Quiche of Death

by Mary Lee Ashford

  “It appears all of her injuries are tertiary,” the young man answered.

  “Still, I think we should transport her and have her looked over.” Terry nodded at him and started to walk away.

  “Hey, I’m right here.” I sat up. “No need to talk about me like I’m not present.”

  “Sorry.” Terry turned back. “Sugar, it doesn’t look like anything from the blast got you, but you may have a concussion.”

  “Sheriff, you need to come and have a look.” In addition to the ambulance, it appeared a crime scene team had also arrived. A tall blond tech was motioning to the sheriff. “This way,” she pointed. “You aren’t going to believe this.”

  I shifted on the stretcher in order to see where they were going, but the EMT pressed my shoulder back down so I lay flat.

  “No, you don’t.”

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Erik,” he responded, tapping the name badge on his bright white shirt.

  “Well, Erik, I’m sure that I’m okay. What’s it going to take to get you to feel the same?”

  “Let’s start with this.” He went back to the blood pressure cuff.

  That was only the first of things Erik thought needed to be checked and, in the end, though I thought I was very persuasive, I couldn’t convince Erik or the sheriff that I didn’t need a trip to the ER.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The closest hospital was thirty minutes away.

  Dixie said she would follow in my car and said she was sure once they looked me over, they’d let me go home. I was sure she was right.

  We were both wrong. The ER doc concurred that I didn’t have any direct injuries from the bomb. But because it was a strong enough blast to knock me down, he felt it was possible I had a concussion.

  So, no going home for me. They wanted to keep me until morning to watch for any delayed effects. At the moment, I just had a headache and a sore backside from where I had landed.

  Dixie called Greer for me, who agreed to keep Frenchie overnight. Ernest would be fine on his own. He’d be upset at the disruption of our routine. But he’d been upset about that since Frenchie arrived on the scene.

  I urged Dixie to go on home.

  “Okay, if you’re sure you’re all right.” She gave me a hug. “It doesn’t feel right leaving you here all alone.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Truthfully, my head was pounding and I hoped if I closed my eyes it would stop. I couldn’t remember if they’d given me something for the pain or not.

  “Can I get you some water or something else to drink before I leave?” she asked.

  “I’ve got some.” I pointed to the pitcher one of the nurses had dropped off. “When you come back tomorrow, you could bring me some clean clothes. Mine are sort of grass-stained.”

  I remembered lying on my back in the grass wondering what had happened.

  “I’m on it.” She gave a thumbs-up.

  At some point, lying there in the grass, I’d realized the mailbox had exploded.

  “By the way, what was it that blew all over the place when the mailbox blew up?” I asked.

  “I guess some bills, some junk mail, and a bunch of DNA kits.” She made a face.

  “Oh, right.” I nodded, which made my head hurt more. “Lucinda had mentioned she’d ordered DNA kits for the Arbor family.”

  “That’s kind of strange.”

  “I don’t know. She’s so into it that she thinks everyone else is too. I gather she hasn’t gotten much interest from her hubs and his siblings.” I’d been glad to find someone with her avid interest and expertise to get me started.

  “Okay, get going.” I shooed Dixie out of the room. “You have my keys, right?”

  “I do.” She pulled them from her pocket and jangled them. “And I’ll be back first thing tomorrow to collect you. Don’t be too hard on the nurses, okay?”

  “I won’t,” I promised.

  I didn’t think I had it in me to be a problem for anyone right now. I leaned my head back on the soft pillow and closed my eyes.

  I’d almost drifted off when I remembered the tall blond crime scene tech who’d been excited to show something to the sheriff. What was that about? I should have asked Dixie.

  Good grief, and the sheriff had been going to fill us in on something before I went to get the mail. That’s why he had been there. How could I have forgotten?

  They must have given me something for the pain because I noticed it was less than before. I tried to concentrate on what exactly the blond had said to Terry. Something he needed to see.

  Then I was gone.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The doctor had been by early and signed my release. He said a nurse would be by with instructions for things I was to watch for once I went home. I hoped it was Nurse Jamie, who’d checked my vitals earlier. She was very efficient and I was more than ready to go home.

  In fact, I was impatiently sitting in the visitor chair by the bed, waiting for either Nurse Jamie or Dixie to arrive, when there was a tap on the door.

  It was neither. Sheriff Terry poked his head in.

  “How are you this morning?” he asked.

  “None the worse for my experience,” I answered, waving him in. “They’ve taken great care of me, but I have to tell you I’m ready to get out of here.”

  “Dixie was pulling into the parking lot when I crossed to the entrance,” he said. “So, she should be here in a few minutes.”

  “I can’t wait.” I sighed.

  “In the meantime, I wanted to ask you a few questions,” he said.

  “That’s great timing, because I want to ask you some questions as well.”

  “Shall I go first?” he asked, getting out his notebook.

  I nodded.

  “Tell me, if you can, what you remember about the mailbox. Was there anything you noticed when you approached or before you opened it?”

  “You mean, before it exploded?”

