Do No Harm

by Dawn Eastman

“Since I met with her, I’ve heard that she had been researching an old crime. Do you think that had anything to do with her disappearance? I feel so guilty that I basically told her to confront the person. I didn’t know she’d been looking into an old crime.”

  Carlson sat back in his chair, his forehead crinkling in a frown. “How did you hear about that? If Sean has been talking to his wife again …”

  Katie’s receptionist, Debra, was married to one of the officers who worked with Carlson. Debra was Baxter’s information superhighway.

  She held her hands up. “No, I didn’t hear it from Debra. It was … another source.”

  “Now you sound like my wife,” Carlson said. “She never reveals her sources either.”

  Linda Carlson wrote and published the Baxter Gazette. Katie was sure that had led to some tense dinner conversations over the years.

  Katie was about to ask about Eugene and whether Carlson knew he was still being harassed, but decided against it. She needed more information before mentioning Eugene and his recent injuries. Plus, he had explicitly asked her not to tell the police. But did that mean he was guilty of something?

  Katie remained silent and waited.

  Carlson ran a hand over the few hairs left on his head. “Yes, we’re looking into that angle as well. But that’s all I’m going to say.” He held his hands up to fend off further questions. “And you can’t blame yourself. It might not have anything to do with whatever project she was working on. We’re still hoping she’ll turn up claiming she needed a break from school.” He smiled kindly, but Katie didn’t think he believed Taylor had just taken a mental health break.

  “Thank you.” Recognizing she had gotten as much intel as she could, Katie stood to leave. “How’s Bubba? I need to come visit him soon.”

  This elicited a genuine smile from Carlson, as Katie had known it would. She’d “saved” Bubba after he was hit by a car, and John Carlson never got tired of thanking her. Katie wasn’t sure she had really done that much, but Carlson’s version involved Katie wresting the black Lab from the jaws of death, carrying him to safety, and providing urgent medical treatment. Only some of that was true.

  “In the dog house at the moment. He got into the garbage this morning and scattered it all over the new carpet.”

  “Oh, no! Are you sure it was safe to leave him alone with Linda?”

  Carlson laughed. “You think I’m the one who’s soft? She just cleaned it up and promised to take him to the dog park to run off some energy. As far as Bubba is concerned, that was a win-win for him.”

  7

  Back on the sidewalk outside the police station, Katie glanced at her watch—a few minutes to five. She’d be just in time for tea.

  She walked the half block to her car and climbed inside. She pulled out of her parking spot and turned off Main Street into the residential area. Like most neighborhoods near downtown, this was a mix of craftsman bungalows, small Victorians, and colonials. Katie pulled up in front of Miss Simms’s house. As she got out of her car, she glanced at the house next door. It was a pretty colonial, but shuttered now. One owner was dead, the other away indefinitely. Katie sighed and pushed those memories aside.

  Miss Simms’s place was an adorable light-blue bungalow surrounded by trees and shrubs and decorated with containers of chrysanthemums. Multiple pumpkins guarded the porch. Katie climbed the steps to the front door and rang the bell. She waited a moment and was about to ring again when she heard muffled noises from inside. The lace curtains in the front window twitched. Katie heard the rattle of locks being turned and the door opened.

  “Dr. LeClair! So glad you could join us.” Miss Simms held the door wide and ushered her inside.

  Mrs. Peabody stood in the hallway and nodded sedately at Katie.

  “Come back to the kitchen and I’ll get you a fresh scone,” said Miss Simms.

  Katie felt her stomach rumble and remembered she’d only grabbed a protein bar for lunch.

  “That sounds wonderful, thank you.” She followed the ladies to the kitchen.

  The cheerful room caught the afternoon sun, which was fading to the deep golden light of midautumn. The yellow curtains, oak table, and shiny copper pans hanging over the stove gave the room a warm and cozy feel. Katie felt herself relax. It was like visiting her grandmother’s house when she was a kid.

  Miss Simms placed a teacup and saucer in front of Katie and poured from a little brown pot that wore a pumpkin-shaped tea cozy. The delicious aroma of pumpkin spice and cinnamon in the scones wafted upward as Miss Simms set a plate of them on the table.

