Those sounds meant someone else had been in the office with Dr. Bradley, and not just pilfering the medicine locker. What if this person had done something to Dr. Bradley when he discovered the doctor was in the office?
But that didn’t make sense to me. If they saw his vehicle in the parking lot and had wanted to rob the place, they wouldn’t have gone in. Not a smart thief. They would have picked a night when no one was at the office.
The sounds in Dr. Bradley’s office and the intruder could only mean one thing. Someone had deliberately waited for Dr. Bradley. Someone had meant to kill him. And without realizing it, Dr. Bradley had probably just recorded the sound of his own murder.
Chapter Four
I stared at the medical reports exiting the printer one by one. Then I stared at the digital recorder. Maybe I’d heard wrong. The police already knew someone had broken into the office. Jerry might say I was wasting my time. Maybe Dr. Bradley had had a heart attack, or a stroke or something. The cause of death wasn’t back yet from the medical examiner, as far as I knew.
But after the scolding I’d rightfully earned by possibly corrupting some evidence a couple of summers ago when uncovering my long-lost aunt’s murder, I knew I couldn’t dismiss what I’d heard.
Of course, when I went to check on Hannah, my little angel slumbered in her crib. The one afternoon when I wouldn’t mind her waking up, she still napped.
I reached for my phone and hit the speed dial number for Jerry. For once Fleta, his guard dog of a receptionist, put me through right away.
“Andi, what’s goin’ on?” Jerry asked.
“I think I head something on Dr. Bradley’s last recording.”
“What it is?”
“I’m not sure. But I think someone came into his office.”
“So we were right to come back and check his office after he passed away. Bring that recorder back to me and let me hear what you heard.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I get Hannah packed up.”
Of course, “as soon as” turned into two hours later, and I toted Hannah into the Greenburg PD front offices. Trouble lay ahead for someone, but I wasn’t sure who. And I had to know what happened to Dr. Bradley in those moments.
Hannah’s appearance brought squeals from the reception area. Fleta made her way around to meet Hannah and me. What was it about people that made them have to touch a baby? Why weren’t they satisfied to admire at a polite distance?
“How’s our little sugar plum today?” Fleta’s voice shot up at least two octaves. A few heads swiveled to look in our direction. The office hummed today, and its activity hiccupped at our appearance.
“Fresh from her nap.” I smiled at Fleta. “Jerry’s expecting me.”
The phone shrilled behind the desk and Fleta darted back behind the counter. “Go on back. It’s been a busy day. Bye, sweety-peety!”
I knew that last squeaked-out remark hadn’t been meant for me. Jerry was on the phone, and hung it up when I entered his office.
“I have five minutes. After that I’ve got a meeting.” He looked tired.
Hannah kicked me in the ribs when I sat down in front of Jerry’s desk, covered with file folders. I winced, and she wiggled. No way would I put her down and let her roam the office. I managed to get the recorder out of my bag, and handed it to Jerry. “You just stick this in your USB port.”
“Okay.” Jerry’s desk chair squeaked as he settled onto it. “Let’s hear what you’ve got.s Um, how do I do this?”
“In the front, there’s a port.” I tugged my chair around to his side of the desk, with another wiggle from Hannah, who’d turned into a catfish on my hip. “Put that in here. And the window will come up with the sound file. It’s the one, Friday’s date, around 6:00 p.m.”
Just like I promised, the window popped up. Jerry moved the mouse and clicked on the sound file. Dr. Bradley’s voice boomed from the speakers.
“Here, he kinds of goes on and on for a while, before he dozes off.”
“Dozes off?” Jerry shook his head.
“Yes. Here. I heard it right about here …”
“What exactly am I listening for”
“Listen for the chimes from his desk clock—then Dr. Bradley puts the recorder down. And listen to what happens next.”
The rustling papers. His yawn. Some snores and the murmuring. Quiet, followed by the opening door. Rustling fabric. The grunt. Dr. Bradley crying out. A slamming door. Then nothing. Jerry kept silent.
