Vitamin Sea

by Maia Ross

  “That’s not awesome.”

  Irma waved a hand airily. “It’s fine. I got her a Taser for Christmas instead.”

  “Irma!”

  “What?”

  “Tasers are illegal in Canada.”

  She finished her tea. “Only if you get caught. I’m not handing them out at Halloween, Violet. I gave it to a little old lady who can’t defend herself. It’ll be fine. Shall we?”

  I shook my head, dumped our garbage in the bin and made my way out to the street at the same time Emily popped out of the music store next door. “Oh, hello,” Emily said, a huge smile on her face. “Let me take those for you, Irma.”

  “I’m fine, dear.” A short tug of war over the flowers ensued, that Irma most decidedly won. I was surprised she didn’t coldcock Emily.

  Undaunted, Emily fell in step beside us. “What are you two up to?”

  “We’re going to see Charlotte,” Irma said.

  “Wonderful!” Big smile. “I’ll be by to see her after I meet with Luna. I did want to chat with you for a few minutes.”

  Our little parade stopped, the hydrangeas quivering in the breeze.

  “What can I do for you, dear?” Irma asked.

  “I understand that Charlotte is planning on leaving town the day after the fundraiser.”

  Irma said nothing, her lips pressed together.

  Emily smiled, undaunted. “I was wondering if you could try to talk her out of it. She’s so frail at this point that I’m worried that the strain of travelling will be too much for her.”

  “I see,” Irma said in a neutral tone.

  “Well, thanks, I appreciate it!” Emily said, as if Irma had agreed with her, and headed to the café.

  Irma frowned, watching Emily go. Eventually, she turned to me. “What was all that horrible beeping at the barre studio?”

  “You.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Your wearable, remember?”

  Irma glanced at her wrist. “What about it?”

  “It’s tracking your heart rate and respiration and all that jazz. It alerted when you had a spike in your body temperature. Here.” I showed her some graphs from my phone.

  “Huh.”

  “This is how I know you’re superhuman. Your heartbeat never went over seventy-five. Do you know who else is like that?”

  “Who?”

  “Hannibal Lecter.”

  “Is that a friend of yours, sweetheart?”

  I sighed before entering the clinic after her. When we got to Charlotte’s room, Irma poked her head around the corner.

  “Yes, Richard,” Charlotte said into the phone. “Yes, Richard.” Silence. “No, Richard, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be at the clinic.” After a moment she looked at the phone receiver before replacing it in its cradle. It looked like he’d hung up on her.

  “I got these for you.” Irma set her enormous bouquet of hydrangeas down on the side table. “How are you feeling?” Gently, she placed Charlotte’s hand in hers.

  “Hello, Irmie,” Charlotte said.

  “Irmie?” I mouthed at Irma.

  Charlotte gave us both a rueful look. “I feel very foolish.”

  “Why?” Irma’s voice was so pleasant I barely recognized it.

  “I must have eaten something I shouldn’t have.” Charlotte looked miserable.

  “I’m sure they still don’t have all the tests back. They’ll figure it out, and you’ll be home soon.” Irma said, patting her on the shoulder. “Any change with Scooter?”

  Charlotte’s mouth turned down. “He’s on a breathing machine and the overdose has affected his diabetes. We’ll know more in a day or so.”

  “I’m so sorry.” After a moment Irma added gently, “Charlotte, I’m sorry to have to do this, but there are a few things we absolutely have to talk about. First of all, I’m very concerned about Richard’s recent actions. We should—”

  She was interrupted by Kendelle’s shriek. “What are you talking about?”

  Everyone in the room turned towards Reception. Then feet pounded down the hallway and Kendelle appeared in the doorway of Charlotte’s room, her mouth opening and closing like a guppy.

  Dr. Harris popped up behind her, squeezed into the room, and put her hands on the young woman’s shoulders. “What’s wrong, Kendelle?” she asked calmly. I got the impression that they’d done this dance a few times before. Poor Kendelle, she seemed like a good kid. Just overwhelmed with, well, basic life skills.

