Saddled with Murder

by Eileen Brady

* * *

  After saying goodbye, I put my phone on vibrate and searched for my favorite stethoscope. I’d almost given up finding the darn thing and had reached for another one when I saw it draped over a lab chair. Stethoscopes are like shoes. You always end up with a favorite pair.

  I brushed my hair into a high pony and went back to work.

  * * *

  About fifty minutes later, Mari approached me in the hallway with the afternoon schedule in her hand. I’d just finished one appointment and was going to the next. “Busy?” I said. “I might need some help.”

  “Oh, you can handle this one alone,” she answered, before disappearing down the hall.

  Shoot. That must mean they booked Devin Popovitch…again. The staff loved matchmaking and had cooked up an imaginary holiday romance between me and Raeleen’s handsome former fiancé, now back on the market, thanks to her murder. Even Cindy advised me to strike while the iron was hot.

  In my experience, that only led to getting burned.

  When I opened the door, someone unexpected turned around.

  “Luke?” I glanced at the table looking for my patient, his grandmother’s cat. A quick look around the room revealed it to be empty, except for him.

  He followed my train of thought. “No animals here. I convinced Cindy to sneak me in for a few minutes.”

  “I’m at work…”

  “Just listen for a second. Each time I try to see you we’re interrupted.”

  I sat at the small exam room desk and left him standing. “Maybe if you called ahead of time, you’d have better luck.”

  Luke leaned against the stainless table and crossed his long legs. “Okay. Are we done arguing yet?”

  “Make it quick. I’ve got another appointment in fifteen minutes.” My resolve to not let him rile me up had evaporated.

  “So, first let me apologize for not telling you Dina moved back to Oak Falls. That position in Albany didn’t work out for her.” He watched my face for a reaction.

  I kept my expression noncommittal. Luke knew I was not a fan of his ex. What did he want me to say? Poor Dina?

  I relented and said, “Poor Dina.”

  My platitude didn’t fool him.

  In the short time I’d known her, not only had the self-absorbed Dina made a play for my best friend, Jeremy, but she liked to keep Luke dangling in her orbit. They’d been high school sweethearts, lived together for a few years, and had loads of mutual friends. This meant they shared a huge history. She knew every member of his extensive family and all their stories. I struggled to remember half their names.

  “That night at the diner, when I picked up takeout for us, she’d dropped by my place unexpectedly. We weren’t on a date.”

  Right. Luke might think that, but I knew better. Dina was checking up on her old flame and probably trying to fan the fire.

  “Thanks for sharing,” I said. “Is that all?”

  “No, as a matter of fact, but I’ll let you digest what I told you.” The expression on his face tugged at my heart.

  Not sure what I felt, I said nothing.

  “Since this is going nowhere, I’ll tell you something that will interest you. There’s a rumor going around the station that a private pathologist hired by a friend of the family has some questions about Eloise Rieven’s death.”

  “I bet it’s the broken arm?” Good for her. Babs must have gotten hold of the radiographs. My attention shifted away from my life to hers.

  “Right. They did some calculations, and that degree of fracture could only have happened following a specific impact velocity. Simply falling after tripping wouldn’t have done it.”

  “Didn’t she have osteoporosis?” I asked.

  “Surprisingly not. With all the farm work and lifting bulldogs, she had great upper body strength. So that means…”

  “There’s a possibility that someone pushed her.”

  * * *

  Technology played a huge part in the reopening of the Eloise Rieven case. Since X-rays and autopsy records are now stored in digital files, it’s a simple thing to send them by email—and in the Eloise Rieven case they were sent to a private pathologist and radiologist hired by Babs Vanderbilt-Hayes. Although not conclusive, the new report raised enough doubt for the Oak Falls Police Department to reopen the case and assign a detective to review the evidence.

  What had been a simple accidental death now might be a clever case of murder.

  “The chief is furious,” Luke said.

  No surprise there.

