Murders of a Feather, page 21
“I see. Now, what is your grandfather’s name?” Bruce lifted his pen, ready to jot down any information on his notepad. That was my cue to leave.
Glancing at my watch I stood up. “Oh, my. Look how late it is. I’ve got to go. Thanks so much for your help.” I’d already opened his office door by the time he reacted. “I’ll call your receptionist and make an appointment if my grandfather decides to pursue this. He’s pretty stubborn.”
I practically sprinted down the hallway and almost made it out the door before he called after me. “Kate. Perhaps we could discuss this over a drink? I’ve got the rest of the afternoon free.”
Yikes. Bruce didn’t care about the ethical dilemma of dating your clients either.
“Sorry. I’m working.”
As I sped along the sidewalk I wondered if he tried to date many of his clients. So far, that’s two men with wandering eyes, Rob and Bruce, mixed up in the three murders. Maybe this flirting and office romance thing is more common than I knew.
Halfway to the truck, I realized I knew one more person who had recent contact with all three victims. Mike.
No. No. No. I thought. Okay. Get it out of your system. Mike knew Babs very well. Both Alicia and José were his veterinary clients. So what. He probably worked on the days they were murdered. He works all the time.
Wait. I recalled that Mike texted me from work on the Friday of Babs’s death. We went to Judy’s. That momentary relief faded when I remembered the rest of what he said. He was nearby.
Babs would immediately let him into the hospital. We knew the killer had at least a four-hour window. As a veterinarian, he easily could have staged her murder.
Now I felt like I was going crazy. What sort of motive would he have? Was he Babs’s long-lost son adopted out at birth? Such a soap opera plot.
With a huge effort, I moved the idea of Mike being involved out of my mind. Oak Falls is a small town like everyone said. Everybody knows everyone.
A car behind me flashed its lights. I was moving too slowly for his liking.
Enough. I could probably tie everyone in town to the three murder victims. Just concentrate on facts and stop worrying about the impossible, I told myself. Still, a little voice whispered, “Please be careful.”
Mari and Cindy scurried away as soon as our work finished. Someone mentioned a storm. With the sky overhead appearing more ominous, I decided to swing by the grocery store and stock up on both dog and people food. The packed parking lot meant everyone else had the same idea.
Wandering through the aisles, I concentrated on pantry items, canned goods and plenty of soup and chili. If we got socked in by another storm, Buddy and I wouldn’t go hungry. When I pushed my cart down the animal food aisle, I ran into a client staring at the cat food. I remembered the elderly but healthy feline she doted on. The owner held a list of canned foods her kitty would and would not eat.
“Oh, hi, Dr. Kate.”
“Hello. Buying cat food?” That wasn’t a hard guess.
“Our fur baby is so picky,” my client complained. “One day she loves the fancy tuna feast, and the next day she turns up her nose at it.”
A common complaint with some cats, I told her. I suggested she try some of the flavor enhancers available on many pet websites. Or she could cook up some of her own. A little roast beef gravy or turkey gravy went a long way toward making canned food taste really delicious. Finally, if she wanted to cook for her pet, our office provided lists of healthy pet food recipes.
I only needed a few cans for Buddy. Bella would be on a special diet for a while. As I loaded my cart with Buddy’s favorite food and some treats, my client decided to follow me around, still discussing her cat. I was slightly embarrassed by my detour into the liquor section but shouldn’t have worried. She scooped up two jumbo-sized bottles of vodka to my modest bottle of white wine.
“Stocking up in case we get snowed in,” she said in a virtuous voice. “You should get another bottle of wine, just in case.”
After a side-eye glance, I picked another bottle of wine and deposited it in my cart.
“Good for you,” she said and with a wave moved her cart toward the dairy section.
I had the craziest vision of my client and her cat sitting at their kitchen table drinking martinis together while the snowflakes fell.
