by Eileen Brady
“Warning?” Jeremy shouted. “I’ve been beaten up, she’s been vilified and screamed at, and he’s warning us?”
“Calm down,” Luke said, smiling his crooked smile—the one that made his eyes crinkle. “The police are at the beginning of a murder investigation and the chief is casting his net out as wide as he can. When he pulled it in, you popped up.”
At first it sounded like a reasonable explanation, until I thought more about it.
“How did the chief know? Mari and I certainly didn’t discuss it.” Even as I mentioned it, I figured it out. My receptionist, Cindy, was the wild card: Mari to Cindy to the chief’s wife to the chief—the perfect example of the children’s game of Telephone.
Everyone stayed quiet until Luke voiced what had been on my mind.
“All these deaths have a connection to you, Kate,” he began. “What if a person who saw the video—I’ll call him your nasty Santa—is giving you some early Christmas presents?”
“What presents?” Jeremy expressed complete bewilderment.
Luke focused his gaze on me, brown eyes questioning. “This really does have me worried. You want to explain it to him, Kate?”
“Bodies,” I said. “My Christmas presents are dead bodies.”
* * *
Long after Luke had left and Jeremy had begun to snore, I remained awake. The idea of someone “killing” my enemies sounded preposterous, like something out of a thriller novel. My annoyance at having a prolonged houseguest vanished. At this moment I felt grateful for the company. Contemplating someone out there spying on me, perhaps taking notes or photos, made my skin itch.
Luke hypothesized that the killer was fixated on me, thought of me as perfect, and resented anyone who intimated that I wasn’t. Channeling some of his police profiler courses, he expected the person responsible was a white male, twenty to forty years old and isolated from the community around him. Our point of contact might be the animal hospital.
Did I know of anyone who fit that description?
Only one face surfaced.
Flushed cheeks, round, bald head, physically imposing—someone who vowed to kill anyone who hurt me.
Pinky.
Chapter Eighteen
The sound of howling wind and the kitchen window softly rattling woke me up. I didn’t even remember falling asleep. Lying on the sofa, I pulled the covers over my head. My blanket smelled of fabric softener and dog. A wet nose nudging my hand signaled that trying to go back to sleep was futile. Any movement and Buddy assumed it was morning and time for his walk. With only twenty minutes to go until my alarm rang, I got up.
Blowing snow and wind greeted Buddy and me on his abbreviated bathroom break. Tired and cold, I grasped my coat tighter around me, jamming my hood over my ears. Every so often I’d steal a glance next door, but the house was dark and quiet. Snow meant plowing. I wondered if Pinky had heard the news about Raeleen Lassitor’s murder, isolated as he was.
Unless he knew before anyone else did.
Unless he’d killed her for me.
* * *
Sneaking out and leaving Jeremy sound asleep, I took refuge in my office in back of the hospital armed with a cup of caramel-flavored coffee already brewed by Mari, whose eyes were puffy and red. With plenty of paperwork to catch up on, I was thankful the appointments on the schedule looked light this morning. Doing paperwork meant not thinking about murder for a while.
Unsure what to do, I kept my suspicions about Pinky to myself. If I spoke to Cindy, it would put her in a terrible position of revealing or keeping secrets from her brother-in-law, the chief. Did I have any proof of any crime? No. Only a distraught statement from a grateful client that at any other time would be dismissed as “sweet.”
* * *
After the chief and Luke had left the previous night, Jeremy and I had talked. Now that Jeremy’s obvious bruises had faded, he could leave and go visit his sister and her family in Connecticut a little earlier than planned. A big family party was in the works.
But he didn’t want to leave me with this mess.
I should have won an Academy Award for the show of carefree confidence I put on, and a wish for him to see his family. Don’t worry, I told him. I have Luke.
Having Luke was debatable, but Jeremy’s privileged life was not. Thanks to the family trust fund set up by his grandfather, all of his close relatives were well off, well educated, and living an American dream most could only speculate about. That difference in our situations always bothered me, not him.
