The Coroner, page 16
She sighed. All she could think to respond was What? No doves?
She needed a shower to clear her mind and prep for her visit to Dr. Lillen. Within a half hour, Emily had was ready and grabbed a stale pastry breakfast in the lobby. She took one bite and threw the rest away. Note to self: Brown’s Bakery tomorrow.
She was on her way to the hospital when Cathy phoned to warn her that she had “had the talk” with Robert about entering Birch Acres retirement facility, and it had gone as expected. Robert had been plaintive about it to her face, but aggravation and stubbornness was simmering below his surface. Regardless, Cathy had told him that she had spoken to the residence director late yesterday afternoon and put a one-month hold on a one-bedroom until he came around to his senses and could see that he was unfit to be home alone.
“Are you going to see him this morning?” Cathy said.
“Yeah, I’m heading over now.” Emily pulled into the hospital parking lot. She noticed there was a news van trailing her. Relentless. She knew they were just doing their job, but there was nothing more she could give them. Why couldn’t they leave her alone?
“You’re on my side about this, am I right? You’ll talk to him?”
Emily didn’t argue. They had to work this out as a couple. There was little she could do about the residence situation. She needed to focus on pressing him to get that surgery or to tell her his secret. Both would be ideal, but at this point she could only hope for one.
Without even thinking, Emily steered her car around toward the back of the hospital to the first spot next to the back door. A sign above the spot read “Dr. Robert Hartford.” It had been his reserved spot since she could remember, because it led directly into the morgue. Patients and guests weren’t allowed back here, and hardly any of the other employees ever used this entrance. She jumped out of her car and dashed for the back door, then was immediately confronted by the coded entry panel. Darn it! She’d forgotten it would be locked. The reporter and cameraman were rushing toward her and were within ten yards.
“Dr. Hartford? Excuse me, Emily Hartford? Can you comment on the toxicology reports for Julie Dobson?”
Out of instinct, Emily pressed four numbers on the coded entry panel. Zero-nine-one-nine. The first digits of her birthday. The red light blinked green. It worked!
“Why was there ketamine in Julie’s system? Do you know how it got there? Is that what killed her?”
Emily slipped inside, cutting the reporter off.
Twelve years and her father had never changed the code. Amazing.
27
When Emily entered her father’s room, she noticed his color looked better, and the IV was no longer hooked up. He held a mug of hot tea on his lap and was no longer wearing pajama pants, but a pair of sweatpants and a wool sweater. His pensive face was fixated on CNN. A good sign.
“Cathy wants to get rid of me already,” Robert said, looking up at his daughter.
“That’s ridiculous. She loves you.”
“She told you about her plan?” Robert said.
“She did. She thought it would be best for you to have more consistent care than she can provide right now.”
“She’s casting me off to an old people’s home. I might as well be one of those drooling, urine-soaked, wheelchair invalids,” he growled.
“It’s not that kind of place. It’s fifty-five plus. An active community.”
“I can be active and healthy in my own home and my own property,” he said.
“It doesn’t have to be this way, you know. If you get the bypass and work hard at rehab, then you can live at home eventually.”
“You two conspired together on this, didn’t you?” Robert said.
“It’s not a conspiracy against you.”
“I’m just a burden to her now,” Robert said.
“No. You’re not. But you can’t expect Cathy to just up and leave her business,” Emily insisted.
“I’m not asking her to give up the funeral home,” he said.
“You need to be in a place where she knows you’ll be safe and taken of when she’s not there,” Emily said.
“It’s adult day care. Not how I envisioned us growing old together.”
“You gave her practically no choice by refusing to have a surgery you desperately need,” said Emily starkly.
Robert held a stare on Emily. A flicker of concern crossed his face.
“Why am I surprised? You were always an insistent and strong-willed child.”
“Got it from you,” Emily said.
“Well, your mother had a strong streak too. So I suppose we’re both to blame.”
“Or thank. I think both have served me pretty well.” Emily tried to soften the moment.
“Sometimes I feel I didn’t do the best I could with you after she died.”
