The shyness snuck back into Tilly's eyes, and she lowered her head while thanking Kat.
"I'll drop off the things from Brianna's house I promised you as soon as I get them packed up." She stepped off the porch. "Oh, by the way, I was wondering if you happened to hear that motorcycle coming down this street last night?"
"Can't say that I did, but I mighta been snoozing in my chair about then. I took me a couple aspirins for my arthritis. That darn thing coulda got by me."
"All right then. I'll be back with the kitty supplies." Watching Tilly snuggling Tiger, Kat shooed away the ridiculous feeling gnawing at her. How could she be attached to a silly little kitten?
She directed her thoughts to her conversations with the sheriff and Tilly's grandmother. There seemed to be no real evidence Tim Holmes had been at Brianna's house the previous night, unless the sheriff was lying.
CHAPTER 25
As usual most of the cars in town were huddled in front of Hank's, Bertie's, or the café. Kat parked on the side of the street she came in on in front of the doctor's office. She was putting away her keys when a rapping sounded on the windshield.
Doc Conklin crowded her view. "I saw you from inside," he explained as she rolled down the window, "and I wondered if I might talk to you."
"I only have a minute."
He stepped back to let her exit the car. He had on a short-sleeved shirt and on his right forearm was a tattoo of an eagle's head and a cross with the words For God and Country superimposed. "How about coming into my office. I'd rather not talk out here."
"What's this about?"
"Brianna. There's something I want to tell you, and actually show you, but not out here. This town is a regular gossip mill." He placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her inside.
The reception area looked the same as before, an empty desk in a dreary room. Even the vase with the dried flowers had been removed.
"Doesn't anyone ever get sick around here?"
"Thursdays are usually slow. People around here like to take care of themselves. They take pride in it. I don't know why they even need a doctor here half the time, but I've been here ten years now, and I can't seem to leave. The town grows on you."
"Why did you end up here, if I might ask?"
"I wanted a fresh start."
"A divorce?"
"Something like that."
Kat thought better than to step any further into his personal life, or she would never get out of here. "What did you want to tell me? You said it concerned my sister."
"Why don't we step into my office?"
"Can't you tell me here?"
"I need to show you something. It's in my office." He turned down a narrow hallway, forcing her to trail after him, and ushered her into a tiny square room with no windows or other doors.
On the walls were anatomical charts and a framed diploma with bold black letters indicating he'd received his medical training in Puerto Rico. Curious, she wanted to ask him about his choice of schools, but she cautioned herself to stay out of his private life.
He dug into a desk drawer and handed her a photo of Brianna, showing her with a bruised cheek. Her eyes were lifeless.
Kat felt a jolt in her gut. "What happened to her, and why do you have this picture?"
He rested his palms on his desk. "You see, she came in one day, and I decided to snap the picture in case she ever went to the sheriff to press charges." He took the photo from Kat and pointed to the bruise. "This was evidence of her mistreatment."
"Did she tell you who did this to her?"
"She wouldn't confide that to me. I asked her many, many times, but she wouldn't cooperate. I think she knew if I wasn't a doctor, I'd have broken the coward in two. Oh, I had my suspicions."
"Who did you suspect?"
"I warned her to be careful, but she wouldn't listen to me."
"Did this happen more than once?"
"I hate to admit it, but I'm afraid so. Mainly, bruised arms she could cover up with a shirt. The coward knew what he was doing."
"Why didn't you report this?"
"I wanted to many, many times, but she wouldn't have liked that. We had our differences, your sister and I."
"Why didn't you tell me this the last time I was in here?"
"I'm sorry I didn't," he said. "I thought you might stop in another time. I would have told you then. You see, your coming here brought up memories of your sister, and it brought up a lot of hurt because I lost one of my lovely patients." He looked off into the distance. "Yes, she was a lovely girl."
"It sounds like Brianna made quite an impression on you, as she did with most of the people in this town."
"Indeed she did."
Kat edged toward the door. "I really must go."