  “There’s...there’s....there’s...”

  “Kendelle, I want you to breathe, okay?” Dr. Harris was exquisitely calm.

  Kendelle’s eyes were full of tears, her head bobbing crazily. And then she said it:

  “There’s a bomb!”

  Twenty-Four—Irma

  I hadn’t heard those words in a while, but happily, my muscle memory came to the rescue. “Who, what, where, Kendelle?”

  Dr. Harris had let go of Kendelle, who looked terrified. “Wh...”

  “Let’s focus, dear.” I had both hands on Kendelle’s shoulders, and I was shaking her. Just a bit. She was a lovely girl, but honestly, not the best in a crisis.

  “The phone...” Kendelle looked dazed. Briefly, I wondered if slapping her would seem too harsh. Not to her, to the crowd around us.

  “Someone called on the phone? Lovely. That’s very helpful. There’s a bomb in the clinic?”

  She nodded. She was looking a little drunk.

  “Alrighty. Did you call the police?”

  A head shake.

  “Lovely, I see. Dr. Harris, would you mind terribly calling 911? Thank you, dear.”

  Dr. Harris, who had her wits about her much more fully than Kendelle, nodded, pulled her phone out of her pocket and started dialling. Mercifully, she moved off to a corner to speak.

  The rest of the staff had disappeared, hopefully off to package up the patients and get them to safety. My main concern, however, was Charlotte.

  “Are we ready, old girl?” I asked her. “We have to move.”

  A brisk nod. Charlotte looked much more chipper than she had when I’d come in. She always was good in a crisis.

  “Lovely. Violet, let’s make our way to the back door, shall we?” Charlotte might have perked up a bit, but the back door was closer than the front. I wasn’t sure if she could make it out the other way, and there was no wheelchair in her room. Bother.

  “There’s a back door?” Violet asked.

  Adrenaline was humming in me now, ready for a fight. “This way, please,” I trilled as we made our way back to the emergency exit.

  Violet and Charlotte and I were all jumbled up a little and Violet got there first. She heaved her hip against the door. “Ouch.” The door didn’t give an inch.

  I tried to lower the bar attached to the door handle and I could feel the lock release. But the door stayed shut. I reluctantly threw my hip against it, but it did not budge whatsoever, the little bugger.

  Worry burned in my chest. There was no way Julian would allow this door to be disabled. It was against the fire code. It was against his personal code. He was a very rule-oriented fellow, so much like Violet. I really did hope—

  “Irma!” Violet shrieked. “While we’re young, please!” She was halfway to the front door, her arm around Charlotte, half-carrying her, her feet skimming the floor.

  “Bollocks.” I sprinted after them. At Reception, I grabbed on to Violet’s shirt and hissed, “Hold your position until I say everything’s clear. Understand?”

  Violet nodded, still hanging on to Charlotte. Such a good girl. I wiggled my telescoping mirror out of its case and out the front door, which someone had so helpfully wedged open. Hopefully not a murderous death-bomber.

  The parking lot seemed clear, other than the staff and patients who’d evacuated the building, but it was impossible to know for sure. Bugger. The bomb threat was probably just from a patient who didn’t want to have to come in and get an enema, but the barred back exit wasn’t sitting
well with me at all.

  “Back in a jiff,” I called to Violet and Charlotte as I sprinted to the break room, which looked out over the lake, and was, I had to admit, looking a bit more frothy than I preferred during a getaway involving an octogenarian. Plus, the window was too high for Charlotte to safely use.

  I tried to weigh the possibilities. Everyone else had evacuated without encountering a new threat. Plus, when there was a bomb in play, one really did want to move as fast as possible.

  But I did not like that blocked door, especially so soon after yesterday’s phony fire alarm.

  Huddled inside Reception with my two compatriots, adrenaline crashed around inside me. We could go to the right, which led to the dock, which led to my boat. Being on the water felt safer; any fresh threats would most likely come from land. From one of those parked cars. Or even someone from one of the office buildings across the street. And my little boat had gotten me out of worse scrapes. I mean, really, Violet hadn’t even seen the turbo button yet.

