Chained

by Eileen Brady

  “So I hear,” Shiloh said diplomatically.

  “Any enemies or problems with Flynn in those last few months?”

  “Not really. Unless you count his stepfather, but you probably know all about that.”

  “They were on bad terms is what I’ve been told. Bruce had been abusive with Flynn’s mom and sister.”

  She took a sip of her tea before answering. “That’s all I know, too. We didn’t hang out with his family much.”

  “What about Angelica?”

  “What about her?” Now my guest blotted her lips with the napkin.

  “Wasn’t there some bad blood between you and her and Flynn?”

  Her steady brown eyes looked directly into mine. “By that summer we had all made up. You see…my mom died suddenly and…everything changed. That prom stuff all seemed petty.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I told her. “My mom died when I was fifteen. Losing your mother turns your world upside down.”

  Her brow furrowed. She nodded in agreement.

  “Mostly, I remember talking about where to go to college and how to pay for it.”

  It didn’t appear that Shiloh could be of much help. I felt bad bothering her with all of this, raking up a painful time in her life.

  “Now I’ve got a question for you. Are you finished talking to Rusty?” she asked. “I’m afraid he’s taking this whole investigation very hard. Truthfully, I’m worried about him.”

  “I think so.” Remembering how her fiancé almost came to tears thinking about his murdered friend, I understood her concern. “At this point I’m verifying where everyone was on that Friday in August when Flynn left town. You know, what cars were seen in the vicinity, any eyewitnesses who saw him hitchhiking—all the silly little details of that afternoon. I’m coordinating everything, then I’ll turn it over to the family and the police.”

  “That’s a lot of work.”

  “It is. I wish I could say I have something to show for it.”

  Shiloh murmured sympathetically. I shrugged my shoulders. “Well, after the reunion is over, if I don’t get any new clues, I’m going to call it quits. I’m afraid too much time has passed for me to be of much help.”

  She glanced at her phone and stood up. “Maybe we can have lunch sometime and talk about more pleasant subjects.”

  “I’d like that.” Buddy rose from his bed and watched us walk to the door. For once he didn’t dance around like a maniac.

  I’m curious,” Shiloh said. “How often are cold cases solved?”

  “No idea. Not that often, I would say. Now if the investigators had found some old DNA evidence, that would have been another story.” I opened the door for her.

  “Yes, that would be another story,” she agreed while buttoning her coat. “One I’m sure the entire town would like to hear.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Monday I had appointments all day so Jeremy decided to drive up to Cornell to meet some colleagues and tour their new laboratory facilities. With his dig now closed down indefinitely he felt it might be time to reassess his academic future. Anthropology had always been his true passion in life. With so many changes taking place in the field he wanted to discuss his options with other professionals who were dealing with the same issues.

  We walked out into the hospital parking lot, an autumn chill in the bright air.

  “I’ll miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you, too.”

  “When will you be back?” He looked particularly attractive in his old bomber jacket. I watched him load a suitcase into the trunk of the car. A little pang of regret he’d be gone pinged in my chest.

  “I’m not sure. I’ll call you.”

  “Hey, don’t forget our prom date on Saturday night. You and Dina, and me and Luke.”

  “How could I? Sorry I’m so preoccupied. One great thing, though, this time we don’t have to worry about a curfew.” He winked at me.

  That got a laugh.

  “Did you hear any more about your project re-opening?”

  “No. I’m not counting on it.” After adjusting his bags he slammed the trunk door closed.

  A thought occurred to me. “Jeremy, you never told me why they closed down your dig.”

  He walked over to me, an odd restlessness in his movements as though he was already miles away. “One of the porters was murdered.” With a quick kiss and hug he bid me good-bye, slid into the driver’s seat, and drove off.

  I waved.

  He didn’t wave back.

  As soon as I got inside the hospital we received an emergency call that immediately took up all my attention.

