X's and O's (Will Kilpatrick, DVM Mystery Series Book 1)

by A. Carlock Maxwell DVM

  "That takes it back down to you."

  "Or you."

  "Be careful. You didn't get caught today. But Spivey didn't get where he is being completely dumb."

  "So he got there being partially dumb?" PJ's barb made him smile.

  "He'll be on his guard after today. Which makes my job harder. You wanted justice. I have a national platform and article that will bring him down. So, please, stay out of the way."

  What was she referring to? And would it prove he murdered his uncle? What had Hensley shared with them? Had he been more coherent during their conversations?

  "I promise I didn't do it. But I'll be careful. I'm off to bed. See you tomorrow."

  "We've got another small problem you've neglected to mention."

  "What?" PJ was becoming irritated.

  "It's gone. Where did you take it?"

  "What's gone?"

  "The bag of bones."

  He recognized the shriek as PJ's. "What?"

  Their voices moved to a part of the house he couldn't get close to.

  Not with something as hard and large and provoked as a bazooka pushing into his liver. In a burst of self-realization, he discovered his body, under stress, defaulted to fright over flight. Lot's wife was Gumby compared to him. "Do you hear the voices too?"

  Flo.

  "Yes, ma'am."

  She showed him the stick she had employed to still him. "They think we're dirt dumb, don't they?"

  He was unsure how to respond. Would she remember the conversation tomorrow? Or was she a bit shrewder than his initial estimation? "I think that's real close."

  "What about we team up and show 'em all? Would that be some kind of fun?"

  "Sounds good, Miss Flo."

  "I'll call you at school tomorrow. After they're gone. I'll tell the principal Molly needs looked at again, so he'll give you a hall pass. Be thinking of a plan." Bright eyes beamed from behind the wire-rims. "See you then, Dr. Bill."

  She left the quiet undisturbed as the darkness absorbed her.

  When the house lights dimmed, he snuck back to the truck.

  He hurried up the steps to grab the phone when he arrived home. Miss Flo.

  "We best not be seen together." A conspiratorial laugh sounded in his ear. "If anybody asks, I'll not be remembering you was there tonight. Hope your memory is as bad."

  Chapter 18

  Friday

  Liza pulled into the parking lot at Goolsby's Grocery and sat in the truck. She held her hands out, watched them. They still shook from her meeting with the bank president. The delinquent loan installments must be made soon. Despite feeling sorry for her predicament, the shareholders remained his primary concern. Though he appreciated her zeal, there would be no payment extension.

  When asked if Otis Spivey drove the decision, he had declared the meeting over. He would not listen to unsubstantiated accusations against anyone on their Board, much less someone of Mr. Spivey's stature.

  She had bitten her tongue. No, diced it. Though unsure what would win the day, arguing wouldn't.

  She looked in the rearview mirror. Her dad always said that when you needed help, take a look in the mirror. With the many problems facing her, she could spend all day looking at her reflection. She recognized the theory, wasn't convinced it worked outside the lab.

  The vet's truck eased by her and parked. Watching his athletic walk to the store redlined her pulse. She grabbed a piece of paper and fanned her face. This was not normal. She needed another of PJ's pep talks. No major plans for six months. Particularly concerning guys. An eternity when one like that walked around free.

  She hadn't yet processed what had happened earlier today. A delivery truck had dropped off a small, though heavy, box. Inside was a small, granite cross etched with Tipper's name, birth and death dates. Beneath that was a scripture.

  John 11:35

  Jesus wept.

  She had wept.

  Who had sent such an extravagant, thoughtful gift? At the perfect time? Giving her a much-needed sense of not being alone. Probably PJ, although the religious reference would be out of character.

  A search of the box produced an envelope. Opening it, she skipped the message to see whose signature the sympathy card bore. Dr. Kilpatrick's.

  Her mouth shriveled to a hard line as she dropped it. Despite the way his presence affected her, she had formed her opinion about him. She agreed with PJ. He probably wasn't trustworthy.

  She didn't want to read it. But she didn't want to not read it more.

  She bent over, retrieved the card.

  Dear Miss Hall,

  So sorry about your recent, in the words of the Puritans, losses and crosses. The deaths of your father and Tipper must be extremely difficult to walk through. I am praying that the peace that passes understanding be yours as you release yourself into His care, casting all your burdens upon Him.

