Deadly Traditions, page 14
“It’s a long story,” I chuckled sadly into the receiver. “I’m calling because I actually need your help.”
“Oooh! Are you doing another one of your investigations? What do you need? I got a guy who can run license plates. Need to break in somewhere? The tools for that are around here somewhere.” Cyndi Tipton was always up for an adventure, no questions asked. Her loyalty was only trumped by her lunacy.
“Actually, I need you to tell me anything you can about Greg Johnson.”
I listened to dead air long enough that I thought maybe the call had dropped.
“Mom?”
“That dog. I still haven’t forgotten how he made me destitute and put me out on the streets last Christmas.”
“Mom, you stayed with me. You were hardly out on the streets,” I reminded her. “Did he ever talk about money problems?”
“Darlin’, we met at a casino. The man had a habit of overextending himself, borrowing a little from his guy, a little from that one, until he was in over his head and they were all at his door demanding repayment, plus interest.”
A snippet of my conversation with Maggie came back to me full throttle. The librarian had mentioned how Greg was so hard up for cash, he was willing to do grunt work for her. And while Orville was no Daddy Warbucks, he had enough land to—
No.
I was trying to slow the steam train that was barreling through my brain when Orville stirred in his hospital bed.
“I gotta run, Mom, but this was helpful.” I ended the call before she could ask questions and started spreading the crocheted blanket over my friend’s fragile body.
“Hey Orv.” I smiled down at him as he looked up with a slow, confused blink. “Look what I brought for you.” I pulled the blanket up and tucked him in. A hint of a smile appeared on his face as he cuddled the blanket tighter. “Delilah.” He whispered his wife’s name, then drifted back to sleep.
“He’s stable, but he’s not out of the woods yet,” Myra said from the doorway. Somehow, the nurse still looked as perky as she had hours earlier, while I was fighting off yawn after yawn. “You should get some rest. We’ll know more tomorrow.”
Without bothering to argue, I nodded my head and made the trek back to the elevators, back through reception, and across the parking lot to my car.
The trailer park was a ten-minute drive from Valley Green, though I couldn’t tell you if I’d been driving for thirty seconds or a full hour when I pulled into my spot. Mustering my last bit of energy, I stepped into the night and stared up at home, sweet home.
Thick curls of smoke poured from the kitchen windows.
“What the…”
My nervous system jolted me back awake and pushed me through the front door, where the incessant beeping of my smoke detector sounded an alarm.
Elementary school training kicked in as I stopped, dropped, and…well, I didn’t need to roll, but I did crawl until I spotted the source of the smoke. I made my way into the kitchen. My oven was set to five hundred degrees, baking something I hadn’t put in it. I flipped the appliance off then threw open every window and door in the place.
My cat, T.C., bounded up the front stairs after another evening of prowling about the town and watched me contend with the chaos from her perch on the porch. A gentle Mmmrow told me she was glad I was okay. Or at least that she was glad I was there to feed her.
“Likewise, bud.” I filled her food bowl and placed it on the step. If ever there was a time for stress eating, this was it.
When most of the smoke had cleared, I found a single piece of paper taped to oven window, a message scrawled on it:
“Leave it alone, or I’ll finish the job.”
I pulled open the oven door to find a batch of blackened slice and bake Christmas cookies.
Chapter 4
Ralphie waddled over to greet me when I walked through the door just after six o’clock the following morning. He’d make the world’s worst guard dog, but he sure was cute.
This time, I found the hide-a-key without the shenanigans of the day before, which was an impressive feat given how I’d been up all night airing out my trailer.
Plus, I wasn’t really in the mood to sleep after someone tried to burn down my home. I let the dog out, refilled his food and water, then started the trek back to town.
Throughout the drive, moonlight reflected off the snowy farm fields as questions looped over and over in my brain. Greg was the only person who made any sense. If he’d seen me at the hospital the previous night, and he’d heard my reputation for getting mixed up in murder investigations, then maybe he’d take drastic measures to get me out of the way.
