by M K Scott
“Nope. You’re not the frivolous type to make up things. Besides, I did smell the lingering odor of chloroform in your kitchen. No reason for you to have it in your cupboards, is there?” His face turned toward her. Even with the tree branch shadows falling across his face she could still detect a slight smile.
Ah, a joke, a tease, she might have missed it. “No, you do know they don’t use chloroform in hospitals anymore.” Why hadn’t she recognized the smell, instead of putting it down to overly sweet wine? When was the last time she’d smelled it? She couldn’t remember.
“Didn’t know that.” His hand wrapped around a drooping branch for her to pass under. “When did they stop using it?”
Her shoulders went up in a shrug but realized he might not be able to see it. “I do know it was before I became a nurse. Of course, it didn’t happen all at once. It caused complications such as harming the liver, coma, even paralysis. Basically malpractice city. Anesthesiologists already have some of the highest malpractice insurance. Add in chloroform and no one could afford the insurance to practice medicine.”
“Good to know. So only people who use chloroform are criminal types then. Kidnappers, murderers or people up to no good or those who order it online for whatever purposes they might conceive.” The light touched on some impressions. A large indent with two smaller ones at the front that had depth. “I found where you fell.”
Her nose crinkled up at the word fell. It made her sound like one of the women in the commercials for health alert bracelets. The only reason she fell was her effort to capture her wayward dog. As if on cue, she could hear the snuffling sound of her dog nearby. Most of the time, Jasper never went far enough for her to worry about it or paper the neighborhood with missing pet posters. Right now, she needed to see the footprint more.
The light bounced around the area until it landed on an athletic shoe print. A relieved sigh escaped her lungs. Thank goodness, the print existed. Things were getting to the point where she doubted her own observations.
Taber eased to his knees and pulled some wooden slats from the bag and formed a square around the print. “I’ll have to cut out the ground too. Once it’s dry, the dirt can be brushed away. The impression can be inked and then applied to paper for a clearer print.”
It made sense. She nodded as he spoke, but managed to keep the light on him and the print. The ridges resembled athletic shoes but narrowed toward the heel. Didn’t make sense. Something familiar about them flitted at the edge of her memory. A sharp yip, then a continual growl indicated Jasper had cornered something. Great. The light swung as she turned toward her dog, causing a muttered curse from her companion.
“Oh.” She turned the light back and considered briefly telling Taber that he could do it himself. After all she was the one with a ginormous flashlight. Still, he was the one who knew all the procedural maneuvers to catch the criminal. She stayed in place wondering what havoc her dog was creating now.
The casting bag wheezed and emitted a puff of plaster dust as Taber squeezed and twisted between his hands, which forced her to ask. “What are you doing?”
He gave her a long-suffering look—the same one doctors gave her whenever she questioned their orders. Uninformed was not the same things as being stupid, she reminded herself. Instead, she raised an eyebrow, not knowing if he could see it in the dark.
“The bag,” he said, then hesitated to wait for her nod of acknowledgment before continuing, “has a water capsule inside that contains the right amount of water. All I have to do is squeeze it to break it. Then I squish and twist it to mix it. Finally, I tear off one end and squeeze it out.”
“Like frosting,” Donna added, only getting a long-suffering glance for her comment.
After tearing the bag open, he started on the outside of the print and not the print itself. Before she could ask, he explained. “If I started on the print the weight of the plaster could spread the print. I am creating a base that will support the plaster over the print, saving its integrity.”
“Okay.” She stored the information away. Certain she could use it later. Part of her listened for the sound of Jasper, who was never a stealthy pup. Nothing. “I’m worried about Jasper.”
Taber smoothed out the top of the plaster form with another slat of wood before he rocked back on his heels and stood. “Wouldn’t worry about your dog too much. Chasing a rodent would do him good.”
Not a very subtle slam on her dog’s weight. Sure, exercise would benefit him. Not allowing him so many samples of her cooking would help too. The need to locate her pet overrode the need to defend him. “That’s just it. I should hear him, especially if he’s chasing something. He tends to bay when he’s on the trail of something. That’s the beagle in him.”
They both stood, listening to the tree limbs crack and shudder above them in the breeze. Everything else was still. No car noise, no ambient noise of television laugh tracks seeping out from the well-insulated houses. Not even the footsteps of the dog walkers, but it was late. Too late and too cold for anyone to be out who didn’t have to be.
Her heart clutched a little. He might be an overweight, ill-behaved dog to most everyone else, but he was family to her. Outside of her brother and mother, her only family. “Jasper.” The wind carried the name, softening the slight tinge of panic she recognized.
Taber touched her back. “We’ll look together.” Their feet crunched frosted leaves and broke fallen twigs. In the stillness, they sounded like a herd of elephants.
Using the flashlight in a sweeping motion, they discovered Jasper’s body on the other side of the house. Her hand pressed to her chest, as she felt a cry percolating in her throat. No, it couldn’t be.
Taber’s flat palm motioned her to wait while he knelt beside her dog. His head lowered as he bent at the waist. Donna’s feet stayed put, but she leaned forward as much as she could without toppling to see what the man was up to. Was he trying artificial resuscitation on her dog? She’d have to take back all the mean thoughts she’d ever had about him.
