by Eileen Brady
The hospital felt uncharacteristically quiet, until an unexpected roll of thunder made the windows rattle. The next clap of thunder was quickly followed by the familiar sounds of driving rain and wind.
“Want to stay until the worst is over?” I asked.
“Sure. Lucy and Desi will be fine.”
Mari wasn’t referring to the old nineteen-fifties television show. No, she’d named her beautiful pair of Rottweiler dogs after the famous Hollywood couple. Because of her working hours, she’d installed self-feeders and multiple water bowls in her kitchen, as well as a king-sized doggy door out to the fenced-in backyard. She lavished attention on them, referring to the dogs as her fur children. Her boyfriend insisted she loved them more than she loved him, and he probably was right.
We walked the short distance to my attached apartment in Doc Anderson’s converted garage. The sound of the rain echoed even louder under the metal roof. Exhausted, I dropped down on the old chenille sofa while Mari took the recliner. Buddy greeted us with a slow tail-thump. He moved just enough to rest his head on my foot.
“There might be some dog hair on that chair,” I warned.
“No kidding.”
I wasn’t exactly known for my housekeeping skills.
Together we listened to the steady staccato of raindrops. I wrapped a soft plaid blanket around my shoulders and handed another to Mari. Without prompting, she told me about Flynn Keegan, the person found dead in the woods.
“I was always envious of Flynn in high school,” she confessed. “He was gorgeous, popular—everything I wasn’t. Everyone loved him. You knew he was destined to succeed at anything he set out to do.”
“Sounds familiar. Most of us know someone like that.”
The softening rain pinged a gentle rhythm. We both listened, lost in our own thoughts.
“Can I ask you something?” My assistant stretched out her legs.
“Sure.”
“Seeing that arm bone the other day creeped me out.” Mari involuntarily rubbed her hands together. “Now I feel even worse because I knew Flynn and his mom and sister.”
Unfortunately, I understood only too well how she felt. After I discovered two of my clients dead during a house call, I’d had nightmares for weeks. The only consolation I could offer were some very personal words of wisdom.
“You know my Gramps often came across bodies during his arson investigations. He told me the way he dealt with it was to believe that the dead chose him to find them, so he could help tell their story.”
“But a dog found Flynn’s arm.” There was a shaky quality to her voice as she pulled the blanket tighter around her body.
I thought about that for a moment. “Did he like animals?”
Her reply came slowly. “I think he did…I’m pretty sure his family had a dog.”
“Maybe that’s how Flynn wanted us to find him. Maybe he wouldn’t have minded at all. Think about it.”
A tiny smile curved her lips and her face relaxed. She began to experiment with the recliner lever, and the seat lurched backward.
“You know, somehow that makes me feel better.”
“I’m glad.”
Once more we drifted into silence, listening to the slowing patter of raindrops on the roof.
Her next question drifted up from the depths of the chair. “Do you think they’ll find his murderer after all these years?”
I took a long drink of water before I answered. “When did he leave Oak Falls?”
“Let’s see. I was a freshman in high school when he was a senior. My impression is he left town a couple of months after he graduated.”
I could hear her softly counting.
“That would be ten years ago.”
“Ten years is a long time. I’m not sure who will end up doing the investigation.”
“So it won’t be our local police?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I’ll ask Luke when I see him.” I didn’t say if I see him. “Better yet, Cindy can find out for you.”
“True.” With a jolt the recliner jerked back up to its original position. Mari slipped off her blanket and folded it on the sofa. “This is so weird, Kate. I think that Flynn’s graduating class has their ten-year high school reunion in a few weeks.”
We both knew one member who wouldn’t be there.
The staccato beat of raindrops on the metal roof faded to a periodic ding. “Sounds like the storm has tapered off.”
Mari brushed some dog hair off her pants. “We need to lighten the mood here before I go home. Let’s change the subject.” Her mouth scrunched up in a half smile. “So when is Jeremy coming—and is he staying here with you?”
Jeremy?
Rats. I’d forgotten all about him.
***
After Mari left I drifted off to sleep on the sofa, so when the phone rang I was tempted to let it go to voice mail. However, the name on caller ID made me wake up fast.
“Hi, Gramps. Everything okay?” My grandfather usually stuck to a specific pattern, calling me every Sunday evening like clockwork. I prayed nothing was wrong.
“Everything is fine on this end.” His voice sounded strong and clear, thanks to a new medication for his smoke-induced chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. After more than two decades in the NYC fire department his lungs had paid the price.
My watch read nine-thirty. In my Gramps’ world, nine-thirty was like midnight.
“What are you doing up at this hour?”
“Late night poker game. I couldn’t leave without giving the boys a chance to win back some of their losses.”
“Did they?” I sat up on the sofa and rubbed my face. The blanket slid onto the floor.
“Of course not.” He laughed at the absurdity of my question.
I realized the rain had completely stopped. With a stretch I rolled my shoulders. “So, anything else new since I spoke to you last?”
“I should ask you the same question.”
Oops. I didn’t like the implication in his voice.
“What’s this about a body being found in the woods near Oak Falls? Or did that slip your mind?”
