Eggs in a Casket (A Cackleberry Club Mystery) (26 page)

“Breathe!” she screamed. “Take a breath, baby!” And then, because she knew his life was totally in her hands, that no medevac helicopter was going to drop from the sky and assist her, she cupped her fists together, raised them up high, and brought them down hard against Sam’s chest.

“Live!” she yelled out. “You’ve got to live!”

HER
hands pressed together, Suzanne began chest compressions as she knelt on the cold, unforgiving ground. She punched the center of Sam’s chest with fast, forceful moves, alternating each hit by leaning forward and giving him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

He’s not getting enough air, Suzanne thought wildly. He needs more air to bring him around!

Suzanne continued to labor over Sam, alternating compressions with breathing, for what felt like hours, though it was probably only a minute or two. And just as Sam let out a sharp gasp, she heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up behind her, of someone stopping.

Now what? More trouble?

She managed a quick glance and saw an old pickup truck. And was truly stunned when she saw Jake Gantz’s face bobbing toward her through a sheet of rain.

“Jake!” she cried out.

Jake shuffled closer. His mouth hung open and surprise lit his face. “Is that the doc?” he asked, looking down at Sam. “Is he hurt bad?” His eyes shifted to Carla Reiker, who was still out cold on the pavement. “Is she hurt, too?”

“I’m trying to . . .” Suzanne had run out of words because she’d practically run out of breath.

“I . . . I’ll get a blanket!” said Jake, as Suzanne kept working.

Her shoulders were burning, her breath was coming in short, stuttering gasps, but she wasn’t about to stop. But she was still scared to death. Oh yes, she was scared as she mumbled a hasty prayer. And though she wasn’t able to recall her exact words later on, she knew they were something to the effect of,
Please help me, dear Lord. You’re all I’ve got
right now!

Suddenly, just as Suzanne was starting to despair, just as she was about to let fear overwhelm her, Sam’s eyes fluttered and he let loose a low groan. Then his lips parted and he sucked in an enormous glut of air.

“That’s it!” Suzanne whispered excitedly. “Breathe! Just breathe!”

Sam’s chest lifted as he gulped more air and his eyes fluttered again. And then, seconds later, when he appeared to be breathing just fine on his own, he opened his eyes fully and stared directly up at Suzanne.

“I’m here, Sam. I’m here for you,” she said.

He continued to look at her, to practically drink in her every feature.

“Do you know where you are?” Suzanne asked as she peered at him anxiously.
Please answer me. Please don’t have brain damage or something awful like that.

Sam slowly raised his right hand, crooked his head, and gave her a questioning look. Then he touched his fingers to his forehead, almost as if he had to confirm that he was still very much alive.

“Do you know where you are?” Suzanne asked him again.

“I think so,” Sam rasped, finally answering her question.

“Do you remember what happened?”

Sam licked his lips. “Crazy lady tried to suffocate me.” His voice was hoarse and papery, but a little stronger now.

He’d come back to her. Yes, he had!

“That’s exactly right,” said Suzanne. Relief flooded her voice and she allowed herself a small smile. Her hands were patting his chest now, making little involuntary circular motions as hot, salty tears coursed down her cheeks. “But she won’t ever touch you again!”

And then, out of the blue, a lopsided grin suddenly spilled across Sam’s face. And he croaked out, “Suzanne. Sweetheart. What took you so long?”

* * *

WITH
Sam sitting cross-legged on the pavement, breathing much better now as he slowly regained his bearings, Suzanne turned her attention to Carla Reiker.

“Did she hurt the doc?” asked Gantz. He was eyeing Reiker’s still form, stretched out where she’d fallen.

Suzanne nodded. “She sure tried to.”

“You want me to tie her up?” asked Gantz. “I’ve got some rope in my car.”

“We better check her pockets first,” said Suzanne. “Make sure she doesn’t have any sort of weapon.”

“You do that,” said Gantz. He backed away from Reiker as if she were a poisonous snake.

“Be careful,” Sam croaked out, as he pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

Suzanne knelt down beside Reiker and stuck her hands in the woman’s jacket pocket. She probed around gently, looking for a knife or a gun. When her fingers hit something cold and hard, she frowned.

“What?” called Sam. “Did you find something?”

“I don’t know,” said Suzanne. She wrapped her fingers around an object that felt more like a large tube of lipstick and pulled it out. Only it wasn’t a lipstick at all. It was a vial of clear liquid.

“What’s that?” said Gantz. He took a tentative step closer.

Suzanne turned the vial over and stared at a small white label. “It says Dianabol.” She glanced over at Sam and said, “Does Dianabol mean anything to you?”

“It’s a synthetic steroid,” said Sam slowly. “A performance-enhancing drug. Wrestlers use it. So do weight lifters.”

Suzanne’s brain pinged and her eyes locked onto his. “Drummond!” she cried out, recalling his bulging physique, thinking back to her conversation with Boots Wagner about performance-enhancing drugs. “Reiker must have been Drummond’s drug dealer!”

“Drugs?” said Gantz. He sounded frightened.

