by Laura Scott
“Okay.” Marty seemed glad to hand Roxy over.
She led Roxy outside and down the street. The boxer gazed around with interest. “What’s a nice girl like you doing with a guy like that?”
Roxy didn’t answer, but that was okay. She didn’t mind her one-sided conversations with pets. Besides, as Roxy’s dog walker for the rest of the week, she’d have plenty of time to snoop around a bit.
Maybe she’d find out what Marty Shawlin was really up to when he’d made that appointment with Lydia.
Like Gramps, she didn’t take kindly to anyone messing with the Willow Bluff Widows.
Chapter Two
The next morning, Ally dragged herself into the kitchen for coffee. She hadn’t slept well, her thoughts bouncing between the sleazy lawyer and his attempt to do business with the widows, to her less than optimal volume of veterinary clients.
She’d have to go through Hanson’s client list again; she had a feeling he might have padded it a bit. But since there wasn’t any way to change the past, she needed to stay focused on the future. There had to be something she could do to increase her business, but her creative muse seemed to have taken a hiatus. Maybe it had flown away to Ireland and Scotland with her parents. They were both professors at a private university located about twenty minutes outside Willow Bluff. Over the past few years, they’d taken to traveling every summer. Ally was happy for them, even though she would have liked to talk things through with her mom right about now.
Breakfast consisted of instant oatmeal, heated in a microwave that was older than she was. Looking out the window, she could see pedestrians meandering up and down Main Street. She was temporarily living in the small apartment above the clinic, a space that the former owner used to rent out for additional income. Maybe one day she’d make enough money to get a place of her own and could do the same.
For now, she needed to find a way to come up with the next mortgage and business loan payment, which included the building housing her clinic and the upper-level apartment, along with the money she’d paid Hanson for his client list. Based on Hanson’s client list and his balance sheet, she should be doing okay. Her only competition was a clinic over in Sheboygan, a good twenty-five minutes away on a good day with no traffic. She couldn’t imagine the townsfolk preferring to travel that far for services conveniently offered right here in town.
Dog walking was fine, but she’d been hoping for a busier clinic day to day. At least Marty had paid for her services up front.
She wasn’t due to walk Roxy until noon, so she finished her breakfast and headed downstairs to the clinic. The emptiness of the place hit hard.
For a moment she thought about how busy she and Tim had been in Madison, with furry patients slotted in every hour from open to close, with the occasional emergency call coming in.
A far cry from the vacant space surrounding her now.
Had coming here been a mistake? Picking up a rag, she began to clean. After finishing the two exam rooms, the third having been turned into a grooming suite, she began wiping down the front desk. When the door opened, she turned and glanced over in surprise. A young girl roughly ten years old with tears in her wide brown eyes held an oddly colored black and white speckled cat that appeared to be having some trouble breathing.
“Can you please help Pepper?” The child’s tone was full of fear and worry. “She’s sick.”
“Of course, come this way.” She led the little girl and Pepper to the first exam room. “What’s your name? Where’s your mommy or daddy?”
“At home.”
Yeah, so not helpful. But there was no way to ignore the poor cat’s plight. The animal was breathing fast and needed immediate care. “Here, let me take Pepper into the back room, I need to give her some oxygen.”
“Okay.” The girl handed Pepper over, and it was a testament to how badly the cat must have been feeling that the animal didn’t struggle or dig in with her claws.
Asthma? Pneumonia? Or a foreign object lodged in her throat? There were several possible causes, but she needed to stabilize the animal before she could properly examine her.
Pepper calmed down with the administration of oxygen, giving Ally enough time to listen to her heart and lungs. There was no evidence of fluid in the lungs or around her heart. Pepper’s airway sounded tight, making Abby lean toward a diagnosis of asthma.
She held the cat with one arm and used her right hand to palpate her throat. Thankfully there was nothing stuck in her airway. The cat’s gums were pink, so no anemia either.
