by Eileen Brady
That accounted for the multiple abrasions on his face. I hoped Jeremy hadn’t looked at himself in the mirror. A puffy bruise over his right eye and forehead was in the process of turning multiple shades of blue and purple.
Knowing it was important to write things down as soon as possible, I asked, “Do you have any memories of what he was wearing, or a distinctive smell or anything?” I knew victims sometimes remembered strange things.
He thought for a moment. “I heard footsteps behind me, and then I got knocked down. I’ve got a big bump on the top of my head.” His hand involuntarily went to the spot. “The EMTs thought I hit the curb.” His former bravura had been replaced by a forlorn expression reminiscent of a three-year-old with a booboo.
We sat together holding hands, while a nurse came in to check his vitals. Idly, I noticed our animal hospital had the same brand of IV stand as they did. A doctor checked in for a brief exam and updated us. With a normal CT scan and everything else stable, the plan was to keep him overnight, then release him in the morning.
“Do you want me to call your parents?” Since Jeremy and I had a long history from college, I knew his parents and he knew Gramps.
He shifted his position on the bed. “Ouch. Not right now. Dad got diagnosed with atrial fibrillation last week, and my mom is a wreck. I’ll tell them later.”
“Well then, you’re staying with me,” I told him. “No way you’re driving a car or doing anything until we’re sure you aren’t bleeding into your brain from the concussion.”
His eyes dilated at the thought.
“Too much information?” I asked.
“Yeah, especially the bleeding brain part.” Jeremy leaned back into his pillow. “But I’ll take you up on your offer. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, buddy.”
“Buddies again?” He managed a wan smile.
Recent events melted away. Instead, I saw the skinny guy who pulled all-nighters with me, shared pizza and school gossip, and always had time to listen to my crazy family stories. All I saw was my old college friend again.
“Buddies.”
Chapter Thirteen
We both dozed off, unmindful of the buzzing overhead fluorescent panel and the steady beep of his vitals. A loud knock on the door woke us up.
Two police officers strode into the room. “Jeremy Engels?”
Sleepily, Jeremy answered, “Yes?”
They looked like Mutt and Jeff, one tall and skinny and the other round and short. The short one pulled out a small notebook from his pocket. “I’m Detective Muldorf, and this is Detective Murphy.”
Punchy from lack of sleep, I stifled a laugh at the idea of M & M, the humor being completely unintentional.
I got an odd look from Officer Muldorf and a raised eyebrow.
Feeling a necessity to identify myself, I said, “I’m Dr. Kate Turner, a friend of the victim.” Even to my ears my statement sounded like it was written for a television show.
However, it only elicited a nod.
“Were you with him when the attack occurred?” This time Officer Murphy asked the question.
“No,” I began, suddenly very formal. “I wasn’t.”
Their attention immediately shifted to Jeremy, who sipped some water from his cup. Now awake, he reached for my hand for support. I doubted he’d ever been interviewed by the police, while I, unfortunately, was quite an expert.
“Can you describe the incident to us?”
As Jeremy recited the circumstances, I realized no one at the animal hospital knew where I was, and I had several texts to illustrate the point. I’d put my cell on mute, as requested by the nurse, and forgotten about it.
While I texted a quick update to Cindy and Mari, the interview swirled around me. From what I gathered the police felt this was a mugging, with the perpetrator targeting Jeremy and his expensive Mercedes parked amid the pickup trucks and beat-up minivans. When several noisy patrons from a local bar rounded the corner, the attacker fled, leaving Jeremy’s wallet and identification intact in his inside pocket. Jeremy owed his life to those party animals.
My buddy had been drinking his sorrows away at his hotel bar in Kingston and only made a quick run to his car to retrieve his forgotten overnight case.
From their discussion it sounded as though the police felt Jeremy was the victim of a quick grab-and-run. In his expensive leather jacket, sporting a Rolex watch and a wallet full of money, they suspected he’d been targeted in the hotel bar. The cameras in the parking lot were iced over, but one provided a blurry picture of someone in a bulky dark coat and black knit hat coming up behind him.
“Robberies always increase around the holidays,” Officer Muldorf stated stoically.
“I guess criminals need money to go holiday shopping too,” I muttered under my breath. “Merry Christmas.”
* * *
Except for a quick run back to my apartment to straighten up and take a shower, I spent the next twelve hours in the hospital room with Jeremy. I’d brought journals to read and my laptop but found it hard to work scrunched up in the visitor’s chair.
His hospital room looked like all hospital rooms—a crowded, uncomfortable place that made you want to run away and never come back. Although the nurses and staff were great, they didn’t have much time to spend with an obviously improved patient. Sicker people and new arrivals commanded their attention.
We didn’t blame them, but it made us itchy to leave. However, if Jeremy thought getting sprung out of there would be easy, he didn’t know hospital procedure. Over a period of three hours we waited for first one release paper, and then another, then one more order to be signed, until finally, suddenly—we were free to go. With Mari’s help I had already coordinated the check-out at his hotel, driving the F-150 back to my place.