“Jerry, he wasn’t alone in that office. Someone did … did … something to him. I don’t know what.”
He clicked the mouse to stop the sound file and looked at me. “You could very well be right.”
I tried not to gape. He agreed. I don’t know why I thought Jerry might balk when he heard my idea, but all the same, I knew I was right about the recording. Hannah wiggled from my lap once more, so I fished in my bag for a cracker. She’d have it all over herself inside of thirty seconds, but I had Wet Wipes in the mammoth bag at my feet.
“So what next?”
“I’ll pass this recording along.”
“There’s private medical information on that.”
“I only need the sounds you mention, and the time. Anything else will not be part of this investigation.”
He gave me the opening I needed. “Do you have any news about the cause of death yet?”
Jerry shook his head. “Too early. And you know I couldn’t tell you if I did.”
“I was just wondering if there was anything suspicious about the way he died.” I glanced down. Hannah had started grinding what was left of her crackers into the carpet.
“Thanks, Andi. This recording will help build a case against whoever did this. I’ll need you to sign a statement, too.”
I grabbed some tissues from my bag and tried to clean up Hannah and her mess. “Sure, not a problem. Glad I could help. I know you have a meeting …” Hannah whimpered and spit part of the cracker out of her mouth.
“Um, is everything okay over there?” Jerry glanced at me as I worked on damage control.
“She’s teething, and likes to have something in her mouth. Sorry, Jer, about the crumbs.” My face flamed as I anticipated chiding words about bringing a baby to the police station.
“You got any of that peach baby food in that bag?” He licked his lips.
“What?” I tossed the tissues and soiled wet wipe into Jerry’s trash can, and wrangled Hannah onto my lap.
“I, um, could sort of use a snack.” He looked sheepish.
“Jer, it’s baby food.” Good thing I didn’t have a jar with me. I’d be tempted to chuck the thing across the desk. But then that would be bad, and I’d probably get arrested. Or at least fined. Or Jerry’d call Ben and ask what in the world had gotten into me.
“But it’s so good. It’s not just for babies. That could be your marketing slogan.”
“Marketing slogan?”
“You should make preserves, too. Take the baby food thing on the road.”
“You sound hungry, Jer. You really need to find someone to cook for you.”
Jerry shrugged. “They’d never know what time I’d end up getting home. I, oh, never mind. But peach preserves would be good, you know?”
I tugged Hannah up onto one hip as I stood, and reached for my bag. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
I left Jerry picking up his phone. One day he’d have to slow down long enough to let someone into his life. Because Ben and Hannah and I didn’t count. But if I had Barkha help me do a little sleuthing, maybe she and Jerry would be forced to eventually face the fact they were perfect for each other.
Once I had Hannah strapped into her car seat and halfway decrumbed, I decided she needed to pay a visit to her daddy. We crossed town to Honey’s Place, which still bore the name of its deceased flamboyant owner. Ben was probably getting ready for the supper rush but he might be able to sneak a few minutes with us before we went home. Hannah might not talk yet, but she loved every
thing I said.
We arrived at Honey’s Place and found a convenient parking spot next to a sleek red pickup. Terrance Higgins’ truck always made Ben drool, and the parking place within view of the glass double doors meant Ben could probably see the extended cab truck from the dining room. One day, I told him, we’d get one. But I definitely didn’t want to have to fill that thing with gas every couple weeks or so.
Terrance and Mia had just left the restaurant. Mia held her little girl on her hip, and waved at me. I waved back as I left the Jeep.
“Andi, are you having Mommy’s Morning over at your store this week?” One of her daughter’s tiny fists snatched some of Mia’s blond hair that hung over her shoulder in waves. “Ouch.”
I moved to my rear driver’s side door and opened it to get Hannah out of her seat. She squealed loud enough to peel paint from the building. “I’m planning on it.” On Wednesday mornings at Tennessee River Soaps, I’d started hosting a mommy’s get-together for other young mothers. Or, I should say, mothers of young children. A lot of women my age had teenagers or at least children in junior high, but not infants. This made me the eldest of our little bunch.
