Saddled with Murder

by Eileen Brady

  It was obvious that detail puzzled our receptionist, and probably the police.

  After my initial reaction, I asked, “What about the parking lot cameras? Did they show anything? Did they check her cell phone messages for any threats?”

  Cindy rolled her eyes. “Of course. Oak Falls may be small, but our detectives still have access to the latest technology. The video footage shows Raeleen about to get into her car when she stops, looks up, then starts walking toward the woods.”

  “No strange vehicles or people in the parking lot?”

  This time Cindy didn’t even bother to answer.

  “The chief thinks someone hiding in the trees may have called her name, lured her into the woods, then ambushed her. The gun wasn’t recovered.”

  After a moment Mari replied, “What voice would make her walk into the woods that late at night?”

  I put myself in her place. A voice, perhaps familiar, unexpectedly calls her name. Why did she go? The ambient temperature must have been around freezing then, no time to be outdoors. Unafraid, Raeleen walked into a death trap.

  The sound of my assistant’s voice chased the images away. “That had to be one persuasive voice.”

  “Maybe it was,” I answered. “Maybe it was someone she loved.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The small memorial service for Raeleen Lassitor started at seven p.m. Mari felt too upset to go, but I went and sat in the middle of the room, head slightly bent, trying to blend into the crowd. All the front rows were packed with people, and a few service dogs. I noticed Pinky sitting as far away as he could, in the opposite corner. A large professional portrait of the deceased smiled at the mourners as calm, nature-themed music played softly in the background.

  Dressed in a somber black suit, a portly man with a white beard and mustache began the celebration of life services. Unfortunately for the occasion, if he’d worn a red suit instead of a black one, he’d be a ringer for Santa Claus. With a surreptitious look at his watch and a nod to his associate standing by the door, at the dot of seven he began the service.

  “We are here tonight to remember Raeleen Scarlett Lassitor, taken from us much too soon.”

  The first few rows erupted with sobs. One woman threw her hands up in the air. From the family resemblance I guessed Raeleen had a few sisters who shared her exuberant nature. In the second row, tall and stoic among the family, sat Devin Popovitch. Eyes focused straight ahead, he appeared to be the calm eye of a swirling storm. Pausing for the sobs to cease, the funeral director invited the audience to share memories with the gathered.

  Her look-alike mother told of a sensitive loving child with few filters, who grew up to be a scholarship winner—only to turn her back on academia to help animals. Admitting that they often quarreled, she noted that after every fight they made up, secure in the knowledge that despite everything, their love for each other and family was strong.

  * * *

  Person after person described a Raeleen I hadn’t met. Most of her friends also worked with animals. A number of employees from the local rescue group recounted how dedicated the deceased had been in helping care for feral and abandoned animals. It seemed she regularly fostered dogs and cats, as well as rabbits and hamsters, and frequently reported the owners of abused or neglected pets. The president of the local chapter of the Legalize Animal Rights Now movement announced an internship in the name of their vice president, Raeleen Lassitor. He recounted how her drive and enthusiasm tripled their membership in the last six months and her grant-writing skills brought multiple donations to their cause.

  The only animals she didn’t get along with, it seems, were humans.

  * * *

  Hustling across the dimly lit parking lot after the ceremony, a middle-aged woman in a green wool coat approached me.

  “Dr. Turner, isn’t it?” She reached out her gloved hand to me.

  “Yes,” I admitted.

  “I’m Nancy Tolberg. I knew and worked with Rae for many years,” she added. “I heard about your encounter at the supermarket. Please don’t dwell too much on that final conversation with her. She sometimes let her emotions get out of hand.”

  Not sure what to say, I made a noncommittal sound of agreement.

  “She meant well,” Nancy reiterated, “but…”

  “Would you like a cup of coffee, or a tea?” I asked, increasingly aware of the cold wind and the disappearing cars around us.