  When the clients arrived I hurried into the exam room. One look and I knew we were in trouble. A handsome French bulldog puppy lay motionless on the exam table, his breathing shallow.

  “What happened?” I asked his owners while I started my exam.

  A distraught young couple stood in front of me. “Baby seemed fine this morning. Acting normal. I had to shoo him away from the pantry because he raided it and made a mess.”

  “Can you tell me what he ate? Any chocolate or raisins, grapes, onions or garlic?”

  Some seemingly innocent products on pantry shelves can be deadly to pets. “What about medications?”

  “No. We keep those things away from him.” The husband turned to the wife, panic in his eyes. “Honey, what did you find on the floor?”

  His worry reflected in her face. For a moment she froze.

  “Take a deep breath and think about what you picked up.”

  Mari poked her head in to see if I needed help. I had her set up for an IV and some preliminary blood tests and continued my exam.

  The client stared at her quiet pet. “He tore open a box of cheese crackers. Pieces were scattered all over the tile. I also swept up some chewed plastic and a few gum wrappers.”

  “Sugarless gum?”

  “Yes. It’s the only kind we buy. That can’t hurt him, can it?”

  I scooped the puppy up in my arms. “Wait here. I’m going to take him to the treatment room.”

  As soon as I shut the door I picked up speed and flung open the swinging door to the back of the hospital.

  “Glucose drip,” I yelled to Mari.

  Without putting the dog down, I opened the lower cabinet next to the sink and grabbed the Karo syrup.

  Mari rushed over to the treatment table with a bag of five percent glucose and hung it on the IV stand.

  I handed Baby to her. “Let’s get a catheter in him and draw a quick glucose and preliminary panel. I suspect hypoglycemia.” As fast as I could, I twisted off the top of the Karo syrup, poured some in my hand and then rubbed it under the puppy’s tongue and along the gums. The mucous membranes of the mouth would be quick to absorb the sugar, like a person with a heart condition putting a nitroglycerin pill under their tongue.

  Baby swallowed at the taste, a very good sign. Together we inserted the IV, drew the pre-treatment blood sample, then hooked him up to the IV drip.

  Next we induced vomiting and were soon rewarded with a sticky mess of plastic, clumps of half-digested food, and a small wad of gum. After a few more dry heaves it appeared the puppy had barfed everything up.

  Using the in-house lab equipment, we had our diagnosis in minutes. Baby had severe and potentially life-threatening low blood sugar. The cause—something as innocuous as sugar-free gum.

  “Look, Doc.” Mari’s excited voice came from over my shoulder.

  We watched as Baby slowly held his head up, his eyes focused on us. A quizzical look on his face, I expected he wanted to ask us what all the fuss was about.

  Since I knew this puppy’s owners were stressed to the max, I called Cindy at the front desk and told her to escort them to the treatment room.

  The puppy turned, ears up, when he heard his hum
an parents say his name.

  “Let me tell you the good news,” I explained as they kissed their puppy. “Baby had hypoglycemia, that’s low blood sugar, from eating the sugarless gum. There’s an ingredient in some of the sugarless gums called Xylitol that causes a drop in blood sugar in dogs. The severity of the symptoms depends on the pet’s weight and how much gum they ingest. Because Baby is still a puppy, and only fifteen pounds, that gum he swallowed overwhelmed his system.”

  On hearing his name again, the puppy wagged his little tail.

  “This chemical can also affect the liver. He’s very lucky you brought him over to the hospital right away.”

  The couple, whose names I still didn’t know, hugged each other.

  “By the way, I’m Dr. Kate Turner.”

  “Phil and Lisa Simonson. Thank you so much, Doctor.” Mari located a box of Kleenex for Lisa, who had started to cry with relief.

  “Put a note on the treatment board to repeat the blood glucose and liver values,” I told my technician, then turned to the ecstatic couple. “Why don’t you fill out the hospital paperwork at the reception area while we let Baby rest for a while? I’m anticipating keeping him here under observation for twenty-four hours. He’s not out of the woods yet. If all his blood tests, including a liver-function profile are within normal ranges, he can go home tomorrow with a recheck in one week.”