  Joy in His presence,

  Will Kilpatrick, DVM

  Her eyes followed him, watched as he stopped to chat with Bicycle Pete, an eccentric man most in town considered an inconvenience. To her surprise, arms over each other's shoulders, they entered Goolsby's.

  Someone tapped on the rider side window. Startled, she looked over and waved at Bob Gentry, a local pastor. Mid-forties, angularly handsome, self-deprecating, always with a smile and encouraging word. One of the few clergy her dad had trusted, whose church they attended sporadically. Heavy on the sporadic.

  After collecting herself another five minutes, she went in and grabbed a cart, pushed it towards the produce section. She didn't need much, just some fresh fruit. Ahead, Pastor Gentry talked with Dr. Kilpatrick and Bicycle Pete. Will glanced up and saw her. She drew a ragged breath as dizziness sparkled the air. Flustered, she straightened her shoulders and continued in their direction. She at least needed to thank him for the grave marker. She steeled herself to be polite but not flirty as she picked up her pace. Might as well get this over with.

  ***

  Will was pleased to run into Pastor Gentry. He had been Uncle Bill's pastor and good friend. Answering his general questions while Pete listened, Will shared about the challenges, particularly his unpleasant encounters with Liza Hall. Before Bob could answer, Will saw her steering a grocery cart in his direction. She didn't look happy. Less unhappy probably defined her happy look.

  Maybe she didn't appreciate the grave marker. Maybe she was going to confront him in public.

  The hum of a motorized cart startled him. He jumped to avoid being hit. His breath caught. Coldness hollowed his insides. Dry lips stuck together.

  No doubt.

  It was her. Clio Hedgecoth. His nemesis from eleven years ago, when he was sixteen.

  The astoundingly obese lady, commanding an entire aisle in Goolsby's Grocery from atop a motorized shopping cart with the swagger of General Patton in his Jeep, had blockaded him in this same produce section. Where, in his innocence, he was selecting broccoli and sweet potatoes for supper. Her Top Gun agility with the cart and a walking cane pinned him near the plastic bags and twist ties.

  In front of twenty-five shoppers, she berated him for his inconsequential part in yesterday's death during surgery of Ludwig, her elderly, obese tomcat presented with plugged plumbing for the tenth time. Declared he would be like Uncle Bill and never make a decent vet. Said his nickname would be Dr. Will Kill. Which it became for the ensuing summer visits. Given her animosity, he felt fortunate to have escaped becoming the first victim of vehicular homicide in a supermarket. Squashed next to the yellow crooknecks.

  In the same manner the vision of the little girl and her puppy encouraged him throughout veterinary college, Clio's condemnation discouraged him, become the accuser of his abilities. An ill-tempered squatter in his mind's living room, it decorated its stronghold with doubt and fear and shame. Black. Shadowy. Accusatory. Vindictive groupies, they attended every life or death performance, perched front row center, jeering him on. Lately making the case he had been lucky to graduate from veterinary col
lege. Driven his decision not to practice in a small town where failure was instant news and magnified. Especially in the Springs.

  Liza Hall strode closer. Clio's cart banged into a display of vanilla wafers, toppled them. The cookies crunched beneath the wheels. Even though the buggy was already a quarter full, he decided to leave it. He said a hasty goodbye to Gentry, gave Bicycle Pete a fifty-dollar bill with which to purchase groceries, and headed away from Liza and Clio, who waved a cane and started to say something. Two aisles away, he turned and took a direct route to the front exit.

  Once in the truck, he sat for several minutes.

  ***

  Bicycle Pete and Gentry's faces reflected astonishment when Will left. He had gone ghost pale when he saw her, then nearly transparent when Clio Hedgecoth wrecked her cart next to him. Good thing the old lady's life had turned round or she would have blamed him, cussed him out on the spot. But last year she'd gone from always quarreling to singing in the church choir.

  Embarrassment shot hot bolts through her. Had her behavior at the clinic, then at the cemetery been so atrocious that he couldn't stand to be in her presence? While PJ would think it the awesome result of self-assertion, she wasn't so sure. Not that she, being logical and self-sufficient, was overly interested in knowing him better, but had she slammed the door with her hostile demeanor?

