And then, suddenly, Natalie Miner spoke up. I realized she’d been silent the whole time.
“The doctor was seeing another woman,” she said quietly.
“What?”
“I just found out. From my hairdresser,” she explained. “Hairdressers know everything.”
“Dr. Yamoda?” I guessed.
“No,” Natalie said, shaking her curly head. “Though it was another doctor. Just not his partner. A woman named Dr. Larkin. She has a practice on Tepper Street.
“Good for him,” Avis murmured wistfully.
“Listen, you potato-brains,” Felix started up. “At least one of you knows something, and I’m—”
“Have we said all we need to?” Reed asked, suddenly impatient. He stood up and brushed invisible dirt from his knees.
“Yes,” the rest of us answered nearly in unison and rose with him, splitting into smaller clusters to talk and wander around the nursery. Somehow, we of the Deer-Abused Support Group had bonded. At least, I thought so. Though there was the murderer to consider. Had the murderer bonded?
Natalie came to me. I looked into her reddened eyes and saw real sadness there.
“You didn’t know?” I asked.
“Not till he was dead,” she answered. “Good Lord knows there’s nothing sillier than an old woman looking for a man.”
“Now, now,” I told her. “You’re not old. And you’re young at heart.” I don’t know how those words jumped to my lips, but they did.
And they seemed to help. Natalie smiled tentatively. And then she talked. Too bad Freud wasn’t there to listen. And as she talked, I wondered. What if Natalie had found out about Dr. Sandstrom’s affair with Dr. Larkin before his death? How much hope had she invested in him?
Other members of the Deerly Abused wandered out the doors of the main building as I listened to Natalie, a woman whose age felt hurtful and vulnerable to her, for all of her bright makeup and bouncy, curly hair. My heart went out to the woman, even as I suspected her of murder.
Once Natalie was all talked out, Avis beckoned me over to a corner.
“Did you learn anything?” she asked.
“Not that I know of,” I told her. “But then I probably know more than I know.”
That confused her long enough for me to find Wayne where he stood listening to Howie Damon next to some flats of pansies and sweet alyssum.
Let’s go, I mouthed.
“That’s wonderful,” Wayne interrupted Howie, and then we moved quickly, making our way out of the building to the main gate.
We were almost there when I tripped over something. You’d think I’d learn not to look down.
But my gaze moved to the ground of its own accord.
Reed Killian lay dead there in the dirt, with a hoe to his bloodied head. I didn’t even have to check. He couldn’t have been alive with his skull split open like that.
Maybe Avis didn’t have such good luck with men, after all, I thought, and then felt the earth sway beneath me.
- Fifteen -
I felt Wayne’s big hand grab my shoulder, and the earth stopped swaying.
“The police,” he growled, his rough skin pale, too pale, and beaded with sweat. I looked at the man I loved, and my body lurched again as if shoved.
“Avis,” I whispered, my eyes burning with the effort not to cry.
Wayne’s eyebrows shot up in understanding.
Avis. How much had she cared for Reed? What would this do to her?
“See if you can take her aside,” Wayne suggested quietly. “And I’ll make the call to the police.”
“But what about—” I took a big breath and pointed down, my eyes closed. The breath was a mistake. I could smell the blood. At least, I thought I could.
“Nothing we can do for him. Let the police worry about evidence.”
The police, I thought. The police that Reed had threatened to call to scare away Deer Count, but didn’t. Had that decision cost him his life? And then I remembered Lieutenant Perez. Now I started shaking instead of swaying. Perez would never forgive me for this.
Forget Perez, I told myself. Avis was the first priority. The only priority for the time being. Wayne and I strode toward the main building, passing Maxwell, Gilda, and Howie on our way. Jean and Darcie Watkins, Lisa, and Natalie were inside next to the gardening books. And Avis and Felix were huddled near the sales counter.
“Avis,” I called out, my voice sounding tinny in my ears. “I have to talk to you.” I saw Felix’s mouth begin to open. “And Felix, you go talk to Maxwell. He has something he wants to tell you,” I lied. It seemed a small sin. And I was sure Maxwell could handle him.