You let our family dissolve to nothing, Emily wanted to shout as her frustration mounted. But then, she asked, “What did you mean the other day about Mom deserving the truth?”
His gaze moved once again to the TV screen, and he and Emily remained quiet for a moment.
“How long are you staying in town?”
“Long enough to help you and Cathy get the house and practice in order,” Emily stated.
“In order for what?”
“Dad, please. You can’t hang on to them anymore. It’s time to start thinking about what you’d like to keep, sell, or give away.”
“Emily, you should know that I didn’t agree to go to Birch Acres. I will not live in that place.”
“I realize it’s a big shift in your plans right now. So, let’s just do this one step at time,” she said. “We should start with the barn and the yard. Get them cleaned up and cleared out. All those tools and machines are strictly off limits to you. And you’ll need a lawn service.”
“I’ll agree to that. Call Mike Sneller. He and his boys do yards,” said Robert. As he said it, Emily remembered when she and Anna spent Saturdays in the fall raking and bagging for a few bucks of allowance money. “And he plows the driveway in the winter. His number’s in the book.” Oh, yes, the yellow pages phone book. No need for Yelp in Freeport.
“Do you know what he charges?” Emily asked.
“I have the money. It won’t be a burden on you or Cathy,” he said and drew quiet.
“Dad, stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
“I think I need a little rest, if you don’t mind.” She knew it was his way of getting her to leave.
“Fine. I’ll check in later,” said Emily. There was no use arguing any more. She had made a little headway. And it looked like she would be sticking around for longer than the weekend.
Emily exited the hospital the way she came in, making sure there were no lingering reporters. As she pulled onto the city street, her mind began compiling a list of things she would have to do to transition her father from work life to residential life. Would Dad want to sell his home or rent it out? She would need a realtor. Maybe a property manager. Would the place need remodeling to fetch a better price? It was tidy and in good repair, but nothing had been updated in twenty years. Maybe they should hire movers to remove everything to a storage unit until they could make a better decision about the next steps. A housekeeping team could provide a thorough cleaning of the home. Carpet cleaners could sanitize the rugs. And the place probably needed a fresh coat of paint.
Emily sighed audibly and rubbed her hand across her brow as if to prime her brain. And how in the world did one shut down a medical office? There were hundreds of patients to contact. Equipment to sell. Outstanding bills to pay and bank accounts to close. Dad could sell the practice to a newly minted doctor—but how to go about finding that person? It would require hiring a recruiter and an attorney. The list blew her mind.
As she got into her car, she drew in a few deep breaths. Pressing her eyes closed, she took a moment to visually prioritize the massive load of tasks, but she found that she had a hard time processing the list. And then, there was a wedding to plan. Or was there? If she didn’t step in soon, Brandon’s mom would have it taken care of, down to matching strings of pearls for her bridesmaids and those miserable candy-coated almond table favors. Emily wagged her head and released the tension from her shoulders down to her wrists. She shook it off and tried to gain a proper perspective on her wedding problems. These were nothing compared to what the Dobsons were suffering. A daughter’s life cut short—and seemingly without motive.
28
Emily found her way into Dr. Lillen’s horse barn turned veterinarian clinic and trekked into the wide-open barn doors.
“Hello? Dr. Lillen?” Emily called out. “I’m Dr. Emily Hartford.”
“Come on down.” Dr. Lillen waved her over, and Emily saw that she was tending to a large black and tan horse, who shook his mane playfully when Emily approached. He didn’t seem at all alarmed by the new visitor and moved his head over so Emily could stroke him.
“This is Mercedes. Go ahead—you can give him a pat,” Dr. Lillen encouraged.
“He’s so gentle and beautiful,” Emily said, rubbing Mercedes’ slender snout. She looked down and saw a sling holding up his front right leg.
“Is that from the … ah … incident?” asked Emily, reaching for the right word.
“It’s an elevation device I use to keep the pressure off the leg, and it helps with circulation. I’d give him another month of rehab, and he’ll be almost good as new.”
“Is he in much pain?”