It must be nice not to worry about money. My student loan debt loomed high as a mountain that I had to climb every month. Work meant everything to me. Massive debt made a steady job a necessity, which was one reason that after I quit my job on Long Island, I grabbed at the first position that came up—babysitting an entire hospital for a year for the globe-trotting Dr. Anderson.
As I worked, I speculated about Pinky. Was Pinky a murderer? I didn’t think so, but I’d been wrong about men in the past. Neither could I suggest the possibility to anyone. A misplaced suspicion or accusation by a careless resident might damage Pinky’s ability to make a living. He’d end up being a victim too.
Between clients, I snuck a look at the number of hits on YouTube. We were over twelve thousand.
For now, I’d wait and see if the police announced a suspect in Raeleen’s murder. Mari had heard there was a person of interest, a boyfriend, she thought. All I’d found out was that Rae had been shot.
* * *
Cindy pulled me aside just before lunch. “Kate, I need to tell you something. You’ve got a fan.”
“That’s nice,” I said, not really listening. My mind was occupied with reviewing the latest protocol for canine osteosarcoma, a cancer of the bone. A veterinary vaccine was being tested for use after surgery to prevent reccurrence, and I had a call in to an oncologist classmate of mine to discuss the case I was referring to her.
She leaned over and whispered, “If he comes in, try to pretend it’s a complete surprise.”
“What?” Trying to do two things at once wasn’t working for me today. Gathering up my notes, I started to relocate to my office, but Cindy stopped me.
“Remember. It’s a surprise.” Then she held her finger up to her lips and pretend-zipped them. “I told him you might be embarrassed by his generosity.”
“Sorry, Cindy,” I said. “I must have missed something. Who are you talking about?”
Shaking her head as if annoyed, she answered, “Pinky. Who else?”
* * *
By the end of the day I had ferreted the whole story out of her. Since his mother had died last year, Cindy had become Pinky’s go-to woman for advice. Cindy’s mom and Pinky’s mom had been longtime friends and often let their children play together. The big guy felt comfortable with his old playmate, while most other people made him anxious.
In the beginning of December, before all this wish stuff, Pinky had asked my receptionist what kind of gift to get me for Christmas, in appreciation for taking care of Princess. Of course, Cindy encouraged him to buy something for the hospital—like food—but he specifically wanted to get me something more personal.
Horrified that my awkward fan would focus on jewelry or intimate items of clothing, she convinced him to get me a gift card. Cindy wanted to tip me off because she didn’t know the amount. If it was too much, she suggested, we could creatively give it back with veterinary services. If it was too little, well, it was the thought that counted.
Given the odd assortment of gifts and trinkets I’d received from Pinky already, most bought at the drugstore or supermarket, I was glad to be forewarned.
“Cindy,” I said, trying to phrase my question carefully, “do you think I need to be worried about Pinky’s…interest in me?” Interest sounded better than obsession.
Smart and thoughtful, she immediately repl
ied, “No, I don’t.” Her focus shifted to a spill on the countertop, which she immediately wiped up.
“So, there’s nothing to worry about? Because I’d rather you talk to him if he’s got some idea in his head about the two of us…” I rambled then stopped, waiting for her to continue.
“No. It’s like you’re the teacher and he’s the schoolboy. Harmless.”
I waited for more.
“Well, he does have a bit of a temper.” She went on to tell a story about a client of his who shorted him his plowing money, so Pinky piled all the snow back on the guy’s driveway in the middle of the night, blocking him in.
“Ah, I guess I understand that.” Great, a schoolboy three times bigger than me nursing a serious crush. A schoolboy with a temper.
Our receptionist revisited her opinion about the situation and repeated, “I’m sure he’s harmless,” more to herself than to me.
I’d learned from experience that getting even physically took you in the wrong direction, even if it felt good at the time. “So, you don’t think he was the one who beat up Jeremy?”
