Dig Deeper: A Hallie James Mystery (The Hallie James Mysteries Book 1)

by DK Herman

  I nodded, finally flashing him a smile.

  He started towards his car, then stopped. "I'm not convinced anyone would try to hurt dad, but I appreciate your keeping an eye out for him.

  "Sure." I nodded. I wasn’t ready to cross Ryan off my suspect list, but I would be polite for now. My instincts told me that he was an asshole, just playing good guy.

  SIX

  After Ryan left, I showered and changed into a short, denim sun dress. I took my time with my hair and makeup. I wanted to look good, but not like I was trying to look good. I added a silver heart necklace and the matching hoop earrings before putting tan, wedge heel sandals on my feet. I smelled like coconut shampoo and lilac body spray.

  When we arrived, Hank's was standing room only. It was a little after seven o'clock. We found a place to lean on the bar while we waited for a table to open. The place smelled like fries, cheese sticks, and burgers. The jukebox was playing, the volume at a level that still allowed conversation. One of the two bartenders took our drink order. I looked around, even more impressed than I was last night. It was a thriving business.

  I was feeling confident about leaving Gram and George on their own for a few hours. There was a fifty-fifty chance, George may have left his gas on. And he could have dreamed the incident by the pool. But I left Gram a note, asking her to have George get comfy in the living room for a few hours. I would be back around midnight to tuck him into Chitty. And I had my phone with me, in case they needed me sooner.

  Our drinks arrived as two young couples vacated a high-top table near the dance floor. I carried over my glass of Merlot and claimed one of the four stools. Trying out my wine, I found it rather tasty. My friends settled themselves while I checked out the crowd.

  "Hank's usually here on Saturday nights,” Gabi said, looking around. "I hope our waitress comes over soon. I'm starved."

  "You're hung over,” Doc teased.

  "Maybe a little." Gabi stuck out her tongue at Doc. Then her gaze went to the kitchen door. "Oh good, there he is."

  I followed Gabi’s gaze and saw Hank coming out of a swinging door. He smiled when he saw us, then stopped to pick up some menus. He had on a black Hank's tee shirt again with blue jeans. The way he moved was mesmerizing. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he walked through the bar toward our table.

  "Good evening, ladies." He slid into the empty stool next to me. "Are you eating tonight?"

  "Yes, please.” Gabi impatiently grabbed a menu from his hands. "What's your specials?"

  "Ham loaf with mac and cheese or a loaded burger with house cut or waffle fries." He answered.

  We all ordered the burger and fries and Hank started back toward the kitchen. I let out a deep sigh. It was just as nice to watch him walk away. Doc went back to the bar for a refill of her rum and cola.

  "So, what's up with you and Hank?" Gabi asked with a sly grin.

  "Why?" I tried to look innocent, but I was trying not to laugh.

  "The electricity is crackling between you two. Come on, tell!" Gabi insisted.

  "We're going to dinner, Monday night,” I said with a smile.

  "Who is?" Doc asked, returning with her drink.

  "Hallie and Hank are dating again,” Gabi said.

  "Shush!" I gave her an exasperated look. "I said, dinner Monday night, that’s all." I looked around for Hank, hoping he didn't hear Gabi’s outburst.

  "Same thing." Doc chuckled. "Good for you Hal. You two make a great couple."

  I never understood, why did you break up?” Gabi said. "You’d never talk about it or him."

  I took a long sip of my wine. "I was young and stupid." I looked around to make sure he wasn't walking up behind me. "We made plans to go to the same school after graduation, but he signed up for the Army instead."

  "That's all?" Gabi finished her beer.

  "He didn’t mention it to me until it was done. I heard from the freaking mailman that he was going in the army instead of college. I’m not sure Hank was going to tell me. I still think that he didn't want to be with me anymore, but didn't he have the guts to tell me,” I said, defending myself. "It hurt. When I hadn’t seen him in over a week, I went to his house. We got into a fight and officially broke up. Then I went off to college by myself."

  They both nodded.

  "Have you talked to him about it since you got back?" Doc asked.

