Murder Had a Little Lamb (13 page)

I bent my knees so the shih tzu and I were eye to
eye. “Tell me, Chach. How did you ever get such an unusual name?”

As usual, his owner stepped up to the plate, answering on his dog’s behalf. “It’s kind of a cute story,” Reverend Evans told me. “My wife, whose family is originally from Panama, came from a large family. Eleven children, in fact. Needless to say, we have quite a lot of nephews and nieces. When we decided to get a dog, it happened to be early November. We thought it would be fun to charge the group of them with coming up with a name. So once the whole family was gathered around the table on Thanksgiving, we asked all the children to come up with a name and told them we’d pull one out of a hat.” With a little shrug, he added, “The name we picked was Chach. One of the kids thought of it because it sounded Spanish, and she wanted to name the dog in honor of my wife.”

I chuckled. “I’m sure your wife was tickled.”

“She and this dog are inseparable,” he admitted. “Chach is smart enough to know who’s in charge of feeding him, so that’s where his loyalty lies.”

“I don’t blame you one bit,” I said to Chach. “In fact, you’re a dog after my own heart.

“Now let’s make sure you’re in the best shape you can be,” I continued. Gesturing toward the parking lot, I said, “My van is right over there. I bring it to school so I can start making house calls right after class.”

“I envy your freedom,” Reverend Evans commented as the three of us made our way over to my van. “It must be nice, not having to work in a stuffy office.”

“Freedom is the exact word I would use,” I agreed. “And stuffy offices are the very reason I decided to take the plunge and buy the van in the first place. Sometimes I think that old song ‘Don’t Fence Me In’ was written with me in mind.”

Laughing, he noted, “Except that it was written long before you were born.”

“True. So I guess I’m not the only one who feels that way. What about you? What’s it like, being a minister at a girls’ school?”

“Well, it’s a challenge, I assure you,” he replied with a smile. “Serving as a moral compass for a gaggle of teenagers is not exactly easy.”

“I can imagine!” I replied. “Especially since the students here seem so diverse. In fact, that’s one of the things that really struck me on my first day here. This place is a strange mixture of rich girls, if you’ll excuse the expression, and those who aren’t even close to being in that category.”

“That’s exactly right.” Reverend Evans sighed. “I applaud the school’s commitment to a diverse student body. Both the parents and the alumnae are quite generous, which helps us maintain a very strong scholarship program.”

Frowning, he added, “Still, you’re right about the fact that that creates certain … tensions. Anyone who thinks girls are kinder than boys clearly never went to high school. Those years are difficult for everyone, and all the cliques and competitiveness create an environment that can be very difficult for everyone to deal with, from the students to the teachers to the administration. And the fact that the wealthy students at
Worth are
so
wealthy—and the underprivileged students are
so
underprivileged—makes it even tougher.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” I commented sincerely.

What Reverend Evans was saying completely supported not only my impressions about the dynamics among the students, but also what Vondra had told me. I couldn’t help wondering if the climate of the school had anything to do with Nathaniel’s murder.

“By the way,” I continued, anxious to pick Reverend Evans’s brain even further, “I ran into Claude Molter this morning and had a chance to talk to him about Nathaniel Stibbins.”

“I’m sure he gave you an earful,” Reverend Evans said with a wry smile.

His reaction surprised me. “I thought you told me Claude and Nathaniel were friends.”

“They
were
friends.” He hesitated before adding, “At least, for a while.”

“You mean they had a falling out?”

He was silent for such a long time that I glanced over to see if he’d heard me. His tight expression told me that he’d heard me, all right. He just wasn’t in a hurry to respond.

“I’ve already said too much,” he said in a strained voice. “I’m not one to gossip. It’s true that Claude was someone who knew Nathaniel well, and they did indeed have their differences along the way. But I think I’ll just leave it at that.”

I was thoughtful as we neared the parking lot. Claude Molter had claimed that he and Nathaniel had been friends.

Maybe he simply didn’t want to speak ill of the
dead, I thought. Still, the fact that he hadn’t told me the whole story nagged at me.