  “Okay,” I whispered to my little huddle. “We’re going right. Violet, I want you to lead. Try to help Charlotte, please, that’s a good girl. I’m going to take up the rear. Our target is the boat. Please help Charlotte get situated. I’ll throw off the lines and we’ll be all set. Everyone on board?”

  “I’m first?” Violet squeaked out.

  “Yes, dear. I’ve checked, and it’s clear to the boat. Let’s crouch down a little, shall we? And we’re moving as fast as possible please.”

  “Can’t we go out a window or something? Or wait?”

  “I really wouldn’t recommend that. The windows are too high for Charlotte to use safely and, if there really is a bomb, well, you know. Kablooey.”

  “Okay, okay.” She took a deep breath, then another. “Charlotte, you up for it?”

  Charlotte had alarm stamped all over her features, but to her credit, she squared her shoulders and nodded. She was a tough old bird.

  “All right. Let’s move.”

  For a self-described couch potato, Violet burst through the doorway like a triathlete. It was impressive. She had Charlotte around the waist and was carrying her like she was a ragdoll. I was right behind them, scanning for anything hinky.

  We moved quickly, low to the ground and on our toes. Charlotte’s legs flopped around a little but she had a good grip on Violet. They were seven steps from the corner of the building, which would get them to safety. Then five, then three. My heart pounded in my chest as I scanned the area. We were almost clear. So close. But then the zing of a bullet crashed into my ears. And we had one tiny new problem.

  I’d just been shot.

  “Sit down,” Dr. Harris said sternly. Again. Really, it was lovely to see some of her mother’s backbone in her. And it had been so nice of her to double-time it over to the police station to treat me in its infirmary after the police had spirited us away from the scene of the crime. They’d shut down the clinic and the surrounding buildings and were busy with their investigation.

  “I was barely even shot,” I protested. “I feel fine.”

  “I’m still sewing you up!”

  “She is sewing you up,” Violet chimed in. “It’s true.” She was sipping an iced coffee Luna had sent over, which I’d asked her to Irish up a bit, if you know what I mean. Violet seemed to be cheering up accordingly.

  I sat down. Angelique recommenced trussing me together while I noodled on my most recent brush with death. Was this more anti-Oot shenanigans the hacker had wanted to unleash on the family? Obviously, the bomb threat, and perhaps even the fire alarm from yesterday, had been poised at getting a potential victim out of the building so someone could take a shot at them. Or could it be Richard? He was a passable marksman who owned a few firearms; they had a shooting range on their estate and he’d done some competing when we were younger. Maybe he’d been brushing up in his later years.

  Plus, his office was across the street from the clinic.

  Dr. Harris dipped her needle back into my wound. The bullet had seared a small red path in my skin before embedding itself in a metal pin I had in my shoulder, which left me with practically no pain at all. I’d always had excellent luck.

  “May I keep the bullet, please?” I said sweetly.

  “No.”

  The voice came from the doorway. It was Chief Pickle, looking crisp and refreshed. I’d heard she’d recently had Botox. It made her look more cranky than usual but in a good way.

  “Oh, hello, Officer Pickle, how are you?”

  “Chief Pickle, and I’m excellent. I’d like to speak to you when you’re done.”

  “Of course, dear, I’m sorry. Please take a seat.”

  “Alone.” There was a tone in her voice I didn’t really appreciate. I mean, honestly, I’d just been shot.

  “Of course.” I gave her my best don’t mess with me smile. She launched a similar one right back in my direction. Her bun was screwed on extra tight today, possibly the reason behind her hostility. Well, some of it. After a long moment, she turned and left the room.

  “You sure you don’t want a local?” Dr. Harris asked.

  “I’m quite well, thank you.” The last thing I needed was to have my senses numbed in any way. And pain was good, helped you know you were still alive. And that you wanted to stay that way.