"Won't you stay for tea? I'd love the company."
"No, thank you. I have some shopping to do."
"Well, then, I'll look forward to our next visit. Maybe I'll think of something more to share with you. You will come back, won't you?"
She gave him a curt smile and strode from the office. Without many patients to speak of, the doctor seemed like a lonely man. Good or bad, Brianna had made an impression on everyone in this town.
Kat crossed the street to Hank's store. In the back she found a cat box, kitty litter, and a bag of kibble. She hung around the counter while a gentleman with a fisherman's hat finished talking to Hank. She recognized the man as one of the diners in the café. On his way out he tipped his hat to her. The bell on the door jingled.
Hank grabbed the cat box. "Still got that kitten, I see. Looks like you're giving it a home to stay."
Kat explained about giving the kitten to Tilly and arranged with him to keep her supplied with cat food and litter. She wrote a check to cover the expense for the next six months and wrote down her Seattle address. Hank filed it away.
On the ledge behind Hank, she spotted a plastic vase filled with miniature white roses. "Where did you get those flowers?"
"Those?" Hank twisted around and back to Kat. "My wife brought them in. Thought I needed to brighten the place up. They are kind of pretty."
"Where did she get them, may I ask?"
"Probably got them in Benton on her last shopping trip. There's a little flower section in the Thriftway. She wants me to put something like that in here. Says we carry everything else. Says people would buy them. But I told her I got no room for it."
Kat thought of Brianna. "Would you sell them to me?"
"Those aren't for sale. They're just for decoration."
"I'll pay you, vase and all. How about thirty dollars?"
"Thirty dollars. They ain't worth that much."
"Forty? With forty dollars your wife could buy three times that amount."
With a cheery expression he set the vase on the counter. "Sold. Though I don't know why on earth those flowers are worth that much to you."
"I'm going to put them on my sister's grave." She opened her checkbook again.
"In that case you just forget about the money. I'm sure my wife would understand."
Kat filled out the check anyway. "You're saving me from having to go all the way to Benton, spending all that money for gas. You're doing me a favor."
"I think you should just take them. We thought a lot of Brianna."
"No. I insist." Kat folded his hand over the check.
"Much appreciated."
She crossed the street with the cat supplies. The doctor's office was dark inside. At least he wasn't at the window staring at her.
She returned for the roses, and when she was leaving Hank's store, she nearly bumped into Wilma, who held a cup of coffee away from her smock, the liquid sloshing from side to side. "Whoa, girl, do you want us both to wear this?"
"Sorry. I wasn't paying attention."
"Hey, nice flowers. What are you doing, dressing up Brianna's house while you're here? Are you planning to stick around?"
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure. Why don't you come into the s
hop with me? I've got someone under the dryer, and I don't want her head to fry."
A faint odor of permanent wave solution mingled with the odor of hairspray. A lone dryer whirred in the background.
Wilma went into the back room to check on her customer, then returned to Kat. "What is it you wanted to ask me?"
"Have you given any thought to that phone number?"
"To tell you the truth, no. Too damn busy." Wilma snatched a pad and pencil from the desk. "Write it down again. If I stare at it long enough, it might just come to me."
Kat jotted the number on Wilma's notepad. "Another thing. I've noticed fresh flowers on Brianna's grave."
"Is that where you're taking those roses?"
"Yes, and I wondered who else might be doing the same." Knowing Wilma's curious nature and penchant for gossip, Kat didn't want to arouse her suspicions. "I'd just like to thank them."
"Boy, I don't know the answer to that," Wilma said. "Gosh, I know about everything else in this town, but I don't know that. I never get up to the cemetery. Cemeteries give me the willies. I'll get my feelers out there and see what I can find out."
"You don't have to do that, Wilma."
"Let's see . . ." She tapped her chin with her index finger and glanced at the corner of the room.
"It's not that important, really."
"You might ask Lenny. Have you ever noticed the flowers in the post office?"
"Not really."
