2 Any Meat In That Soup? (15 page)

I walked to the other side of the building to Human Resources, to the office of Leonard Schnitzer. He was decked out as usual in his bowtie and checkered sport coat. I had taken the time to write up a program proposal and I handed it to him. He glanced at it and said, “No.”

I was prepared for that. I gave Schnitzer a second paper, citing various references concerning the efficacy of canine therapy. He remained unconvinced. “No.”

No problem. The third paper contained one sentence, “I’ll go to the board.”

I didn’t want to have to go there, but knew this one would work. Schnitzer had an inordinate fear of the Board of Directors discovering his incompetencies. Since he had been in charge after Dr. Burns was killed, he lived in constant fear of being found out.

He stuttered, so I knew I had him. “Perhaps I was too hasty, Ms. Darling. Let me look at your proposal again, and I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”

“That will be satisfactory, Leonard.” When with him, I used the same formal, stilted English he did, but I refused to call him Mister. Another childish thing. I had a hard time using a respectful title for someone I didn’t respect.

I spent the rest of that first hour going over my dream again. Loretta and Dougie throwing that rat poison back and forth, back and forth. Could they be in it together?

I guessed they could be, but my money—if I had any—was on Loretta. She’s the one who had ended up with the rat poison that didn’t contain arsenic anyway. Why was I so focused on the rat poison? I was sure it would still poison people, and dogs, but there was no arsenic. But it seemed like too much of a coincidence.

I wondered if there was another readily available source for arsenic. Guess I needed to do more research.

Mrs. Schmidt announced that my 9:00 had arrived. I checked my schedule and smiled when I saw that it was Mrs. Abernathy. She sometimes got on my nerves with her vivid recitations of her sexual dreams, but she was never boring.

I ushered Mrs. Abernathy into my office and began by asking if I could call her by her given name, Hazel. She agreed, and asked if she could call me Samantha. I laughed at that. It was very seldom I heard my full name. I suggested she call me Sam. She said she couldn’t do that. So Samantha it was.

We began the session with a review of the homework I’d given her. Last week I had suggested she think about writing down a dream and see what she thought about publishing it.

Hazel sat her rotund body in the comfortable love seat in my office. She looked like she belonged there, all cozy and content, just missing a roaring fire, a teapot and a cat. She sighed heavily, and her flowered dress heaved as her ample bosom rose upward a little from its usual place around her waist.

“Well, Samantha, I have been thinking about your suggestion. I’d like to try it. I believe my dreams are important enough for the world to know about them. So how will I go about it?”

She had me there. I promised her I’d do some research for her since she didn’t have a computer. “Why don’t you continue writing down your dreams, and if they seem related, maybe you can string them together to make a longer story?”

Hazel seemed confused but nodded.

I asked if she had any more questions about the book, and she shook her head no. Then I tried the impossible…‌to get her to talk about her issues. I knew it wouldn’t work, but I was almost desperate to get her to be a real client, to talk about things that are making her unhappy. Instead she was happy, pleasant to talk to, and disinterested in talking about problems. “It brings me down, Samantha.” That’s what she said, and I had to honor it, although I was surprised at the way she phrased it.

Certainly I used counseling skills to help her dig a little, but if she wasn’t interested, she wasn’t interested. I sighed and asked if she wanted to talk about anything else.

She did. She wanted to know if she’d have to pay a percentage of her income to me because I came up with the idea. I assured her I didn’t want anything. Hazel smiled, and that was the end of the session.

It certainly didn’t take up a full hour. I had 15 minutes before my 10:00 showed up. I quickly finished the progress note, which was difficult to write, then took a chance and visited Schnitzer’s office.

He saw me coming and ducked into a nearby men’s room. He didn’t know me very well if he thought that was a significant deterrent. I followed him and caught him hiding in a stall.

A noise from another stall convinced me we weren’t alone. I took Schnitzer’s hand, and not unkindly led him from the bathroom into the hall.

“May we talk in your office?” I asked in the nicest tone I could muster.