She brought Pepper back into the exam room. “I’m going to give her something to help her breathing get better, okay?”
“Okay.”
After placing Pepper back in the young girl’s arms, she went back to find a low-dose steroid and bronchodilator. Pilling cats wasn’t easy, even for a vet, so she decided to give the first dose of each medication via injection. Once she had Pepper stabilized, she could switch the cat over to oral meds. But that also meant finding out who the girl’s parents were.
“I’m going to need you to hold Pepper really tight for me.” Ally waited for the girl to nod before preparing the syringes. “This is medicine to control her breathing.”
As she spoke, she inserted the needle into the cat’s flank. She began injecting the medication, when the animal screeched and leaped out of the girl’s arms.
“Pepper!” The girl chased after her cat with Ally hot on her heels.
They found Pepper hiding under the front desk, thankfully not breathing nearly as rapidly as she had when she’d first arrived. The girl hunkered down on the floor, reaching for Pepper. Ally crouched next to her, offering a hand.
Together they gently pulled the frightened feline out from beneath the desk. As the little girl cradled the cat close, a stunning woman a little older than Ally, wearing a pink dress with matching pink heels, entered the clinic.
“Amanda! How many times have I told you not to leave while I’m working an open house?”
Relieved to have a name for the girl, and a parent, Ally smiled and stepped forward.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Winter. I’m sorry if Amanda left without telling you, but poor Pepper was having an asthma attack. I just need to give Pepper another dose of medication and she’ll be ready to go.”
The woman lifted her chin with a sneer. “I didn’t authorize any treatments for that cat. It’s not even ours, just a stray that Amanda picked up.”
“Oh, but, I’m sure …” Her voice trailed off as Amanda pushed Pepper into Ally’s arms and moved away.
“Sorry, I hav’ta go with my mom.” Amanda looked dejected as she followed her mother out of the clinic.
Stunned speechless, Ally could only stand there holding the cat. Pepper curled against her, content now that she wasn’t being poked with a needle. At least her breathing was better. The partial dose of medication Ally had given her must be working.
Now what? Take the cat to the local shelter? Or keep her?
She blew out a frustrated sigh and returned to the clinic. This time, she decided to try pilling the cat, hoping that would work better than the injections. Still no easy task, but after two attempts, Pepper had ingested both her bronchodilator and steroid medications.
Still holding the cat, Ally dialed the number for the local shelter. Maybe Jeri Smith, the owner, knew all about Pepper. Maybe the animal wasn’t a stray but simply lost. She could make posters with a picture of Pepper and hang them around town. The owner would show up, grateful to have her cat back, offering to pay for the animal’s treatment.
Sure, and maybe Tim would walk in after having dumped Trina to return the money he owed her. Not.
“Clark County Animal Shelter, this is Jeri.”
“Jeri? Ally Winter. Are you familiar with a black and white speckled stray cat, possibly going by the name Pepper?”
“No, can’t say that I am. Why, what’s going on?”
“A girl named Amanda brought her in because the animal was having an a
sthma attack. I treated her, but Amanda’s mother claimed the cat wasn’t theirs and left Pepper with me.” Without paying for any services.
“Amanda?” Jeri sounded as if she were trying to place the name. “What did her mother look like?”
“Pink. Pink dress, pink shoes. Straight blonde hair. She said something about an open house.”
“Ah, yes, Ellen Cartwright and her daughter Amanda. Ellen is a real estate agent, and her daughter is likely at loose ends being home for the summer. And Ellen’s right about one thing, the cat isn’t theirs. That woman wouldn’t tolerate having an animal in the house under any circumstances. I’m sure it’s a stray the little girl picked up.” There was a pause, then Jeri added, “You want to bring her in? I’m pretty full, as always, but could try to make room for one more.”
Ally looked down at the cat again and sighed. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t add to Jeri’s cadre of unwanted animals. As it was, Ally offered free treatment services to the shelter, why add more? “No, that’s okay. I’ll keep her. But if you hear of someone looking for their lost cat, will you let me know?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you later.”
