Saddled with Murder

by Eileen Brady

  “But Devin is the mechanic, not Raeleen,” I told him.

  “True. But Raeleen came along when Frank and Devin were arguing about the bill, and she and Frank…exchanged words. It drew a crowd before the police were called. Frank sued for defamation of character.” He practically choked with laughter. “Defamation of character. What a joke.” He downed the rest of his drink.

  Remarkably, Anthony hadn’t brought up my wish. I wondered if this lawyer even knew about it or he was simply too involved with his own problems to care.

  Luke signaled for the check. “Can I drop you off anywhere?” he asked Anthony, concerned about letting this lawyer drink and drive.

  “Thanks, but I’m Ubering it tonight. That way I can relax and not find myself in court with a DUI. Boy would the ex-wife love that. Last time I’ll get married without a prenuptial agreement, but her family insisted. You know my ex-mother-in-law is a witch. A real broom-toting witch.”

  Another reason for those gray patches and lack of sleep. Alcohol could numb pain only for so long—then it became another problem on your list.

  We waited outside with him until his drive came, then helped him into the back seat.

  “Thanks for getting me out of the crappy condo,” he said, still remarkably coherent. “The ex took the house.” Anthony pointed at Luke and gave him a big wink. “Don’t forget, prenup,” he yelled out the window as the car sped away.

  * * *

  Deep in thought, Luke walked me to the truck. “What do you think all that was about?”

  “He wants you to get a prenup. Other than that, I have no idea,” I joked. “Something is bothering that guy, and getting loaded with strangers isn’t the answer. Looks like Frank spread a little chaos wherever he went. The question is, did he go to his maker because it was his time or did he get a little help?”

  “I’m still up in the air,” Luke admitted.

  “Me too.” I gave him a kiss. “Let’s float around in the air together.”

  * * *

  I’d checked the weather forecast before going to sleep. The weathermen predicted some snow overnight. Not much accumulation, maybe two inches or less. When I woke up, I was surprised to see that almost six inches lay on the ground. The updated forecast expected three more inches over the next twelve hours. Snookered by the snow, I wandered into my living room and texted Cindy.

  Just before I hit Send, I noticed the roar of a powerful truck and the scrape of a plow, which meant Pinky was plowing us out. Plenty of time for a second cup of coffee.

  Almost immediately, Cindy called me back.

  “Well, this is an unpleasant surprise,” she began. “I bet half the appointments are going to cancel.”

  I lifted the curtain and took a quick look out the window. “My side of the hospital is clear, and Pinky’s heading for the front of the building.” The snowplow’s exhaust created a fog-like effect as it crisscrossed the lot, pushing snow against the property line. Drifts were starting to pile up again. “You know, these flakes are really coming down.”

  “That’s because the forecast has changed again. I swear, the meteorologists should look out the window sometime.”

  Cindy always complained about the weather reports, but this time I think she was right.

  What sounded like someone yelling in the background faded after a door slammed. “School just closed, and now they’re saying total accumulations of nine to fifteen inches. I’m stuck here until the hubby clears the driveway.”

  “Need me to do anything?” I asked. Appointments weren’t supposed to start until nine, and it was only seven fifteen, but some people weren’t fazed by bad weather. Despite the school closures and lousy driving conditions, I’d still pull on my scrubs and be ready to work.

  It was as if Cindy read my mind. “I’m going to access today’s appointments on my computer here and see if anyone wants to reschedule.”

  “Will you coordinate with Mari or do you want me to?”

  “No, I’ll call all the staff and juggle everyone’s schedule. It mostly depends on who decides to keep their appointment. I’m going to try and make it a half day, for safety’s sake.”

  “Totally agree.”

  “Now,” she said cheerfully, “aren’t we lucky you live right at the hospital?”

  “Yeah,” I answered, looking at my one-room converted garage apartment. “I’m ecstatic.”

  * * *

  When you’ve got a whole day to kick back, your computer searches tend to veer off in bizarre directions, which is how I found myself reading about a disturbance in Kingston, nearly three years ago. Someone had fired a bullet through the window of a psychic, breaking the glass. No one was injured, and there were no witnesses.

  The police asked anyone with any information to call the hotline.

  The name of the psychic who rented the space was Delphina.

  A picture accompanied the story, which showed the victim speaking to a police officer while a young woman in a flowing lavender dress leans against a car. Standing next to the younger woman, who looks like Athenina, his arm around her shoulders, is Anthony Lorretti, Frank’s lawyer.

  What?

  Suspicion turned into fact. With more digging, I confirmed that Athenina had married Anthony at the tender age of nineteen, despite a twenty-year age difference. Is this the wife who took all his money? Who married him without a prenuptial in place? Whose ex-mother-in-law was a real witch?

