by V. M. Burns
“Suggestive of what?” I asked.
“The absence of data is just as important as the data itself.”
“You mean her data could have been erased?” Nana Jo asked.
“Maybe,” Judge Miller hedged. “It could have been erased, or she could be one of those people who fear technology and big brother and stay off the grid.”
“How do we find out which one it is?” Freddie asked.
“Maybe I can dig into that?” Judge Miller looked around. “If that’s okay?”
We nodded.
“I haven’t had a chance to talk to Gaston yet, but I’ll get to him first thing tomorrow.” Ruby Mae finished her row of knitting and updated the small plastic row counter attached to one of her needles.
A woman walked into the café. She was short and plump. She had on a bright green dress that was a couple sizes too small and had a large red carnation pinned to her breast. She stood at the front of the store and looked around.
Detective Pitt stared as a stream of red spread from his neck up into his face. He got up. “Well, I have to go. It was nice meeting with you.” He hurried over to the woman, slicking down his hair as he walked. When he reached her, he held out his hand and they shook.
“Blind date?” Nana Jo mumbled. “Poor woman.”
We stared at the couple for several minutes as they found a table on the opposite side of the café.
“Let’s get back to work,” I said.
Irma had a date with Horace Evans tomorrow night and said she’d have something to report Wednesday.
“I haven’t found out much today,” Dorothy said. “I had some appointments, but I’ll do better tomorrow.”
“You’re not alone,” Judge Miller said. “I had to teach at the law school today and had a faculty meeting that went a lot longer than it needed to. However, I did learn the coroner’s report isn’t completed yet, although my sources tell me the cause of death was a bullet to the forehead.”
No one made direct eye contact with Nana Jo, but there were a lot of side looks. Now we understood what made her such a good suspect. We sat in silence for several seconds. This time when Irma swore, no one stopped her.
The only response came from Nana Jo. “You can say that again.”
So, Irma did.
* * *
I wrote earlier, so I didn’t plan on writing when I returned from our meeting, but I needed to think. A lot of things were running through my head, and I was afraid my emotions would prevent me from thinking logically, and I definitely needed logic right now. Just as I sat down and prepared to write, my cell phone rang. My sister’s picture popped up and I contemplated letting it go to voice mail. Guilt and curiosity won out and I answered.
“You don’t get drunk.”
I stared at the phone. “What?”
“You get sick, but you’ve only been drunk one day in your life. So, what’s wrong and don’t say nothing.”
She was right. I had only been drunk once in my life. In college, I certainly tried real hard. In fact, whenever people heard I hadn’t been drunk, they tended to take it as a challenge to try and get me drunk.
I took a deep breath and told my sister everything about Nana Jo and also about Mom’s impending nuptials. It took about ten minutes to say everything, but I felt better after I got everything out. Jenna was silent the entire time I talked. When I finished talking, I waited. There was probably thirty seconds of silence. I knew she was still there because I could still see her picture on my phone, but I asked anyway, “You still there?”
“Yes.”
“You were so quiet I wasn’t sure if we lost the connection or if you were on mute.”
“I’m still here.” More silence. “Do we need to come back?”
“No. There’s nothing you can do here. She hasn’t been arrested and hopefully she won’t be. With any luck, we’ll have this whole thing solved by the time you and Tony get back.”
“Judge Miller is a good man, but he’s retired and can’t represent Nana Jo. All he can do is advise, but I deeply respect him and know he’ll do what he can to help, but I need you to take down this name.”
She gave me the name and telephone number of a criminal defense attorney she said was very good. If things took a turn for the worse, I was to call him, and he’d take care of things until she got back.
“Okay. Got it. Try to enjoy yourself and don’t worry about Nana Jo. She’ll be fine.”
Jenna grunted. “I’m sure she will. It’s Mom I’m worried about. Who in the heck is Harold?”
