Terry Odell - Mapleton 02 - Deadly Bones (10 page)

Gordon almost sputtered a protest, but he realized that he’d been saved more than once by his gut when something didn’t feel right. He’d chalked it up to heightened intuition, to honed powers of observation, to acute reading of body language, but he couldn’t deny something had triggered his cop radar. But he damn well wasn’t going to say so in front of Angie. “I’ll concede your point—to a degree. What else did you do?”

That seemed to smooth the waters, thank goodness. “We sat around overdosing on sugar, and managed to work the conversation around to his tree-clearing.”

“In a very low-key, subtle way, I’m sure. Nothing like letting a potential suspect know you think he’s guilty of something.”

She bristled. “Give me some credit
.
There were three of us there. Justin could take Fred down with one hand if it came to that, but sheesh. We didn’t say, ‘Hey, are you cutting down trees to make more room for burying bodies?’ I’m not stupid,
Gordie
.”

Gordon rubbed his temples. “I’m not handling this well, am I?”

“Score one for the Chief of Police.”

“C’mere,” he said, patting the cushion beside him. “I don’t want to be antagonistic.”

She put her finger under her chin and tilted her head. “Hmm… antagonistic. Does that mean we’re fighting?”

“I hope not.”

“There is an upside to fighting.”

“Which is?”

She ran her fingertip down his jaw. “Make up sex.”

* * * * *

Gordon flopped onto his back, panting. “I’m not saying we should fight more often, but you’re right about the upside.” He might even get used to her calling him Gordie. Hell, he might even enjoy it. He drew her closer.

“What happened at Fred’s?” she asked.

“He showed me where he buried the bones.”

Angie jerked upright. “He did
what
?”

Gordon chuckled. “Long story.”

“Spill.”

Gordon pushed himself up, positioned the pillow behind him, and leaned against the headboard. “Off the record?”

Angie scooted up beside him. “Off the record.”

“If there was any possibility Fred was involved, I needed to check it out. But without letting him know what I wanted.” He explained how he’d used the ruse of checking up on Solomon’s call as a way to get Fred talking.

“So did you come right out and ask him why he was digging?”

Gordon chuckled as Angie threw his words back at him. “No. I told him I had to check to make sure no endangered species were living on his property. I may have… misled him a little. But I never lied. They do live in Colorado.”

“What endangered species?”

“
Zapus hudsonius preblei.”

“English, please.”

“It’s a Preble’s meadow jumping mouse. Took me half an hour to be able to remember the scientific name, but it impressed the heck out of Fred. When he seemed to think it was some dangerous relative of a mountain lion, I didn’t exactly correct him.” Gordon couldn’t control the laugh. “You should have seen him with his shotgun, like he was afraid some menacing creature was going to pounce from behind every tree.”

“That’s terrible. You’re so…
mean
.” But she was laughing, too.

“I prefer to think of it as creative police work. After all, I had to read up on endangered species and find one that might actually live where Fred does, in case he checks up on me. And there was the possibility he knew what I was talking about.”

“Okay, so how did you get from a mouse to bones?”

“I pointed to a spot where he’d been digging, and suggested it might be the den of a
Zapus
.”

He paused, folding his hands behind his head, milking the moment. She smacked him with her pillow.

“And I got the confession.”

“Gordon!”

“Oh, all right. He doesn’t want to pay for garbage collection, or bother taking a lot of stuff to the dump or recycling center, so he’s been burying his garbage in the yard. It’s all very organized. He has different places for different kinds of trash. The area in question was where he buries bones. Steak, chicken, ribs, remains from his hunting—that’s where they go. He said he double bags them in plastic and buries them three feet down, so the bears won’t find them. He was cutting down trees to clear land, then blowing up the stumps to make it easier to dig. I warned him about looking out for utilities, the dangers of using explosives, and to be aware that it’s illegal during fire bans, and left him to his eccentricities.”

Angie was quiet for a moment. “What’s next?”

“Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. With Fred off my list, there’s nothing urgent. You have any ideas?”

“I promised I’d drive Megan to the airport at nine. Plenty of time for you to buy me dinner.”

“Fair enough.”