Still squatting, he turned his head toward her. “Chloroform.” He spat the word in disgust.
Chapter Fifteen
“Jasper.” she squatted beside her dog and picked up a limp paw. “He’s still alive?” Even though the detective already checked, something about the canine’s stillness bothered her. It wasn’t uncommon for hospital personnel to mention a patient was critical as opposed to dead. The reasoning was such information shouldn’t be delivered over the phone. The end result was the loved one drove like a maniac to be by their already deceased relative’s side, hoping to gain a few last words of insight or forgiveness. A cruel practice in her opinion and she wasn’t totally sure the police didn’t employ the same methods.
Her open palm moved up the dog’s warm body where a steady heartbeat continued. Slower than normal, but his heart did beat. Thank God.
Taber, still kneeling beside the dog, spoke, reminding her of his presence. “I think we need to get him to the 24-hour animal hospital.”
Donna blinked a few times, trying to keep back the tears. Be strong. Jasper’s a dog. Most people think dogs are just objects. “Okay.” She gulped, trying to clean out the ball wedged in her throat.
One arm slid under him while the other cradled his head, but she couldn’t pick him up from a squatting position. There had been no previous occasion to pick her dog up. Either he jumped into the car on his own or she gave him a boost.
“I’ll take him.” Taber’s shoulder touched hers briefly as he inserted his arms under the dog and stood with no problem. “We should make sure the house is locked up before leaving.”
The well-lit house drew her eyes, but she glanced back at the silhouette of Mark and Jasper moving away in the dark. “Not sure why I should bother to lock up. It doesn’t seem to keep some people out.”
“It will keep out the majority.” Mark’s voice was loud in the cold air. “Besides insurance will balk at paying if they discover the doors were unlocked.”
/>
True enough and it served as a motivation for her to sprint to the front and side doors and lock them. By the time she reached the car, the comatose Jasper was stretched out on a jacket in the backseat. Did he place the dog on the jacket out of kindness or to cut down on dog hairs? Mark’s worried expression made her decide it had to be a kindness.
Donna slid into the back seat and slammed the car door. The car nosed into the street as Mark spoke. “The hospital is on Walnut and 9th. It’s a little expensive, but I doubt that matters to you.”
“It doesn’t.” She shook her head in the dark, surprised he’d even mention the price. “How do you know about it?”
He coughed followed by the sound of cellophane rustling, then it stopped. It was easy to deduce the man reached for a cigarette but stopped on her account. “Well,” he started but swore as a motorist shot through a red light in front of him. “I’m not solving murders every day.”
“Don’t tell me you moonlight for the animal hospital?” The conversation distracted her a little as she kept a hand on Jasper, willing him to live.
“Nope. You’d be surprised how many people straggle in with an ailing pet in the middle of the night. Occasionally, we get a 911 call from a child whose pet has been hit. Normally, there is a fine for making a false 911 call. To the child, it is an emergency. If I’m nearby, I’ve taken a few pets to the hospital. I’ve also found out the majority of the parents wouldn’t pay for the visit or couldn’t pay. They told their child nothing could be done. However, the child believed someone could help.”
The words were delivered dispassionately, not giving her a hint of his feelings on the matter. A softie, someone who cared about animals and children, hid underneath his gruff, hard-bitten exterior. No wonder he told her about the price. “Afraid you’d be stuck with the bill again?”
“Not really,” he said, answering her unspoken question about who paid all those other pet bills.
The man had several layers. Who knew what existed under his cynical, chain-smoking exterior? If only he’d quit smoking, he could extend his life span. Everything he owned, including the car, would have to be fumigated. The mental work of creating a non-smoking Taber with more color in his cheeks occupied her thoughts for a few seconds. “Why do you smoke?”
Oh no, another abrupt question she was trying to refrain from asking.
“Why do you ask personal questions?” he fired back in a slightly amused tone.
Excellent rebuttal, she’d have to give a point on that. “It’s who I am.”
“Same here.”
Stupid answer, the point she gave him before she’d take back. “It’s not who you are. You weren’t born smoking. If you were, your mother would be the one screaming, not you.”
His dry chuckle turned into a rasping cough. She wanted to point out to him that was exactly what smoking did to him, limit his ability to do ordinary things such as laugh. This time, she kept her mouth shut. No one else was volunteering to take her dog to the all-night animal hospital.
“You’re not one who will take a simple answer.” He drove in silence for a few minutes before he started speaking. The quiet served more as a bond than a barrier between them. “Hmm, I began smoking when I was thirteen.”
“That’s young. More chance of addiction in the teen years.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“Why?”
Silence from the front seat made her wonder if he’d heard her. “My father was a policeman. He was killed in the line of duty responding to a domestic call. My mother dissolved into a million pieces and couldn’t help me figure it out. I started hanging out with a rough crowd. I decided the bad guys lived longer while the good guys were mowed down like ducks in a shooting gallery.”
“You’re a cop, I mean a detective. What changed?” It was hard to imagine him as some teenage thug, especially with his soft heart.