I pretended he had a choice. When in his office I dropped his hand and asked, “I don’t mean to disturb you, but I wondered if you’d had a chance to decide a little early.”

He was sweating, even though the room was cool. Did I intimidate him? If so, he wasn’t the first person.

“Yes, as it so happens, I have decided that a therapy dog is just what we need, and I’m glad I thought of it.”

I coughed to cover my indignation, then realized that I didn’t care who got the credit, I just wanted Clancy to be able to work with me. Schnitzer and I worked out details quickly and he said he would draw up a contract for me to sign.

No problems there. I’d just cross out what I didn’t like.

The important thing was that Clancy would be a daily fixture here at the clinic. I couldn’t wait to tell her.

TWENTY-ONE

M
y 10:00 and 11:00 appointments came and went with minimal drama and some actual therapy.

Before going to my afternoon job at the hospital, I ran home during my break to tell Clancy the good news. When I pulled into my courtyard there was another car parked there—Loretta’s. What in the world was she doing at my house?

As I got out of my car, Loretta walked up to me, too close as usual. My vibes went into overdrive and I stepped back without thinking. She must have been used to that, and took a step forward for every step I took backward, just like her son had done.

I said a quick hello and added, “I have to let Clancy out.” I walked to my door and opened it without a key. My first thought was, “Damn. Now she knows I don’t lock up my house.” It was quickly followed by a note to self, to begin locking that door.

Clancy came right to the door and stepped over the threshold. She looked at Loretta and I thought she might sense something amiss and start growling or something, normally completely out of character for her. Instead, she took a few more steps forward and nuzzled Loretta’s side. An initial look of distaste crossed Loretta’s face, but it was quickly replaced by rapture. Reminded me of how Georgianne had been with Clancy at first—disgust changing into adoration.

If Clancy loved her, then how could she be the murderer? I just didn’t get it.

Clancy reluctantly tore herself away from Loretta’s scrubs and went to water the ferns. Finally Loretta looked like she was ready to talk.

Instead of telling me why she was there, she started asking questions about Clancy—what kind of dog, how old, where did I get her, would she have puppies, could she get one, and so on.

I answered a few questions and then asked, “What are you doing here, Loretta? And how did you know where I lived?”

“It’s called a phone book, Sam.”

Smart ass.

“And I came over on my break to talk to you about the rat poison in my trunk.”

Aha. She was ready to confess. I was uncharacteristically quiet.

“You see, my mother has a problem with mice. She lives in an old house and can’t afford an exterminator. We ran out of the first bag we’d bought, so Dougie bought the rat poison, then gave it to me. And that’s it. Nothing suspicious at all.” She smiled. But she looked like the cat that swallowed the canary.

I found it suspicious anyway. But now I knew where the first bag of poison went. Holtschlag had been ready to tell me, but had changed his mind. Why would Loretta make a trip to my house just to tell me about her mom’s problem with mice? Must be nervous. Maybe guilty. I decided to go with what she was saying.

“Makes sense to me. But why couldn’t you wait until you saw me at work to tell me?”

“Oh, you know how busy we get in the ER. No time to chat. Besides, Dougie thought…”

“Dougie? What did he think?” Damn, why did I interrupt her in the middle of telling me what he thought?

“Oh, nothing,” was all she said about him. Damn again. “Guess I’ll get back. I only get a half-hour for my lunch break.”

“Bye,” was all I could come up with.

As I put Clancy back in the house, she gave me a look that let me know she caught my stupidity.

“I know it was stupid, Clance. But I can’t help getting excited about stuff and then I interrupt people.”

It was only a few minutes later that I entered the ER. My carriage house was right in the center of town and I was close to everything.

Jenny saw me right away and her first words surprised me, “You and George?” She hugged me. “I’m so happy for you.” I was grinning pretty big by then. Until she said, “We all thought you’d be alone forever.”

“Why?” I practically whined.

“Nothing bad. It’s just because you’re independent, and well, a little bossy. And kind of stubborn. And…”

I cut her off before she could continue the litany of my many faults. “Okay, that’s enough. I’m glad you’re happy for me though.”