  Mrs. Peabody sipped her tea and watched Miss Simms bustle about.

  “This looks wonderful,” said Katie.

  “I do like a little pumpkin spice in the fall,” said Miss Simms.

  “It seems you aren’t alone if all the ads in town are any indication,” said Mrs. Peabody. “The movie theater was advertising pumpkin spice popcorn! I think that’s going too far.” She sniffed and took a large bite of her scone.

  “People do seem to like it,” Miss Simms agreed. “I think it’s the cinnamon smell.” She lowered her voice and leaned toward Katie. “I once read a study that showed men get”—she glanced around the kitchen and whispered—“sexually aroused when they smell cinnamon.”

  Mrs. Peabody snorted. And then both women giggled like teenagers.

  Katie smiled at them and thought of Gabrielle. Would they still be laughing together when they were old? Katie hoped so.

  Recognizing the signs that this could devolve into all sorts of topics that wouldn’t further her cause, she decided it was time to redirect the conversation. Knowing Taylor had been investigating Eugene’s case, Katie wanted to learn as much about him as she could. Maybe she could help find Taylor. Maybe she could fix the mess she’d made.

  “Miss Simms, Mrs. Peabody, I was hoping you could tell me more about Eugene Lowe.”

  They stopped giggling immediately, and Miss Simms used the corner of her apron to wipe her eyes.

  Mrs. Peabody shook her head sadly. “That was a terrible drama.”

  “Oh my, yes,” Miss Simms agreed. “We never would have believed that Eugene could do such a thing.”

  Katie waited.

  “We should probably start at the beginning, Betty,” Mrs. Peabody said.

  “Yes, I think you’re right. Eugene was a very bright child. I taught him in fourth grade and Mrs. Peabody had him in sixth.” Miss Simms took a sip of tea. “He was a bit awkward with the other kids, and I know they used to tease him about one thing or another.” She lowered her voice and leaned toward Katie. “His ears didn’t help matters. I think they were always adult-sized, and even after he grew into them, they were on the large side.”

  “Dumbo,” said Mrs. Peabody.

  Miss Simms nodded. “Children can be so cruel.”

  Mrs. Peabody picked up the tale. “By sixth grade, he had become gawky and probably too eager for friends. The other kids could sniff out his desperation, and they punished him for it.”

  Katie’s delicious bite of scone had become dry in her mouth, and she struggled to swallow it as she thought of the young Eugene. She had several patients who struggled with bullying and subsequent self-esteem issues. She always hated these stories.

  “But then, the most amazing thing happened,” Mrs. Peabody said. “Alicia Stewart’s grandmother passed away, and she and her parents moved from their small cottage to the larger house, which happened to be right next door to Eugene. The two of them began an unlikely friendship, and because she was one of the most popular girls in the class, Eugene was allowed into the group.”

  Miss Simms continued the story. “Well, once they got to know him better, they all realized he was a decent kid, and I think Alicia’s move probably changed his life—at least his young life.”

  “So, what happened?” Katie asked, her tea forgotten.

  “High school,” said Mrs. Peabody.

  “Hormones,” said Miss Simms.

 
Katie nodded to encourage them.

  “We only heard this secondhand from our colleagues at the high school, and of course after what happened later, everyone had an opinion …” Mrs. Peabody began.

  “What she’s trying to say is that things took a turn,” Miss Simms said.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Peabody said. “Alicia and Eugene stayed close through high school. Alicia’s father was very strict and wouldn’t allow his daughter to date until she was a senior. The parents apparently didn’t see a threat in Eugene, and so the two kids spent a lot of time together.”

  Katie sensed that she wasn’t going to like the rest of this story.

  “At some point, Alicia’s mother caught Eugene sneaking out of their house when no one was at home,” Miss Simms said. “She thought he had stolen something and called the police, and both parents insisted that Eugene should be questioned. They spun the friendship as more of a one-sided romance and claimed he was dangerous.”

  “Didn’t Alicia stand up for him?” Katie asked.