I had no idea. We talked for a couple of minutes and she hung up with a few complaints about roaming charges. I made a mental note to ask my mother what Harold’s last name was and got down to writing.
The drawing room was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. In fact, it seemed as though everything had stopped, frozen in time. For an instant, no one reacted, then the dam was released. Lady Alistair looked outraged.
Daphne stared wide-eyed but then belched. “Terribly sorry.”
Jessica’s lips twitched as she suppressed a smile. Yet her eyes flashed triumphant and bright. “Oh my goodness, Lady Alistair.”
Daphne snickered. “I’m terribly sorry.” She stood and was a bit wobbly. She stumbled to the French doors and opened it. She leaned with her back against the doorframe and moved the door back and forth.
A red flush rose up Lady Alistair’s neck and into her face. She looked apoplectic as though she would explode. “You . . . you . . . oh.” She stood up and turned to stare at Daphne. “You’re impossible and completely unsuitable. You may have bewitched James, but I can see you were raised in a barn.”
Jessica snickered.
Daphne stuck out her tongue, kicked off her shoes, and stumbled outside.
Lady Elizabeth sat quietly for several seconds and then turned to James. “Would you please check on Daphne? Obviously, she’s unwell.”
James was already halfway to the door when she spoke. He paused only long enough to nod to Lady Elizabeth before he followed Daphne outside.
Lady Elizabeth rose and stared at Lady Alistair. A flame lit inside Lady Alistair and was evident in her eyes.
“That’s quite enough, Helen.” Lady Elizabeth’s voice was soft, but her tone was as cold as steel. “I won’t stand by while you or anyone else insults my niece in that manner.”
Lady Alistair stared at Lady Elizabeth. In one instant, the look in Lady Elizabeth’s eyes must have quenched the flame in Lady Alistair’s.
“Anyone with eyes could see something is wrong with her,” Lady Elizabeth said with an edge to her voice that left everyone in the room chilled.
James led a dripping wet Daphne back into the room. He had removed his jacket and she was soaked from head to foot.
Lady Elizabeth walked to her niece. “Are you okay, dear?”
Daphne nodded. Her teeth chattered and she shivered.
“Please help her upstairs,” Lady Elizabeth directed.
Daphne took a few steps and then turned to Lady Alistair. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight.” Her voice tapered off into a whisper and her eyes filled with tears.
Between Lady Elizabeth’s wrath, which was barely contained, James’s scowl, and Daphne’s tears, a chink seemed to have penetrated Lady Alistair’s veneer.
“Well, I’m very sorry, Elizabeth. I didn’t mean to insult you in any way.” After another glance at Lady Elizabeth’s stormy face, she quickly turned to Daphne. “Or to you, Lady Daphne. I hope you are better soon and, of course, no offense was taken.”
James helped Daphne out of the room and Lady Elizabeth rang the bell by the fireplace to summon Thompkins.
The butler arrived promptly.
“Thompkins, Lady Daphne is unwell. Can you please have the maid prepare several hot water bottles and a pot of strong tea.”
“Yes, m’lady.” He bowed and retreated.
Lady Elizabeth sat down. “I don’t think any damage has been done
to your outfit, but we will, of course, have our butler take a look. Thompkins is a wizard at removing stains.”
Lady Alistair breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m sure you’re right, Elizabeth. No harm done.” She stood awkwardly for several seconds. “But I think I will go and lay down now. It’s been a long day with the travel and . . . everything.” She fluttered her hands. “I think my nerves are a bit on edge. Will you please excuse me?”
“Of course.” Lady Elizabeth spoke politely although there was a stiffness in her spine and a frost in her manners.
Lady Alistair stiffly left the room.
James returned to the room a few minutes later.
The party sat very quietly for several minutes.
Jessica moved next to the duke and sat closer than was necessary. She leaned close to him and put her hand on his leg. “Alistair was just telling us about how hard it is to keep things running on a vast estate like yours. I didn’t realize you were a real duke.”