“That’s why Reiker killed him,” said Suzanne. The pieces and parts of the puzzle were suddenly dropping rapidly into place for her. “Reiker was always right there at the Hard Body Gym, so she must have been his drug connection. But something happened between the two of them. They had a serious falling out.”

“So she killed him,” Sam said slowly.

“Like she almost killed you,” said Suzanne. “And Sheriff Doogie.”

Sam looked confused. “I can understand why she went after Doogie, but why me?”

“Because Reiker thought you were handling the autopsy,” Suzanne said abruptly. “She figured you were in charge of the whole thing. She was afraid the drugs would show up in the final toxicology report and the whole thing would lead back to her and the Hard Body Gym.”

“You think?” said Sam. He was having trouble buying into her scenario.

“Wait a minute,” said Suzanne. With Gantz following her, she walked back to Reiker’s car and looked inside. On the backseat was a small black nylon gym bag. Inside were two small boxes of vials. All with the label “Schedule 3—Rx only.”

“Wow,” said Gantz, giving Suzanne an admiring gaze. “You’re some smart lady.”

* * *

JAKE
Gantz turned out to be a real prince of a guy. He not only grabbed a rope from his car and tied up Carla Reiker, but he wrapped his blanket around Sam and helped him limp over to the passenger side of his car.

Suzanne, meanwhile, pulled out her cell phone and called the Law Enforcement Center. Then she had a very terse conversation with Deputy Driscoll.

When Suzanne was finished, she walked back to where Jake was standing. He was half guarding Reiker, who seemed to be slowly regaining consciousness, and keeping a watchful eye on a still-dazed Sam.

“I just talked to Driscoll at the Law Enforcement Center,” said Suzanne. “Told him all about Carla Reiker and the drugs.” She nodded at Sam. “And about how she tried to kill you, too.”

“And what was Driscoll’s reaction?” asked Sam. “Now that you’ve solved the case right out from under him?”

“Actually, I think he was a little relieved,” said Suzanne.

“He should be,” said Sam. His good humor seemed to be back in full force.

“He also asked if one of us could stay here with Reiker,” said Suzanne. “Until he can get out here and pick her up.”

“I’ll stay,” volunteered Jake. “You take the doc to the hospital and get him checked out.”

Suzanne made a small gesture at Mocha, who had wandered over and poked his nose halfway into the car where Sam was sitting. “My horse. He’s . . .”

“Don’t worry about him, ma’am,” said Jake. “I’ll take care of him, too. There’s a barn over yonder that belongs to a farmer named Drucker. I’ve done odd jobs for him in the past and I’m sure he won’t mind sheltering your horse for a day or two.”

“You’re sure?” said Suzanne.

“You just take care of the doc,” said Jake, nodding his head. “He still looks a little unsteady, like he might need some medical attention.” He reached out and tugged gently at one of Mocha’s reins. “We’ll be okay, won’t we, boy? We’ll wait here for Deputy Driscoll, then get you settled in a nice, dry stall.”

As if in response, Mocha let loose a loud snort.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Suzanne told Jake, as she climbed into the driver’s seat of Sam’s car. She was trying to remain brave but felt emotionally wrought, nearly on the verge of collapse.

“That’s okay,” said Jake. “Just trying to be helpful.”

Sam shifted around in his seat until he was practically facing Suzanne. Then he reached out and clasped her hand. “Are you okay?”

Suzanne blew out a breath and nodded. “I think so. As long as you’re back with us.”

“I’m good,” said Sam. “I am now, anyway.”

“That Jake,” continued Suzanne. She watched as he jiggled Mocha’s reins and gave him a pat. “What a lifesaver he turned out to be.”

Sam gripped her hand tighter. “I think you have that mixed up, my dear. It seems to me
you’re
the one who did the lifesaving.”

IF
everyone hadn’t been so dinged up, it could have been old home week back at the hospital. As it was, Sam was checked out in the ER, given a quick EKG and a few toots of oxygen, and pronounced good as new by a third-year resident.

Then Sheriff Doogie, who’d heard about Suzanne’s daring rescue via the hospital grapevine, was wheeled down to join them. He’d made excellent strides in the last twelve hours, regaining his color as well as his feistiness.

“Reiker was the one who waylaid
me
!” proclaimed Doogie. “Here I thought she had car trouble—and it turned out she wanted to clobber me with a tire iron! Tried to run me over, too, I guess.”

Suzanne gazed at Doogie. “So you knew it was Reiker who assaulted you?”

“Oh yeah,” said Doogie nodding. “I knew it. Trouble was, my poor muddled brain couldn’t get the words out to tell anyone. I tried to tell Driscoll . . . and then when you came to see me yesterday morning, I tried to tell you . . .”

“You did try!” exclaimed Suzanne. “You mumbled something about drugs. Only I thought you were referring to the drugs the doctors had given you.”

“Naw,” said Doogie. “Once Reiker attacked me I had this weird . . . whadyacallit? . . . flash of insight that she might have been involved with Drummond that way. Just because he’d gotten so big and burly lately. Trouble was, I couldn’t spit out any words.”

