“Wake up. You’re drooling.” Nick’s voice, but why was I hearing him in the middle of the night? I opened one eye and saw him sitting at the table in my room with two cups of coffee and two take-out boxes that smelled like bacon and toast. No wonder I was drooling. He opened the boxes. “Want to eat first or get dressed?”
“Dressed.” I went into the bathroom and came out a few minutes later wearing black slacks and a white cotton shirt with short sleeves. A red linen jacket would dress up the outfit later when I went to meet with Brenda McClurg.
Nick watched me finish my last bites of bacon and jellied toast. “Did you have to make special arrangements to meet your contact on a Saturday?”
“No. It turns out she was already scheduled to work this weekend. I’m not sure why.”
“I guess you’ll find out. It’s only eight o’clock. Want to kill some time riding around with me?”
“I might as well.”
He dumped our empty cartons and cups in a wastebasket while I put on the red jacket and a pair of black Merrell Brios. They looked like Mary Janes—dressy enough for my outfit, but also practical. I could run like hell in them if I had to. I grabbed my purse, checking to make sure I had my cellphone and room key. “Let’s go.”
Outside in the crisp October morning, a few cotton-topped cumulus clouds with flat, gray bottoms rode a bright blue sky. Nick stared at them as he started the rental sedan.
“Reading the clouds?” I said. “They probably won’t help you navigate the highway.”
He pulled his gaze back to the dashboard in front of him. “Force of habit. There’s a Ford dealership on the outskirts of town. Let’s see if anyone there remembers selling a black F150 four by four with a crew cab. We’ll have you back in plenty of time for your ten o’clock.”
“They must sell a lot of those trucks out here. You don’t even know the year model, do you?”
“Actually, I do. I’m pretty sure it was new. I’ve been looking at them myself.”
“How are you going to explain interrogating the Ford dealer?”
“I’m just a potential customer looking for a good deal. And I’m not bashful about asking for references from satisfied customers.”
I glanced at a billboard near the roadside in a weedy pasture populated by llamas and goats. It read: PARTY WITH PATTY: BIRTHDAYS, WEDDINGS AND WAKES. The paper was faded and torn, and it looked as if the party had been over for quite a while, but it jogged my memory. Nick and I had overlooked Mystery Pat in our brainstorming session the night before.
“Nick, we need to keep our eyes and ears open while we’re here in case we come across anyone named Pat.”
“Ah, Mystery Pat. You’re right. Could be the guy in the black F150.”
“You know, that would make sense if he really is her friend. Maybe calling him was the last thing she did before she went on the run.”
Nick pulled into the dealership and parked near the sales office. Three salesmen emerged and the largest of them hot-footed it over to our rental car. He motioned Nick to roll down his window.
“ ’Morning folks. I’m Morris. Welcome to Patterson’s Premium Motors. Nice day, isn’t it?” His hair was thick and wavy, and the sunlight gave it an unnatural sheen that suggested a do-it-yourself dye job.
Nick nodded. “You bet.”
Patterson’s! I nudged Nick in the ribs with my elbow.
“You and the missus here to do some shopping?” Morris asked. “We have a fine selection of vehicles. You name it, we got it.”
“We’d like to look around a bit,” Nick said. “We’re interested in the F150 crew cab. Word is you’re willing to negotiate.”
“Ah, fine choice. Your little woman okay with that? Maybe she’d like to take a test run in one of our new crossovers.” Morris leaned down and peered at me through Nick’s window. His cologne filled the little rental’s small space with a pungent combination of musk and swamp grass. He caught a closer look at me and his eyebrows raised an eighth of an inch—registering us as an interracial couple. Nick saw it, too. He leaned over and kissed my cheek.
“What do you say, sweetheart? Pickup or crossover?”
“You promised to buy me a four by four.” I lowered my eyes and tried to sound pouty and sultry at the same time.
Nick’s mouth twitched, but he managed to keep a straight face.
“You heard my little lady. She wants what she wants.”