  “Yes, she did, but her father was convinced that Eugene had influenced her in some nefarious way,” Miss Simms said.

  “In the end, they actually searched his room—his mother gave them permission, as she was sure that would clear up the misunderstanding,” Mrs. Peabody said.

  “Of course that only made things worse.” Miss Simms stopped to shake her head. “They found a drawer full of women’s underthings.”

  “They were Alicia’s.” Mrs. Peabody sipped her tea and looked out the window.

  “The parents banned Alicia from spending any time with him and even applied for a restraining order,” Miss Simms said. “Which was hard to do, since they were next-door neighbors.”

  “Wow,” said Katie. “What happened to Eugene?”

  “Fortunately, this all happened in the summer, but by the time they started their senior year, people could tell something had happened.” Miss Simms stood and brought another plate of scones to the table. She pushed it toward Katie and waited until she took one. Satisfied, she continued. “Alicia fought with her parents all through the fall, and finally she ran away.”

  “I think I heard about this,” Katie said. While investigating her patient’s murder earlier in the fall, Katie had read an old Baxter Gazette that reported a “missing” Baxter girl. “She went to Ann Arbor and then returned a week or so later?”

  “Returned is one way to look at it,” said Mrs. Peabody. “The friend she was staying with was killed on the night of Halloween, and Eugene was found with the body.”

  Miss Simms stood and took her cup to the sink. “Oh, no,” she said, looking out the window. “It’s Delores.”

  “Delores?” Katie said.

  “Delores Munch,” said Mrs. Peabody, her mouth puckered as if she’d bit into a lemon. “She lives behind Betty, and she’s the biggest busybody in town.”

  “I know that name,” Katie said.

  “She sees Emmett Hawkins. Maybe you’ve run across her name at the clinic,” said Mrs. Peabody.

  Miss Simms quickly cleared the table of scones and tea things. Mrs. Peabody hopped up to help her.

  “Can I help?” Katie asked. “What are you doing?”

  “She knows we’re here because she can see your car in the driveway,” whispered Miss Simms. “She’ll bully her way in here, and if she sees we’re having tea, I’ll never get rid of her.”

  Just then, an imperious knock came at the back door.

  “Quick, come through here,” said Mrs. Peabody. She pulled Katie into the living room.

  The knock came again, louder.

  Miss Simms opened the door and greeted Delores. “Hello, Delores. I’m a bit busy right now,” she said in a monotone. “Do you need something?”

  A voice floated in through the open door. Miss Simms must have been blocking entry.

  “I just brought some cookies over for you,” said Delores. “I was baking for the church sale, and these didn’t turn out as pretty as I’d like. They taste good, and I know how you like your sweets.”

  “How … kind,” said Miss Simms.

  Mrs. Peabody held her finger to her lips and rolled her eyes at Katie. It was like being in junior high all over again.

  “Yes, well, I like to watch my figure, so I couldn’t keep them,” said Delores. “Do you have a guest?”

  “Guest?”

  “I saw the car in the driveway.”

  Katie could tell that Miss Simms was still blocking the door, as Delores’s voice sounded distant.

  “Actually, I do, and she was just leaving,” said Miss Simms. “I really shouldn’t keep her waiting. Bye, now.”

  The door clicked shut. Katie heard Miss Simms pull open her cupboard and dump something in the trash. She came into the living room brushing crumbs from her hands.

  Mrs. Peabody held back her laughter as long as she could, but it burst forth as soon as she saw Miss Simms.

  “She’s so irritating!” said Miss Simms. “Did you hear her? ‘I have to watch my figure, but you can have all of these cast-off cookies.’ ” Miss Simms glowered and clenched her fists.

  Katie smiled at the ladies but didn’t know quite what to make of this new side of Miss Simms.

  “I’m sorry you had to see that, Dr. LeClair,” said Miss Simms. She smoothed her skirt and adjusted her cardigan. “I try to be charitable to most people, but Delores Munch isn’t one of them.”

  “Old enemies?” Katie asked.

  “Sometimes it’s hard living in a small town,” said Miss Simms. “But you’ll have to go now. She’ll be watching from her kitchen, and if you don’t head out soon, she’ll be back over here.”