“Kate,” Cindy commented in a sarcastic manner, “if Pinky had beaten Jeremy up, we’d be attending his memorial service.”
She had a point.
* * *
Later after work I had an opportunity to rethink my suspicions when I decided to take Buddy for a walk before going out to dinner. I’d left Jeremy singing off-key in the shower.
Buddy began to bark immediately when I opened the door and got a shock. A human mountain stood in my path.
The mountain bent down to gently pet my dog.
“Hi, Pinky,” I said, watching Buddy break away to sniff around every bush and tree. “Everything okay? You’re here late.”
He whipped his ski hat with ear warmers off his head and clutched it in his meaty hands. “Yes, Dr. Kate. I just wanted to ask if you will be here on Christmas…so I know if I have to plow you out?”
The request sounded reasonable, but I didn’t want this hopefully gentle giant to know my holiday plans, so I improvised. “I’m pretty sure Cindy wants the parking lot plowed every day. You know, in case of an emergency.”
A smile broke across his face burying his pale-blue eyes. “Sure. That’s what I figured.” Question answered, he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave. Meanwhile, Buddy had created several small piles of yellow snow and now sat on my left foot, tail slowly wagging.
“How is Princess doing?” Although his senior dog came in regularly to be weighed, Mari usually took care of that. The few minutes we spent listening to her heart and lungs and recording her progress in the medical record were more to calm Pinky’s anxiety.
“She’s good. Up to her old tricks now.”
Which probably meant copious treats from her devoted dad.
“Alright, I’m freezing,” I motioned for Buddy who appeared more than ready to go inside. “If you need anything, let me know.”
“Thanks, Dr. Kate,” he replied, jamming his hat over his head. “Ah, it’s nice not to have Eloise and Frank complaining all the time, don’t you think?” The earnest expression on his face belied his words. “I’ll bet you’re glad they really did disappear, just like you wished for. Happy Holidays.”
Caught off guard and horrified, I waved goodbye and went inside.
* * *
Jeremy stood in the living room drying his hair with a towel. He wore a thick mahogany-colored robe, which made him the only man I ever knew who traveled with a monogrammed bathrobe and slippers.
“Well, you missed an odd conversation with a potential murderer,” I said, removing my coat and hanging it on the coat rack.
“Explain,” he muttered, vigorously rubbing his hair.
“Gladly,” I told him, walking into the kitchen to get a glass of water. “Let me know if I’m getting paranoid or not.”
“We’re all getting paranoid,” he said with a grin. “It’s an insane world out there.”
Not sure how to begin, I paced into the living room then back to the kitchen, water glass in my hand.
“Sit still,” he said. “Or do you want me to follow you around?”
“I’m feeling agitated.” Was Pinky’s earnest face hiding something horrible, or was I letting my imagination get the best of me? “A moment ago, Pinky asked me if I was happy my two clients were dead.”
“What? When did he do that?” Jeremy took a quick look around the room. “Was he here when I was in the shower?”
“No. Worse. Standing outside on the walkway when I let Buddy out.”
My friend sat down. “Don’t tell me he’s stalking you? Was he waiting for you outside your door? There’s no way I’m leaving if that’s what you’re up against.”
Much as I enjoyed Jeremy’s company, I longed for my privacy again. One large room is a bit cramped for two people and a dog.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “His truck was still running, parked behind my truck. I’m pretty sure he’d just pulled in, because I saw Buddy react as we went outside.”
Jeremy visibly relaxed. “Alright. What did he want?”
“To check if I needed plowing on Christmas Day.” After I told him, I realized how stupid it sounded to be concerned about a valid question. What followed got me spooked, I explained.
“Hmmm.” Jeremy leaned back in his chair. “Not sure how to take that. Was he creepy when he said that?”
Creepy? That’s hard to judge, I thought. “Not particularly. He’s kind of a sweet, gawky guy.”