Morris straightened up. “Then I’ll put you together with Gary P. He’s our expert on the F150.” He signaled one of his colleagues over to our car.
“Hi folks, I’m Gary P,” the new man said. He had a marathon runner’s lean body and a shock of thick white hair.
“Are you Patterson, by any chance?” Nick said.
Gary P shook his head. “No chance of that. He passed on twenty years ago. New owner just kept the name. Why do you ask?”
“Your associate called you Gary P.”
“That’s me. Gary Podleski. We got another Gary. He’s Sippowitz. So I’m Gary P and he’s Gary S.”
Nick and I followed Gary P around the lot to the area where the pickups were parked. Of the ten F150s on the lot, eight were black.
“Looks like black is popular,” Nick said.
“Yeah, we do sell a lot of black.” Gary peeled the wrapper off a stick of Doublemint gum and tongued it into his mouth. He frowned and looked down at his shoes. After a few chews, he squinted at Nick. “Buddy, you pick out one of these big boys and I’ll give you the best deal in Idaho.” His forced laugh scented the air with mint.
“You’ll have to talk to my lady. It’s going to be her ride, not mine.”
I pointed to one of the black crew cabs. “I like that one.”
Chapter 18
We got out of the car and walked over to the pickup. Nick and Gary P did some verbal sparring about price, extras and all of the usual salesman-versus-buyer car lot talk. When Gary P said he couldn’t offer the names of any of his satisfied customers, I piped up and whined, “Nicky, I changed my mind. I want a little car. Something cute, like a Porsche.”
“Ah, no,” Gary whispered to Nick. “You really gonna buy her a Porsche?”
Nick gave a rueful shake of his head. “Looks like I might have to. You wouldn’t happen to have a used one here, would you?”
Gary P kicked at a pebble. “No, man. Can’t you get her back to the 150?”
I walked back to the rental car. “Come on. Nicky, let’s go look for a Porsche.”
Nick put an arm around Gary P’s shoulder and walked him a few steps away. I barely heard him say, “Hey, man. I like the 150, but you see what I’m up against. Maybe you could give me a couple of names. I might be able to persuade her if we get some good testimonials about customer satisfaction.”
“Gimme a second,” Gary P said. He walked toward the doors of the dealership. Nick slid into the rental and started the engine.
Gary P ran back out and thrust a sheet of paper at Nick. “I’d lose my job if I gave you customer names, but here’s another way for you to get what you need. You come on back now, hear?”
“Thanks, Buddy,” Nick said. “I sure will.”
Nick handed me the slip of paper then pulled out of the dealership and onto the highway.
“This will work,” I said. “According to Gary P, you can get the dealership’s buyer information by going online to the DMV.”
Nick pulled into a minimart parking lot and read Gary P’s instructions. He punched the DMV site into his iPhone and a few minutes later, had three names.
“Angela Winkle, Carson Littletree, and Lois McElroy.”
“Two women?” Nick said.
“At least. We can’t be sure about Carson.”
“Think about the driver we saw with her in the wilderness. Any chance it was a woman?”
“I don’t know. I just assumed it was a guy, but all I saw was a glimpse of sunglasses and a billed cap.” I reached for my phone. “Maybe I can find something about Carson Littletree
online.”
I did an Internet search, but came up only with a Carson Little in Arkansas, a lot of Carsons who weren’t Littletrees, and a couple links for The Education of Little Tree.
“Anything?” Nick said. “We’ll be at the hospital in a couple of minutes.”
“Not yet.”
“Never mind, then. I’ll look them up after I drop you off.”
We reached Dunnsville Memorial just before ten o’clock. Nick stopped at the front entrance.
“How long do you expect to be here?”
“Probably no more than an hour, but leave your phone on. I’ll call you when I’m finished and wait for you in the lobby.”
I found my way to Brenda McClurg’s small, neat office, where she welcomed me with a firm handshake. Her café au lait complexion and Tina Turner hairdo made a striking first impression. She wore a flowing dress covered with hot pink and bright purple flowers.