  When had she picked PJ to be her relationship coach? Her friend had spent an evening with Will and judged him to be nice though, in her words, plain old vanilla. Which meant he hadn't made a pass at her. But PJ preferred more exciting men – bull riders, motorcycle racers, cliff divers. Men with pumpkin-sized adrenal glands. Plus, PJ had said, he seemed to interested in Skeets. She didn't understand that at all. Maybe he was impressed with the uniform.

  The men nodded when she stopped by them.

  Clio was talking. Meeting Jesus hadn't modified that. "Was that Will Kilpatrick, all growed up?"

  "It was." Pete bent over and picked up some of the boxes she had displaced. "Nicest man you could hope to meet. Because of him, I get to invite some poor folks to supper tonight. And get a few new clothes."

  Could someone be generous to the poor and also be a dog killer? Maybe. She took food to shut-ins and behaved like a diva towards him. Liza glanced at Gentry. "Is he coming back in?"

  Bicycle Pete took the cart Will had abandoned and gave a wave.

  Clio tooted the ooga horn on her cart when Gentry didn't reply at once. "Well, is he? I need to tell him something. Has to be in person."

  Liza placed some bananas in her cart, tried to look disinterested. "Me too."

  "I'll tell you something, Miss Liza Hall." Clio tapped her on the hip with her walking cane. "You'd do well to snatch that one up. Your clock isn't running backwards."

  Nearby shoppers smiled at the advice. But, based on the tension in their previous encounters, snatching him up would involve a Taser. "So, is he coming back in?"

  Gentry fidgeted, examined the rhubarb. "I don't think so. Said he remembered something and had to leave."

  She remembered Dr. Bill's note she'd read in the cemetery. What had happened in Goolsby's concerning Miss Clio that he needed to overcome? "He took the long way out. Seemed like he was trying to avoid me."

  Gentry shrugged. "I couldn't say. Love to see you back in church sometime."

  Not likely with the way God felt about her. "Will Dr. Kilpatrick be coming?" Though Gentry's eyes smiled, he kept if from his mouth. Preachers, always thinking they knew other people's thoughts. She tried to look confused as she replied, palms raised shoulder high. "What?"

  Clio tapped her with the cane. "Don't try to fool old foolers, child. It's okay to look." She picked a tomato from the rack and examined it. "I wouldn't even take a 'mater home without checking it out."

  Gentry cleared his throat. "He mentioned it, but I'm not sure what his plans are. He did say he had met you. A couple times."

  Napalm couldn't have made her face hotter. She unfolded a Steel Magnolia smile. The crowd was rubbernecking. She lowered her voice as Miss Clio inched closer. "I bet that was very flattering."

  He noticed the eavesdroppers and turned to shield his voice. "Why would you put it that way? All he said was that he felt sorry for what's been going on. Your dad. Tipper."

  Her smile slid to one side, tilted her head. A remote area of her heart radiated heat through her veins. She examined the asparagus while she talked. "He didn't mention that I had been perhaps a bit...edgy?"

  He shook his head, pooched his lips out. "Nope." His eyes flickered. "Are you okay? Is there anything I can help you with?"

  Tears slicked her eyes. She didn't know why she was crying, only that she was. And that she had to leave. She had to catch him. And thank him for the gift. More than ever now, since he hadn't trashed her to Gentry. She turned and headed for the door.

  It took standing in front of his truck to get him to stop. Several people stopped to watch. His blue eyes immobilized her.

  "You mentioned having a cup of coffee sometime. Is the offer still open?" Her voice lacked the warmth she had expected. Her face felt mottled. Not a good start.

  "Is it visiting time at jail?" His blue eyes appeared lighter beneath a thin coat of ice.

  Her chest seized mid-breath. She struggled to blink. She hadn't anticipated a curt refusal in Goolsby's parking lot for everyone in town to see. How pathetic she must look, blocking his path like a peace protestor, begging for a date, and being refused. "Oh. I'm so sorry I interrupted your shopping."

  "You didn't interrupt it."

  Unbidden, the woman-spurned gene rose in her defense. Locked and loaded. "I don't believe it. Where's your groceries?"