“Maybe he has a crush on you. God knows I did, and I definitely was a sweet gawky guy in school. Everything I said came out wrong.”
“Well, not everything. You had me going for a while,” I reminded him.
Jeremy reacted by putting the towel completely over his head, hiding. “Yep, then I messed it all up. I guess I cleared the way for Luke.”
Not quite. That path came with a few roadblocks. But, after seeing him again, they were roadblocks I hoped Luke and I would be able to conquer.
* * *
As promised, Jeremy and I went to the Oak Falls Diner again, this time for his farewell dinner. Rosie, one of my favorite servers and Luke’s cousin, took our food orders.
“Who’s this you’ve got with you?” Rosie asked.
“I think you’ve met him before,” I answered smoothly. “This is Jeremy. We went to college together. He’s leaving tomorrow to spend the holidays with his family.” Pretty sure that I’d hit all her unasked questions, I asked, “What kind of pies do you have tonight?”
Our server smiled, her rosy cheeks shining. “One of your all-time favorites. Dark chocolate topped with hazelnuts and pecans. Also, we have a cranberry-orange pie with a streusel crust and,” she glanced down at her list, “a few pieces of the Boston cream pie.”
Jeremy went for the Boston cream pie then turned the dessert order to me.
“Let’s get a slice of each of the other pies,” I proposed. “We can always take it home if we’re too full.”
No one was fooled by my pious statement. Those slices of pie were never going out the diner door.
As we chatted, I kept finding excuses to turn around or twist my head each time the door opened. My nonchalant attitude didn’t cut it.
“He’s not here,” Jeremy said, taking a piece of home-baked bread from the basket. “I can see the whole restaurant including the counter.”
Caught red-handed, so to speak, I protested. “I wasn’t… Alright, it was very awkward between us when he left last night, so I wanted to…be prepared.”
“Girl Scout night tonight?”
Jeremy always knew how to rile me up. I decided to ignore him and concentrate on the food. It didn’t help that several of the servers were related to Luke and knew we’d been dating. Maybe they knew more than I did at this point.
I’d
just buttered a large piece of bread and shoved it in my mouth when someone walked past us in the identical brown coat I’d seen last night.
“Luke,” Jeremy said and popped up out of the booth. “Would you like to join us?”
When he turned and faced us, Luke didn’t appear happy to see us.
“No, thanks. You two enjoy yourselves. I’m picking up my takeout order.”
Rosie strolled by with a carafe of coffee. “Hey, cousin,” she said, “how’s it going?”
He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Good.”
“You must be on winter break.”
Luke nodded. He seemed agitated, eager to leave. “Well, good night, Jeremy. Kate.”
“Don’t forget your takeout,” Rosie called after him. “You know how Dina hates having her dinner get cold.”
Jeremy was gentleman enough not to comment, but he knew that name as well as I did. So, Dina, Luke’s high school sweetheart, was back in town and sharing takeout with him. And after I’d hoped things were warming up again between Luke and me.
I didn’t see that coming.
Didn’t see that at all.
Chapter Nineteen
Farewells are times of mixed emotions. Standing side by side in the parking lot, Jeremy and I said our goodbyes the next morning. I felt a pang of regret for everything we’d put ourselves through but thankful my friend and I had emerged on the other side. Why had we complicated our friendship with a romance that had become such a burden at the end? I’m sure loneliness on both our parts had played a role in it. Without a deep emotional commitment to being a couple, mounting frustration made us drift apart. Why did we need a disaster, like Jeremy being injured, to bring us back together?
Too often our feelings are as much a mystery to ourselves as to others.
His Mercedes pulled out of the parking lot, turned right onto the road, and quickly accelerated away. Jeremy would be at his sister’s place in Connecticut in two, maybe three hours, surrounded by family. I stood outside in the cold, watching cars and trucks pass by. The gray road bleached from the winter salt stretched off in both directions under the bare tree branches.