“Yes. I’m controlling it with painkillers. I’ll start weaning him off next week and up the physical therapy. He’s making great progress. I don’t think he’ll ever be a show horse again, but he’ll be a great companion,” said Dr. Lillen. Emily was relieved to know the horse would be kept alive.
“What do you think was the cause of his injury?”
“My guess is that he was spooked and then fell. Might have landed in those rocks along the creek.”
Emily nodded. “Did you take X-rays?”
“Of course. Would you like to see them?”
“I would.”
Dr. Lillen led Emily to her animal examining area, which was a large, medical room built into one end of the barn. She flipped on her light box and leafed through a box of charts until she found Mercedes’ X-rays. Dr. Lillen slipped a couple of X-ray scans into place and illuminated the image of the horse’s cannon bone.
Emily couldn’t believe the damage to the bone she was seeing. “That’s quite a fracture.”
“Horrifying, isn’t it?” said Dr. Lillen. “I’m amazed he’s doing so well.”
“I’m glad the Dobsons didn’t put him down.”
“Most owners would have.” Dr. Lillen turned off the light box and led Emily out of the office. “But I’m guessing that’s not what you came here to discuss today.”
“Toxicology found ketamine in Julie Dobson’s system. I understand it’s a horse tranquilizer that only vets can prescribe.”
If Dr. Lillen was surprised by the news, she hid it under her professional demeanor. “That’s right. But I never prescribed it for Mercedes.” Dr. Lillen and Emily returned to Mercedes’ stall, and she started brushing Mercedes down.
“Do you supply it to Premiere?”
“Of course. It’s a common drug used for minor procedures. Mr. Bodum keeps some in his office in case there is an emergency.”
Emily nodded. So that meant Julie would have had easy access. Or anyone else working at the stable, for that matter.
“You don’t seem surprised about the ketamine in Julie’s system,” said Emily, fishing.
“I am actually,” said Dr. Lillen carefully. “Unfortunately, I’ve seen this a lot around stables. It’s a cheap drug and easy to access.”
“What do you think about the possibility that she was drugged unknowingly or unwillingly?” asked Emily.
“I can’t really make any speculations about that. I mean, it’s possible. Disturbing as it may seem. But Julie was kind and gracious to everyone. I just don’t know who would want her dead. The equestrian folk are like a large family. Close-knit bunch.”
It’s usually the ones closest to one another who commit the most crimes against one another, Emily thought. Spousal abuse. Domestic violence. Want to find your suspect? Start with your kin. By blood or marriage. There was nothing pointing a finger to anyone in Julie’s immediate family as a suspect. It was incredulous to even think it. But what about Gary Bodum? Yes, Nick had already questioned him. But he could be lying. He was like family to the Dobsons, and he’d had a lot invested in Julie’s success. He might have played a part in soring Mercedes for the win. Julie would be graduating soon. His prize student. His most profitable one too. With her gone, the stable would suffer. If he could guarantee Julie’s win, it would mean instant fame for Premiere. It would mean more equestrians training. More horses being stabled. And a lot more revenue streaming in.
Dr. Lillen interrupted her train of thought. “Dr. Hartford, how well do you know the competitive equestrian world?”
“I don’t know it at all, really,” said Emily.
“Julie was on a fast loop for a professional equestrian career. All she needed to complete that loop was entrance into a collegiate equestrian program. There are only ten that award scholarships. Typically, less than half of those are awarded to females.”
Dr. Lillen started to saddle Mercedes as she spoke.
“That seems discriminatory,” said Emily.
“It is. Here we are fifty years after the biggest feminist movement in history, and it’s still a man’s world.”
“What were Julie’s chances in all of this?”
“When Julie was nine, she wanted her own horse. The Dobsons came to me to ask about breeds. I pressed the senator and his wife with the same question. I take horse handling and ownership very seriously. They told me Julie had been obsessed with horses since she was three.”
“But lots of kids like horses.”
“I said the same thing. They told me Julie had been saving every penny of her allowance since she was seven to buy a horse. She had saved one hundred fifty-six dollars and thirty-nine cents.” Dr. Lillen smiled as she recited the exact amount.