  “As someone who would benefit from her death,” Luke explained, “you may be on the interview list. I came here to give you a heads-up. And don’t expect they’ll come to your house and have a friendly discussion. This will be by the book and down at the station. And recorded.”

  “Benefit? Me?”

  “She was planning on filing a complaint to the veterinary board and suing you for the value of the lost litter of bulldog puppies in small claims court.”

  How many suspect lists was I on? Stunned that it had gone so far, I stared back at him.

  Luke took a step closer, his eyes concerned. “Kate, I know you. There is no way you contributed to her murder—but do you have an alibi for the time of death?”

  My mind blanked. Truthfully, I didn’t remember when or what time the accident—well, what I thought was an accident—happened. My best guess? Sometime in the early evening. Which meant my alibi most likely was a dog, a sofa, and HGTV.

  None of whom were talking.

  * * *

  After Luke left, the day crawled by. Every free moment I spent thinking about Raeleen’s murder and whether my stupid Christmas wish for Eloise and Frank to disappear had given someone a crazy idea. A grateful but disturbed client? A murderer with OCD who needed to finish the list? Or a killer using one death to mask another?

  When I took a moment to check my computer, the YouTube video viewing number was up to 27,613. Most people commented on the three deaths following my wish. As usual, conspiracy ideas abounded. Next to be blamed were my avenging guardian angels, followed by devils, sorcery, and black magic. Some were too bizarre to read. The worst one predicted more deaths to follow.

  Did the police have access to viewers’ info? How do you go about checking alibis for over 27,000 strangers?

  Or did a local detective already have a much smaller list of suspects, with Pinky being number one and me standing right behind him?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Much to my surprise, no one in law enforcement wanted to talk to me. Cindy said the statement I gave the chief satisfied them for now. They had other leads to follow.

  It felt like the Christmas music had been playing for a year. Someone suggested we should buy a huge countdown sign in the office, keeping track of the number of days left until Christmas. I pointed out that not everyone celebrated the same holidays.

  Cindy kept busy juggling holiday hours. Most of the staff planned either to travel to family gatherings or host their relatives at home. Discussions of recipes flew back and forth in the treatment area and during surgery.

  Their banter never struck a chord with me. For years it had only been me and Gramps.

  Since my Christmas Eve supper and Christmas Day dinners were covered, I listened with half an ear and added little to the conversations. Not that anyone wanted my hints on cooking. Sadly, the microwave was my favorite kitchen tool and takeout my go-to recipe.

  Mari continued to chatter away about green bean casseroles and whether to add sliced almonds or sliced mushrooms while I performed minor surgery to clean a small abscess. Cindy interrupted us during the stuffing debate. It looked like she’d been crying.

  “They might arrest Pinky,” she blurted out, obviously distressed. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Slow down,” I said, almost finished opening and cleaning
the two infected teeth marks located just where the tail met the back. Like many cats I’d treated, this tabby had tried to avoid a fight but hadn’t run fast enough.

  Our visibly upset receptionist began picking up pens and straightening the cluttered countertop. Cindy’s nervous energy usually propelled her into cleaning. She explained as she concentrated on the computer station.

  “Some detectives from Kingston have focused in on Pinky because he plowed Eloise Rieven’s driveway the night of her death and he discovered her body. Now an eyewitness says they saw him enter Frank’s home the night he died. Pinky swears Frank was alive when he left but admitted they argued about his bill and the holiday schedule.”

  “Poor Pinky,” Mari said, checking the level of anesthesia on the kitty as I finished up.

  “Eloise’s son, Joe, is very upset. What do you think, Kate?”

  Her question took me by surprise. “I’m not sure.”

  I concentrated on my patient. Satisfied with the minor surgery, I gave him a long-acting antibiotic shot so his elderly owners didn’t have to struggle with medicating him. With all that finished, I told Mari to let him up from anesthesia and removed his intratracheal breathing tube as soon as he demonstrated a swallow reflex.