"Sometimes he brings flowers in. Carnations. Sometimes miniature roses, just like those," Wilma said. "Well, not Lenny, but Clare, I'm sure, although she doesn't strike me as the flower type. It's just that she has more time away from the post office than he does. Of course, sometimes the café brings flowers in. Doc Conklin, too. He probably likes roses. Hell, it could be anyone. Everyone loved Brianna."
"Don't worry about it." Kat glanced toward the back room. "I better run. You don't want to fry your customer."
"That's a fact."
Kat left the shop and crossed the road to her SUV. Everyone loved Brianna was becoming the town's mantra, except for one person, if Kat's theory was right.
A last-minute decision compelled her to stop at the post office. That body odor smell lingered within the confines of the room. No one was at the counter. No flowers were displayed, though the area behind the mailboxes was hidden from view. Lenny's wife, Clare, came out from that direction, her face molded into its usual scowl.
"Is Lenny here?"
"He's out. What can I do for you?" Clare avoided eye-contact and deposited a letter in a bin nearby.
"I wanted to make sure he didn't stop by Brianna's house to deliver mail like he did the other morning because I'm not staying there."
"Lenny stopped by, huh." Clare's tone showed a curious interest. "Are you leaving town soon?"
"Not yet, but before I do leave, I'll pick up my mail here."
"Suit yourself." Clare started walking away.
"Did I get any mail today?"
Clare grunted a reply and skimmed the table behind her. "Don't see any."
Kat decided to probe a little. "None for Brianna either?"
"I would have said so, wouldn't I?"
"Did you know my sister?"
"Everyone did."
"What did you think of her?"
"Don't have an opinion." Clare gathered a stack of letters and wandered out of sight. The clip of envelopes hitting the metal slots started up again.
Wilma was right. Clare was a piece of work, about as personable as a hockey stick. No wonder Lenny chose to deliver the mail personally once in a while, anything to get a break from his disagreeable wife.
On the way up cemetery hill, Kat wondered how two people like Lenny and Clare ever got together in the first place. Kat couldn't imagine a more mismatched pair. She chuckled, thinking about it: Lenny the dreamer, Clare the grouch.
But who was Kat to judge after all the mismatches she'd endured over the years. One Jim Wethersby came to mind, the hotshot lawyer with all the promises, who never delivered any of them. And what about Theodore Smith, that handsome, annoying, upper-class jerk? At least she had the presence of mind to get out of those relationships. With choices like that, she'd rather stay single.
CHAPTER 26
On the road to the cemetery, Kat hadn't passed one car. No vehicles were parked near the graveyard; she had the place to herself. The trees, shading the area, were as still as the headstones. There wasn't a sound anywhere, not even birds chirping.
As soon as she approached Brianna's grave, she stopped short, stunned. Next to the grave, a mound of rich brown soil had recently been dug up. It looked like the beginnings of a new grave.
She set the vase above the headstone. Lying on the granite beside Brianna's name was another freshly-cut white rose. When she touched the petals, a cool breeze whipped up and swirled around her, chilling her. Overcome with a feeling of urgency, she instinctively glanced up.
At the far edge of the cemetery, where the pines thickened into forest, was the silhouette of a man. Or was it a woman? She couldn't tell.
She hastened up the hill toward the figure, but to keep from stumbling over the buckled cement, she had to divide her attention from the path to the woods and back again. In the process her boot heel caught in a crack, and by the time she'd dislodged it, the person had vanished. Or was the person even real?
She searched for an opening in the forest, but the trees were too close together, and there were no trails leading anywhere. Veering to the left, she followed the tree line down a sloping hillside. She saw no one.
On the opposite side of the cemetery, an engine struggled for life. She made it to the hill's crest in time to see the tail end of a pickup speeding off in a cloud of dust toward town. The shadows swallowed the details, but she guessed the color was green, or perhaps blue. It could have been black. At least this time she wasn't seeing ghosts.