  "Not yet." I played with a coaster. "Last night, I lost two of the Grams dogs and went after them. I got lost in the woods but found this place. So, Hank took me home, stopping on the bridge like we used to, just to talk."

  Huge grins spread across both my friend's faces. They knew I was lying.

  "Yeah talk! Is he still a good kisser?" Gabi smirked.

  "Anyhow," I said, giving her my pissy look, "we parked on the bridge, but before we could kiss, we heard the dogs. When we went after them, we found a dead body buried by the creek." I finished my wine in one gulp.

  "How...who is it?" Doc looked sick.

  "I haven't heard. I gave Andy a statement this morning. The cops are investigating."

  "This is the first I've heard anything about it,” Gabi said, shocked. "Andy must be really busy with the investigation."

  "He’s very busy.” Hank appeared with a huge tray of food. “And he can't say anything about it, yet."

  "He told you!" Gabi cried. "Just because you're his brother..."

  "I didn't say that,” Hank interrupted her. "I just said, he's busy." Hank passed out our plates. "We'll all hear everything about it, soon enough."

  "I like to know stuff before it hits the papers." Gabi reached for a bottle of catsup still on the tray.

  Hank rolled his eyes and took our empty glasses back to the bar. I dug into my food. The burger was excellent. The seasoned waffle fries were super crispy, just the way I like them.

  Hank returned with our drinks. "I'll be back in a little while," he said. "The kitchen is slammed."

  Doc sat perfectly still, staring straight ahead. Her food was untouched. I knew she was upset about losing her patient. She wanted to come out tonight and forget about it for a while. But the talk about a dead body, probably reminded her of it.

  "I'm sorry, Doc." I took her hand. It was freezing.

  "Do you want to go home?" Gabi asked. She could see how upset Doc was, too.

  "Let's eat first." Halfheartedly, Doc picked up a fry from her plate. It was clear, her appetite was gone. "It would be a shame to waste all this."

  "Are you sure, you're OK?" I didn't like how pale she looked.

  "I'll get three to go boxes and tell Hank we have to leave. I'm tired anyhow. You were right, Doc, I drank too much last night." Gabi smiled at Doc and went to the kitchen.

  "We'll come back, another night," I said, patting Doc’s hand.

  "Thanks," Doc gave me a weak smile and stood up. "I need some air. I'll meet you guys by the car."

  "Call me if you need anything, Doc.” I bent over and gave her a hug through the car window.

  “I’m going to take a sleeping pill and go straight to bed,” Doc said. “I didn’t get any sleep last night. Don’t worry, I’ll feel better in the morning.”

  I squeezed Doc’s shoulder. “Thanks Gabi,” I added before stepping back.

  I waved cheerily, watching them drive away. It was almost eight o'clock, and there was no sign of Gram and George. I used my key and went into the house. My note to Gram was unread on the foyer table. I crumpled it in my hand and walked to the kitchen. Dumping my burger and fries from Hank's onto a paper plate and I nuked it for a few seconds. Sitting down on a stool to eat, I heard paws on linoleum. It was my furry pals. I couldn't tell if they were glad to see me or just smelled my food. Nevertheless, I shared with them both. I really couldn't resist those sweet, brown eyes and wagging tails.

  We just finished my fries when they both let out a short, "woof." I followed them to the front door, and we were in time to greet Gram and George.

  "Didn't you have plans tonight?" Gram asked.
r />   Yes I did, but Doc didn't feel well, so we all went home early,” I explained. "How was your day?"

  "It was splendid. We saw a movie then did some shopping, and we had dinner at River's Edge.” Gram had a huge smile on her face.

  "Thank you for talking to my son." George grinned at me. "He called me and was nice as pie. He's taking us to dinner next week.

  " And, he promised to bring his wife to our Labor Day picnic!" Gram clapped her hands, ecstatic at this development.

  "I'm so glad,” I said. "I'm going up to take a bath. George, when you want to go out to Chitty, call me, I’ll be right down.”

  "Now's fine." He stretched. "It's been a long day. I'm bushed."

  "Ok." I waited on the front porch. I didn't bother getting my Glock or mention it when George and Gram came out on the porch.