As soon as Felix’s mouth closed, I pointed outside. Our pit bull of a reporter was gone in an instant.
But Avis was still in front of me, a woman so fragile that she was swathed head to toe to protect her from something that I couldn’t see or understand. Could I tell her about Reed? My mouth went dry as dirt.
I could see Wayne in the periphery of my vision, hovering near the phone, waiting till Avis was taken care of to make the call to the police. The room shimmered with light, but somehow it was blinding, not illuminating.
Then I heard a shout from outside. Someone else had found Reed’s body. Now, I had to tell Avis, and quickly. I shook away my doubts and looked her in the face.
“Avis,” I began gently, “Reed’s been in an accident.”
Another shout sounded from outside.
I moved my mouth faster.
“Avis, he’s dead.”
Avis just stared at me, her head tilted, as if trying to translate my words. Slowly, her mouth opened.
“Oh, but that can’t be, Kate,” she stated clearly. “He was just here and—”
I had to get through to her. I swallowed, then spoke again.
“He was killed,” I told her. “I’m sorry.”
I opened my arms just in time for Avis to fall into them. For a minute, she was heavy, most likely unconscious, but then she lightened again, writhing like a troublesome two-year-old.
“No,” she muttered obstinately, her head down and shaking.
“No. I’m the old one. I’m supposed to die first.”
“Avis, the police will come,” I told her, holding her tightly. Wayne must have heard me. I saw him reach for the phone.
Avis’s head came up, knocking my chin with the brim of her hat. Her green eyes widened.
“Kate, he, he…” she tried. She took a deep breath and straightened her spine. Carefully, I released her from my arms. When she spoke again, her voice was emotionless.
“He actually cared for me, in spite of my age. I never thought I’d have another romance, and then there was Reed. I…he…”
“You were lovers?” I prompted. Was that what was so hard for her to say?
But she shook her head.
“We were…we were courting,” she told me, her voice lilting into a different range. Suddenly, she sounded like a schoolgirl. Was she acting? Or regressing? “It might sound strange, but Reed wanted to go slowly. At first, I thought he just couldn’t bear to make love to an ancient woman like me, but that wasn’t it.” Her eyes lost focus. “Reed liked to play. He was Peter Pan, forever a boy. He wanted a long courtship, to talk about everything, to do new things. A few kisses. Then a longer kiss. Like it was when I was a girl. Reed loved anything romantic. He rowed a boat around Sontaris Lake and I let my left hand trail in the water, while I held my parasol with my right. I even took off my gloves. We could have stepped out of an old picture book.”
Once again, I wondered why Reed had chosen her, a woman so much older than himself. But when I looked into her lovely face, I imagined what Reed must have seen. A true beauty from a more romantic age.
“No,” she declared again, her gentle voice firm, no longer lilting. “Reed can’t be dead. Reed is the most alive man I know. He—”
“Avis,” I whispered. “It’ll be all right. Reed’s just passed on.” I didn’t really know
what it meant, but it sounded good.
“Passed on?” A hint of a smile played on her lips. “Sailing into heaven, playing his synthesizer?” Then even that hint of a smile was gone, and she shook her head violently.
I grabbed her arm and led her to a chair. Her body was trembling as I helped her down onto the metal seat.
“Oh, Kate!” she cried, as if I had just told her. Maybe she had only now heard me. “Reed’s dead?”
I could only nod and hold her gloved hand.
“What’s happened?” a voice asked from the rear.
I whirled around. I had forgotten everyone but Avis. And Reed.
Jean Watkins stood behind me. Once my heart dropped back down where it was supposed to be, I took in a deep breath of hope. Jean Watkins, social worker, grandmother, woman of reason. Who better to deal with Avis? And best of all, Jean wasn’t me. Because I’d run out of ways to soften the impossible reality for Avis. Maybe there were no more ways.
“Reed Killian is dead,” I told Jean, as quietly as I could. “And Avis had a special relationship with Reed.”
Jean stepped back for a moment, but only a moment. Then she was there, by my side, ready to minister to Avis.