  His eyes faltered, stared through the windshield. "I forgot something important."

  She rested her chin on two fingers. "Yep. Your groceries. They're in the cart. Inside."

  "Where are yours?" He turned his head to face her.

  Was that slight smile mocking her? Probably. No, most certainly. No, absolutely. "I left them inside so I could speak to you."

  "I'm sorry, but I need to be going."

  She glanced around, smiled at a few folks, tried to maintain a nonchalant attitude. "What happened in Goolsby's a long time ago? With Miss Clio? Is that what's going on?"

  His hand partially covered his face, casting faint shadows across ashen features. "I really need to be going."

  "Okay." She made an exaggerated, traffic cop sweep of her hand. "Be going then instead of blocking traffic. But let me say what I came out for. Thanks so much for the tomb rock. I've never had a gift that special." She touched his arm. Ax handle hard. "It made me cry."

  He shifted his arm to his side. "Least I could do after killing your dog."

  She sensed her face collapse as he rolled up his window and drove off, leaving her speaking to empty. "A bit touchy, aren't we?"

  Following PJ's advice to avoid understatement had resulted in clear communication. But if this was indicative, it could be employed only once per person per lifetime.

  ***

  Will watched Liza's lips moving as he drove away. Already, he regretted his sarcastic comments. He closed his eyes, hoping to block out her crestfallen expression. She was only saying thanks for his gift. The gift he had sent in response to Uncle Bill's note. And every once in a while, do something spectacularly wild and crazy for God and someone besides you. Any kindness in his intention had been negated by his reaction.

  Had he responded with such hostility because of the similarity of the situation when he was sixteen? If so, all the more reason to not remain in the Springs. But not justification to have behaved badly. He had wounded her in the same way he had been when he was sixteen. He hoped she got over it quicker than he hadn't.

  Lost in his misery, he slammed on the brakes as Clio coasted into his path on her cart, waving her cane, blowing her ooga horn. Running over her would fulfill her prophecy of Dr. Will Kill. In the rearview mirror, he noticed Liza edging in his direction. Double-barreled trouble.
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  Clio steered to his door, tapped on the window, motioning him to roll it down. "Young man, I need to say something to you."

  He glanced in every direction. No one would witness it besides Liza, who continued easing their way.

  "I don't know if you remember me or not. Years ago, I had an old tom named Ludwig that died at Dr. Bill's. I saw you in Goolsby's the next day. Dog cussed you in front of everybody there." She paused, obviously embarrassed. "Since meeting Jesus, I've made amends with a bunch of folks. I prayed I'd have a chance to see you again. So here we are. At the scene of the crime." She reached a hand up, touched his arm. "Will you forgive me?"

  His throat tightened, squeezing tears to his eyes as he looked down into her sorrowful face. The pain of that day surfaced through the raw flesh of the long-unhealed wound. Could he say and mean the words that could close it? To fully step into his future, whether here or elsewhere, he needed to. "Yes, ma'am. I forgive you."

  Joy chased the despair from her countenance. "From what I hear, you're an excellent doctor. Not Dr. Will Kill like I called you." She squeezed his arm. "Could you give an old lady a hug? Makes it more official.?"

  He climbed out, smelled the powder on her soft face as she reached up to embraced him. He caught Liza's eye a brief moment, gave a terse smile she didn't respond to.

  Clio tapped him with her cane when he stood back up. "Now go ye forth and do likewise." She wheeled and pointed the cane at Liza. "That goes for you to, Miss Liza Hall. And remember what I said in there. Your clock-"

  Liza ducked her head. "-isn't running backwards. Thanks for reminding me." She turned and walked away, taking his eyes with her. Every nuance of her movement was delightful. He needed to ask her forgiveness also, but doubted she would stop for him just now.

  On the way out of town, he stopped by the flower shop.

  He had to keep his part right. As much as it lies within you, be at peace with all men. And women. Especially when there was something unexplainably enticing about her. Miss Clio would be surprised too.

  Enticing our not, he wasn't pleased with Liza's reading Uncle Bill's note. Would she think he was a prodigal of sorts? Running from what he once believed to be a certain call to the Springs? He didn't want to think about it himself, much less have anyone else know.