually.
As I expected, both filing cabinets were neat and well organized alphabetically. I passed by the Auto and Garden files, but stopped at Health records. The HIPAA laws didn’t matter now. Death cancels privacy, at least in this instance with Cindy as acting executor. I removed the thick file and placed it on the desk.
The file dated back almost fifteen years, with mostly routine visits to a women’s health clinic in Kingston. Quickly scanning forward, I came across a record of gall bladder surgery seven years ago and a visit to an internal medicine clinic. So far her only chronic condition seemed to be mild hypertension. The next few years were all routine with once-a-year visits to the women’s health center and her primary care physician. Then, I hit pay dirt.
Two years ago, Babs slipped and fell outside the CVS in town on a patch of ice in front of their door. She tore several ligaments in her left knee and suffered a hairline fracture of her kneecap. A lawsuit was filed on her behalf by our victim, Alicia. Bingo! Backtracking through the paperwork, I noted that Babs was first seen in the emergency room, then transferred to an orthopedic group that included José. Bingo again! For rehab, she went to Rob’s Wellness Depot clinic in Oak Falls. A third Bingo!
So, two years ago, Babs was in contact with both of the victims and one of the roommates. But the money trail petered out with all of their deaths, or did it? I couldn’t see CVS hiring a hit man to wipe everyone out because of a slipping lawsuit.
Nor did I believe a twisted twin sister waited in the wings.
After putting away the medical file, I opened up her investment portfolio. It was complicated, with multiple investments shared by Vanguard and Fidelity, an active e-trade brokerage account, and several dividend statements. I couldn’t make sense out of it, but I did come across a familiar name and business card paper-clipped to the top of an investment proposal.
When I told Cindy, she wasn’t surprised about the injury, but she was surprised to hear Bruce’s name.
“You mean Bruce drew up some kind of investment plan for her? Can you tell if she acted on it or not?”
“Beats me.”
“I’ll have to copy this and turn it all over to the detectives investigating the murders. Plus notify the estate lawyer.”
“Cindy. This is getting weird.”
“Very weird.” Cindy sat back and stared at the ceiling. “I remember that whole tripping incident,” she said, pausing in her inventory and packing. “I visited her in the hospital and a few times in town. But I didn’t ask the name of the lawyer or her physical therapist or anything like that. She could still drive herself to her appointments because the injury was to her left knee, so I wasn’t that concerned. I know it seems odd that everyone feels interconnected, but Oak Falls is a small town. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”
The headlights moving on the road below flashed and faded.
Cindy didn’t think much of this coincidence, but I did.
“You know, you never told me the terms of Babs’s will or who the beneficiaries are. I think we were so overwhelmed…”
“I don’t think I even read the whole will until a week ago. There was so much else to do as far as identifying her property and protecting it while the lawyer searched for heirs. Plus my regular work at the animal hospital, plus the house, plus the kids.”
“You have a very full plate.”
Cindy ran a tight ship. Even tight ships can founder. She stood up, stretching her neck and back.
“Honestly, it’s overwhelming. There is a large list of beneficiaries, mostly with gifts of jewelry or furniture. The estate is divided in half with close blood relatives receiving one portion and the rest going to animal charities. I suppose I could copy it and go over it with you. I’m probably not supposed to do it, but at this point, I don’t care.”
Cindy took a few cleansing breaths. “Okay. Feeling better. Back to work.”
Working your way through a dead friend’s possessions made you face the inevitable. I thought of Babs planning her vacations, expecting years of comfortable living ahead of her.
“If you want, I’ll keep sifting through the paperwork. But there’s an additional task to do. I’m going to talk to Bruce.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
A surprise email popped up in my inbox the following day. Beginning immediately, Cindy expanded our lunch hour at the animal hospital to a leisurely two hours. With all the estate documents and added responsibilities, she desperately needed time to catch up.
“You and Mari deserve a bit of extra time too,” she explained between clients. “Do whatever you want. Get a massage. Speak to a therapist. Whatever. Just don’t expect this to go on past mid-February.”
Pronouncement over, Cindy hurried back to her desk.
That gave us shy of two weeks to “relax.”
“I might stay right here and take a nap on the sofa,” Mari told me.
“Take one for me,” I quipped. “I’m in detective mode.”
During my extended lunch hour, I intended to drop in on the accounting firm Bruce worked for and scope it out. I arrived a little before noon. On the off chance he was there, I’d changed, put on makeup and a nice dress, and brushed my hair out. When I opened the front door, I immediately noticed Bruce leaning on the check-in desk, chatting someone up. Dark wood coupled with dark paint cast a gloomy vibe.
The receptionist, a pleasant-looking blond in her late thirties, didn’t appear to be thrilled with his attention. As I approached the desk, she said, “Bruce, I’m sorry but I’ve got a load of messages to get through. I’ll speak to you later.” She picked up the landline phone, dialed a number, and turned her back to him.
He moved away, almost running into me. No recognition in his eyes. When I last saw him, I wore a fuzzy hat jammed on my head and a bulky winter jacket with a muffler wrapped around my lower face. Most of his short conversations with us were with Mari. Did he not remember who I was?
“Can I help you?” he asked, smoothing his hair.
“I don’t have an appointment,” I began. The receptionist still had her back to us, working the phones.
“That’s okay. Why don’t we go into my office so we don’t bother anyone?”
There was no one waiting, but I quickly agreed.
“I’m Bruce Ormnis, certified public accountant. And you are…?”
“Kate.”
“So, Kate,” Bruce didn’t bother asking for my last name. He held his office door for me. “What can I help you with today?”
“Ah,” I lied, “my grandfather needs to speak to someone about investing his retirement income. Right now, he’s relying on some Internet site.”
Bruce spluttered away at hearing Internet. “I always recommend that a personal accountant oversee investments, preferably one with asset management training such as I have. Investments should be tailored to his specific needs as an older American.”
“Well, he does have a bunch of money market accounts, some stocks, and various items of value.”
He picked up a notebook and jotted something down. “Many seniors have complicated portfolios. But, Kate, speed is of the essence. I remember drawing up a proposal for a senior, not too long ago, and before we could implement it, she died.”
Bruce looked pretty smug. Was he talking about Babs?
“You might have heard about a series of unexpected deaths here in Oak Falls.” He continued. “Very unusual, but it proves that you never know when your time will be up.” He punctuated this statement with an oddly happy smile.
“That’s interesting.” I smiled back. “Does my grandfather need copies of his investments to show you?”
“That’s probably best. I’ll make duplicates for his file. If he forgets any, we can always download them from the Internet. By the way, does he have a current will in place?”
“I’m not sure.” I wrinkled my brow as though deep in thought.