I’d spent too much time in the grocery store and found myself starving. I decided to stop for takeout, buying two meals so I could eat one immediately and freeze the second. Unable to order while I was driving, I parked toward the back of the Lucky Gardens parking lot. My plan was to call the order in, swing by the pharmacy for a few items, then return to pick up my food. To my surprise, my go-to Chinese restaurant had posted a brand new menu on its web page. I turned off the truck and searched around for something exciting or different. Customers pulled in and out of the parking lot, most dashing in to grab a takeout order.
Trying to decide if I wanted to try the new shrimp with cashews and orange peel, I noticed yet another couple making out in their vehicle. Better get the kissing in before your breath smells like garlic, I thought. Still debating, I watched the driver open his door.
To my surprise it was Bruce. Wow. He’d asked me out for drinks only a few hours ago. Dying to know who he’d hooked up with, I stared at the passenger side window. The woman blotting her lips and putting on fresh lipstick looked like Linda Ramsey. As in Linda, who hated Alicia’s guts for stealing her husband away.
What the heck? I needed a scorecard to keep all these couples straight.
It felt like playing a game of Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon or Bacon’s Law, where you try to prove that every actor in Hollywood has some kind of connection with the award-winning actor. Only the Oak Falls version substituted Alicia for Kevin Bacon. Poor Alicia, it looks like everyone either loved or hated you—or killed you.
Not wanting to be seen by Linda or Bruce, I shifted gears and drove to the healthy eating store I’d ordered from the other day. The takeout line had ten people in it, most of them preoccupied with their phones. Since I needed food now, I opted for the fresh packaged meals in the large cooler. In keeping with the green profile, someone had painted all the surfaces green. Even the employees wore multiple shades of green.
Off to the side I saw Missy, Rob’s receptionist, perusing the shelves. She held some prepackaged breakfast granola and was squinting, trying to read the label. I maneuvered myself over to a nearby shelf and pretended to be surprised at seeing her.
“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Stretching the truth, I confessed that Rob had flirted with me and I didn’t know how to take it. Was he serious or not? That’s all the prompting she needed.
“Rob is into the conquest,” his receptionist confided to me. “I can’t tell you the number of clients he’s been involved with. He’s careful, though, to romance them toward the end of their therapy weeks. He can’t afford to lose any more clients.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Our office is a franchise,” Missy explained. “The main company sets you up with equipment, advertising, price sheets, etc. Rob has to pay a monthly fee, which he’s behind on. We might have to close. Not enough business volume.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” I asked as we moved forward in the line with our purchases.
She tilted her head, as though thinking something through. “Because I fell for lover boy’s line right after I got the job. I’m trying to save you the trouble.”
“Oh.” That didn’t surprise me at all. I did wonder why she stayed, however.
As if reading my mind, she continued, “I really love my job. The salary is good and the benefits are great. I’m an exercise fanatic, and I get to use all our equipment free of charge, any time I want. Even if the Oak Falls office closes, I’m corporate. They’ve already offered me a job at the Kingston location.”
“I’m happy for you,” I said.
“As far as Rob is concerned, I really don’t care,” she said. “Our relationship was short and mostly sweet. I knew it was a mistake early on, so I suggested we remain friends, to his vast relief. We still flirt with each other and stuff, but mostly out of habit.”
That tied in with what I’d witnessed in the rehab/spa reception area the day I dropped in on Rob.
“Let me be honest with you,” I said, lowering my voice. “My coworker was murdered, along with a woman named Alicia and her fiancé, José. Rob knew all of them. Do you think he is capable of murder?”
Missy moved in closer. “Not only is he capable, but I really think he’s already murdered someone.”
What followed turned out to be a convoluted story of a woman patient that Rob started dating while she received physical therapy for a shoulder injury. He’d book out to give her a “private session” in her home. When he ended the affair, she committed suicide by an overdose of barbiturates and alcohol.