  “Sounds wonderful. Meet you at Judy’s Place, in town, if that’s alright?”

  “Perfect,” I said. Judy was going to start getting tired of seeing me. On the way to the truck a sudden gust of wind almost blew me off my feet.

  * * *

  Warmed up by a decaf coffee for me, and a luscious-looking hot chocolate with whipped cream for her, Nancy quickly began telling stories about her friend.

  It seemed they had worked at the same animal rescue center as volunteers, and Nancy soon witnessed the fiery Raeleen in action.

  “For a smart person, she jumped to conclusions, a lot, without asking questions. That got her into trouble.” Nancy chuckled at the memory. “One time she started to take a cat from a doorstep when the owner saw her.” The chuckle became a laugh. “Rae acted first and thought later.”

  “So she thought the cat was abandoned when it simply was waiting to be let in?” I asked.

  “Even worse. A workman had let the cat out by mistake. The owner was coaxing it back inside the house when Rae interfered. She called Animal Control.”

  “What?”

  “The owner showed Rae her phone with dozens of pictures of the cat in her photo albums, but she didn’t back down. The two began to fight about it with the owner demanding Rae get off her property. It escalated so much that a worried neighbor called the police. Sure enough, when the cops arrived their siren frightened the cat and it took off.”

  Nancy started to laugh. “Those ladies went at it full tilt until the police separated them.”

  This crazy episode stayed in my head as Nancy went on and on. Bottom line: the cat came back, the owner didn’t go to jail, but a simple situation had turned into a big emotional mess for everyone.

  Story after story illustrated Raeleen’s misplaced good intentions. Nancy thought this pattern of impulsive behavior had been one of the reasons her relationship with Devin Popovitch had stalled.

  “After this last fight with Devin, she was devastated.” Nancy went on to recount multiple times Rae accused women of flirting with her fiancé, being so bold as yelling at them right to their face and embarrassing Devin. After one of those episodes, he broke up with her.

  “That’s when I suggested counseling to her. Her jealousy had spiraled out of control. To make things worse, the shelter asked her not to volunteer for a while. They said Rae needed some time off to gain perspective. Can you believe it? Being fired from a volunteer job?”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “But the animals loved her,” Nancy reiterated. “They all loved her. Even the feral kittens weren’t afraid of Rae. Last time I saw her she was sitting on the floor with a bunch of little kittens in her lap that she’d rescued, just in heaven.” The memory prompted a smile from Raeleen’s old friend. “I’d like to think of her that way.”

  A fitting epitaph. Maybe somewhere in those stories was a clue that might lead to her killer.

  * * *

  It was about nine thirty by the time I arrived back home. Two trucks were waiting outside my apartment. One sported a shiny snowplow. The other looked suspiciously like the police.

  Chief Garcia climbed out of his patrol car first and walked over to the driver’s side of my truck. I rolled the window down to check if Pinky could hear us over his engine.

  On the same wavelength, the chief blocked Pinky’s view, leaned in, and said, “I’m only here because you and Cindy are close. But you re
ally screwed things up by showing up at Raeleen’s funeral tonight. Make sure you had a good reason to be there, because a certain agency that we both know and love may be stopping by to interview you. The FBI likes to see who shows up at the funeral of a case they’re interested in.”

  “What?” I turned off the engine.

  “Her murder is now being viewed as a hate crime. Raeleen Lassitor was the vice president of a militant animal rights group, Legalize Animal Rights Now. That organization wants the FBI to investigate. They’ve had several threats recently, one that specifically targeted Raeleen.” He looked over his shoulder at the snowplow. “You okay if I leave?”

  “Sure,” I said, even though the tiniest bit of doubt lurked in my brain.

  “Don’t linger, now. Send him on his way. Good night, then.” On the way back to his squad car he made a point to wave at the driver of the snowplow and slap the hood of his vehicle twice.

  That left me alone in the dark with Pinky.