Buddy stirred next to me then pushed his nose under my hand. Phone calls made him jealous. “Hey, I was going to tell you about it after they identified the remains.” I tried to sound self-righteous to cover my tracks. It didn’t work.
“How come the newspaper mentions you?”
Shoot. I hadn’t had any time to check the news. “One of my Saturday morning clients showed me a bone that her dog brought home. I told her to call the authorities.”
“Okay. So do they have an ID?”
“Yes. A local boy named Flynn Keegan. No one knew he was missing. Everyone, including his family, thought he’d gone out to L.A.”
“The paper said he’d been gone for what, nine or ten years?” An arson investigator for twenty-plus years in New York City, bodies and murder were nothing new to my Gramps.
“Sounds about right. I really don’t know that much about it.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way.” This time the disapproval in his voice was obvious. “It was a homicide, I suppose.”
“If the town gossip mill is correct. Official cause of death should be released soon.” I got up off the sofa and stretched again. “Don’t worry. This is one murder I’m not getting involved in.”
Buddy jumped down, eager to go for his nightly walk.
“Promise?” Gramps made me feel like I was ten years old.
“Yes, I promise.” Unfortunately the inquisitive little girl he had raised lurked deep inside me and crossed her fingers behind her back, just in case.
There was no immediate reaction from my Gramps until he said, “Katie, my love. Now why don’t I believe you?”
Chapter Six
When my alarm clock went
off the next morning I wanted to throw it across the room and go back to sleep. Although that would have been lovely, there was work to do. When I let Buddy out, cold air woke me up in a hurry.
Thirty minutes later, armed with steaming cups of coffee, Mari and I braced for more bad weather. Loaded down with raincoats, umbrellas, and two extra pairs of boots stashed in the back of the truck, we thought we were prepared for the worst. But good old Mother Nature decided to surprise us and, instead of the predicted rain, served up sleet and frigid winds. The stinging glacial gusts that whipped around the corner of our next house call made me wish I’d worn an arctic-rated ski mask.
“Pretty soon we’ll be battling the snow.” Mari adjusted a gigantic fluffy muffler to cover her nose and mouth after we reached our client’s porch. With a gloved hand studded with ice crystals I pushed the doorbell. “How Much is That Doggie in the Window?” cheerfully chimed back at us.
The two figures that opened the door appeared as snug as bugs, if bugs wore hand-knit sweaters. Handsome in a diamond-patterned argyle sweater, Little Man gave us his customary Chihuahua greeting—a teeth-baring lip-curling snarl. His owner, Daphne Davidsen, wore a matching human-sized outfit and offered us an effusive welcome. Both topped off their outfits with colorful golf hats festooned on the top with a mock black-and-white golf ball.
“Come in, come in please. It’s getting very cold out there.” Although christened Daphne, everyone called her Daffy, for obvious reasons. She stepped gracefully aside and guided Mari and me into the foyer. We all pretended Little Man wasn’t emitting growls from one end and poisonous dog farts from the other.
“Did you know the first golfing club in the United States was founded in 1786?” Daffy volunteered. “In their honor we are wearing replicas of one of those early golf costumes.”
“Of course you are.” Mari’s voice popped up over my shoulder.
As usual, I had the impression of stepping into an alternative universe, a world where everything coordinated. All flat surfaces, such as tables, sideboards, and even the fireplace mantle were littered with trinkets, figurines, and lace doilies. Velvety curtains covered the windows and even the chairs wore skirts.
***
Daffy and her Chihuahua dog were among my favorite and most frequent house-call clients. After an exam a few months ago revealed an infection in the anal gland of her beloved pooch, she decided to schedule appointments every two weeks, whether he needed them or not. So, faithfully, twice a month, I checked the problem area and trimmed her Chihuahua’s nails. I suspected Daffy liked having the company.
“How is everything going? Any problems with your sweetie pie?” Little Man’s giant bat ears twitched and his eyes malevolently swiveled from Mari to me, and back again. We followed his owner into the kitchen and waited in front of the island where we routinely did the exam. Daffy placed her pet on the countertop that was covered in newspaper and draped with a green towel. The dog stood as quiet as a statue, the golf cap riding at a jaunty angle on top of his shiny, bald, head. All he lacked was a putter.
“Front or back?” During each visit my assistant and I had to outmaneuver six pounds of unhappy dog. We had our strategy down pat. Sometimes I wondered if Little Man thought we were here to play some kind of bizarre game with him.
Mari pointed to the dog’s head so I circled around the back, getting into position for a sneak attack. Our patient’s nose was too small for a regular muzzle. Instead I took a thin strip of gauze from my pocket. Because Chihuahuas are tiny but have big heads and skinny little legs, we always handled them with extra care. My assistant dangled her keys in front of him as a distraction while I slipped the customized gauze noose over his nose and tied it behind his ears. Now protected against sharp teeth, I scooped him up with a flourish and pressed him into my body. Used to the whole thing by now, Little Man barely protested. Instead he emitted a half-hearted growl, then submitted to the inevitable with an air of wounded dignity.