Ally hung up the desk phone and carried Pepper around back to the stairs leading up to her apartment. “Looks like it’s just me and you, Pepper. Two lost souls bonding in Willow Bluff.”
Pepper didn’t respond.
“At least I have food and a litter box, thanks to my boarding services.” Yet she also knew that, without knowing anything of Pepper’s history, she’d need to vaccinate the animal.
Cha-ching.
In her apartment, the June sun shone brightly in through the window overlooking Main Street. When she released Pepper, the cat walked cautiously across the wooden floor, as if unsure how she felt about these new surroundings. Ally wondered where Amanda had found Pepper, then decided it didn’t matter.
Back in the clinic, she went to the medication cabinet and pulled out the asthma medication doses she’d need for Pepper. When her phone rang, she tripped over her own two feet in her haste to answer it.
“Furry Friends Veterinary Clinic, may I help you?”
“Is Dr. Greg Hanson available?”
She sighed, wishing the citizens of Willow Bluff would catch on already. She forced herself to answer politely, “No, I’m afraid he’s retired and living in Florida. This is Dr. Winter, may I help you?”
“Oh, I thought Dr. Greg was coming back.” The female voice turned petulant, as if she had known Hanson on a personal basis. Was this one of his former girlfriends? Or did he have a habit of being overly friendly with his clients?
“No, he’s not. I’m Dr. Ally Winter, and I’m happy to help take care of whatever your pet needs are.”
“Well, Maurice is due for his rabies vaccination. When is your next opening?”
Ally hesitated, wondering how to respond. If she told this woman that she was fairly wide most of the week, it might send the wrong signal. On the other hand, she desperately needed a paying client. “I have an opening this afternoon at three from a last-minute cancellation, would that work? If not, just let me know what works for you and I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”
Another long pause. “I can come this afternoon at three.”
Yes! She did a quick silent fist pump. “Will you please give me your name and number? Oh, and what type of breed is Maurice?”
“My name is Paula Crandle.” Paula rattled off her phone number. “Maurice is a purebred English cocker spaniel.”
“Thank you. I have you and Maurice down for an appointment at three o’clock this afternoon. See you then.”
After disconnecting with Paula, she did a quick search through Greg Hanson’s old records. She found Paula Crandle and Maurice easily enough, but Greg didn’t provide any helpful notes about how to handle the dog. Her practice was to take notes, so that she was always prepared, especially since she often only saw pets on an annual basis. Apparently, Greg hadn’t bothered to keep track of problems with his four-legged clients. Hoping things would go well, she set the information off to the side, so she could add to it for future reference.
Another paying customer!
The next couple of hours passed by slowly. Pepper had become acquainted with her litter box, reinforcing the fact that she must not have been living out on the street for long. The food Ally had bought remained untouched, but she hoped Pepper would begin to eat and drink soon.
At a quarter to twelve, Ally once again locked up the clinic and walked the short distance to Marty Shawlin’s home. He lived on Appletree Lane, two blocks off Main Street, not far from the grocery store.
Approaching the house, she discovered it was a tiny Cape Cod with white siding and black shutters framing the upstairs windows. Smaller than she’d have expected from a lawyer. Then again, people thought veterinarians made a lot of money, and she was living proof of that fallacy.
Besides, it was entirely possible Marty had lost half his assets along with half his income to his ex-wife. Wisconsin was an equal marital property state, another mistake she’d made with Tim. They hadn’t been married or signed any sort of contract when they’d gone into business together, which is how she had ended up dealing with everything alone. It was embarrassing to admit now how naïve she’d been.
Not anymore. She was determined to make it on her own and to be taken seriously as a vet.
It was nice to know Marty and his ex-wife were on amicable terms. Enough so that he’d agreed to watch Roxy for her.
She approached the house and the attached single-car garage. Roxy began to bark from inside the home, obviously aware Ally was out there. After punching in the code, she waited a long minute for the rumbling garage door to open. The interior held some lawn equipment tucked along the back wall, but nothing more. Ducking underneath the rising door, she entered the house.
