Nubbin but Trouble
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Authors: Ava Mallory
Nubbin But Trouble
A Mercy Mares Cozy Mystery
By Ava Mallory
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Copyright @2015 Ava Mallory. All Rights Reserved
http://writeravamallory.wix.com/avamallory
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
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Table of Contents
Chapter Two
14
Chapter Four
50
Chapter Five
74
Chapter Six
85
Chapter Eight
114
Epilogue
124
More Titles By Ava Mallory
132
Just five minutes into my much-deserved 'stay-cation' and the promise of rest and relaxation looked like it would finally come to fruition. No more chasing bad guys for me. I'd officially hung up my sleuthing hat, so to speak, and settled back into my normal – well, maybe not that normal – way of life. Just me, my lovable yet lazy dog Barney, and a stack of books and movies so high, I could barely see over them to actually watch them on my brand new flat screen T.V.
Nope. There would be no tracking clues and following leads for me. Two, maybe three, weeks of absolute nothingness is just what the doctor ordered and, I should know, I've been a nurse for well over twenty years. I think I'm qualified to determine whether or not someone was experiencing burnout and a little something I liked to call 'fed-up-ness'.
“Well, we finally managed it, Barney.” I looked over the top of the magazine I held in my hands to see Barney's ever present sleeping grin. He sat in the spot that had quickly become his refuge, under my coffee table with a blanket that had been made for him by one of his many former owners or pseudo-owners at the nursing home where I'd first met him, nearly six months ago.
Barney is a Pug by breed, but a definite lackadaisical soul by choice. While some dogs flourished with attention and excitement, Barney preferred the peace and quiet. Living among senior citizens as he had for several years of his life will do that to even the most spry of individuals, but let's just say that old Barney took it to an extreme. He was committed to his stance and no amount of biscuits, chew toys, or begging was going to make him change his position on that matter. Other than the requisite morning, afternoon, and an evening jaunt to 'tend to his needs', Barney didn't require nor actively seek out any other form of formal exercise.
Together, we made for an interesting duo. You see, up until about an hour ago, I wasn't inclined to actively seek out anything that would potentially render me out of breath or in any kind of muscle pain.
Somehow, between my required cup of morning coffee and a thorough read through of my local newspaper, The Lake Villa Post, I'd inadvertently volunteered to take part in a group exercise class with my elderly next door neighbor and good friend, Margie, who, truth be told, could run circles around people half her age. That's what surprises me the most – I'd let her convince me into joining a gym and essentially torturing myself three, maybe four, days a week, depending on whether or not I was in town at the time – while simultaneously swearing off any form of physical exertion beyond what I was paid to do or barring being chased by a madman.
Life as a traveling nurse luckily didn't afford me much opportunity to take part in group exercise classes, so I didn't have to make up excuses as to why I didn't exercise. I had a ready made bonafide excuse and I'd argue that up and down until the day I died. I just hoped I didn't die due to lack of exercise.
Now, I'm not against exercise per se. I just didn't like the idea of breaking a sweat anymore than necessary. My job required that I spend a considerable amount of time on my feet and from time to time, chasing the occasional non-compliant patient who became unruly for reasons beyond my control.
“What shall we watch first, old pal,” I asked my sleeping pooch. “A romantic comedy or a thriller? Which would you prefer?”
I reached for the stack of movies I'd been dying to see for months and rolled my eyes at the sound of my house phone ringing again. If I were a narcissist, I'd say that the world revolved around me. It had been ringing off the hook since I woke up almost three hours ago. I'd answered the first few calls, then it came to be too much to deal with. One of the many cons (or perks, in my case) of working out of town most of the time was not having to deal with bill collectors. Not that I had a lot of bills, no more so than your average American, but I had enough to ensure that I'd have to remain in the workforce for the next fifty or sixty years, give or take a decade or two.
“What do you say we turn that ringer off for a week or two?” I asked Barney.
My cell phone started to vibrate in my robe pocket.
Who is this now
, I thought.
I made a mental checklist of all the people in my inner circle and their current whereabouts as far I knew. Ruby, my best friend and supervisor, was away at a nursing conference this week. Her husband, Hank, a psychiatrist, was also out of town on business this week. My daughter Diana had just returned to New York City, where she was a grad student at Bristol University and working full-time as a buyer for a car rental company. I didn't know any reason why she'd call so soon after just having left California.
I looked at my cell phone and recognized the number immediately.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hey, sorry to bother you, but I have a problem here,” Charlie, my friend and, some would say, my future love interest, said.
I thought I knew what would come next. It was well known that the illustrious sheriff, Charlie Wagner, took pleasure in teasing me and poking fun at just about everything I did in life. He and I met while I was on assignment in Western Nebraska. Some time had passed since then, but it didn't change the fact that Charlie had come really close to arresting me for murder at the time. Luckily, I had the wherewithal to prove my innocence and help him find the real killer, but I digress...
To my surprise, Charlie didn't follow up his comment with any of his typical off color remarks or his special brand of humor.
“Are you there, Mercy,” he asked, his tone quite serious.
I cleared my throat. “Yes, I'm here. Why do you sound so serious, Charlie? Did somebody make fun of your country accent?” I teased, but he didn't take the bait.
He grunted before answering sternly. “Will you just listen? I'm not playing around here and I don't have time for this.”