“Welcome to Dunnsville Memorial Hospital.” She took a seat behind her desk, gesturing an invitation for me to sit in a visitor’s chair.
“Thank you for meeting with me on a Saturday,” I said. “I hope it didn’t disrupt your weekend.”
“We have an accreditation inspection coming up in two weeks,” she said. “You work in a hospital, right?”
“Yes, in the library.”
“So you know the drill. With inspectors on the way, Saturday’s just another day.” I didn’t envy her having an inspection just when the scandal broke in the media.
“I understand, and I want you to know how much I appreciate your time.”
“No problem.” She closed a calendar on her desk. “Now what can I do for you? Cleo said you were trying to help a woman in distress. I’m all for that.”
“Did she say anything more?”
“No, she said you’d explain. I told her I’d do anything I could to help.”
I chose my words carefully, telling her a nurse had disappeared from the hospital where I worked, and that I was worried about her.
“You think this woman came to Idaho for some reason?”
“It’s possible. She may be from around here. I might be overreacting, but I’d like to be sure she’s okay.”
“I don’t see how I can help with that,” Brenda said.
“We think there’s a connection between this nurse and a patient named DeeDee Dakota, who was admitted here two and a half years ago. Apparently the patient was here for about forty-eight hours.”
“Ah, now I remember.” Brenda rose from her desk and crossed the room to close the door of her office. She returned to her desk and sat. “Cleo mentioned the DeeDee Dakota case. And this has something to do with the missing nurse?”
“It might. We don’t have a lot to go on.”
“What’s the nurse’s name? Cleo didn’t mention that.”
“Laurie Popejoy.”
Brenda’s eyes widened. “Laurie? Laurie’s missing? Oh, my heavens.”
“You know Laurie?”
“She’s my niece. My big sister’s kid.” Brenda picked up her phone.
“Then she is from around here?”
Brenda punched a button and held up a finger for me to wait.
“Maylene? It’s Bren. Is Laurie there with you?” Brenda glanced at me and nodded. “Damn, why didn’t you tell me about this?” She shook her head and the caramel curls bounced around her face. “Damn, double damn. Okay, okay, Laurie made you promise. I get it. Now listen. There’s someone here who needs to talk to her.”
It took ten minutes for Nick to get back to the hospital and another twenty for us to find our way to the address Brenda had given me. On the way I asked if he had any luck with the three pickup buyers’ names.
“I was just getting started when you called, but we can probably eliminate Lois McElroy. She’s almost eighty.”
“Really? How do you know?
“She’s on Facebook. Neither of the others are. That’s as far as I got.”
We pulled up to a small stucco-sided house adjacent to a large field of pasture grass where half a dozen horses grazed. The clouds had multiplied since early morning, blocking the sun and leaving the air humid. The only vehicle in sight was a fifties vintage Plymouth Fury with sweeping tail fins and gleaming bronze paint. It was parked in front of a detached one-car garage. No sign of a pickup truck.
An older, more buxom version of Brenda stood guard in the open front doorway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She wore a flowered bib apron over a short-sleeved white cotton blouse and gray slacks. Her white sneakers looked brand new. I saw a curtain move at a window next to the door.
When we walked up, the woman turned and said over her shoulder, “Well, honey?”
Laurie stepped around her mother, waif-like in baggy blue jeans and a faded red sweat shirt.
“Yes, Mom, it’s Aimee. It’s all right.” She reached out to me, and we shared a hug of mutual relief. “Thank God you found me. This is my mother, Maylene Popejoy.”
Maylene threw a nervous glance toward where we had parked and beyond, as if searching for bad news. “Come in. I just put coffee on.” She closed the front door and locked it as soon as we were inside.
Laurie led us into a small living room smelling of lemon-scented furniture polish. Crocheted doilies protected the arms of the comfy chairs and loveseat, and the shiny surface of every tabletop. Either Mr. Clean had just exited out the back door, or Maylene was one heck of a housekeeper.
I introduced Nick to Laurie and her mother, and before I could come up with an explanation for why he would fly me to Idaho to look for her, he interjected a reason of his own.