I hadn’t come up with any other options when I pulled into the guest lot at Valley Green and eased into the spot beside a familiar red pickup.
“Morning, Marnie.” Ken Marshall tipped his hat to me as I stepped out of my car. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“I’m just swinging by before I head to the restaurant. Hopefully, they have some results for us.” Part of me wanted to tell him everything — from Greg to the medications to my trailer. But checking in on Orville seemed more important.
Rudolph rested his head in his palm at the reception desk, barely bothering to lift his hand and wave us in. The light in his foam nose blinked weakly. My waning holiday cheer could relate.
Myra stood at the nurses’ station, her cheer defying the boundaries of human sleep deprivation. “Mornin’,” she waved at us with a grin. “Perfect timing. He just stopped in.”
“Doc, this is a pleasant surprise.” Ken greeted Dr. Theodore Murphy with a handshake. “And now I’m reminded I need to schedule my physical.”
“Ken, you’re healthy as an ox. I’ll give you that assessment for free.” The doctor laughed.
“Hey.” I waved awkwardly. After thirty-odd years, I still wasn’t sure of the right way to start a conversation with the man who delivered me into this world. But I was grateful for his services. I turned to Orville, who rested soundly wrapped in the blanket crafted by his sweet Delilah. “Any update for us this morning?”
“In fact, we just got the labs—”
“You’d better have a real update.” Greg stormed into the room, not even noticing me and Ken. The not-so-ex-wife wasn’t with him this time, and after a quick evaluation, I determined he didn’t look guilty of attempting to burn my trailer down. But then again, what was that kind of suspect supposed to look like? I didn’t imagine he’d walk in with a gas can in one hand and a blowtorch in the other.
“As I was saying,” Dr. Murphy continued, “the labs are all back.”
“Is he going to be okay?” A twinge of genuine concern escaped from Greg. Fear clouded the rims of his eyes.
That was unexpected.
“Short answer, yes. He’ll need some extra support, perhaps a caretaker.” Doc Murphy peered over his glasses at Greg.
“Uncle Orv will never agree to that.” Greg shook his head. “I’ve been trying to get him into an assisted living facility for years now. Have you seen that sty he calls home? He won’t even let me send someone in to clean it. All I want to know is that he’s taking his meds properly and eating right.”
“I ensure Orville eats just fine, thank you very much,” I interjected. “He has a permanent seat at the best restaurant in town.”
Greg spun around. He looked surprised to see me and Ken. As recognition crossed his face, his gaze darkened. “Watch yourself, Tipton, don’t cross the line.”
“What, you mean like try to burn down someone’s home? Attempting to murder your own uncle? That kinda crossing the line?”
“Excuse me?” He took a menacing step in my direction before Ken inserted himself between us.
“You and your wife were arguing over laying claim to Orville’s money last night. Deny it all you want, but I heard you. I’m sure there’s a security camera around here that recorded you saying it, too.”
Dr. Murphy shook his head. “Actually, the hospital hasn’t secured the funding for an upgraded security system. No cameras in the vicinity right now.”
Greg’s pasty face brightened to the red of Santa’s coat. “Look. I asked the old man for a loan and got shot down. Is that a crime?” The veins in his neck pulsed. “But I just took a second job to pay my debt in a respectable, honest way.”
I looked him up and down. “Second job doing what?”
His color deepened. “I’ll be handing out food samples at Price Barn starting next week.”
“So how do you explain last night, talking about wanting to pull the plug on Orville?” I crossed my arms, not backing down even a little bit.
Greg’s eyes widened, and he twisted his head back and forth in disbelief. “I thought he was on the brink of death! I thought taking him off life support would be merciful or something.”
“Umm,” Dr. Murphy interrupted again. “To be clear, Orville was never on life support. Look, if you two don’t mind, I’d love to give you the latest update and then maybe you can take this little whatever-it-is outside? I’ve got rounds to do and with yesterday’s pile up, I’ve got patients waiting.”