“Oh good, we’re ready to get out and do something fun, aren’t we, Lizzie?”
Terrance limped to the truck’s passenger door and stood next to his wife. He grimaced and clutched his back, then rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Baby, we’ve really got to go. I need to get in the hot tub and see if I can work this knot out.”
“Sure, hon.” Mia opened the door and tucked her daughter into her car seat in the back of the extended cab, before helping Terrance into the passenger side. “Easy now.”
She smiled at him tenderly. “Better?”
He smiled back and nodded.
“What happened to your back?” I asked.
“Work. I overdid it a while back. Herniated disk. Those spring rains put us behind. We’ve been trying to make up time finishing that new housing development east of town.” Terrance shifted on the front seat. “Green Acres.”
“Who came up with that title?” My laugh came out more like a snort.
Terrance quirked a smile. “I dunno. All I do is build ’em.”
“And it’s all I can do to get this man to slow down.” Mia shut the passenger door for her husband. “He does his best to take care of us, and now I’m tryin’ to take care of him for a change. I never get to drive this truck, so put the date on the calendar!”
“You two are so cute together. I hope you feel better soon, Terrance.”
He gave me a nod.
“Well, gotta go,” Mia said. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”
“See you then.” I felt Hannah’s arms go around my neck. Now to find her daddy. We entered the restaurant and my eyes fought to adjust to the change in lighting. Hannah nearly catapulted herself from my side when she saw Ben in the dining room. He excused himself from the diners he was speaking with and approached us.
As he did, his face crinkled into a smile. “My two favorite ladies in the world.”
“We were just visiting Jerry at the station.” We exchanged a quick kiss. “I had to talk to him about one of Dr. Bradley’s dictation recordings from the night of the breakin.”
“What?” Ben took Hannah into his arms. “Why talk to Jerry about dictation?”
I pulled Ben closer to the glass case where Honey’s Place pies were on display. At the moment, no one crowded the counter by the register.
“I think someone might have tried to kill Dr. Bradley and then covered it up as a robbery.”
“What did Jerry think?”
“He agreed that it’s a possibility. I gave him the recording, and he said he’d look into it.”
“What else is going on?”
“I’m not sure. I’m trying to figure out who’d have a motive to kill him.” My voice came out louder than I’d intended. No one seemed to notice my words.
Ben sighed despite our little pixie reaching for his chin. “You don’t have to. Just let Jerry and Greenburg’s finest do their jobs.”
“You’re right. I don’t have to search for a murderer. But I still can’t push what I heard on that dictation recording out of my mind.” I shivered and rubbed my arms, and the chill wasn’t from the restaurant air conditioning. A crash from the kitchen made us both jump, and Hannah’s lower lip puckered.
“You’ll be fine.” Ben handed Hannah back to me. “I really need to check on that.”
Esther, Ben’s assistant manager, zoomed from the kitchen. “Jonas cut his finger. Bad.”
“Go on.” I squeezed Ben’s hand with my free one. “I’ll wait up for you, and so will Hannah Banana if I can’t get her to go to sleep.”
He flashed me a dimpled grin before he hurried to the kitchen.
And Ben was right. I knew I should listen to him. Honestly, it all came down to time, which I didn’t have much of. Tennessee River Soaps functioned well now without me there every day since I’d found a manager and someone to help create my soaps. Yet the idea of someone thinking he’d literally gotten away with murder wouldn’t leave me alone either.
Chapter Five
The next morning, Momma came to take Hannah for the day. I checked and double-checked Hannah’s giant bag of gear. I reminded Momma about Hannah’s routine, and that she had her favorite stuffed duck. Plus to make sure the chewy bunny stayed in the fridge where it would stay cool until she needed her gums soothed while she went through this teething phase.
“I know how to take care of babies. Wasn’t so long ago your nephews were in diapers. So I just need to stay in practice,” she said.