“Why do you think he had anything to do with her suicide?” I asked, knowing that overdoses were more common than people realized.
Missy took out a credit card as the line moved along. “I’m not sure. I think she loaned him money or gave him money, too. A sugar mommy, I suppose. Anyway, I’ve got a whole folder dedicated to Rob.”
That made me pause. She keeps a “folder” of incriminating information on her boss? Obviously, this woman was no fool. I’d hate to make her mad at me.
“That’s interesting.” I tried to keep my voice noncommittal.
“He’d also transfer away patients whom he’d become a little too close to, if you get my meaning. That way Rob got rid of them before they’d run into another of his special handling patients. You know,” she explained to me as if I didn’t catch on, “the other ones he was screwing.”
So much for subtlety. “Fascinating. Do you plan on staying at your job?” I asked her.
“Definitely,” she answered with a whiter than white smile. “My hiring anniversary is almost here. Corporate has promised to bump up my salary and begin cross-training me in therapeutic massage. Really super opportunity. You get tons of tips with the right sort of massage.”
She followed that statement with a raised eyebrow.
Too bad she had dumped Rob. It sounded like they were really made for each other. Really.
Driving back home, I was lost in thought when I received a text. I pulled over to the side of the road and read what Mike wrote.
How’s your day going? Mine sucks.
My day had also been frustrating. Witnesses and possible suspects were dating each other. Leads petered out for lack of evidence. I’d listened to plenty of gossip but few facts. I felt like the murders of Babs, Alicia, and José would never be solved and that no one cared, except the chief, Cindy, Mari, and me.
Now I found myself viewing Mike with a tinge of caution. Until the chief arrested the murderer, I vowed not to give my heart away.
Another text: Spinning my wheels. Want to meet for coffee?
I might as well meet him. In case he did become a valid suspect. What kind of logic that was I didn’t know. But talking to him made me feel better.
Sure. Meet you at judy’s in 30 min?
K. See you then.
With not much time, I turned into the animal hospital parking lot and ran inside. I put away the groceries, and because I was starving, I stood over the sink and ate half my takeout. After changing my clothes and walking Buddy and Bella, I brushed my hair and put on a touch of lipstick.
“Be good,” I told the dogs before I left. Buddy picked up his new chew bone and seemed to ask what’s your hurry?
When I reached the truck, I was startled to see a crow sitting on the hood. For warmth, I wondered? Or simply to say hello?
Deep in my coat pocket I found one stray treat, so I called to the bird and held it up for him to see. As soon as I caught his attention, I put it down.
The crow quickly flew over, cawing all the way. That’s when I noticed he’d left me a present. A silver bottle cap sat on the truck hood.
When I drove out of the parking lot, I saw out of my rearview mirror all three crows sharing their snack.
Mike waved to me when I walked into Judy’s Café. He’d scored a table by the window, toward the back of the room. He stood up when I reached the table and helped me off with my coat.
“How is your day going?” he asked when I sat down.
“Obviously better than yours,” I answered.
“Well,” he began, “I had one of those depressing mornings when I had to tell several clients in a row some bad news about their pets.”
Clients don’t think about how their vets feel when they diagnose kidney failure or cancer in one of their animal patients. It hurts us too. Then, when you have back-to-back bad news to share, upset clients crying in the exam rooms, their sadness becomes your sadness. Maybe that contributes to the high suicide rate in veterinarians.
To make him feel better, I said, “One of my mentors in vet school used to tell us over and over that we have to embrace all aspects of life, from birth to death. We’re lucky in a way that in veterinary medicine we don’t have to let our pets suffer.”
Mike nodded. “It doesn’t make it easier.”
“No, it doesn’t.” I reached over and took his hand. How could I have ever suspected this kind man of murder?
We stayed there holding hands until the waiter interrupted us.
“Can I get you some coffee?” he asked.
“Yes. And what are your specials today?” Judy usually wrote them on her blackboard behind the bar, but it was too far away for me to read.