She looked relieved that I wasn’t mad. How could I be mad? The family loved George and so did I.

It was seldom Jenny stopped her work long enough to talk to me. Being the nurse manager kept her busy. I took advantage of the infrequent lull to ask a few questions. First, though, I wanted to let her know that no one thought she was guilty.

“Of course they don’t. So what are your questions?”

I was surprised she wasn’t at all anxious that she was on the suspect list, but started with my questions, “Is Loretta here?”

“I think she just came back from lunch. Why?”

I didn’t answer, but asked another one instead, “Is Dougie working too?”

“Nope, he’s not coming in until later.”

My final question, “Do you really need me today?”

“Sam, we’ve never really needed you.”

I put aside my hurt feelings to say, “Would it be okay if I took off for a few hours?”

“Sure, just make sure it’s noted on your time sheet.”

Thanking her, I backed away and turned around and ran into none other than Loretta. Was she eavesdropping? Or just being her usual space-invader self?

“Hello again.” I decided to be friendly.

“Hi,” she said letting me note that she’d recently eaten onions. “Why are you taking off?”

“It’s personal,” I lied, knowing I was going to snoop on her son.

“Okay, see you later,” she said, but her eyes told me it was anything but okay.

I scooted out from under her stare and quickly exited the hospital. I felt a presence near me as I walked. None other than Carter Callahan following me. I whipped around and faced him. “What are you doing?”

He answered softly and without emotion, “I’m following you so you don’t get killed.”

That was certainly to the point. “I’m not going to get killed.” I couldn’t just stop there. “Why do you think I’m going to be killed?”

“Because you’re following the murderer,” he said.

“Wait. I thought you said it was Loretta who did it.”

“I changed my mind. It’s Dougie.”

This confused the heck out of me. I kept going back and forth between the two, just like the rat poison in my dream—back and forth, back and forth.

“What made you change your mind?” I asked.

Carter looked at me as if I were stupid. “Doesn’t matter. I just know.”

“Get in the car,” was all I could say at that moment.

He climbed in the passenger seat of my Bug and connected his seatbelt. He was so slight that I feared he would slide right out of the seatbelt if we got in a wreck. After he was settled, he said, “Let’s go.”

Overall, this was probably more talking than I’d ever gotten out of Carter Callahan. Was this how he was when he was excited?

“What are we doing?” he asked quietly, as we were driving out of the hospital parking lot.

“Well, I thought I’d follow Dougie a little.”

Carter wrinkled his nose. “Do you know where he is?”

I hesitated. “Not exactly. I thought I’d just drive around until…‌okay, I didn’t think this through very well. But the town is small and—”

And just that quickly I realized that we were behind Dougie’s truck. I gave Carter a look that surely demonstrated my superiority over him. He slouched a little in his seat.

“Don’t worry,” I said, “I won’t rub it in. Much.”

Once again, I didn’t know what I was doing when it came to tailing a suspect, and I knew I really wasn’t supposed to be doing this anyway. But my curiosity, which others might call nosiness, is genetic, and there is no cure.

Since my car stood out and I didn’t know what I was doing, I decided to once again just get right behind him. Sure, I didn’t know what good that would do, but I didn’t have another plan.

Carter reminded me over and over again that I was too close to Dougie. I turned to tell him to “Shup” and BAM! I hit the back of Dougie’s truck. Damn.

We both pulled over to the side of the road. It was Broadway, the busiest street in town. I got out of my car to see if there was damage, and there wasn’t. At least I couldn’t see any. His truck was old, and my car was dirty. I could see where they came in contact, because that part of my car was clean.

Dougie got out of his truck a moment later. He stormed over to me and began screaming. He positioned himself toe to toe with me, looked me in the eye, and was practically frothing at the mouth. I couldn’t understand him. I was too busy wishing that I wasn’t backed up against the front of my car. There was no way to escape his space invasion rant.

I understood his anger. But I didn’t understand his rage.

Finally, I managed to scoot out sideways from his attack. I walked around him to get a little room. As I did, I saw the back of his truck and the damn rat poison was there.

Back and forth. Back and forth. What did it mean?