James looked uncomfortable and puzzled at the same time.
Jessica didn’t seem to notice and leaned closer. “I think Alistair is just splendid.”
James stared at Jessica. “I don’t know what you’re talking about? What does my father have to do with any of this?”
“Your father?” Jessica laughed. “Why, silly, I was talking about your mother, Alistair or Lady Alistair.”
“I’m going up to check on Daphne.” Lady Elizabeth rose. Just as she reached the door, it opened and Mrs. Churchill entered. She turned to her friend. “Daphne isn’t well. I’m going to check on her.”
Mrs. Churchill looked concerned. “Of course, dear.” She sat in the seat Lady Elizabeth vacated.
Before Lady Elizabeth went through the doorway, she heard Mrs. Churchill ask, “What did I miss?”
Randolph howled in laughter.
Chapter 13
Nana Jo came Tuesday morning to help in the store. Snickers and Oreo had vet appointments. It was always easier to take them together for grooming, shots, and vet visits. Community Animal Hospital was the only place I trusted to look after my fur babies. It wasn’t the newest or the most modern clinic in the area, but I’d pit the kindness of the staff and the compassion of my vet, Dr. Brittain, against any vet anywhere. Oreo had gone to Dr. Brittain since he was eight weeks old and had never known anyone else. Snickers, on the other hand, had lived through my first vet, who I’d chosen because I’d seen him on television. He did a pet segment on the weekend news and I thought if he was on television, he must be pretty good. Silly me. He wasn’t a bad vet. However, he suffered from the same disorder that affected many doctors. The I’m a doctor and therefore I know all, and I don’t need to listen to anyone who isn’t a doctor disorder.
When Snickers was a puppy, she had frequent urinary tract infections. In fact, she got them regularly every three to four months. The infections were so common I recognized them without analysis. The only time she urinated in her crate was when she had an infection. So, after a crate incident, I collected a sample and dropped it off on the way to work. I became an expert at collecting urine samples from a skittish toy poodle who was close to the ground. In the evening, I picked up antibiotics on my way home from work. Things went along that way for far too long. I questioned why she got so many and he ran tests. The tests didn’t reveal anything wrong. The last time I dropped off a sample, Dr. Know-It-All told me she didn’t have an infection. Instead, he told me it was psychosomatic and Snickers had become so accustomed to the UTI process she urinated in her crate and exhibited all the symptoms of an infection without an actual infection.
I might not have graduated from veterinary school, but I knew my dog and recognized hogwash when I saw it. A friend recommended Community Animal Hospital, and I secretly took Snickers to Dr. Brittain for a second opinion. Imagine my surprise when Dr. Brittain called Dr. Know-It-All and asked for the results from the urinalysis. Sure enough, she had an infection. It was slight, but it was there. I was furious and immediately transferred all of her records.
After twelve years, the staff knew my poodles and me well. Snickers always kissed everyone in the clinic and received belly rubs in return. Oreo behaved more like the cowardly lion from The Wizard of Oz, lots of barking and then running and hiding behind my legs when anyone approached. Thankfully, Dr. Brittain was used to this and knew how to entice him from under my chair. She entered the room with treats and petted Snickers like she was her long-lost friend, which always drew Oreo out from hiding. He fell for it every time.
Snickers had been coughing quite a bit. Dr. Brittain asked a ton of questions, and I answered, to the best of my ability. She coughed more at night and when she went outside to take care of business. Dr. Brittain listened, her best quality. She examined both dogs but took extra care with Snickers, especially listening to her chest. We discussed the possibility of allergies and she recommended a series of blood tests. Snickers didn’t like needles, but she endured. We were about to leave when Dr. Brittain suggested an X-ray, just to be on the safe side and make sure we covered all of our bases. This visit was already pretty pricy, but I decided it was worth it to eliminate all of the possibilities. Oreo and I sat back down and waited while Snickers went in the back. When Dr. Brittain returned, I could tell by the look on her face something was wrong.