“The whole thing’s just crazy,” said Suzanne, shaking her head. “And I can’t wait to call Missy and tell her she’s off the hook!”

“Yes, she is,” agreed Doogie.

Suzanne was ready to go home, but Sam was busy recounting his rescue to a few more members of the ER staff, embroidering his tale here and there, tossing in a few extra smatters of excitement. Suzanne wasn’t sure whether to bask in his praise or be profoundly embarrassed.

Fortunately, Doogie interrupted.

“Excuse me,” he said, puffing out his chest and addressing Suzanne directly. “But weren’t you warned to stay clear of this matter? To not step on law enforcement’s toes?” His words sounded harsh but his delivery was rendered with a merry twinkle in his eye.

“I don’t remember anything about toes,” said Suzanne, trying to keep a straight face. “My recollection was you asked me to step in and handle things.”

Doogie shook his head and let out a relieved wheeze. “Carla Reiker dealing drugs. Holy baloney. Who would have pegged her for a drug dealer? Or a killer?”

“None of us did,” said Suzanne. “Until I went looking for Sam, that is, and found her trying to kill him, too!”

“She came charging in on a white horse,” whooped Sam. “You should have seen her! Like something out of
Indiana Jones
!”

“Really,” said Suzanne. “Mocha is a distinct chestnut color.”

* * *

BUT
the surprises didn’t end there. Because ten minutes later—after Doogie threatened to do a wheelie in his wheelchair and was finally taken back upstairs by one of the nurses—the rest of the gang showed up!

“Oh my gosh!” Suzanne exclaimed as Toni and Petra piled into the exam room to embrace her and cluck over Sam. “How on earth did you . . . ?”

“Jake brought us,” said Petra.

“That’s right,” Toni piped up. “Jake stopped by the Cackleberry Club and filled us in but good.” She shook an index finger at Suzanne. “It seems you’ve been a busy girl!” Then she turned toward Sam. “And you, you’ve got to be a lot more careful when you make house calls!”

Sam grinned. “If you say so.”

“But what did you do about all the injured people at the Cackleberry Club?” asked Suzanne. “Dan and Sonja and whoever else?”

“Oh, we brought them with us,” said Petra. “They’re down the hall in the ER right now. Getting patched up.”

“What about all the trees that were blocking the driveway?” said Suzanne.

“Junior came through with his chainsaw gang,” said Toni proudly. “His guys are over there right now, working on the downed trees. But first he cleared a kind of pathway, so the customers could get out.”

Suzanne was stunned. “So they’re all . . .”

“Gone home,” said Petra. “They just sort of carpooled their way home.”

“So,” said Toni, shuffling closer to Suzanne and Sam, “Carla Reiker was seriously dealing drugs, huh?”

“Not recreational drugs,” said Sam. “Performance-enhancing drugs. Sad to say, there’s a big market for that kind of thing.”

“You mean like steroids?” said Toni.

“Afraid so,” said Sam. “They’re wildly popular.”

“Wow,” said Petra. “Who would have thought?”

But Toni didn’t want to let it go. “So you guys think Reiker was dealing drugs to Drummond and that things went bad between them?”

“It certainly looks that way,” said Suzanne.

“It
was
that way,” said a voice suddenly from the doorway.

They all turned to see Jake Gantz standing there.

“Jake!” said Suzanne.

“When Deputy Driscoll showed up to haul that lady away,” said Gantz, “he popped the lid on her trunk and discovered all kinds of vials in there. Some of it was like that stuff you found in her pocket, but there were other things, too. Maybe . . . Oxantho-something?”

“Oxandrolone?” said Sam.

“Yeah,” said Jake.

Sam let loose a low whistle. “There you go.”

“What I still don’t get,” said Toni, “is why Reiker went after Sam?”

“Because Reiker thought Sam was in charge of Drummond’s autopsy,” Suzanne explained. “I suppose she just got nervous. She figured Sam was eventually going to find drugs on board. Drugs that were used to increase muscle mass and performance. And that it would all lead back to her.”

“Jeez, Suzanne,” said Toni. “If you’d have kept on investigating, you might have been next on her hit list!”

“There’s a happy thought,” said Petra.

“Toni always looks for the silver lining,” joked Sam.

“I’m just glad it all ended well,” said Petra. She turned and beamed happily at Jake. “And you! From now on you’re cordially invited to dine at the Cackleberry Club for free. And to order whatever your little heart desires!”

Jake looked stunned. “Me? What’d I do?”

Suzanne reached out and grabbed his hand. “You turned out to be a true friend.”

“That’s for sure,” declared Petra. “And in the recipe of life, friends are the most important ingredient!”

But Jake just ducked his head. “Looked to me like that horse of yours was the real saving grace.”

“Mocha was absolutely . . . terrific,” said Suzanne, fighting back tears.

“I’m going to paint a fine portrait of him,” said Jake. “To enter in the Hearts and . . .”

“Sold!” said Sam.

He squeezed Suzanne’s hand. “And I’m giving it to you.”

“Thank you,” said Suzanne, with love in her eyes. And then, whispering so no one else could hear her, said, “I love you, Sam.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered back. “I love you, too.”