“I guess that’s pretty serious for a kid,” Emily said.
“It was very impressive. I told them to bring Julie here, and I did a little riding test so I could determine what kind of rider she was and what kind of horse might be best for her. Then I did a little digging and found a breeder with exactly the right fit. Mercedes was just under a year when he came to live in Freeport.”
“But what made her want to compete?” asked Emily.
“It was in her. Julie was highly competitive and a very skilled rider. She competed locally, regionally, and then nationally, and never took home less than third place. Ever.”
“Sounds like she was born for this.”
“She was. And she died doing what she loved.” Dr. Lillen’s eyes turned red and watery. She paused to swallow the lump in her throat. Emily could see that to Dr. Lillen, Julie was more than a rider, and Mercedes was more than a patient. They were family. “Julie had such clear sense of her calling as an equestrian … such a great love and respect for the horses. They responded to her as if she were an extension of themselves. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Emily noted the wistfulness in Dr. Lillen’s voice as she spoke.
“That’s beautiful. And it sounds like her chances for that college scholarship were pretty favorable?”
“She had it locked in. Despite the uphill climb. Julie applied to ten universities that offer equestrian degrees. A couple weeks ago, she found out she was accepted to three of those universities. But only one was awarding equestrian scholarships. Texas A&M. They planned on sending a scout up.”
A lot was riding on this Saturday’s competition, thought Emily, weighing the information. “Was Julie nervous about winning?”
“Julie knew she could capture the victory, but her dad groomed her to be a perfectionist. He was hard on her. Demanded a lot. Put a lot into her training. He liked to remind her of that.”
“A little ketamine might have relieved some of the pressure Julie was feeling.”
“Makes sense to me. More sense than someone drugging her,” said Dr. Lillen. “Is this what she died from?”
“No. It wasn’t a lethal dose. Just enough to, like you say, take the edge off,” said Emily.
“You can get this drug a lot of places. It’s become a common street drug,” said Dr. Lillen.
“I know. But it doesn’t sound like Julie had a lot of free time to be on the streets hunting drugs,” said Emily as she stroked Mercedes’ thick mane and spoke to him in a gentle manner. “You saw it all, didn’t you? I wish you could tell us what you saw that morning.”
Emily thanked Dr. Lillen and headed out of the barn. As she looked down the pathway between the stalls, she began to notice all the equine tools and pieces of equipment that lined the walls above the stalls. Bits and bridles hung on pegs. Boots and riding gear leaning against walls. Saddles slung over wooden partitions. What an investment. This was not a cheap hobby like ballet or Little League.
Emily thought about the hundreds and hundreds of hours these kids put into practice and care of their animals. Parents were sure to dump thousands of dollars in fees, food, uniforms, equipment, transportation, and competition expenses. The stakes seemed high to perform well, to make good on the investment. She turned around and walked back to where Dr. Lillen was buffing out a saddle.
“Will you please keep me posted? I’m horrified something like this could happen here, in Freeport,” said Dr. Lillen, her voice cracking again. “And I’m going to miss her very much.”
Emily nodded and paced out of the barn to her car in the driveway. She felt an odd closeness to Julie. She had only been a part of her world for a couple of days now, but it was as if Julie was the next-door neighbor kid she had known for years.
The visit had raised suspicions about what was really going on at Premiere. It made sense that Gary would be a part of this scheme. Or perhaps hired someone at the stables to carry out his plan. She felt only slightly closer to any answers about Julie’s killer. Hopefully, Nick was getting somewhere with that list from the stable. Everyone on that list had access to Julie. And although motive was still unclear, one of them had to be the tormentor who’d killed Julie. It was an awful way to go. Blunt force trauma. Emily had always hated the ugliness of those words. And the violence of the act. She could feel her chest tensing. Anger and justice warred inside her. Even if her father and Cathy didn’t need her, Emily wasn’t sure she could leave Freeport until she and Nick had found Julie Dobson’s killer.