  They kissed goodnight, sweetly. Then I walked with George to the garage while Gram waited on the porch. Checking to make sure nobody was in the garage or Chitty, I plugged the RV in to the electricity. Then leaving George in the RV, I locked the garage door behind me.

  "Thank you so much, Hallie,” Gram said. We walked into the house together and locked up. I remembered to turn on the security system before checking Gram’s rooms and heading for my bathtub.

  After a good soak, I dressed in pajama bottoms and a tee shirt. It was cooler than it had been, so I opened my patio door. It would be nice to sleep in the fresh air. Climbing into bed, I considered calling Doc. She was taking the loss of her young patient hard. But then I remembered, she was taking a sleeping pill and was probably already asleep. I rolled onto my side and adjusted the pillows under my head. Smiling, I fell asleep thinking about Hank and Monday night.

  I woke the next morning to bright sunlight. My phone told me it was eight o'clock when I climbed out of bed. As I headed for the bathroom, I wondered if Gram was going to church this morning. Aunt Jeannie usually drove her wherever she wanted to go. Gram had a license but didn’t like to drive anymore. After dressing in jeans and a tee, I headed down to breakfast.

  "Good morning, my baby,” Gram said. "Sleep well?"

  "Very well." I sat down next to her with my coffee and a plate of pancakes.

  George had a huge mouthful of pancake, so he gave me a little wave.

  "George and I are going to church this morning," Gram said. She was petting Rupert, who sat smugly on her lap, glaring at me.

  I couldn’t help myself, I flipped him the bird under the table.

  Rupert must know what that means. He stood up on Gram’s lap and snarled at me. “Rupert, stop that or you’ll get no treats today. Hallie’s doing nothing to you,” Gram scolded the dog. Angrily, he sat back down and curled his lips, showing me his little crocodile teeth.

  "You're welcome to go along to church if you don’t have other plans this morning,” Gram offered.

  "I'll go,” I said. It had been a long time since I’d been to church.

  The Lutheran Church, my family has attended for generations, was just outside of Herville. Erected in 1870, it was a magnificent stone building. Its steeple rising into the sky sixty feet, where the church bells still rang sweetly every Sunday. I badly wanted to get married there, but my ex refused to come to Herville. He hated small towns and being stuck “in the sticks.” We exchanged our vows at a hotel in the Poconos. Magnanimously, he allowed my family and a few friends to attend the ceremony, pocketing the checks we were given as wedding gifts.

  "I'll even get dressed up," I said, making Gram smile.

  "Me, too." George finished his pancakes. "I got a new suit at the mall yesterday." He told me, then turned to Gram. "I'll go get it from the car. Is there a hot iron around that I can run over it, Susie?"

  "I'll go plug it in, in the kitchen. Hallie, when you’re finished eating, could you get the ironing board and set it up.

  " Sure, I'm full. I'll do it now, then I’ll go get dressed myself." I went to the utility closet under the staircase. I could see George through the front entrance sidelight. He was grinning while walking back to the house, a big shopping bag in his arms.

  Suddenly, I was startled by a series of pops. At first I thought it was firecrackers. I looked outside for George, maybe he knew what was making the sound. I didn't see him until I walked closer to the front doors. Then I gasped and my sight spun dizzily. He was lying on the sidewalk near the porch steps with blood splattered all over the right side of his face, head, and neck. I could see blood running from his right shoulder onto the sidewalk. Gram and Liv had heard the sounds, too. They came running into the foyer.

  "Was that Peter shooting something?" Gram asked me, a second before Liv screamed.

  "Oh, my God!" Liv covered her mouth with both hands.

  "George!" Gram cried, running for the door. She threw it open and ran outside, reaching George in a flash. "No! No! No!" She screamed, bursting into tears. She sat on the ground, next to the unconscious George. “Please, don’t leave me, George. Not yet, my darling.”

  "Call 911." I told Liv, who instantly ran to the landline in the foyer.

  I ran outside, grabbing two linen table runners along the way. On the porch, my eyes scanned the yard for a shooter. I saw no one. Whoever the coward was, who would harm a seventy-five-year-old man, they were damn quick on their feet. I was wrong, somebody did want George dead. Gram’s voice brought my attention back to George.