  * * *

  Despite the chief’s advice, I invited Pinky in. He sat in my apartment on my sofa, Princess cradled in his arms, his bulk creating a valley in the cushions. I could barely understand him between the sobs. The shirt he had on smelled faintly of roses.

  As far as I could make out, he’d had an encounter with Raeleen before her murder and felt guilty about it, which is why he attended her memorial service.

  “Pinky,” I interrupted for about the third time, “take a deep breath and calm down. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  A big wad of Kleenex appeared from deep within his pocket. He used it to dry his eyes. Sliding his thick winter coat off revealed massive shoulders, bulging deltoids, and the kind of neck you see on bodybuilders loaded up with steroids. Tiny alarms went off on the back of my neck.

  His chest heaved a bit more then settled down, like a boiling pot taken off the stove. “That’s better,” I told him. “Princess doesn’t want to see you upset.”

  Between the sniffles and soothing his dog, he began to calm down. Pinky reminded me of those goofy pit bull puppies that don’t know their own strength. How could I ever have been afraid of this sweet guy?

  Then I remembered what Cindy said about his temper.

  We sat together for a few minutes. I got him a glass of water and put it within reach. Cozy now, he said, “Thank you, Dr. Kate.”

  “You’re welcome.” With a leap, Buddy jumped up and sat opposite our unexpected guests.

  I hated to set the waterworks off again, but I was curious about his interaction with Raeleen and why the memorial service had upset him so much. After a little prodding on my part, he explained.

  “She said she was going to take my Princess away.” His voice wavered but stayed steady. “It happened at the Circle K. I left Princess in the truck while I went to the bathroom. The cab was nice and warm, and she had her pillow and blanket. I was gone for maybe three or four minutes.” He placed his hand on his abdomen. “My tummy hurt. One of those gas station burritos, I think.”

  “You actually ate one of those things?” An image of a congealed mess of beans and cheese sitting under a heat lamp for a couple of hours popped into my head.

  “It tasted pretty good, but about a half an hour later…”

  “Spare me the details.” I’d already watched him break down and cry. That was enough sharing for tonight.

  Pinky leaned forward, his face turning red. “She yelled at me so much the manager came out and told her to leave. Then she yelled at him.”

  Unfortunately, the story had a familiar ring. Nancy’s stories sounded more or less the same.

  “But Princess is here with you. Why are you still so upset?” I asked, not understanding the problem.

  “Because…” his lip started to tremble, “because I killed her.”

  * * *

  A half hour later I still hadn’t convinced Pinky he didn’t kill Raeleen. We kept revisiting the same unfortunate encounter between them over and over.

  “I was mad at her. She said something mean about you, too. That’s when I told her I wished she was dead, and I did what you did with your finger.” To my chagrin, he demonstrated with his index finger. “Abracadabra.”

  “As soon as I said that, she clutched her heart.” Pinky put his hand to his chest and again demonstrated for me. “It scared me, so I drove away.”

  Picturing the meeting, I realized the distraught Pinky had mistaken a sarcastically dramatic gesture on Raeleen’s part for the real thing. How long had this been weighing on his mind?

  “But Pinky, she didn’t die from a heart attack. She was shot.”

  His hand still clutched his own chest above his heart, subconsciously mimicking their unfortunate encounter. “Someone said she was shocked. I thought that meant her heart.”

  “You heard them wrong. They said shot, not shocked. Believe me.” I’d forgotten how isolated Pinky kept himself from the world around him. According to Cindy, he never watched the news and never had company. The last time Cindy and her husband saw him without his snowplow equipment was when they forced him to come to dinner for Thanksgiving. He left early.

  “Are you sure?” he asked in his high plaintive way.

  “Trust me,” I said.

  His eyes dropped to the floor. “I am a little hard of hearing in this ear.” A huge hand pointed to his left ear, while his body tried to process the news. He placed a kiss on the top of his dog’s head. “I trust you, Dr. Kate. With Princess’s life and mine.”