“Carry on, please,” Ken encouraged the only other adult in the room, shaking his head at the two of us.
Dr. Murphy pulled in a deep breath. “The toxicology report showed elevated levels of Bromadiolone in his system.”
“Bro-what?” Greg asked.
“Rat poison, essentially.”
Our jaws simultaneously dropped.
“That’s what led to the excessive bleeding. Orville actually had routine bloodwork done earlier in the week, so we were able to compare the changes, and it looks like he consumed a lot in a very brief amount of time. The toxin is interacting with the anticoagulants he’s already on. What’s more, his earlier bloodwork uncovered anemia and a vitamin K deficiency that exacerbated the bleeding.”
I made a mental note to sneak in more iron and leafy greens into Orville’s classic meat-and-potatoes diet. A little spinach never hurt anyone.
“Where on earth would he get rat poison from?” Ken howled.
“It’s more complicated than just rat poison. You see, it would take some serious chemistry to formulate a high enough dosage to make him so sick so fast.” Doc explained.
“Heck, anything could have happened in that house,” I glared at Greg, who looked more confused than an attempted murderer should. Could he be telling the truth?
I pressed on. “The place was right out of a Hoarders episode, and Pru said it looked like he was trying to grow his own penicillin.”
Dr. Murphy reached into the pocket of his white coat and withdrew a few strands of licorice. He chomped down on one and continued speaking, but I had stopped listening.
Instead, fireworks started exploding in my brain as it rearranged all the puzzle pieces.
Pru said…
My mind raced backwards to Pru’s hunt through Orville’s refrigerator.
“This is giving me flashbacks of my organic chemistry classes.”
Licorice.
Chemistry.
Cookies.
Blood thinners.
Who would have a better knowledge of complex chemistry than a pharmacist? She had access to his medications, and she ran the pharmacy where he got his prescriptions filled. She certainly would know about interactions. And she’d claimed she was going home when she left Orville’s yesterday, but what if she went to my trailer instead? What if I was actually closer than I realized…
It all added up. She had means and opportunity, even more than Greg did. But why? I couldn’t even start to imagine her motive. There was only one way to find out.
“Hey Doc,” I interrupted him. “I reviewed Orville’s meds with Prudence Harrington yesterday. Why don’t we bring her up here to talk us through what he was taking?”
I turned to Greg, whose face was shifting through various states of panic. “She’s very good at explaining things clearly,” I reassured him. His face twisted again, this time into confusion.
Five minutes later, Pru waltzed into Room 239 as “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas” played in the hallway.
“Good morning to you all.”
Maybe I was seeing things, but Pru looked like her breezy attitude was manufactured. I needed to get this right. Now I had her here, how the heck did I get her to confess?
“Marnie thought you could shed some light on a comprehensive list of meds Orville is taking,” Dr. Murphy began.
Pru’s shoulders relaxed. “I’d be happy to.”
A rustling sounded behind us, followed by a loud, extended groan.
“He’s waking up!” Ken rushed to Orville’s bedside.
My friend stared straight up at the ceiling for a moment before rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He fumbled for the bed controls, and Ken helped him sit up.
Orv’s confused gaze bounced around from person to person, then landed on Pru standing at the end of his bed. His eyes widened.
“That’s her!” His voice was raspy, but his words were clear. “Prudence. Harrington. That woman’s been messin’ with my ‘scriptions!” He paused, looked around the room, and spotted the big whiteboard on the wall across from him. “Wait… I got a meeting with the hospital board today!” Orville peeled back the covers and tried to launch himself from the bed.
“Slow down there, Orv.”
As Dr. Murphy rushed to prevent his patient from fleeing, Pru shoved past me and raced out the door. “I can’t do this!” her frail voice screamed down the hallway.
I locked eyes with Greg. “Prudence Harrington tried to murder your uncle!”