  After pointing them in the right direction, I helped Mari put Baby in an upper cage and attached his automatic IV pump next to it. We placed a soft collar around his neck that prevented him from chewing his catheter out and gave him a tablespoon of canned food. He wolfed it down.

  While I made my notes in the computer, Mari started the cleanup. “That’s one lucky puppy,” she said.

  “He sure is. If he’d been alone when this happened the outcome might not have been so good.”

  “Woof.”

  We both stopped what we were doing to check out the source of the noise.

  Baby was standing up in the cage smiling a French bulldoggy smile, ready to get into more trouble.

  ***

  At the end of my stressful day I decided to relax in front of the computer in my office, idly surfing the news and watching cute animal videos. While reading about a funny-faced cat with its own website, a thought occurred to me. Flynn had disappeared ten years ago. Maybe there were still postings from him on social media sites. I made a note to find out from his family. After their initial enthusiasm, now only Flynn’s grandmother, Sophia, promptly replied to my e-mails and texts. The downside was she hadn’t known many of Flynn’s high school friends. As he got older, her grandson only shared happy news with her.

  Swiveling in the office chair, I reached behind me and removed a bright red notebook off the crowded bookshelf. I’d dedicated it to the random thoughts and gossip accumulating about Flynn and events in Oak Falls ten years ago. Mari and Cindy contributed what they remembered too.

  Maybe it was a combination of stress and sleep-deprivation, but for some reason I felt unsettled. I had to face the fact that Flynn’s murder no longer elicited outrage in those who knew him, probably because time worked to soften the impact. His family and friends had moved on. Shrouded in the past, the events and motives that might have led to Flynn’s death were proving distant and difficult to uncover.

  I resolved to back off after the reunion and start enjoying myself.

  Little did I know the past and the present were set to butt heads and surprise us all.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  It felt like the end of the week was galloping along at warp speed. Baby, the French bulldog, went home with no damage to his liver or kidneys. A tiny miniature pincher came in suffering from minor frostbitten pads after trying to keep up with her bigger and hairier dog pals. Thank goodness the rest of my appointments during the next few days were uneventful.

  The looming prom night reunion this Saturday became more complicated the closer it got. Luke texted me he’d rented us all a limo. The dry cleaner forgot to give me back my belt and Jeremy called with a head’s-up that he couldn’t get back much earlier than Saturday afternoon with tux in hand. By that time, hopefully, Dina would have successfully stuffed “the girls” back into her dress. Thanks to Cindy’s help, I now was fully fashionably accessorized and ready to rock and roll.

  My personal plans were to do a little sleuthing, have a fun night with Jeremy, and explore taking our relationship to a more romantic level.

  ***

  Late afternoon on Thursday, when we got back from our house calls and started unloading the truck, Mari asked again about my high school prom.

  “Didn’t go.” I made a show of checking to make sure I had my favorite stethoscope and doctor’s bag. Although Mari and I were close friends, I still felt uncomfortable revealing certain parts of my past. While dumping some trash from the backseat, I got a whiff of rotten fruit.

  “Why not?” Mari’s curiosity where I was concerned had no boundaries.

  It was a subject I strenuously wanted to avoid. “Yuk. There’s a loose banana or apple somewhere back here.” Maybe a forgotten food search would steer her away from this touchy subject. All kinds of stray objects often slid under the seats.

  A white-tailed deer stuck its head out of the woods, saw us, and darted off.

  “Hey, look what I found.” Clutched in her hand was a shriveled up black banana.

  “Finder’s keepers,” I grinned. “So, Mari. What was the theme of your prom?”

  “Our theme was Shangri La. Not very original, I suppose, but it sounded exotic to us. I helped build a jungle set that we hung with lights and fake flowers.”