“Avis?” Jean asked slowly, clearly. “Do you believe in God, in Spirit?”
Avis nodded slowly. Jean knelt down and took Avis’s two small gloved hands in her larger ones.
“Reed is in loving arms now,” Jean told her then. “You must know that in your heart.”
And finally, Avis began to cry. Jean held her hands and let her. And I began to cry too.
“Thank you, Jean,” I whispered through my tears.
Avis was grieving now, loudly and wetly. I just hoped the early breakthrough would help her in the long run. And the short run. Because the Abierto police would focus on her relationship to Reed. I was sure of it. Cry, I beamed mentally to Avis. Cry till the police get here.
I turned around to make sure the police weren’t already on the scene. They weren’t. But I wasn’t the only one who was witnessing Avis’s reaction.
Darcie Watkins stared at us from a few aisles over. Slowly, she made her way to us, fear evident on her young face.
“Gramma?” she whispered.
Jean Watkins turned, never letting go of Avis’s hands as Avis wept on.
“Darcie,” Jean said, her voice low. “There’s been another death. I need to take care of Avis. Can you stand with Kate?”
Darcie looked at me, her eyes still afraid. But the fear cleared when she saw my own tears. She put a tentative arm around my shoulders. And it felt good. Darcie might have been a thirteen-year-old, but she had the Watkins genes. I was comforted.
“All messed up?” she asked.
I nodded, and let her hold me. I felt almost peaceful, in the midst of Reed’s death and Avis’s grief.
“The other doc’s been whacked!” a voice bellowed, barreling down on us. Felix, I’d know his voice anywhere. So much for peace.
“Felix!” I turned and put my finger across my lips, gesturing in Avis’s direction, though I don’t think Avis even registered his voice.
“But, Kate,” he whined. “Another friggin’ stiff—”
“Hey, wassup with you, you effing jerk?” Darcie demanded. “Can’t you see people are sad here?”
Felix just stared at Darcie, at me, at Avis, and at Jean. I don’t think he’d really seen us before. And maybe he still didn’t.
“Whoa!” he objected. “Don’t get your high-tops in a twist.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Darcie shot back. I could almost feel the heat of her anger.
“Hey, man,” Felix muttered, backstepping out of her range. “I’m outa here, okay?”
And he left, picking Wayne as his next victim. Wayne, who was still on the phone. I had a feeling communications with the Abierto Police Department weren’t going so well. Wayne glared and waved Felix into silence.
“Guy’s a real wickety-wack,” Darcie commented. “Talks weird too.”
I swallowed my laugh and thanked her. I even hugged her. Her grandmother was right. Darcie was a good girl. I just hoped neither of the Watkinses was a murderer. Because now that Avis was being taken care of, I was realizing the odds. There weren’t that many of us left, and one of us had killed Reed Killian.
I took Darcie’s arm and walked toward Wayne, raising my hand in question.
“They’re calling in Perez,” he told me, his hand over the mouthpiece.
“Cop shop won’t do a thing,” Felix announced. “They’re a bunch of potato-brains. We gotta do this, Kate. We gotta get the poop on this one.”
“Shhhh!” I hushed him. And with Darcie for backup, he hushed.
But the four of us weren’t alone for long. I saw Natalie and Lisa approaching.
“Dear God,” Natalie Miner breathed. “Is it true? Was the other doctor killed too?”
Wayne, Felix, and I nodded.
“But why?” she wailed. “What’s happening here? I just can’t understand. It doesn’t make an ounce of sense—”
“Maybe it’s not supposed to,” Lisa Orton put in.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Darcie asked before I could.
But she never got an answer. Maxwell Yang was next to join our circle, trailed by Howie Damon and Gilda Fitch.
“Are you okay now?” Maxwell asked Felix, raising one sardonic eyebrow.
Felix blushed as he nodded.
“Why, what’d he do this time?” I asked.
“Well I found Dr. Killian,” Maxwell explained. He gave his head a slight shake. “Pretty much tripped over him. I must have cried out. And then your friend came running up. And he passed out.”
“I didn’t friggin’ pass out,” Felix objected.