Angie headed for the bathroom, and, after enjoying the view, Gordon went into the kitchen for something to drink. Angie’s cell phone sat on the edge of the counter. Curious, he picked it up. It was on. So why had his calls gone direct to voice mail? She wouldn’t have programmed it to do that for his calls, would she?

Get a grip. It was probably off when you called, then she turned it back on.

When it vibrated and chimed, he jumped. The display said it was Megan. Should he answer? She wouldn’t be surprised if he did. But it felt too much like an invasion of Angie’s privacy. He trotted to the bedroom. In the bathroom, the shower was running. “Angie. Megan’s on the phone.”

“See what she wants,” Angie called out.

Irritated at himself for feeling embarrassed, he pressed the answer button. “Angie Mead’s phone,” he said in his official cop tone.

“Is Angie there?”

“Megan, this is Gordon. Can I take a message? Angie’s in the shower.” That was brilliant. Now there was no doubt he hadn’t just dropped by for coffee.

“Gordon.” Megan sounded frantic. “It’s Rose. They’ve rushed her to the clinic. Please. Tell Angie to call me.”

Chapter 11

Megan’s stomach did flip-flops as she sat in the clinic’s small waiting room. She’d rather be pacing to work off her anxiety, but she needed to present a strong front for Sam. She squeezed his hand. “Rose will be fine. Remember last time? It was her blood pressure medication.”

“This is different. We know that. When I called Dr. Evans this morning—over Rose’s objections, mind you—he said it was the flu.”

“You didn’t tell me you’d called him,” Megan said.

“Rest, fluids, and Tylenol, he said she needed, that’s all. Why should I worry you?”

Maybe if you had, I’d have checked on Rose myself.
But she couldn’t say that to Sam. And even if she had checked, Megan knew Rose would have brushed her off. If Sam couldn’t tell something was seriously wrong, Megan would never have been able to.

Sam gave her a sad smile. “I should have put my foot down. Made her see the doctor sooner, but she insisted it was a little sore throat, a little tickle, from allergies. From being outside, talking to so many people all day. And the excitement.” He scrubbed his hands across his face. “And it’s Sunday. She wouldn’t bother anyone on a weekend. I made her promise if she didn’t feel better tomorrow, she’d make an appointment with the doctor. I shouldn’t have given in.”

Justin sat on the other side of Sam, fists clenched in his lap. He stared into the distance, looking as guilty as she felt. Spending time with each other instead of with Rose and Sam. Why hadn’t she noticed there was something wrong with Rose? Too caught up in her own feelings to see what should have been obvious. She should have suspected something when Rose wasn’t up early this morning. But no, she was too busy thinking about Justin.

“Mr. Kretzer?” A woman in scrubs came through the double doors from the clinic’s exam rooms. A surgical mask dangled around her neck.

Sam got to his feet. Slowly, Megan noticed. She couldn’t tell if it was simply the stiffness of age, after sitting for over an hour, or if he was afraid to hear what the woman had to say. Megan went to his side. She tried to interpret the woman’s expression, but it was like trying to read a blank page. As if she’d delivered the lines she was about to give countless times before, and there was no reason to engage her emotions.

“I’m Dr. Cantwell,” the woman said.

What a terrible name for a doctor, was Megan’s immediate thought. She forced herself to pay attention over the ringing in her ears. Her knees shook, and sweat filmed her palms. A strong, warm arm wrapped around her. Justin. She knew him by his touch, but was afraid to look away from the doctor.

The doctor’s attention was aimed at Sam. “Right now, we can’t be sure what’s causing her symptoms. I think it’s the flu, but we’re going to run a few more tests.”

“I want to see her,” Sam said.

“No visitors allowed while we’re evaluating her. Why don’t you all go have something to eat? I’m sure we’ll have some preliminary results back by then.” Doctor Cantwell’s name came over the loudspeaker. She frowned, pivoted, and shoved through the double doors.

“She doesn’t get any points for her bedside manner,” Justin said. He strode to the doors and peered through the glass panes. “You want me to see if I can find someone with a little more sympathy?”

“No,” Sam said. “The doctors need to do their work. And Rose wouldn’t like us pushing our way in.”

“I don’t know about you,” Megan said, “but I’m not going to get something to eat.” She plopped into her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m waiting right here until they tell us we can see Rose.”