We’d reached my van by then, which meant it was time to change the subject to something more timely: mainly, Reverand Evans’s ailing shih tzu.

“Thanks again for agreeing to look at Chach,” he said. “Hopefully, it’ll turn out to be nothing more serious than a cut.”

Once we were inside the van, I took the tense little dog into my arms and brought him over to my examining table.

“Tell me more about Chach’s general health lately,” I said as I checked the dog’s eyes and ears. “Any coughing or sneezing?”

“Not that I’ve noticed.”

“Any vomiting or diarrhea?”

“No. As far as I know, the limp is the only problem.”

“Everything seems fine here,” I observed as I palpated the dog’s organs.

Something about being touched that way spooked poor Chach. His sturdy body started to twitch, and his paws skittered across the stainless steel surface of my examining table.

“Hold on there, fella,” I commanded. Glancing up at Reverend Evans, I said, “It might not be a bad idea for you to hold him. Not only will it help me, it will also make him feel more secure.”

As he did, I continued checking Chach’s organs, admitting, “I’ve gotten spoiled lately. I hired an assistant who comes with me on most of my house calls. She’s terrific, and having a second pair of arms really makes
the job easier. But she only works part-time, and it doesn’t make sense for her to come with me the mornings I teach.” Focusing on my patient again, I asked, “Now, which foot has the problem?”

“The front one, on the right.”

“This is what a normal leg feels like,” I said as I checked it. But when I got to the foot pad, Chach let out a yelp.

“It’s really sensitive in this area,” I noted. “The toe looks swollen, but the nail bed is intact … I’m thinking he may have a broken toe.”

Reverend Evans frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“We could get an X-ray, but that’s usually pretty difficult,” I continued. “We can put on a Medi-splint to allow it a chance to heal, but I usually just leave it and recommend a strict rest period of three weeks. I can also give Chach a nonsteroid anti-inflammatory. I’ll give you some tablets of Rimadyl, which he needs to take once a day with food. The downside is that his foot can feel so much better that he’ll want to walk on it, so you’ll have to watch and limit him.”

“Definitely,” he said, looking relieved. “You’re so good with dogs. Do you have any of your own?”

“Two,” I replied. “A Dalmatian named Lou and a Westie named Max. I also have two cats, a bird, and a chameleon.”

Reverend Evans grinned. “I envy you! It must be wonderful, having all those animals in your household.”

“It’s pretty cool,” I said, pausing for a moment to think about how much they added to my life.

“I’d love to meet all of them one of these days,” Reverend Evans commented. “Especially that Westie of yours. I have a feeling Chach and Max would really hit it off.”

“I think you’re right,” I agreed. “I’d like to see Chach again in two weeks. If it isn’t any better, we can try the splint I mentioned. It’s a piece of plastic that takes the weight off, which helps the toe heal faster. In the meantime, keep him off the stairs, and only let him outside to go to the bathroom.”

“That reminds me of a cute story,” Reverend Evans said as he lifted the dog off the table. “When Chach was just a puppy, I took him with me on a trip to Arizona. When it was time for him to go for a walk, he walked up to a cactus and lifted his right leg. Let me tell you, he got some pretty serious needles in a very tender area. Now he only lifts his left leg to pee—or else he just squats.”

“Poor little guy!” I said, chuckling as I smoothed his silky ears.

“I can tell you really care about your patients,” Reverend Evans commented.

“I do,” I replied simply.

“It’s great that you volunteered to teach an animal-care class. And I don’t just mean because of the value of teaching the girls something so practical.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

He sighed. “Some of our girls come from backgrounds that aren’t exactly—well, let’s just say their families aren’t all quite as stable as one would wish. They need as many positive role models as possible,
young women like you who’ve done something really positive and productive with their lives.”

“I’ve actually been enjoying it,” I replied.

As I said the words, I realized how true they were. Even though an ulterior motive had brought me to the school, it was turning out to be fun getting to know the girls and sharing what I knew about animals with them.