  “Thank you.” But my response masked the growing feeling that Pinky had developed an unhealthy attachment to me, one that I needed to stop without hurting his feelings. Big and emotionally fragile, he was a unique individual. I liked him but didn’t want to be the center of his small universe.

  “Do you want a little more water before you go?” I asked, walking into the kitchen. “I need to get some rest so I can do my job tomorrow, and so do you.”

  He jumped up as if I’d set him on fire. Princess let out a yip at being disturbed.

  “No, thank you, Dr. Kate. We’ll get going.” He slipped on his coat. “That explains why the police didn’t come to arrest me. I kept expecting them, so except for plowing, I haven’t left the house much.”

  “Well, now you can. Go to the mall, walk around and look at the decorations.” Ironically, it sounded exactly like the advice Cindy and Mari had given to me.

  He moved toward the door, bundled Princess under his coat, and waved goodbye. To get through my front door into the parking lot he had to maneuver through the doorframe sideways.

  A roar sounded when the snowplow truck started up. The big engine’s vibrations rattled the glass. Headlights smoothly curved past, headed up toward the road. Gazing through the window curtains, I watched him immediately turn into his own driveway, which ran parallel along the animal hospital property line. After parking the plow truck outside, Pinky walked up his front stairs at a surprisingly fast pace before he disappeared inside.

  Did I feel safer with Pinky so close? My answer used to be maybe.

  What was it now?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Alright. I’ll go.”

  As soon as I made the decision to spend Christmas with my estranged dad, a huge weight lifted off my chronically tensed neck. Commitment sealed. Just not having to worry about making up my mind felt great. Was it the right move? Who knew? But I’d find out.

  Mari and Cindy both clapped their hands. They’d been pestering me on our lunch break for the last ten minutes, bombarding me with inspirational stories of friends and estranged families finding each other while sharing homemade pizza. Tired of going it alone, I’d asked for their opinions and gotten them in stereo.

  Even Mr. Cat, who rubbed against us looking for a handout, meowed in agreement.

  “You need to come to terms with your father if you are goin
g to move on,” Cindy said, sounding like one of the television self-help gurus. I diplomatically didn’t remind her of the huge fight she’d recently had with one of her aunts. They didn’t speak for three weeks until Cindy’s mother forced her to make up.

  A twelve-year estrangement, like mine, carried a lot of baggage.

  Mari had a different take. “Do it for your half sister and brother, as well as for yourself. They are innocents in this. I think developing a relationship with them will benefit you tremendously.” In her large extended family, she still socialized with ex-sisters-in-law, ex-brothers-in-law, and assorted relatives, including a pair of elderly twin aunts always feuding with one another. At family gatherings, for the sake of harmony, politics and religion were not topics up for discussion.

  “Peace in the family is better for everyone,” Mari reminded us all.

  Gramps couldn’t have said it any better.

  * * *

  With about ten minutes to spare before appointments started, I poured a cup of coffee and texted Gramps to accept the invitation for Christmas dinner. My response was an immediate call back.

  “I’m proud of you, Katie,” he said. “We can spend Christmas Eve together, then head out to your dad’s place in the Hamptons on Christmas morning.”

  “Where exactly in the Hamptons?” That’s when I realized Gramps never talked about what my dad was doing. Even with access to social media, his profile was one I avoided. My circle of friends stayed pretty small, deliberately.

  Gramps laughed. “I’ll send you the address. You’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  Cindy stuck her head in and signaled to cut the call short. To make sure I got the message, she tapped her watch and raised her eyebrows.

  “Sorry, Gramps. Got to go. Cindy is chomping at the bit to start appointments.”

  “Say hi to her for me.”

  I waved “hi” and mouthed Gramps.

  “Hi, Gramps,” she yelled back.

  “Tell her to check the joke I posted this morning on Facebook. I’m trying to get fifty likes.”