Sam returned to his seat. His focus seemed fixed on the doors separating him from his wife, as if he could summon up the power that would bring her through them. The clenching of his jaw belied his outwardly calm demeanor.

Justin switched to the chair beside Megan and rested his hand on her thigh. “As long as she’s doing her job with her patients, I suppose we should be willing to accept that she can’t relate to those of us on the outside.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Megan muttered.

Seconds later, Angie barreled into the room. “Megan. What happened? Is Rose all right?” She leaned down and wrapped Megan in a warm embrace.

Justin scooted down one seat and offered his vacated one to Angie. “She collapsed. They think it’s the flu. But they’re running tests. We’re waiting for results.”

“The flu isn’t that horrible, is it?” Angie said. “I mean, people get the flu all the time.” She shifted in her seat and took Sam’s hands. “She’s going to be fine. I can feel it.”

Right now, Megan would take Angie’s
feelings
over the doctor’s brusque dismissal. She could only hope this was one of Angie’s “hits” on the feelings front. “You didn’t need to come, Angie. I know you had a… date… with Gordon.”

“Hey, that’s what friends are for. And Gordon will be here any second. He’s parking the car. Oh, and I took care of cancelling your airline reservation.”

“Thanks. I didn’t want to impose—”

Angie held up her hand. “No imposition. But I think you should file a complaint. It’s an emergency. They should refund your ticket.”

“That sounds like something Rose would say,” Megan said. “It’s a small price to pay for family. I can handle it.”

Angie bounced up. “Can I do anything? Waiting sucks.”

Sam snorted.

Gordon appeared in the doorway, paused, then moved directly to Sam. “How are you holding up?”

Megan smiled to herself at the way Gordon understood it was Sam who needed support right now.

“I’m all right.” Sam nodded toward the doors. “I would rather be at her side, but the doctors have their rules, so I sit and wait.”

“I might have a little clout,” Gordon said. “You want me to get you inside?”

Sam repeated what he’d said to Justin earlier. “And, knowing Rose, once we do go see her, she’ll be yelling at us for skipping dinner.”

“I could get you something,” Gordon said.

“Thank you, but no. None of us feels like eating now.” The corners of his mouth twitched upward. “But don’t tell Rose, or she’ll insist that we all need to see a doctor.”

That brought a smile to everyone’s face. Megan relaxed, knowing that Sam had it together.

“If you’re going to wait with us,” Sam went on, “have a seat.”

Megan noted that Sam made no effort to send Gordon away. She knew Rose had played an important role in Gordon’s life when he was younger, and that Gordon wasn’t here merely because Angie was.

Justin made a move to shift seats again so Gordon could sit by Angie, but Gordon waved him off and lowered himself into the seat beside Sam. Angie sighed. Megan tried sending
it’s okay
vibes, but apparently she and Angie were on different frequencies.

And, speaking of different frequencies, maybe a change of subject would help pass the time. Megan leaned forward. “Gordon. Any progress on the bones? Did you find anything up at Fred’s?”

“Nothing that helps with the bones,” he said.

A pudgy grey-haired woman wearing a blue blazer and a hospital ID on a lanyard around her neck entered the room. She consulted a clipboard, then addressed the group. “Mr. Kretzer? Sam Kretzer?”

Sam jerked to attention. Megan grasped Sam’s arm and helped him rise.

“Rose?” Sam said. “We can see her now?”

“Please come with me, Mr. Kretzer,” she said.

When everyone started following, she stopped and lifted a palm. “Only Mr. Kretzer.”

“But—” Megan said, her stomach twisting as Sam left.

Angie touched Megan’s arm. “I’m sure it’s another stupid rule. He’s her husband, so he gets to go first.”

Megan stared at her friend. “I don’t suppose you got any happy vibes from her? Because if everything was fine, wouldn’t she have said so?”

Justin put his arms around her. The tears she’d been holding back escaped, but she blinked them away. She backed out of Justin’s embrace, sniffling and wiping her eyes. “Sorry. I lost it for a second. But good grief. What kind of people work here? Don’t they understand that we’re worried, and not knowing what’s going on doesn’t help?”

Seconds later, Doctor Evans burst into the room. Sam followed, a frantic expression on his face.