“Okay, I’ll try my best not to be gone too long. I’m going to the shop this morning, and then spend the afternoon canning what I have left of the peaches before they rot. Shouldn’t be any later than four, I don’t think.”
Hannah’s smile told me another tooth would emerge today. And I’d miss it.
“We’ll be fine, won’t we?” Momma’s voice took on a tone I hadn’t heard since my nephews were much younger. “That’s right, Hannah. Tell your momma it’s fine for her to go off for one day.”
At last they disappeared down the driveway, and I headed to Barkha’s. Which, of course, meant my mind probably would race around and think about who could have killed Dr. Bradley.
Barkha’s Beemer was in the driveway, so I parked closest to the groves that made up her front yard. When I asked her once why she bought a house with acreage instead of a new home, she said she wanted something with atmosphere, and not the cookie-cutter overpriced developments like the ones Mia’s husband Terrance was building. I couldn’t see how anyone would buy them, not with houses full of character for sale in and around Greenburg.
A lone figure sat on the porch. Barkha. When I pulled up, her body snapped to attention.
I made my way up the short sidewalk and then climbed the wooden steps. Barkha rubbed her reddened eyes. Her open Bible rested on a small table, and the book’s pages ruffled in the light breeze.
“Is this a bad time?”
Barkha shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I hardly slept last night. Couldn’t keep anything down, so I had to cancel my morning appointments today. Poor Eunice. I think I have a stomach virus on top of everything else going on. Sometimes God sends us hints to slow down for a moment, do you think?”
I felt as if I’d stumbled into a corner of her private world. “This is a good place to do that. It’s peaceful, and there’s almost always a good breeze. So quiet, too.” As if in response to my words, a bird called somewhere from the nearby woods.
“I love it here …” She sighed and looked down at her lap.
“Do you want to talk about it? Sometimes it helps to have someone to listen. I guess you know that already, being a doctor and all …” Here I was, letting my mouth run off again. I should probably quit the rambling and go pick some peaches.
The corners of Barkha’s mouth turned up a few millimeters. “I’m a doctor. Not superwoman, that’s for sure.
” She gave a chuckle and patted the arm of the wicker chair next to hers. “Please, sit down for a few minutes. Maybe you need to slow down a bit. You work too hard, and you don’t have to.”
“Ha. Should I say, physician, heal thyself?” But I complied and settled onto the wicker chair, then took a deep breath.
We sat for a moment and listened to the breeze until Barkha broke the silence. “I know. I work too hard myself. But I grew up in a family of achievers.” A shadow crossed her face.
“You don’t talk much about them.”
Barkha sighed. “My parents came to the States when they were newly married, back in the late sixties. The land of opportunity sparkled in front of their eyes, and they seized every opportunity that came their way. Real estate. Hotels. Two apartment complexes. My brother is now the CFO of Mukherjee Enterprises. My sister is head of pediatrics at a hospital in Nashville. And here I am, the baby of the family who tried to keep up with them and couldn’t. Just being an general practitioner wasn’t enough for my overachieving family.”
“Why’d you really come to Greenburg? I know you said you wanted a slower pace, but is that all?”
Barkha chewed her lower lip. “I needed to make my own way. Plus, something happened right after I finished medical school. I knew after I completed my residency, I wanted a break. I was tired of striving, and the idea of starting another climb to the next level of success exhausted me even more.” A flash of metal through the trees lining the driveway caught our attention.
A Greenburg PD squad car, driven by my very-available brother-in-law Jerry, rounded the curve of the driveway that stopped in front of the house. Horrible timing. I’d have to ask Barkha about what happened later, but I sure wouldn’t forget. She seemed like she was ready to unpack a few secrets, and Jerry’s appearance made her close her suitcase right back up again.
Barkha’s wide driveway started to look like a parking lot as Jerry tucked his car between the Jeep and the BMW. He took his time walking to the porch. His uniform indicated this likely wasn’t a social call. But Jerry raised his hand as if to smooth his hair. I tried not to smile at the action.
The Perils of Peaches (Scents of Murder Book 3) Page 5