“We’ve got a mushroom quiche with salad and the desert is apple-peach pie from the Oak Falls Diner.”
“Do you need more time?” I asked Mike. By then we’d discreetly stopped holding hands and focused on the menu.
“I’ll have the special,” Mike said, “with a piece of pie.”
“Just the pie for me,” I told the waiter, who wrote down our order and scurried away.
“For a change of pace,” I said. “Let me tell you about my day.” I tried to create a synopsis of what I’d been doing, but Mike interrupted.
“You’re working at the animal hospital and trying to solve three murders on your lunch hour?” he asked.
“Sounds crazy when someone else says it,” I replied.
Mike laughed. “That’s not what I meant. Solving puzzles is what we do as doctors. I think it’s natural your curiosity spills over into solving a crime. Especially if the deceased is a friend and the police aren’t making much headway.”
His answer made complete sense. “I’m so glad you said that.”
“Of course,” he added. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I always keep my pepper spray close. My Gramps insisted on it,” I told him.
“Your Gramps is a smart man,” Mike said. “I better watch my step around you.”
We chatted away, eager to learn more about each other and quickly discovered we’d taken many of the same courses, often taught by the same professor during vet school. Mike also needed to pay down his student debt, which is why he drove an old car. I didn’t even own a vehicle. Part of my contract gave me the right to use the hospital’s old F-150 work truck, covered by their insurance. When Doc Anderson came back, that would stop, and I’d have the expense of buying a car and finding a place to live.
“One thing for sure is that this job has reinforced my confidence in running a practice, of course with a great support team in place.” I thought of how dependent I’d become on Cindy and Mari to make things run smoothly.
Mike nodded in agreement. “Here are my dilemmas. To concentrate on private practice or retreat to academia? Or continue in a mixed- or large-animal practice? Or try my hand with exotics again?”
That debate would have to wait since our food arrived, along with a freshening of our coffee. “Anything else?” our server asked.
“Not for me,” I said.
“We’re good,” said Mike. “Which reminds me. We got way off our subject, and I know this investigation is bothering you.”
“It is,” I told him. What I didn’t share was my running around town in my free time speaking to roommates, friends, and enemies of the victims.
“I’ve been mulling over what you said,” Mike continued. “And I think the key to this whole thing is Babs.”
“Why would you say that?”
He leaned back and took a sip of coffee. “Let’s start from the assumption that Babs didn’t kill Alicia or José.”
“Right.”
“So why was she murdered? It must be because she knew or suspected who did it. Track Babs’s coming and going in the days between the couple’s death and her death. I bet you’ll find something that doesn’t add up.”
That was a good suggestion, but during most of that time frame Babs had worked at Oak Falls Animal Hospital. After I told Mike of my misgivings, he asked an obvious question.
“Have you spoken to the family who lives behind her?”
I had to admit they were on my list. Then something else occurred to me. “That means I need to go over our list of patients we saw during those last couple of days. Could the murderer be one of our clients?”
“Anything’s possible,” Mike said.
Before we paid our checks, I shared a picture of Bella.
“That looks like demodex,” he said. “I remember in vet school treating a rescue puppy like her in clinics. One of the students adopted her, and in six months you’d never have known she’d been ill.”
“That’s what I’m hoping.”
“She’s a pretty little thing,” he added.
Trust Mike to look past the bad and see the good.
Our farewells at Judy’s were sedate, with a mild peck on the cheek—considering it felt like everyone in the café was observing us, including Judy. Between his office and my office, we counted many residents as clients. Call me old-fashioned, but it didn’t seem professional for their local veterinarians to be making out in public.
In private was another matter.
The threatening storm clouds rolled past Oak Falls pushed along by an unexpectedly fast-moving arctic wind. I’d enjoyed being with Mike. I felt guilty putting him on the suspect list. Could someone so kind be so cruel?