After we completed some paperwork, Reverend Evans turned to leave. But when he reached the door of the van, he turned back and said, “I almost forgot. There’s an event coming up that I’d like to invite you to. Of course, I have an ulterior motive.”

His use of a phrase that had run through my own mind just a few minutes earlier startled me. But it only took me a second to realize that whatever
his
ulterior motive was, chances were good that it wasn’t the same as mine.

“As part of the school’s community outreach program, we’re holding our first Blessing of the Animals ceremony here at the school chapel a week from Saturday.”

“Yes, I heard about that,” I told him. “Dr. Goodfellow mentioned it to me.”

“So you’re familiar with them?”

“Sure,” I replied, “although I’ve only seen them on TV.”

“For the school, it’s a chance for us to invite members of the community to get to know us better,” Reverend Evans explained. “Anyone is welcome to bring their dogs or cats—or any other animals, for
that matter—to be blessed. Afterward, we’re having a big reception out on the lawn. A lot of the girls have volunteered to help shepherd people around. Since we’ve never done it before, we’re still working out some of the details. In fact, the logistics will be one of the topics under discussion at tomorrow’s PTA meeting, if you’re planning to come.”

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll introduce you to the parents and the rest of the faculty,” he said. “We’ve never been fortunate enough to have a veterinarian in attendance at the blessing before. Your presence isn’t only a valuable addition in case one of the animals gets sick, which would be rare; it would be great if you’d be willing to answer people’s questions about how best to care for their animals. You could bring that Westie of yours, too.”

Frankly, the event didn’t sound like Max’s thing. The sight of one dog usually sent him into a state of near-hysteria, so I couldn’t imagine how he’d do if he were surrounded by dozens of them—not to mention cats and other assorted animals. But I’d decided to go the minute Dr. Goodfellow had mentioned it.

“I’d love to come,” I told him.

Reverend Evans looked surprised. “And here I thought I’d have to persuade you to give up your Saturday. Especially since you’re already doing so much for the school.”

“It sounds like fun,” I insisted. “And I’m happy that I can be of assistance.”

I meant it, too. Being part of the event would give
me one more chance to peek at the inner workings of the Worth School. And the more people I talked to, the more apparent it became that Nathaniel had been ensconced in this place, leading me to believe that Dorothy’s suspicion that the reason behind his murder was rooted here was correct.

T
hursday morning, right after class, I decided to pop into the school library before dashing off to my first appointment of the day. It was the first chance I’d gotten to check the stacks and see what else I could find about feeding people food to animals. The topic had really piqued my students’ interest, and while I was starting to get comfortable in front of a classroom, I still wanted to make sure I came to each class with enough information to fill the hour.

Even though the photograph of the library—or the Hall of Ideas, as it was called at the Worth School—on the school’s website had been enough to make me do a double take, it didn’t quite capture the drama of the building.

The picture on the Internet had made it clear that the exterior looked like a row of tremendous white
books, lined up on a shelf. It wasn’t until I was up close, however, that I saw that each gigantic volume had a title carved into its spine:
For Whom the Bell Tolls, Ulysses, The Great Gatsby, An American Tragedy
.

My eyes lit on that last one for a few seconds. After all, Theodore Dreiser’s great novel centered around a man whose goal of achieving the American dream was cut short when he was accused of murder.

I was still pondering that irony as I headed inside the building, and then I was struck by another. As I entered through a doorway that looked as if it had been cut from the spine of a book, I glanced up. This book was
The Divine Comedy
, according to the sculpted letters high above my head.

Interesting choice, I thought, amused by the architect’s obvious sense of humor. I remembered from my Intro to Literature class my freshman year at Bryn Mawr that one of the most famous lines from Dante’s epic poem had been carved above the gates of Purgatory: “All hope abandon, ye who enter here.”

Yet there was nothing the least bit forbidding inside. Instead, I found myself in a large, airy entryway, with tremendous floor-to-ceiling windows and walls and carpets the same blinding white as the building’s exterior. And rather than the boiling blood and black snow that Dante had envisioned, I saw an espresso bar and half a dozen leather massage chairs. I doubted that either of those could be found in anyone’s vision of hell.