  “Yeah, before it exploded.”

  “Nothing looked out of place. At least not that I remember. When I opened it, it seemed extremely full. I remember wondering if that was only one day’s worth of mail.” I paused, thinking.

  Had there been anything else? No, a regular mailbox.

  “And then I pulled out some of the mail and dropped a couple of envelopes. And boom, it exploded,” I finished.

  “Probably reaching down to get those letters you dropped kept you from being badly injured.”

  “Sometimes you get lucky.” I took a breath. Truly, I did feel lucky. “Any clues on who planted the bomb?”

  “A few, but nothing conclusive.” He shook his head. “Because it involved mail, it’s a federal offense and so now the feds will join in.”

  “That’ll be good, right?” More people power.

  “It actually will. They have access to some resources and tools that we don’t have.” He put his notebook away. “Now, your turn.”

  “When you came to Arbor House you were about to fill us all in on something. I assumed it had to do with Colette’s death. What were you about to say?”

  “I hadn’t told the family about the note or the necklace that you found in the coin purse,” he explained. “I’d wanted some idea what we were dealing with first. But I had some news.”

  I waited.

  “We had been able to locate Libby, thanks to some credit card receipts. Her name is Elizabeth Black and Minnesota authorities have located her for us.”

  “How does that play out?” I asked. “Do you have to wait on some sort of official extradition?” I was impressed I’d remembered the word for it, but I wasn’t sure how it actually worked. My knowledge of the process was a product of reading crime novels and watching the Mystery Channel.

  An amused expression crossed his face. “We don’t have anythin
g to charge her with so right now she’s just a person of interest.”

  Okay, so maybe I remembered the word, but wasn’t up to speed on how it worked in real life.

  “We’ve asked her to come in for questioning and she’ll be talking to us tomorrow.”

  “But she can’t be involved in this mail bomb. Not if she wasn’t even in the state.”

  “Depends on the type of explosive.” He shrugged. “You don’t always have to be close by.”

  “Gosh, and she seemed like a nice enough person.”

  “Remember that’s always what the neighbors say about serial killers.” Terry raised a brow.

  There was a light knock on the door and it eased open. Dixie had arrived and was carting my small travel suitcase. Terry jumped up to hold the door and help her with the luggage.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” I said, smiling at my friend. “But you do know I’m only going home, not on vacation?”

  “I couldn’t figure out what to bring for you to change into. It’s kind of warm out there today.” She blew bangs out of her eyes. “So I brought you a few options.” She reached up and lifted auburn curls off her neck.

  Sheriff Terry stood mesmerized.

  “It’s okay, I’m going in there to change.” I pointed at the bathroom. “You two can stay and talk.”

  Neither answered me.

  “Hello!” I snapped my fingers.

  “What?” They both came to at once.

  “I said, I’m going in the bathroom to change and I only have one request.”

  “What’s that?” Dixie asked.

  “I am going to ask you to cover your eyes until I get across the room, because I can’t figure out how to keep this hospital gown closed in the back.”

  Dixie and Terry both obediently put their hands over their eyes. I grabbed the handle of the suitcase and started wheeling it toward the bathroom just as there was another tap on the door.

  It was Nurse Jamie. She looked at Dixie and the sheriff with their hands still covering their eyes, and then looked at me. “I’m not even going to ask what’s going on here.”

  I grinned at her. “I’m trying to get to the bathroom to get changed without flashing my friends.”

  “Your friends can wait in the hall.” She pointed toward the door.

  “Give me a few minutes,” she told them as they went out. “I’ll help Ms. Calloway get dressed. And then you all can continue with…whatever.”

  In short order she laid the suitcase on the bed, let me select what I wanted to wear, suggesting something easy to take on and off because she predicted I was going to be sore. With her assistance, I quickly changed into a pair of yoga pants and a soft V-neck knit top.

  Then she ordered me to sit down and opened the door, motioning Dixie and Sheriff Terry back in. “I’ll be right back with a wheelchair.”

  “I don’t need a wheelchair,” I protested. “I can walk.”

  “Not a discussion,” Nurse Jamie responded. “It’s required.”

  I suddenly remember what else I’d wanted to ask the sheriff about. I’d barely opened my mouth when his cell phone rang.

  “Sheriff Griffin,” he answered. “What?” He listened for a few minutes. “I’ll be right there.”

  We all waited.

  “There’s been a shooting. Someone shot at Jezzie as she turned off the highway headed toward Arbor House.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “No physical injuries, but pretty shook up. According to the officer on the scene, the bullet barely missed her. It went right through the windshield of her car.”

  “Oh, my stars.” When majorly stressed, sometimes my mother comes right out of my mouth.

  “I’m headed there now.” He shoved his cell phone in his pocket and turned to go.

  “We’ll follow.” I stood.

  “No. You. Won’t.” The sheriff had been almost out the door, but he turned back and gave us the I-am-law-enforcement-and-you-are-not glare.

  “No. You. Won’t.” Nurse Jamie was back with a wheelchair in time to hear Sheriff Terry’s statement.