Maxwell merely pursed his lips and opened his eyes wide in Felix’s direction.
“I just had to lie down for a minute,” Felix insisted. Then he turned and stomped off in the direction of soil enhancers.
“I’m afraid I didn’t do much better, myself,” Maxwell murmured. “It was a real shock. I always thought I was competent enough in a crisis, but the sight—” He stopped himself.
“It must have been awful,” Lisa offered softly.
“It was,” Maxwell agreed.
“Bloody awful,” Gilda added in support from behind him. “A bit thick, two dead bodies in how many days?”
Maxwell looked up and counted in the air. “Four,” he answered brusquely.
“Everyone’s traumatized,” Lisa put in. “Maybe we all need to go to a grief group.”
I turned to look back at Avis. She was still crying, but more softly than before. Jean stood at her side now. Maybe grief counseling would work for Avis. The rest of us needed posttraumatic stress pay.
And then I looked at Howie. I’d forgotten Howie. He stood at the back of the pack, his round face dazed.
“Are you all right, Howie?” I asked.
“What?” he muttered.
I repeated my question.
“No, I guess not,” he answered, his voice flat.
I had a feeling Howie Damon was in serious shock.
I turned back to Wayne, who had finally hung up the phone.
“Police will be here soon,” he growled.
I nodded toward Howie. Wayne walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Howie looked up into Wayne’s face as if he’d never seen him before.
“Howie, you’ve had a traumatic experience,” Wayne told him. “But it’ll pass.”
“It was my day to celebrate,” Howie whispered.
The manuscript. Poor Howie. Today, of all days.
I looked around and realized that we were all in shock, varying only by degree. And we were bonding like survivors of a shipwreck. Only this was no shipwreck. One of us had killed Reed.
Jean joined us. “I think Avis will pull through,” she told me. “She’s a strong woman, a survivor. She wants to be alone for a bit.”
I looked over to where Avis sat, her b
ack straight and her eyes red but dry. Avis was a strong woman, not frail. I only hoped her strength could see her through.
“I have an announcement,” Jean declared. “I know the police have been called. But it may be up to us to settle this. I’ve talked to Avis. We can meet here again on Tuesday night, if the murderer hasn’t been apprehended by then. We will stay together, only move around in twos. And we will figure out who did this.”
I believed her. Some people are born leaders. And some are born followers. “I’ll be here,” I piped up.
“I don’t know,” Lisa whimpered.
“It might be dangerous,” Natalie agreed.
“Whoever doesn’t come is a friggin’ suspect,” Felix put in. He stopped short of saying “nyah-nyah,” but just barely.
Actually all of us were suspects, I thought, whether we showed up or not. But Felix’s not-so-original approach was bringing the backsliders into line.
Lisa grumbled but agreed to come. Natalie looked around and saw universal nods of assent.
“Oh shoot, I suppose I’d better,” she sighed.
“So, we’ll all be here, seven o’clock,” Jean said firmly. She spoke, and things happened. Truly, a born leader.
Then we heard the police sirens.
My skin tightened all over my body. The police. Lieutenant Perez. Guilt.
Officers Ulric and Zenas were first on the scene, but Lieutenant Perez and Captain Thorton weren’t far behind.
The lieutenant took Avis for questioning before the rest of us. And then he sent her home with gentle words. Darcie promised she would close up the nursery for her new boss. I felt a few muscles relax. Perez had some kindness in his heart.
Then he asked to talk to me.
I couldn’t look into his dark eyes.
“Another man was killed, Ms. Jasper,” he said, his voice a sad accusation.
“I didn’t do it,” I told him.
He ignored my words.
“Why the two of them?” he asked softly instead.
“I don’t know,” I told him pitifully.
He just gazed at me.
“Maybe because they were both doctors,” I guessed frantically. “Or maybe Reed saw something the night Dr. Sandstrom was killed. Maybe he confronted the murderer.”
Captain Thorton wandered by, humming “The Lusty Month of May,” and playing with his hands. He was only a couple of months early.
Murder, My Deer (A Kate Jasper Mystery) Page 16