A horrible smell made her recoil in disgust. She covered her mouth, trying not to gag. What in the world? Had Roxy soiled her crate? Or was Marty Shawlin that bad at housekeeping?
Breathing carefully through her mouth, Ally made her way through the kitchen to the dog crate tucked in the corner. Roxy’s frenzied barking only grew louder as she got near.
“What is it, girl? You look distressed.” The leash was on the table, so she held it ready as she opened the gate latch.
Woof! Woof! Woof! Roxy threw herself out of the crate and plowed into Ally. Knocked backward, she didn’t have time to grab Roxy’s collar as the boxer took off through the house barking like mad.
“Roxy! Come back! Roxy!” Ally ran after her but came to a shuddering halt when she saw the animal standing over the source of the horrific smell.
The supine body of Marty Shawlin was stretched out on the floor, his head matted with blood. A heavy glass paperweight, also covered in blood, was lying on the floor beside him. His eyes were staring vacantly into space, his skin pale and waxy. Moving forward, she forced herself to check for a pulse.
It was too late. He was already very cold and very dead.
His briefcase was open, legal papers scattered around him, as if someone had searched through them in a big hurry. Her gaze landed again on the paperweight. It was a glass globe, the base appearing to be made out of marble.
No way was this some sort of terrible accident. Marty Shawlin had been murdered.
And from what she could tell, Roxy was the only witness.
Chapter Three
“Roxy.” Ally’s voice was hoarse and shaky. The dog looked at her without moving. Avoiding any further contact with the dead body, Ally grabbed Roxy’s collar and dragged her away back to the kitchen. Then she clipped the leash to Roxy’s collar and pulled the animal outside.
Gulping deep breaths of blessedly fresh air, she fumbled for her phone, her mind swirling with questions. What had happened in there? And when? She dialed 911 and listened as the phone rang in her ear, trying to calm her racing heart.
“This is 911, what’s the nature of
your emergency?”
“Dead body.” Her voice was little more than a croak. She tried again, willing herself not to babble. “I’m at the home of Marty Shawlin and—and he’s dead.”
“What’s the address?”
Feeling desperate, she turned and looked at the Cape Cod. It took a moment for her to focus her gaze on the black numbers mounted on the white siding. The address clicked into her befuddled brain. “Um, 1506 Appletree Lane.”
“1506 Appletree Lane,” the operator repeated. “Please stay on the line while I dispatch an officer to your location.”
“Okay.” Ally held the phone in a death-like grip with one hand, the leash in the other. Roxy didn’t seem to be disturbed; she went about doing her business and then looking up at Ally as if waiting impatiently for the promised walk.
“I’m sorry, girl. We can’t go right now.” Talking to the dog helped calm her nerves. Frankly, she generally preferred animals over people. It occurred to her that she couldn’t return Roxy to the house now that Marty was dead. Which meant she’d have to bring Roxy home with her. Blowing out a heavy sigh, she wondered how Pepper would get along with Roxy.
Probably not very well.
That was the least of her problems. Marty Shawlin was dead. Who could have done such a thing? And why? She wanted to call Gramps to see what he thought about what had happened. Knowing her grandfather, he’d have a theory. So much for her harebrained idea of looking around inside the house. A shudder rippled over her and she tugged Roxy farther from the scene of the crime as if a couple of yards would make a difference.
Which, of course, it didn’t. The image of the dead man was permanently etched in her mind. The awful stench lodged in her sinuses.
“An officer and detective will be arriving shortly.”
“Thanks.” Ally disconnected from the 911 call. Two vehicles, one a black SUV, the other a dark blue squad car, arrived at the same time. The squad’s lights were flashing but no sirens. A tall, dark-haired man with a chiseled jaw emerged from the SUV, looking lean and young, roughly her age. The cop from the squad remained behind the wheel.