“Now,” I said, as I loaded him and his possessions into the Mercedes, “feel free to stay as long as you want.”
Yet another pronouncement I’d live to regret.
Chapter Fourteen
Two days later Jeremy seemed a little too happy being ensconced in my apartment.
“Kate, we need to decorate this place,” he announced as we sat down to breakfast. “Don’t forget, it’s almost Christmas.”
How could I forget? That’s why I hadn’t decorated—to create a sanctuary of quiet.
“Believe me,” I answered, “I know it’s almost Christmas. No one lets me forget it.”
I’d laid down strict rules for him while he was recovering from his injuries. No alcohol, no stress, no driving, and no late nights. I’d given him my bed and was camping out on the sofa, although he frequently invited me to share with him.
“And no sex,” I added.
While I went to work, he played with Buddy, did some paperwork, worked on projects from the university website, and corresponded with other anthropologists all over the world. His amorously inclined but married Italian colleague, who’d gotten him into trouble with me, was conspicuously absent in the conversations.
When I summoned up enough nerve to question what she was up to, he replied that she and her husband, also an anthropologist, had a very…sophisticated relationship…and both currently had “intimate” friends. I left it at that.
After a quick glance at the time, I left him lounging in his pajamas and went to work.
* * *
Mari and I were in the Ford F-150 headed for a recheck of our stinky-eared dog when she broached a topic I’d been avoiding. Jeremy.
“I’m sorry to bring this up,” she started while eating potato chips, “but Cindy and I were talking…”
Oh no, never a good start to a sentence. The bare trees guarding the side of the roads loomed ominously closer.
“And we wondered if Jeremy getting, you know, beat up had anything to do with your…you know, evil Selfish Santa wish?” She nervously looked down at t
he computer in her lap, avoiding my stare.
Concentrating on the road, I pretended to ignore what she was talking about.
“You know,” Mari persisted, “that argument in the parking lot. Maybe someone wanted to teach him a lesson.”
“Highly doubtful,” I commented. “You and Cindy have been watching too much television.”
I stared out the windshield. We’d had a temporary increase in temperature with some sunny days, so the formerly pristine white fields around us now were a muddy, grayish mess. Anything that the snow had concealed now lay revealed. Broken tree limbs littered the ground. Jagged pieces of wood stuck out of the slush.
At the turn to our appointment I slowed down, snow tires digging into the exposed gravel on the driveway. “We’re here.”
Mari began to gather up our supplies and closed down the hospital laptop.
Sun broke out from behind some clouds, filtering bright light through the treetops. In the field to our right I spotted Ashley’s flashy mustang, Lobo. The horse looked like he’d bolt any second.
I slowed the truck down and practically crawled the rest of the way, careful to stay in the middle of the plowed driveway. About two feet of compacted slush guided us along.
“I wonder if Ashley’s having any more luck getting him to settle down?” Mari buttoned her coat and finished the bag of chips.
“No idea. I hope so,” I commented as we passed the field, the house in sight. But while the other horses and donkeys stood peacefully munching near the hay mound, Lobo’s body language showed an animal on high alert.
Ready to run.
* * *
Happily, our dog patient no longer smelled since I’d removed the benign polyp in his ear. With a good cleaning and diligent medication program to address the several types of bacteria and yeast we’d cultured out, he’d had a remarkable recovery.
After a quick cup of coffee we made our way out to the mudroom, stopping to put on our boots.
“Thanks for coming to the house,” Ashley said. “I’ve got about four more weeks in this brace.” The large Velcro and plastic device snapped on her left knee was hard to miss.
“What happened?” Mari asked her.
“Slipped in the pasture. It’s a long story, but I’ve had to put Lobo’s training off for a bit. I can’t stand for very long,” she explained. Her fingertips touched the side of her leg next to the brace, and she winced.
“How’s that going?” Mari asked, leaning against the tack room wall.
“Not as well as I hoped,” confessed Lobo’s owner. “And now, with this setback…”
I impulsively volunteered to work with him, trying to ignore Mari’s raised eyebrow.
“Dr. Turner,” she interrupted me, “did you forget…?”
“It’s alright. I can periodically drop in and work a bit with Lobo. I drive past here all the time.” In fact, I found the prospect exciting. After graduating, I focused on helping small animals but really missed interacting with the big guys. And it would provide a challenge, trying to help him adjust to his new reality. Dealing with a horse always puts problems in perspective. Your mind can’t wander when you’re standing next to twelve hundred pounds of unpredictable muscle and bone towering over you. Secretly, I sympathized with the mustang.
In a way I was being forced to adjust to a new family, too.
* * *
“Are you crazy?” Mari started in on me as soon as we got in the truck. “I see how tired you are all the time. You’re already juggling a full workload, and now with Jeremy recuperating and Luke finishing his semester and who knows what else…” Her voice spluttered to a stop as she ran out of steam.
As usual my friend was watching out for me. Maneuvering down the driveway, I gathered my thoughts. They were complicated, both personal and professional. She knew all about some, and nothing about the most important one. No one but Gramps really knew. “Mari, there’s something…” I hesitated. Did I really want to go into this with her?