Without waiting another beat, we fled the room together just in time to see Pru whip around the corner by the nurses’ station.
“What now?” Greg panicked.
“Cut her off!” I pointed to the opposite hallway.
The thing about small towns is that they have small hospitals. And small hospitals make capturing a fleeing assailant a relatively straightforward task. I took off without waiting to see if Greg was on my heels.
Halfway down the hallway, a room attendant disappeared into a room, leaving a meal cart unattended. I grabbed the handle then ran full speed toward the corner that Pru was bound to be rounding any second.
At that moment, a rotund Santa Claus, who looked an awful lot like Bert Phelps, emerged from the bathroom. “Morning, Marnie!” He waved a white-gloved hand as I flew past him.
Just on time, Pru rounded the corner. At the same moment, the wheel of my meal cart hitched on something. The cart twisted wildly and toppled over sideways. Pru slipped on a gallon of spilled gravy and spun out right next to me. I snatched her forearm, then pinned her on a pile of potatoes, ensuring she couldn’t flee again.
I heaved a sigh and waited for Greg to catch up.
“Cop’s on the phone,” he wheezed, holding up his device. “Sending someone.” Wheeze. “Right away.”
Glad one of us was fit enough to chase down a middle-aged murderer.
Doc Murphy raced around the corner, followed by Ken pushing Orville in a wheelchair. They all stared in wonder at the two of us covered in the remains of a hospital quality holiday feast.
“All I did was find a new supplier for generic drugs.” Pru sobbed through the potato crust on her cheek. “I just wanted to lower costs for the patients. But Orville noticed the change and went on a crazy crusade to get me fired.”
“So you tried to kill him?” Greg asked through gritted teeth.
“You don’t understand,” Pru continued, wiping a trail of cranberry jello from her chin. “I can’t lose another job! My license is on probation. I barely got this one and no one else will hire an old lady.” The pharmacist let out a long wail. “My only option was to neutralize him.”
Fifteen minutes later, Sheriff Bryson Best strutted into a dank room in the hospital’s basement where Rudolph the Receptionist-turned-security-guard had cuffed Prudence Harrington to a table. The officer let out a deep yawn and stretch, as if just emerging from the most restful night of sleep.
“Why don’t you go on home and let the professionals handle this, Tipton?”
Typical. I do his job and he points me towards the door. But it’s okay. I have a town to feed.
Three days later
* * *
“We’re parking right now.”
I set my phone on the counter and shouted, “Three minute warning!”
With the exception of Prudence Harrington, who was watching for Santa at the county jail, every baker from the competition was waiting at The Pumphouse to greet Orville on his release day from the hospital.
A round of applause erupted when he shuffled through the front door. Though his body was still recovering, it was nice to see the man wearing a smile, walking side-by-side with his only living family member. Greg helped him to a seat in the center of the dining room, then Orville raised his hands to quiet the audience.
“I think we’re all aware that we must attend to some unfinished business,” he began. “The Baker’s Choice winner has been disqualified, for obvious reasons.”
Sheriff Best had actually done a nice little bit of police work, and his techs had tested the remains of Pru’s licorice snickerdoodle that they’d found in the trash. The judging cookie was loaded with rat poison. Thankfully, none of the treats she’d shared with the rest of the town were tainted. But everyone had thrown them away, anyway.
The old man felt around his coat pocket and withdrew a folded piece of paper. The dining room fell silent.
Orville relished in the crowd’s anticipation, then finally croaked out, “Maggie McHugh’s white chocolate peppermint cookies!”
Another burst of applause erupted from the room as chatter filled the air. Maggie stood up, both hands pressed against her cheeks in elated shock.
“But you hate peppermint!” Greg shook his head. “You never cease to surprise me.”
“Nothing beats a holiday classic,” Orville continued over the applause and the holiday soundtrack that Piper had turned on. He flashed Maggie a thumbs up and a grin. “And as for you, Marnie Tipton,” he narrowed his eyes and waved me over.