On returning to Brianna's grave, she kicked the soil into the hole that had been started and stomped the ground flat. In the safety of her SUV, she crept along until she neared the turn toward town. To the left was a narrow dirt road she hadn't noticed before.
The hairs on the back of her neck rose. She felt a instant chill. This place was keeping her on edge. No matter the consequences, she wasn't leaving town until she probed the truth about Brianna's death.
Kat was never so glad to see Chance's old beater parked in front of Bertie's. Anxious to tell him about the gravesite and about her conversation with Sheriff Holmes, she pulled into a spot nearby.
Bertie's was alive with lunch customers and the smell of hamburgers frying. The jukebox pounded out country. A clattering of pool balls sent a roar of laughter into the crowd. Doug Jones came out of the men's room drying his hands on a paper towel and stopped to eyeball Kat. She sought out Chance.
A young couple, then an older man, nodded and smiled at her as she wove past their tables, folks she recognized from the church meeting last week. Most people in town were cordial. Hank, Wilma, and Bertie came to mind, even the pastor and Lenny and Doc Conklin in their own quirky ways. She had rankled the sensibilities of a few, particularly Nate Wheeler and of course the sheriff and his son, who were both sitting in a booth along the far wall. She ignored their stares.
Speak of the devil. Lenny was at the end of the bar, wringing his hands, more than likely wishing Bertie would hurry his order so he could get back to the post office without angering Clare. When Kat sat next to Chance, Lenny quit fidgeting and focused his attention on her.
"You seem a little rattled," Chance said. "Rough morning? I looked everywhere for you. I was afraid something had happened to you."
"Let's get out of here, and don't say you told me so."
"I knew you couldn't wait to see Holmes. Do you want to tell me what happened?"
"I want to get out of here now."
"I thought I'd buy us lunch first."
Obsessed that Lenny was focusing on her, she leaned toward Chance and said in a loud whisp
er, "We can't talk here."
"Okay. We'll take out." He motioned Bertie over.
Bertie wiped her hands on her apron and picked up two menus. "Do you need these, or do you know what you want?"
"We're going to take a couple of burgers home to my house."
After Bertie headed into the kitchen, Kat scowled at Chance. "What did you say that for?"
"What did I say?"
"You know what you said."
Chance gave her an inquisitive tilt of the head, and Kat repeated his statement to Bertie about them going to his house. "So what if she knows you're spending time with me. What's so bad about that?"
"You saw Bertie's eyebrows. They couldn't have been higher if she'd jammed them up with toothpicks."
"You're too paranoid about this. Nobody in town cares what we do together."
"No, but it's what they might be imagining that bothers me." She swiveled her stool and noticed the Holmes men watching her. "I want to get out of here in the worst way." Her gaze fell on Lenny, and he wiggled his fingers in a pathetic little wave.
Finally, Bertie came through the swinging doors, plunked a sack down in front of them, and bellowed over the music, "How's it going at Brianna's house? Are you getting things done?"
"It won't be long now."
"Sheriff said you had a little problem there. He didn't say what."
"Nothing that I can't handle," Kat said. "Shall we go, Chance?"
He gave Bertie a generous tip. "Keep the change."
"Thanks, Chance. You two enjoy your afternoon."
All the way out the door he gently eased Kat forward with his hand on the small of her back. When the door closed behind them, she brushed his arm away. "What are you doing, marking your territory, letting everyone in this town know you're screwing Kat Summers?"
He laughed. "We both know that's not true."
"And did you see that wink of Bertie's when she told us to enjoy our afternoon? I told you people get the wrong impression."
"There wasn't any wink," he said. "What's got into you, anyway?"
Her shoulders slumped. She knew she was being bitchy. "It's this town. I'm sorry. I'm tired and antsy. I was up at the cemetery, visiting Brianna's grave . . ." She hesitated, deciding not to tell him about the newly dug hole because it would only drive him to be more protective than he already was. She despised being smothered. "I thought I saw someone watching me. I swear this town is making me paranoid."
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