“I wasn’t expecting this, and honestly, we wouldn’t have found it without the X-ray. I’m really glad we decided to do that.” Dr. Brittain held up three X-rays and pointed to areas that looked like clouds on a radar.
She pointed and explained Snickers had an enlarged heart, which was pushing up on her trachea when she laid down. “That’s what causes the coughing.”
“An enlarged heart?”
“She has heart disease. I’m really sorry.”
“So, how do you fix it?” I stared at Snickers as she lay at my feet, munching on a biscuit.
“We can’t fix it.”
I stared at Dr. Brittain. Her lips moved, but, for the life of me, I couldn’t tell you what she said. The blood rushed to my head and my heart pounded in my ears. I picked Snickers up from the floor and held her tight.
I don’t remember leaving the vet’s office, but when I got back to the bookstore, I had a bag with three different bottles of medicine. I went in the back door and upstairs. Snickers and Oreo ran to the counter by the jar where the treats were kept and waited. They stood there looking at me and waited for me to open their treat jar. I opened the jar and grabbed a few dog treats and Oreo made a mad dash for the bedroom. Snickers walked leisurely beside me. In the bedroom, Oreo stood in his crate, tail wagging. Snickers looked at me with her big brown eyes. I picked her up and hugged her tight, just as I had when Leon passed. She let me hug her while I cried, and then she licked my face. She licked my cheeks and then moved so she could lick away my tears. She probably liked their salty flavor. Whatever the reason, she licked my face until I had no more tears. When I was all cried out, I held her up and looked her in the eyes.
“Look, Leon’s gone, and I can’t take another loss right now. So, you’re just going to have to suck it up, little poodle girl.”
I don’t know if she understood me, but I used the term of endearment Leon always used.
She licked me again.
I believed she understood.
* * *
I worked on autopilot the rest of the afternoon. Nana Jo noticed I was distracted but thankfully didn’t ask about it. I was sure if I had to think about Snickers and the possibility of losing her, I would have burst into tears. We were just about to close when the door opened and a familiar face came in.
“Hello, Mr. Evans.” I tried to keep the chill out of my voice, but, even to my own ears, my greeting sounded less than welcoming.
Horace Evans forced a pained smile and pantomimed brandishing a sword. With dramatic gestures and a serious voice, he said,
“To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and, by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub.”
We applauded.
He bowed. “Hamlet act three, scene one.”
Horace Evans was short, not more than five feet four. He had a large, bald head and usually wore a beret. His face was bare, except for a pencil thin moustache and a rather artistic goatee. He was always immaculately groomed and stylishly dressed. Today he had on a camel-colored overcoat, brown leather gloves, and a matching beret with a white ascot. On most men an ascot would look ridiculous, but on Horace it seemed appropriate.
He bent down on one knee in front of Nana Jo and took her hand. “I deserve nothing better than to be, in the wonderful words of Ebenezer Scrooge, boiled in my own pudding with a stake of holly through my heart. Can you please forgive me?” He kissed Nana Jo’s hand.
She stood very still and stared sternly at Horace.
“Please, Josephine, my knees aren’t what they used to be.”
Nana Jo smiled. “Get up, you old fool, before we have to call an ambulance.”
We helped Horace up from his knees.
“Thank you, dear lady. Does that mean I am forgiven for caving into coercion and you will delight us by resuming your role as Eudora Hooper and rejoin our merry band of players?”
“That depends.”
“On what, dear lady? Anything? Whatever you want, I am your servant. A larger dressing room? Your name in lights? Just name your price.”
“I want to know why you gave the part to that no-talent hack in the first place.”
Horace turned red and hung his head in shame.
“I think you owe me that,” Nana Jo added.
Horace nodded. “You’re right.” He took a deep breath. “I gave her the role because she blackmailed me.”