  "Please, sweetheart, talk to me!" Gram smoothed George’s hair with her fingers. She seemed unaware of the blood staining her hands.

  "Gram," I said firmly. "Let me help him." I folded one piece of linen into a square, and placed it on his shoulder, directly over the wound. "Put your hand on the cloth, and push down as hard as you can,” I said. I was glad when Gram instantly obeyed.

  "Is he going to be alright?" She asked.

  "I think so." I answered after finding a strong, even pulse in the unbloodied side of George's neck. I looked for a head wound but there was none. The blood on his face and neck was from his right ear, which had been nicked by a bullet. He was unconscious but still breathing on his own. I grabbed an old quilt off the porch swing. Balling it up, I put it under his heels to keep his feet elevated. "We have to keep his shoulder from bleeding until the ambulance gets here."

  Gram nodded. Tears were still running down her face. "Who would do this?" She asked as we heard feet running towards us.

  "What happened?" Peter said. He had his .22 rifle in his hands. "I heard shots."

  "George has been shot, and the police are on their way." I told him abruptly. "You had better put that gun down before they get here. You don't want them to think you did this. Do you? "My tone was harsh.

  He gave me a disdainful look and opened his mouth to argue.

  "Put the damn thing down, now!" I yelled. For all I know, he did shoot George. He seemed to hate him, and the shots I heard, sounded like they came from a .22.

  He looked around, and finally decided I was right about the cops. We all heard sirens approaching.

  "I'll go out the lane and make sure they come to the right place." Peter told us, putting his rifle on the porch. It was a relief when he took off running up the driveway.

  Gram was looking extremely pale, so I took over putting pressure on George's shoulder wound. "Keep talking to him, Gram. He may be able to hear you." I said. She was holding up better than I thought she would. I was full of admiration for her when she calmly spoke to George about plans for our Labor Day picnic.

  The police and ambulance arrived, minutes later. George was loaded inside, and the ambulance hurried off, sirens wailing. Gram had wanted to ride with him, but the paramedics had said no.

  The police, including several from the Pennsylvania State Police, were everywhere. One had bagged Peter's rifle. I was happy to know that it was on its way to a ballistics lab. I could see some cops searching an area to the side of the house near the garage. It was about thirty feet from where George had been shot.

  I got permission to leave, and a promise that an officer
would be at the hospital. I unplugged Chitty and helped Gram inside. She seemed calm but held her purse tightly with hands that still had traces of blood on them. I drove her directly to the hospital. Herville was lucky to have a great hospital. It offered terrific medical services and plenty of local employment.

  We parked in the emergency lot. It was more than half empty on a Sunday morning. Gram took my hand as we walked through the automatic double doors. The check in desk was to the right, so I steered Gram over to it. We identified ourselves to a woman behind the desk and asked for information on George's condition. We were asked to sit down, and she picked up the phone. Another woman asked us questions for a form that she was filling out on a computer screen. I was surprised when Gram knew everything the woman asked, including George’s medical history. I didn't know that he’d been shot before, in Vietnam.

  The woman on the phone hung up and told us George had been taken immediately into surgery. She had a young girl walk us upstairs to a surgical waiting room. We were assured, someone would give us updates.

  "Do you think we should call his son?" Gram asked. "I put his number in my cell yesterday." She dug around in her purse.

  "I'll speak to him, if you want." She was holding up well, but it was obvious, she was terrified of losing George.

  "Thanks, honey." She handed me her phone.

  I scrolled through her contacts until I found Ryan's name and placed the call. The phone rang six times before going to voicemail.

  "Ryan, this is Hallie James,” I began, leaving a message. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but something has happened to your father. George is in surgery at Herville Medical Center. Gram and I are in a waiting room on the fourth floor. We think you should be here.” I hung up.

  Handing the cell back to Gram, I realized my hands were shaking. I was angry and I was ashamed of myself. I had let George down. He trusted me and I stopped believing him. Why do people take the elderly so lightly, always assuming they had dementia? It was a sick habit of most people under sixty. I wouldn't do it anymore, and I would do my best to take down the asshole, who did this to George.