  He held the door for her so she could roll the wheelchair over to me.

  “You will take her straight home.” She pointed at Dixie.

  “And you will follow the instructions that we went over, and that I’ve written out for you.” She handed me a paper. “Just in case you forget.”

  I shifted to the wheelchair, still unhappy about it, but if that’s what it took to break me out of the hospital, so be it.

  Dixie walked out with the sheriff, on her way to pull the car up front per Nurse Jamie’s instructions.

  The trip in the wheelchair was short, but I still felt silly. There was nothing wrong with my legs, for Pete’s sake.

  Dixie was already at the hospital entrance and I climbed into the passenger seat. The doctor had been clear: No driving today for me. If I didn’t have any problems once I got home, I could drive tomorrow. But no long drives by myself or plane trips for a couple of weeks.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I brought your vehicle rather than mine.” Dixie pulled out from the hospital lot and onto a street marked Kenyon Road.

  “No problem.” I buckled my seat belt and settled back.

  “I thought my pickup might be harder for you to get in and I wasn’t sure how sore you were going to be. You went flying.”

  “Is the B and B on the way back to St. Ignatius from where we are?” I asked.

  “It is not and even if it were, you heard Nurse Jamie.”

  “And Sheriff Terry,” I reminded her.

  “Yeah, but I think I’m more scared of Nurse Jamie.” She smiled and turned right. Which I thought was east.

  “Do you want me to set…?” I tapped the GPS on the dash.

  “No, I think I’ve got it.”

  * * * *

  Dixie took the turn off the highway and onto the street that would take us to the heart of St. Ignatius. She’d done the whole trip and didn’t even need Matilda’s help. The show-off.

  I have to confess that by the time Dixie pulled into my driveway, I was kind of ready for a nap. She helped by carrying the suitcase in and getting me settled in my chair.

  Before she left, she carried pillows and a blanket from upstairs and left them on the couch.

  “Just in case you decide you want a nap,” she explained. “I’m going to go take care of some things, but you have my cell if you needed anything.”

  Ernest came to check me out and make sure I was okay. He might have really been checking to be sure I hadn’t brought another dog home, but I liked to think he was concerned. He curled up on my lap.

  Dixie had not been gone very long when I felt my eyes getting heavy. I didn’t make it to the couch, but my chair was pretty comfortable.

  I woke up with a start, hearing a knock on the door. Sitting up straight and disturbing my catnap partner, I started to get up to answer it when the door eased open. Ernest jumped down and went to investigate.

  It was Max.

  “Hello,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. You were asleep, weren’t you?”

  “Caught me.” I smiled.

  “Probably the best thing for you.” He crouched down and looked me over. His sharp blue eyes searched my face. “Are you truly okay?”

  “I am truly okay.” I smiled.

  He smiled back, his relief clear.

  “Oh, I almost forgot. Dixie sent lunch for you.” He handed me a bag. “I’m not sure what she sent, but if you need a plate or silverware, let me know.”

  “What I really need is water,” I said. “Would you mind?”

  “No problem.” He went through to the kitchen and I could hear him opening cupboards.

  “To the right of the sink,” I called.

  Max was back in a few minutes with a
glass of water and a plate.

  I opened the bag to find my favorite chicken club from the Red Hen Diner. Max had been smart to bring a couple of napkins.

  Once he had my lunch arranged, he sat down in the chair across from me.

  “Where’s the d-o-g?” He spelled it out.

  “Trying to stay out of trouble with Ernest?” I asked.

  “You bet.” He grinned.

  “He spent the night with Greer,” I answered. “When they decided to keep me at the hospital overnight, she offered. Dixie is going to pick Frenchie up later and drop her off.”

  I took a bite of the sandwich and leaned my head back. “This is so good. There’s plenty if you’re hungry.”

  “I already had lunch, but thank you.”

  There was another knock on the door and Max got up to answer it. This time it was Sheriff Griffin.

  He followed Max to the living room, sank down on the couch, and leaned back against the cushions.

  “What’s up?” Max asked. “You look worse than Sugar.”

  I gave Max a look.

  “Not that you look bad,” he corrected quickly.

  “He does look bad,” I agreed. “But I think you could have worded that a little better.”

  “Now that we all concur that I look like hell…” Terry leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better than I did,” I answered. “I slept most of the morning. Dixie sent lunch with Max. I’m being waited on hand and foot, so I’m feeling pretty good right now.”

  “Did she share the doctor’s orders with you?” he asked Max.

  “No, she didn’t.” He looked around. “But I’ll bet I can find them.”

  “How is Jezzie?” I asked.

  “Better than the Corvette.” He shook his head.

  “Wait, I thought that was Tom’s car.” He’d driven away in it that day when he and Jezzie argued.

  “It is,” Terry confirmed. “But for some reason Jezzie had borrowed it and that’s what she was driving when she was shot at.”

  “I’ll bet Tom was not happy about that.” I shook my head. “I mean it’s all bad, but bullet holes in the Corvette…”