  “Who do you think they were after?” asked Dr. Harris softly. I looked from her to Violet. It was so hard to know who to trust with this kind of information. When I was working, everything was need-to-know, with the need-to-knowers all identified and clear. Things were much muddier these days. But I’d known Dr. Harris since she was a child and used to ride her tricycle all over my begonias. The chance of her being part of a murderous criminal cabal was quite low, although it would be nice to know she had a mysterious side. Every woman needed a few juicy secrets, Mother always used to say.

  “It’s unclear,” I answered.

  Dr. Harris got out a pair of medical scissors and deftly snipped the thread.

  “May I please see the bullet?”

  She glanced over at the door, her eyes sliding over Violet, who was sucking on her straw with gusto. The specimen bowl was tucked behind Angelique; she reached around and handed it to me. I glanced over at Charlotte, who was sitting in a plush chair, her eyes shuttered. She was probably exhausted.

  The bullet was in relatively good shape. My concern had primarily been that it had come from a sniper. If there was a sniper in town, we really were in trouble. But the bullet was small calibre, maybe a .22. Mass-produced. Definitely not a sniper bullet, which were much larger and almost always handloads. I turned that over in my head for a bit. Jake had been shot with a .22. And so had my dead driveway man.

  “Violet, dear, can you please take a picture of this?”

  “Okey dokey.” She got to her feet and came over. If someone had given her a field sobriety test at this exact moment, the poor thing would have failed miserably.

  “S’okay,” she mumbled before shooting some passable pictures of the bullet.

  “Thank you.”

  “Nonono, thank you, Irma. I am having the most terrifying vacation ever. Ever! I’ll be telling stories about this vacation foreverrrrrrrrrrrrr.”

  “Loose lips sink ships, dear.”

  She hiccupped, then smiled, possibly to herself.

  “Thank you,” I said to Dr. Harris.

  She nodded briskly and snapped her gloves off. “I’m going to leave you all alone for a bit. Try not to move your arm too much. Come back in a few days, and I’ll take a look at the incision to make sure it’s healing properly.”

  “Thank you so much,” I said as Dr. Harris got up and left. “Charlotte,” I hissed as soon as she was gone. She stirred, opened her eyes. “I have to have a difficult discussion with you.”

  “Shoot,” she said, before wincing. “Sorry.”

  “Not at all. I’d like you to consider cancelling the fundraiser on Saturday.”

  She closed her eyes again. Then shook he
r head.

  I tried not to sigh, but one popped out of me anyway. She’d always been stubborn. “Will you consider staying at my place until then? It would be easier to protect you there. Better yet, why don’t you skip the fundraiser and go to Vancouver early? I’ll send some excellent security with you.”

  She met my gaze. “I’m not letting some hooligan push me out of my own home. The fundraiser has to happen this weekend, and I have to be there; we’ve promised St. Jude’s that we’ll build that pediatric cancer wing this year, and that’s precisely what we shall do. And you can certainly protect me at my home, Irma.”

  I did not like the sound of that at all. But I tried to focus. Charlotte was an intensely private woman and I had always tried to respect that aspect of her personality, even though it had driven me slightly batty at times over the years. But I had to press on. I needed some answers. “Who inherits? In your will, I mean.”

  She looked at Violet, then me. “I have a number of charities that are remembered in my will. But the lion’s share goes to the next generation...” She trailed off, her eyes on the floor.

  “Scooter?”

  She met my gaze. “Yes.”

  “And if Scooter dies?”

  “Richard,” she said quietly.

  There was a pause. “Charlotte, what can you tell me about buying into Renée’s?”

  “What?”

  “Did you not invest in Renée’s store? Right before the robbery?”

  She looked more horrified than when she realized I’d been shot. I tried not to take it personally. “I most certainly did not.” But she looked uncertain.

  “What is it?”

  “Richard takes care of all that.”

  “I see. And is he your power of attorney?”

  She nodded.

  I let out a deep sigh. “Don’t you find it odd, Charlotte, that a business Richard bought into on your behalf has just experienced the only armed robbery the island has ever had? A business he over-insured, fraudulently over-insured, in fact. And he’s put his house on the market. You wouldn’t happen to know where he’s hanging his hat these days, would you?”