  “Sorry. You guys are busy,” Cindy noted, still aimlessly puttering around. “I’ll talk to you about this later.” Visibly worried, she went back to her desk in reception.

  Mari and I watched the cat begin to wake up. This classic American tabby cat had survived hopefully to not fight another day. We carried him to his cage cushioned with a soft blanket as he looked around.

  “No more arguing with other kitties,” I cautioned. “Stay at home and out of trouble.”

  Being a cat, he took it under advisement.

  I wish I could have said the same thing to Pinky.

  * * *

  As it turns out, the Anderson family lawyer stepped in and advised Pinky not to speak to anyone or answer any questions. He met with law enforcement and set guidelines on any interviews with his client.

  For now, without hard evidence, the detectives backed down. The lawyer assured them Pinky wasn’t going anywhere.

  The news of him being under suspicion of murder spread rapidly through the town and drastically cut into Pinky’s plowing business. Cindy revealed to Mari and me during a break that all day Pinky had gotten calls from his more rural clients abruptly canceling his service.

  “Guess they didn’t want to take any chances he’d plow first, kill later,” Mari said with a grin.

  “I assume that’s a joke.” Cindy was a staunch supporter of Pinky’s innocence and resented anyone saying otherwise. My suspicion is she’d brought the family lawyer on board.

  “You’ve known Pinky a long time,” I remembered. Like so many busy people, I found I really knew very little about my neighbors.

  “Since forever,” she answered. “My mom and his mom were best friends. We played together as kids and went to high school together. Pinky was always big, very shy, and uncomfortable around strangers. I guess that would be called social anxiety today.”

  “Probably.”

  She thought for a moment. “When I was in high school an ex-boyfriend used to harass me all the time. One day Pinky saw him say something that made me cry. The next day that bully had a black eye and a bandaged hand. Every day after that Pinky walked me to my house, or my mom’s car—he protected me. We never talked about it. You didn’t talk about stuff like that when I was growing up. I wish I could do more for him.”

  “You’re doing all you can,” I reminded her.

  Someone was playing a nasty game of cat and mouse, only the dead weren’t mice, but people—people with lives and hopes and dreams. Gone forever.

  A predator who carefully chose specific victims.

  Who was better equipped to catch a predator than a veterinarian?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Deep in the storage closet of the hospital I found my trusty dry-erase board. Its surface no longer pristine, it still suited my purpose. I’d used one in school to organize my thoughts. Since I’d done it before, why not try it again? Plus, if nothing comes to mind you can doodle on it. Perched on top of a side table in my apartment, it cried out for someone to draw something. Anything. So I wrote SELFISH CHRISTMAS WISH MURDERS in bold letters.

  My next step was to talk to my grandpa.

  “What am I going to do with you, Katie?” Gramps had listened to my theory on the three possible murders and wasn’t happy with me. “Is Luke going to help? He may be on a leave of absence from the Oak Falls Police Department, but he’s still a cop.”

  Of course I couldn’t answer that because I didn’t know what to expect from Luke. He always said to leave the investigating to the professionals. I saw his point, but what if they weren’t solving the crime?

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Yes, Gramps. I’m just not sure about Luke.”

  My explanation didn’t satisfy him. A sigh was followed by another question. “Did you break up with him?”

  “Gramps,” I tried to explain, “I’m not sure there was anything left to break.”

  * * *

  After promising that, yes, I would be careful and, no, I wouldn’t take any chances and maybe I should leave the sleuthing to the detectives, I said good night and hung up. Speaking to my Gramps forced me to think about Luke. We’d always been very casual in our attraction to each other. Had casual morphed into forgotten? Because if it had, then it was best to end any pretense of a relationship right now. Amputate and be done.

  I walked into the kitchen to get a glass of wine and passed by the whiteboard. Should I start tonight? Putting it off again, I waited at the kitchen table, glass in hand, and stared at it. Selfish Christmas Wish Murders stared back at me.

  “Oh, what the heck,” I said out loud and picked up a dry-erase marker.