“Don’t tell me your father finally contacted you?”
How did she figure that out from three words? At the bottom of the driveway, a car then a truck whizzed by. I waited for a chance to pull onto the main road. Mari came from a very happy family situation. Would she understand how I felt?
Sometimes I didn’t understand it myself.
“Never mind,” I told her, decision made. A lull in the traffic provided the perfect diversion. “I’ll tell you later.”
* * *
By the time we finished our last appointment it was five thirty, and we were at least a half hour away from the animal hospital. Cindy called to tell us she was closing up. The remaining staff had cleaned and finished treatments, so we were off the hook for the rest of the night.
“Shoot,” I said. “When we go back I’ve got to go to the grocery store. Jeremy texted me a list.”
“We’re going to pass one on the way back,” Mari reminded me. “Why don’t we stop now? I’ve got to pick up a few things, too.”
“Good idea. Once I pull these boots off, I’m not putting them back on.”
The market appeared on our right, its parking lot well plowed and practically dry. As soon as we found an empty space over by the dumpsters, we both made for the entrance, anticipating a quick in and out.
This wasn’t my usual grocery store, so it took longer to find everything, but soon I headed toward the front to meet my assistant.
Standing in line at the checkout, Mari and I chatted about our evening plans. With Jeremy still recuperating for the next few days, it was probably a choice between TV programs or a movie. Mari, on the other hand, was having a few friends over to play video games, which explained the pile of chips, dips, peanuts, and snacks in her basket.
My chaste veggies and roasted chicken looked incredibly healthy, if you didn’t count the ice cream and doughnuts.
A blond woman in her late twenties busy bagging Mari’s groceries suddenly looked up and obviously recognized her. “Mari?” she asked.
“Rae?” The greeting my technician returned sounded a bit forced. “How’s it going?”
“What do you think?” came the angry response. “I’m bagging groceries for a living, thanks to you and her.” She pointed her index finger at me.
I’d never seen this person in my life. Baffled, I said, “What?”
My response opened a big can of slithering worms.
“When I applied for another vet tech position,” Rae said, angrily tossing first some chips then two bottles of salsa into a plastic bag, “someone told me Dr. Turner, here, got involved and personally badmouthed me to every vet in town.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I don’t even know you.”
“Yes, you do. I worked with you after Doc Anderson left.”
I remained baffled. The first few weeks I worked at the practice, six months ago, were a blur. She didn’t look familiar. Did she confuse me with someone else?
Mari waited near the door, ready to leave. The cashier quickly scanned my chicken and started on the other items, a resigned look on her face. I’m sure she just wanted us out of there.
Before Rae could hurl the chicken at me, I placed it in my canvas shopping bag.
“I don’t blame you, Mari, that much,” Rae explained, turning toward her. “But I do blame Dr. Smart Ass here.”
The Dr. Smart Ass remark came with a rude gesture. “You should mind your own business and butt out,” she continued.
It felt like forever until my credit card was accepted. The strangely calm cashier handed me my receipt as if nothing had happened. Clutching the rest of my order, I almost escaped before Rae called out a threat loud enough for each customer in the store to hear.
“Everyone thinks you’re so nice. But I know the truth.” Her pretty face contorted with rage while groceries from the next customer piled up at
the end of the conveyor belt.
When I opened the door, Rae yelled one last thing. “You better watch your back, Kate Turner.”
* * *
“What the heck was that about?” Our tires screeched as the truck sped out of the parking lot and back onto the main road. Our groceries in the back seat took a nosedive.
“Is it a full moon tonight?” Mari asked, twisting around to put her salsa back in her bag. “People are acting nuts.”
“Except most of it is directed at me.”
“Well, I have no idea what she’s talking about. You had nothing to do with her being let go. Cindy hired Rae part-time for thirty hours a week but realized we only needed to fill in for about twenty, because Tony changed his mind and kept his extra shifts.”
Staffing at a veterinary hospital always presented a juggling act. “Did you offer her fewer hours?”
Mari shrugged her shoulders. “Of course, but she needed more money than that. There had been some kind of emergency, and if I remember, she’d been fighting with her boyfriend and mentioned moving out.”
“Where do I fit in to this story?” Her anger toward me had been disconcerting.
“No idea.”
At the welcome sight of our animal hospital sign, I made a sharp turn into the parking lot before pulling up next to Mari’s truck parked in front of my apartment.
“Sorry that happened to you.” As we got out my assistant added, “If she should be mad at anyone it would be Cindy, not you. But hey, people do strange things around Christmas.”
I had to agree. And things were about to get even stranger.
Chapter Fifteen
Despite Mari’s reassurances, my stomach felt like I’d swallowed a lead weight. I’d never regretted stopping to pick up groceries more. How could something so simple end up complicating your life? After saying goodnight to Mari, I stared at my sad garage apartment, wishing I had somewhere else to go. Unable to put it off any longer, I hoisted up my groceries and started toward the door.