  “Sounds nice.” One last check of the backseat and we were done.

  “What kind of theme did you have at your senior prom, Kate?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure. Long story.” I didn’t elaborate.

  My assistant leaned up against the truck’s front fender. “Well, I went with four members of the women’s track team. None of us had dates so we decided to rent a limo and go together. We had a blast.”

  “I’ll bet you did. I’m envious.”

  For a moment I thought about telling her how pathetic senior prom day had been for me. No one asked me out, and I didn’t have enough confidence at that time to do what Mari did. Instead I picked a fight with Gramps and locked myself in my room with a pepperoni pizza and a gallon of my go-to favorite ice cream—fudge ripple.

  After I locked the truck, I noticed one of the tires seemed low and bent down to check it. Mari waited for me on the walkway.

  “I told you. High school wasn’t that easy for me,” my assistant confessed.

  “Me either.”

  “It’s a love/hate thing, I guess. People say you remember your high school experiences forever. You know, I still have my prom dress in the back of the closet somewhere.” Mari shouldered the computer bag and started walking up the pathway to the animal hospital.

  As I followed, I wondered how many old prom dresses were hidden in closets across the USA and what kind of stories they could tell.

  Later that night, after hours fighting an irrational craving for a piece of pie, I gave in and took the quick drive to the Oak Falls Diner.

  I’m not that easy to find in a crowd but my truck is, since it has Oak Falls Animal Hospital written on the driver and passenger side doors. That must have given Bruce, Flynn’s stepfather, the idea to wait for me in the parking lot so we could “have a little chat.” His words.

  “I think we need to have a little chat,” Bruce said to me for the second time.

  “Fine.” No way this was turning into a long debate, not with me holding a takeout bag in my hands.

  Bruce didn’t seem to know where to start. His short staccato breaths turned frosty in the cold like the trail of a steam engine. “So, I hear you want to talk to me about Flynn?” After
what Evelyn and Fiona said about Bruce I knew I didn’t like this guy. I certainly didn’t want to stand around in the parking lot arguing.

  “Sure.”

  Stoked up now, he went into a long rambling story about meeting Lizette and Flynn and immediately falling in love with both of them. It sounded like a soap opera. Blah, Blah, Blah he went on and on until I heard words that sharpened my focus.

  “So don’t listen to that ungrateful little daughter of mine,” he said. “Fiona lives in some fantasy world. She’ll lie about anything and everything.”

  What was he talking about? I wondered. Fiona had barely said twenty sentences to me. Her descriptions of Flynn’s friends and confession of how much she wanted to leave Oak Falls were the sum of her statements. I decided to see if he’d expand on the topic. “Fiona had a lot to say…”

  Bruce’s already pink face turned blotchy red. “She’s always lied. Both of those kids lied, accusing me of all kinds of things. Lizette used to fall a lot, because of her MS. But Flynn had to go and make a big deal out of it, claimed that I hit her. I show my own daughter a father’s natural affection and Flynn went and put a sliding bolt on the inside of Fiona’s bedroom. If I didn’t…” He suddenly stopped, maybe aware he was revealing too much to me.

  “If you didn’t what?”

  Not so eager to talk now, he shifted his weight and rubbed his hands together. “Listen, Lizette knows I’d never do anything to either one of the children. Ever since Fiona hit her teenage years we’ve had trouble with her—sneaking out, creepy boyfriends, acting out in school. You name it.”

  Yeah, I thought. I’ll name it. Those can all be signs of abuse.

  The tirade slowed down. “Anyway,” Bruce said, “we’re getting off the subject. My wife and I are grateful you offered to help find out what happened to Flynn, but we’re ready for closure now.”

  I wondered how many times he’d rehearsed that little speech.

  “Consider yourself free to move on,” he continued. “We’re leaving everything up to the police cold case investigators, so, like I said, you’re free to move on.” This time Bruce tried to look solemn and super sincere.