“Someone broke into our house. We weren’t exactly rich, but they took the few things that had meaning to my mother, including my father’s gun and wedding ring. The police came and took the crime very seriously. They tracked down the teenage thug who happened to be one of my so-called friends. I decided then I didn’t need friends who would steal from me. The smoking stuck, unfortunately. I couldn’t rid myself of it as quickly as I did my friends.”
“Did you ever see any of those friends again?” Donna couldn’t think of any felonious friends she might have, but she did run across plenty of backstabbing girlfriends. They remained the same when she saw them years later.
“Yep.”
Not exactly informative. The neon animal hospital sign announced her time to find out more about her reticent companion was coming to a close. “What did you say when you met again?”
“You have the right to remain silent.”
“Oh, not exactly hugs and hand slaps all around.”
“Nope. More like frisks and handcuffs. The funny thing was not all that much time had passed. Maybe seven years, but none of them remembered me. That’s how much I mattered. You’d think my name would have stayed in their minds, but it didn’t.”
The car bumped up to the emergency entrance where doors slid open and a woman dressed in scrubs wandered out. “Hey Taber, what do you have for me tonight?”
“A dog intentionally chloroformed in an on-going crime investigation.”
“An officer?” She bobbed her head and peered into the back seat.
Taber answered with a slight nod as he climbed out of the car.
Donna was unsure what she meant until she remembered police dogs were officers too. An overweight puggle hardly qualified as a police dog, but it took all kinds. If it guaranteed faster service, then Jasper was an honorary officer for the night.
The door swung open as the woman and another attendant scooted a small gurney near the car. Its raised sides prevented the occupant from rolling off. There was a restraint to buckle the animal down. She watched as the two people worked as a team as they removed her canine from the car and placed him on a gurney. Not so different from the crew at her hospital’s emergency room.
The car door slammed as Taber resumed his seat. “I’ll park the car, then we’ll go in and see what the prognosis is.”
She sat in silence wondering if she should have said something, but his words formed a statement, not a question. The car stopped and he was at her door, handing her out before she had time to even think. He held out his arm to her and she gladly took it, grateful for the support. All her life, she’d been the capable, responsible person. People knew she’d be there and would get the job done. This sudden weakness that made walking a conscious endeavor was new to her. Couldn’t say she liked it. No, didn’t like it at all.
Fluorescent bulbs cast a harsh glow on the molded plastic chairs in the waiting room. A red-eyed woman waited, clutching a dog coat to her chest. A weary elderly male had a small animal carrier at his feet. They both looked up at their entrance, then looked away, either avoiding her anxiety or afraid of exposing their own.
The large clock on the wall ticked loudly, counting off the slow passage of time. Donna picked up a two-year-old magazine and tried to read about the problem of coydogs, but the article didn’t hold her interest.
The swinging doors opened with the entrance of the veterinarian. “Jorgenson, Sunny,” She called out the name and the woman sprang up. The vet approached her and wrapped one arm around her shoulders and guided her through the swinging doors. Never a good sign.
Donna’s hands were lax in her lap. Taber’s warm hand enveloped hers. “He’s going to be all right. The extra weight will help him ride out the chloroform.”
She wanted to respond her dog wasn’t fat, but he was. “Thank goodness he isn’t a tiny frou-frou dog.”
They sat holding hands, saying nothing. The doors swung open again. This time an attendant came out, not the vet. She walked up to the two of them and smiled. “Officer Jasper is doing fine. We’d like to keep him overnight for observation, but we do not expect any
complications.”
The breath she’d been holding whooshed out like an arctic wind racing over the tundra. “Can I see him?”
After assuring herself that Jasper was all right, Taber drove her back to the inn. Before she could get out, he grabbed her hand. “I don’t want you staying here.”
“I have to. How else are we going to catch the killer?” The dash lights were bright enough to illuminate his displeasure at the use of the word we.
“We aren’t. It’s my job. Your job is to remain alive to take care of Jasper.”
She shook her head in disbelief at the man’s stubbornness. “I’m not a dog. I’m aware there is danger. I even have a gun.” The fact she had no bullets wouldn’t make a convincing argument. Already, she had her doubts. “Someone needs to look after the casting too.”
“It’s done. I’ll cut it out, then I’ll follow you home to make sure you get there.”
The look she shot him should have slapped his alpha attitude, but it appeared to have no effect. Instead, he walked around the car and opened her door.
“Get your flashlight and I’ll let you observe real police action.”
Her eyes rolled on their own, not sure if he was patronizing or trying to be humorous and sucked at it. “Okay, but I’m still staying here.” The audible snort he made, she chose to ignore. Right now, they’d get the print, then she’d handle the man who had the brass to think he’d tell her what to do. No man ordered Donna Tollhouse around. If she chose to do something, that was different.
The area around the house felt darker, creepier, without Jasper snuffling about. As a guard dog, her pet was a dismal failure. Still, she felt safer with him around.
The two of them carefully retraced their steps, but darkness made everything harder to distinguish. Every tree, every overgrown shrub, every protruding tree root resembled the last one. The two of them made a slow circle of the house until they reached the front. “Where did it go?”