  Both ladies pushed Katie in the direction of the front door.

  “Oh, okay,” said Katie. She grabbed her bag off the table by the door and stepped onto the porch. “Thank you for the tea and scones.”

  “You’re very welcome, dear,” said Miss Simms.

  “We’ll have to do this again soon,” said Mrs. Peabody.

  The door closed, and Katie heard the sharp click of the lock.

  8

  Riley’s Grill sported its weekday calm when Katie walked in. Wednesdays were not a big night out in Baxter. The restaurant was one large room with high ceilings and exposed ductwork. The glass front wall gave diners a view of the quaint downtown area of Baxter. The contrast between the retro outside and the shiny inside always felt very cosmopolitan to Katie. On a Friday or Saturday night, it would be almost impossible to hear the person sitting across the table.

  Katie preferred this version. She spotted Matt sipping a drink at the bar and climbed onto the stool next to him. After ordering white wine, she glanced at his glass and repressed a shudder. Whisky. Straight. How did he drink that stuff?

  She had suspected at first that it was some kind of tough-guy prop, or a nod to the Rat Pack (Matt was a big Sinatra fan), but she had come to realize he actually liked it. He’d tried to convince her once to taste some with a bit of water in it “to bring out the flavor,” as if that was what was holding her back. She didn’t need to bring out the flavor of dirt and smoke. They’d reached a truce. He wouldn’t comment on her love for white wine and sweet mixed drinks, and she would not make faces at his whisky.

  “You hungry?” he asked after she’d taken a sip of her drink.

  “Sort of,” she said. “I only had a protein bar between patients around one o’clock. But then I stopped by Miss Simms’s place, and she forced me to eat pumpkin scones.”

  “Forced you?”

  “Well, she put one right in front of me. I had no choice.”

  Matt laughed. “I see. Let’s get a table and fill up on bread.”

  He stood and held out his hand to help her down from the stool. Not that she needed it, but there was something about his old-fashioned gallantry that made her feel safe and cared for. She’d spent enough of her professional life proving she was just as capable as any man; she didn’t feel the need to prove anything in her private life. And who wou
ldn’t want to feel respected and cherished? That was Matt’s superpower. He filled a space in her life that she’d never known existed until he came along.

  They carried their drinks to a table in the corner by the front window. The waiter brought menus and the coveted basket of bread. They caught each other up on the day in clinic between bites of soft stretchy bread and melted butter.

  “I feel like we may need to refer some of the pain clinic patients to Ann Arbor,” Matt said. “Some of them need more specialized care than we can provide.”

  Katie nodded, held one finger up, and finished chewing. “I’ve tried to talk to Emmett about that, but I think he feels like he wants to keep the patients here for when Nick comes back.”

  “Any news on when that might be?” Matt focused on buttering his bread.

  Katie shook her head. “It will be at least six months, I think.” She set her bread down on her plate. “I’ll have to push Emmett a bit more. You’re right, we can’t limp along for six months or more running a pain clinic with no certified pain physician.” Katie didn’t voice her biggest worry, which was that maybe Nick wouldn’t come back at all. He was in treatment for his own chronic pain condition and subsequent addiction to opioids. His desperation had almost run the practice out of business.

  “Better you than me,” Matt said, and gave her a crooked smile.

  The waiter came by at that moment to take their order, and they moved on to happier subjects.

  “I don’t know if I thanked you for helping Caleb out on his new app,” Katie said.

  “Only about five times.” Matt grinned. “You don’t have to thank me. The app sounds great, and I love doing beta tests for that sort of thing.”

  When they met, Matt and Caleb had hit it off immediately over a shared love for video games. Although Katie was pleased that the two men in her life got along, it also meant that she had to share them both.

  Matt leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Katie, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  Katie didn’t like the sound of that. Her old boyfriend, Justin, had ended a five-year relationship in a restaurant with that line. She knew it was ridiculous but couldn’t help the clenching in her stomach. She really liked Matt, and even though they’d only been dating for a month or so, she felt comfortable with him in a way she had given up on ever finding again.