“I needed to log some hours to keep my pilot’s license current, and Aimee needed a ride, so it worked out.”
Laurie and her mother stood with expectant looks, as if there must be more to the story.
“Nick and I go way back,” I offered. “He and my brother are best friends.”
That satisfied Maylene, who waved us toward the spotless oak dining table. “You folks have a seat and I’ll go get coffee.” She hesitated, flipped the dishtowel over her shoulder. “Unless you’d rather have tea?”
“Coffee’s fine,” Nick said. I nodded.
Laurie took four placemats from the drawer of a china cabinet, arranged them on the table, and sat with us while her mother bustled in the kitchen. She put a finger to her lips and nodded toward the kitchen. Barely above a whisper, she said, “I can’t believe you found me.”
“I tried to call you back dozens of times after your first call.” I kept my voice low. “What happened?”
“I’m so sorry. This will sound paranoid, but after I called you and Cleo, I realized someone might be able to track me by my cellphone, so I trashed it. I called you the second time from a payphone at Uncle Fudd’s. I tried to call you again when I got here, but the only number I knew was your home phone and you didn’t answer. I was afraid to leave any more messages.”
“We were already flying here by then.” I explained how Nick had heard Uncle Fudd’s cuckoo clock and thought she might be hiding in the wilderness, and how we’d seen her in the black pickup with the Idaho plates.
“That was you, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. But I don’t remember seeing you. What were you driving?”
“A white pickup. We were hauling llamas in a trailer or we’d have followed you.”
“The trailer … now I remember. At the Bunchgrass Trailhead road?”
“Yes. Who were you with?”
Laurie’s glance darted toward the doorway into the kitchen. “Mama doesn’t know about him. I’ll have to explain later.”
Sweet aromas of sugar and cinnamon preceded Maylene as she came into the dining room carrying a tray laden with hot rolls and a carafe of coffee.
“I thought a bite of something would do us all good.” She tried to pour the coffee into my cup, but her hand shook so badly that Laurie took the carafe from her.
“I’ll do that, Mama. You need to relax.”
“I’m not infirm,” Maylene said, “but I confess I’ve been shaky since Laurie came home.”
“She’s afraid for me,” Laurie said with a guilty glance at her mother. “I shouldn’t have brought trouble home to my folks.”
“Nonsense,” Maylene said. “Your daddy and I wouldn’t have you in distress and us not knowing.” She glanced down at her watch. “Speaking of Dad, I’d best put in a call. Let him know of this new development.” She seemed to stumble as she headed for the kitchen, but righted herself and continued until she was out of sight.
Laurie picked at a piece of cinnamon roll. “I shouldn’t have come here. She’s just recovering from a bout of C. diff that almost killed her. She’s only been home from the hospital for a few days.”
“Clostridium difficile?” I knew it was a serious diagnosis. “How did that happen?”
“She took a broad-spectrum antibiotic for a UTI.”
Nick gave me a puzzled look.
“C. diff causes severe infection of the colon and life-threatening diarrhea. The antibiotic can eradicate the normal gut flora and allow the C. diff bacteria to take over. Put simply, it raises hell in the bowel.”
“She would have been okay if she’d gone to a decent hospital,” Laurie said, “but her family doctor admitted her to Dunnsville Memorial.”
“Is there another hospital in Dunnsville?” I asked.
“No, that’s what makes me so mad. She would have been fine at one of the larger hospitals in the area, but no, her doctor insisted she go to Dunnsville. He owns the hospital and Mom’s sister works there. Mom trusts him, but I think he’s way overdue for retirement.”
“She seems to be doing okay now,” I said.
“Only because I intervened as soon as I heard and got her transferred out of there. I just wish Auntie Brenda would resign from DMH. She says she’s too close to being vested in her pension, but I don’t believe she’ll ever see it. They’ll find a way to cheat her out of it.” She tore off a piece of a cinnamon roll, looked at it for a moment and dropped it on her napkin. Her eyes glistened.
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