My exam revealed nothing to be concerned about, so after a quick butt-cleanup and nail-trim, our work was over. We handed the now-happy dog back to his owner.
A quick wash and we all were back to normal. Well, a version of normal.
As always, a pile of chocolate chunk and oatmeal raisin cookies waited on the dining room table along with fresh coffee and a pitcher of milk. Every time we visited Daffy I said I wasn’t going to have any cookies—and every time my resolve goes right out the window. Today was no exception. The sleet storm had let up and a peek through the lace curtains told us our weather had significantly improved. Thin rays of sunshine tried to break through the gray clouds and momentarily lift our spirits.
After a pleasant chat with our hostess and way too many cookies, Mari and I got up to leave. That’s when she said something unexpected.
“My friend, Eloise, noticed Luke Gianetti with his old girlfriend the other day.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mari give me a sideways glance.
“Yes, I know all about it.” Strangely my vocabulary and throat simultaneously dried up.
Intent on spilling her juicy piece of gossip, Daffy continued. “They were in Rhinebeck at that new Thai restaurant—Bangkok Nights. At least I think that’s what she said. Eloise passed them as they were leaving, otherwise I’d know more about it.”
Upon seeing the expression on my face, Mari jumped into action. While steering me firmly toward the front door, she countered, “That’s interesting, but Dr. Kate and Luke are only friends.”
Our client scratched her chin in a judgmental fashion.
“In fact,” my assistant continued as we scrambled to put on our coats, “she has a new boyfriend named Jeremy. Someone you went to college with, isn’t that right? ” Mari checked the room as she spoke to make sure we had all our equipment.
“Very interesting.” Daffy’s quick mind started processing the new information.
My assistant continued to babble away. “He’s coming for a visit next week.”
I stopped dead in the hallway. “Just a sec, I think I left my bag…”
Mari handed me the laptop. “Stay here, I’ll get it.”
An unexpected grumble of thunder rumbled above us—so much for the sunshine.
“Is your new boyfriend going to help you solve the murder?” My client’s grossly magnified eyes stared at me through thick reading glasses. “I hope so. Flynn was such a sweet boy, very considerate.”
Temporarily trapped until Mari returned I asked, “You knew Flynn?”
“Of course, dear.” Surprise was in her answer, as though it were obvious she knew everyone in town. “He always did little jobs here and there to earn extra money. Such a good-looking young man too, and so popular with the ladies. Young ladies and older ladies, if you know what I mean.” She gave me a magnified wink.
Mari arrived and proceeded to nudge me forward.
“Wait a minute.” Despite the promise to Gramps to stay out of this murder, curiosity got the best of me. I splayed my hand up against the wall in case Mari tried to push me along. “Daffy, do you remember which ladies Flynn was popular with?”
This time our hostess demurely hesitated. “It’s been quite a long time.”
Almost ten years. I figured a lot of juicy gossip had flowed under the old bridge in that time.
“But you’ve got such a good memory.” I praised her shamelessly.
Mari shot me a look. I could see the corners of her mouth twitch.
Flattery opened the floodgates. “Well, there were several girls in high school, then that drama teacher. Odious woman. All of the ladies at the bridge club wondered about that one.” To make sure we got the point she raised her fingertips to her forehead and tapped vigorously a few times. “Of course he also delivered groceries to the late Mrs. Alberts, God rest her soul. It took a very long time for him to help her unpack them, what with her unfortunate drinking problem. Sometimes over an hour.” Sh
e cocked her head and nodded for emphasis before continuing. “I also heard a rumor he was in some kind of relationship with Alessa Foxley—the ex-model who owns Phoenix Nest—but that was just a rumor, so I won’t dignify it by repeating it.”
Whatever else she said was muffled by a crash of thunder, followed by the familiar din of raindrops.
“Dr. Kate, maybe you can find out the truth—like you did before.”
“Good idea,” chimed in my assistant.
“I don’t think so.” This time I hustled Mari out, after a quick thank you to our hostess.
For the second day in a row we sprinted to the truck, dodging the downpour. I could vaguely make out Daffy and Little Man through the foggy truck windows, standing at the door waving.
***
On the way to our next appointment road conditions became so bad all I could do was stare at the white center line and concentrate. Our clothes were practically steaming, thanks to the truck’s defrost setting. My tight waistband persistently reminded me of my lack of willpower.
“Hope that stuff about Luke didn’t upset you too much.” Mari paused in the middle of her data entry notes.
“No, I’m okay.”
The wipers made a soft squeaking sound as they went back and forth. Luke and Dina, they repeated, Luke and Dina. Only last Saturday I’d been flirting with him at the wedding, not knowing he’d started up with his ex again. I could kick myself.
Mari seemed to sense my thoughts. “Luke is water under the bridge, Kate. In less than two weeks Jeremy will be here. Aren’t you looking forward to seeing him?”
“Absolutely. Jeremy is a lot of fun.”
“Luke is back with his ex so the coast is clear now. Right?”
The coast is clear? Even though it made no sense I still felt angry with Luke. Why did he keep going back to his high school sweetheart when it never worked out? First love like theirs must create some very tight emotional bonds, chains that should have loosened up by now.