Whoa! What crawled up his attitude barometer so early in the morning?
“Sorry, grouch. I'm the one who should be upset. You're interrupting my vacation, remember?” I kindly reminded him of that fact, since he was one of the ones who urged me to take a break after several months of working nonstop.
Angrily, Charlie yelled, “Mercy, cut it out! I don't care about your vacation right now. We have a problem. A big problem. I didn't want to tell you like this, but you're not making this easy for me.” He paused, sighing. “Nubbin is gone.”
My heart leaped into my throat. Nubbin was on the surface, my favorite patient of all time, but had quickly become one of my favorite people in the world and I couldn't imagine my life without him in it.
My voice shook as I asked, “What happened to him?”
Charlie's tone mellowed slightly. “He's gone, Mercy. He eloped. He took off in the middle of the night last night.”
I started to whimper. Nubbin lived in a nursing home and, at eighty-five years old, he wasn't in the best of health. I'd taken care of him for three months while working in Western Nebraska and was very familiar with his diagnosis and medications.
“We're looking for him. I have my team on it. He couldn't have gotten far.” Charlie tried to reassure me.
“How could this happen? He's in a locked unit. There are cameras everyone.” I couldn't believe it. There were supposed to be security measures in place to prevent this sort of thing from happening.
“I don't know, Mercy. That's what we're trying to figure out,” Charlie explained.
My hands started to shake. Anger wouldn't come close to explaining what I felt. I knew the ins and outs of Valley Retirement Estates and knew just how lazy and irresponsible the staff could be, especially where Nubbin Schmeckpepper was concerned.
He had a reputation for being – shall we say – a bit of a curmudgeon. I don't know much about the history between him and a few of his caretakers, but I knew enough to know that they weren't necessarily fond of each other and had no plan in place to fix that situation anytime soon. In fact, on the day that I had the pleasure of first making Nubbin's acquaintance, I happened to walk onto the unit and find the portly gentleman waving a cane in the nursing staff's faces.
While some people would shy away from someone who threatened your coworkers, I couldn't help but intervene and intervene I did. That sealed the deal for my relationship with Nubbin. He instantly liked me. Nubbin had a funny way of showing it, but I knew it deep down in my soul nonetheless.
Over the last six months, he and I exchanged many a conversation, most of them not entirely coherent given his memory impairment, but all of them worth their weight in gold. Hearing this news, hurt like I imagined it would feel if someone shoved their arm down your throat and ripped your heart right out on the way up, taking a U-turn somewhere near your collarbone.
“Who was working? No, don't tell me. I can only imagine who it was. It had to be Kathy because she's the only one lazy enough to have let a nearly three hundred pound man slip out right from under her nose.” I couldn't contain my anger at this point. My shaking was so intense that Barney had woken up as a result of it.
Charlie answered quickly. “Yes, Kathy Sauer was working, but you can't blame her for this. Patients elope all the time. She can't be everywhere at once and, you of all people, should know this. Now, I have to go. I just wanted to see if you'd heard from him. Judging by your reaction, I'm going to take that to mean that you haven't. Talk to you later.”
I heard him wrestle with the phone on his end. “Wait! You're just hanging up? That's it?” I asked, unable to believe that he would just drop devastating news on me like that and run away like nothing ever happened.
“Mercy, I don't have time for this.” Charlie hung up, leaving me in stunned silence. We'd hung up on each other plenty of times over the months of back and forth phone calls we made since I'd left Western Nebraska, but never like this. He'd never given me bad news, then abruptly hung up on me before.
Barney stirred where he sat, staring up at me. I got the feeling that he could sense something was very wrong. I was at a loss, feeling more helpless than I could remember ever feeling in all my life.
My cell phone vibrated again. This time I answered right away, believing that it was Charlie calling back to apologize for hanging up on me.
“I forgive you. We just need to concentrate on finding him,” I answered.
“Huh? What are you talking about, Mom? Who is missing? And, who do you forgive?” Diana asked.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Diana had never met Nubbin, but she'd heard enough about him to understand just how much he meant to me.
“Sorry, honey. I thought you were someone else,” I said, trying my best to muster up a lighter tone of voice.
Diana didn't ask any more questions about it and started to tell me something else instead. “Guess what?” She asked.
I closed my eyes again, hoping this would lead to good news. “What, honey,” I asked.
“I met someone,” she squealed with excitement.
“You did? Who?” I asked, temporarily distracted by this news because she rarely, if ever filled me in on who she was seeing or when. It was kind of some unwritten rule that she never brought up any of her relationships and I did my best to avoid pestering her about them. As far as I knew, she hadn't been seeing anyone for a while. The last boyfriend was an attorney. I don't know when exactly they broke up or why, but I knew that Diana suddenly became available for the holidays again.
Diana changed her tone, choosing a more guarded tone when answering. “Sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like a big deal. I just wanted to talk to you. Who did you think I was when I called?”
She's changing the subject. This guy must be special.
I had to watch how I phrased this. Diana inherited many great qualities from both my ex-husband James and I. Unfortunately, she inherited some of the not-so-wonderful qualities from us too, one of them was, mastering the art of deflection. I fancied myself a bit of an expert in that department. When given the choice to avoid or argue, I tried my best to avoid the argument.
“Diana, you're avoiding the subject,” I said.