  * * *

  In no time I had three bodies marked off in different corners, their names in bold red. Frank Martindale, Eloise Rieven, and Raeleen Lassitor.

  For aesthetic balance, I added Jeremy in the remaining corner with a forest of question marks surrounding his name. Nothing pointed to his assault being tied to any of the wishes.

  The only thing I knew they all had in common was Pinky and me. I took another sip of wine, confirmed that I was not the murderer, and tried again.

  I didn’t believe a serial killer was working in Oak Falls, but I decided to entertain that ever-popular movie theory. Let’s pretend someone wanted one of these victims dead. Maybe the coincidence of my wish getting such publicity spurred that someone into action. I decided to go by order of death. But first I added X-MAS CARDS in the middle of the board with a couple of question marks, to remind me that someone had posted phony cards from the victims specifically to me.

  Frank Martindale was contentious and had many people in town mad at him. They found his body because he didn’t show up in court. What was this pending lawsuit about? I wrote LAWSUITS in bold letters underneath his name. Money made a great motive.

  Next came Eloise. Babs thought her death was suspicious, but I wasn’t so sure. My own experience a few days ago led me on a different path. Did the outside pathologist consider wind gusts? Random powerful wind gusts hit all the time here in the Hudson Valley. I’d been almost blown off my feet by one. A strong gust of wind might very well have initiated her fall, and the combined velocity caused the nasty fracture. As far as motive, I wasn’t aware of any—except mine, so I wrote MOTIVE and underlined it twice. Now if someone had killed Frank, Eloise’s accidental murder would play into the wish.

  Next came Raeleen. I knew from talking to her ex-fiancé that she felt strongly about animal rights, to the point of stepping over the line many times. The FBI was investigating threats made to her and other members of LARN. Her accusation against me, however, needed to be expl
ored. With a purple marker I wrote ANIMAL RIGHTS GROUP and FIANCE under her name. Then I added GRUDGE and KILL TO MAKE THE WISH COME TRUE.

  That left Jeremy. Of course, he was alive and well and might not be part of this at all. Why would anyone attack Jeremy? I personally thought his assault was a robbery attempt, but because he also was tied to me, I wrote ARGUMENT. Then I wondered, how would a murderer find out we’d argued that day in the parking lot? HOSPITAL STAFF with a question mark joined the other notations on the board.

  The memory of those clients staring out the animal hospital window at us yelling at each other came back to haunt me. Maybe Jeremy was supposed to be dead.

  With that horrible thought in mind, I immediately texted him.

  No answer.

  An hour later there still was no reply.

  I tossed and turned most of the night dreaming of Jeremy running for his life.

  * * *

  During breakfast the next morning I heard back from him. He’d fallen asleep early after playing chase with his toddler nephew.

  Glad to hear his voice, I quickly went over my thoughts with him, trying to tie all the deaths together.

  “So, what you’re saying is I have a big target on my chest?” Jeremy asked.

  Oops. It was one thing to hypothesize but quite another thing when it became reality for someone else. “I’m not really sure. Maybe?” I tried to finish up my maple-flavored instant oatmeal but put it down.

  “Maybe? That’s comforting.” My friend didn’t sound particularly friendly.

  Time to lay it on the line. “Jeremy, just be careful, please. All these deaths occurred when the victim was alone at night. Please don’t let your guard down.”

  He laughed. “Believe me. I’ve still got a lump on my head. My guard is at an all-time high at the moment. Thanks for the warning. This is turning out to be an unforgettable holiday season, for all the wrong reasons.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I’d just walked out of my apartment and into the animal hospital when a similarity between all the deaths struck me. Frank took too much medication, Eloise might have been pushed, and Jeremy had been attacked from behind. Only Raeleen put up a fight. Someone tried to ambush her but didn’t succeed. Feisty, infuriating Raeleen had multiple contact injuries before a gun silenced her. None of the other incidents required brute strength.