  Public records nailed down the same facts. Interesting that Frank Martindale was suing his lawyer’s ex-mother-in-law, Delphina. Anthony lied to us. He didn’t give the case to Sal; he couldn’t take the case because of a conflict of interest. Money seemed to be tight for him after the divorce. I wondered what else he might be hiding. Did Frank run his Dutch Schultz scam past his cash-poor attorney?

  Another suspect and another coincidence.

  This place was lousy with them.

  * * *

  A surprise waited in my email when I checked it during lunch, a quite pleasant surprise. Friends in Rhinebeck, a longtime married couple, announced they were pregnant. They were devoted to their Papillon dogs, and I knew they wanted to expand their family to include human babies. I replied with my congratulations and a promise to visit in the New Year.

  My happiness for them reminded me that most of my friends and classmates were getting married, starting families, or pursing graduate degrees. It felt as though their lives were rolling along, while my life stayed stuck in neutral. That vague restlessness that had been part of this holiday season remained. I wondered if this wild-goose chase of an investigation was my attempt at keeping occupied so I didn’t have to focus on important decisions I needed to make.

  The many loose ends in this investigation mirrored the loose ends in my personal life. My two picks for boyfriends had been disastrous—Jeremy, a trust fund baby who couldn’t be trusted, and Luke, who still had a thing for his ex. The job I poured my heart into was only temporary. I had no home, no car, and no big bank account. And this Christmas my only constant, Gramps, was pushing me to forgive my father and embrace his new family—the longest and most complicated loose end of them all.

  Chapter Forty

  Because of the snowstorm we’d canceled an entire day of clinics yesterday, which meant today we’d be playing catch-up.

  “This is going to be a hard one,” Mari warned me before I saw the next client. I took a quick look at the history. A seven-year-old mixed-breed dog with a lump on its back.

  Now a lump can mean anything from an abscess to a fatty tumor called a lipoma to a nasty form of cancer. I was hoping to tell this concerned owner some good news.

  “Oh,” my assistant added, “our new intern is here, and she says she knows you.”

  * * *

  The dog’s name was Sugar, and the name fit. Big brown eyes and a sweet doggy smile couldn’t stop yo
u from focusing on the gigantic hump on her back worthy of Quasimodo, the fictional hunchback of Notre Dame.

  “Mari, can we get a weight?” I asked. Although she was a medium-sized dog, the mass on her back probably made up about a quarter of her total body weight. Her owner, Gerald Nelson, an elderly gentleman, looked and sounded distressed. I encouraged him to sit down and tell me Sugar’s medical history.

  “She was fine up until about a year ago,” he told me. “This lump on her back was about the size of a plum, so I took her to our vet. They said to watch it, that it probably was benign. If I wanted it removed, they would do that, too.”

  So far so good, although I made a note of the lack of any biopsy.

  “Then my wife got sick, and between taking her to the doctor’s and chemotherapy, I didn’t pay as much attention as I should have. Sugar’s lump kept getting bigger and bigger, but she seemed fine. Eating and everything. But my wife went downhill.”

  I could only imagine how stressful that situation must have been and exhausting, both mentally and physically.

  “When I lost my wife, I didn’t want to lose our dog, too. But now…I know it’s getting harder for her to walk with that thing on her back.” His worried face stared at me, hoping I might have a miraculous answer.

  I wish I did.

  “Mari, let’s watch her walk around the exam room.”

  Sugar did her best, but the weight of the mass put her off balance. Not to mention the strain it caused to her kidneys, heart, lungs, and joints.

  “Mr. Nelson, I’d like to take an X-ray and run some blood tests before I suggest any surgery,” I told him. “I should have some answers in about half an hour. Can you wait in reception? Cindy can get you a cup of tea or coffee, if you’d like.”

  Taking his arm, I shepherded him out to reception and handed him off to Cindy for safekeeping. Sometimes we had to keep an eye on our human clients as well as our animal patients.

  In the treatment room, we took bloods and started running our preliminary tests, as well as preparing a sample for the regular laboratory. A quick X-ray on our digital machine gave me good news.

  “Looks like no metastasis to the lungs, and the mass itself is very well defined.” Mari nodded as she set up a slide of the needle biopsy I’d taken. Full of adipose or fat tissue, all signs were pointing to a fatty tumor of impressive size.

  Oddly enough, early on in my career I’d assisted in the removal of a few large masses like this. One of our surgeons in Long Island had been board-certified, and I often worked with him on some unusual cases.

  However, this time I was going to suggest we refer Sugar to a veterinary surgical team, about forty miles from us.

  “I want you to do the surgery, Dr. Kate,” Mr. Nelson said after I explained my treatment recommendation. “There’s no way I can drive that far, and I trust you.” Cindy had let me know the owner was on a fixed income and couldn’t afford a large bill. He was too proud to talk about that.

  * * *

  Back in the treatment room, I explained my dilemma to Mari. But then a Christmas miracle walked through the door.

  “Dr. Kate.”

  Strong hands grasped mine. Sure enough, this was my Juliet, one of the techs I had worked with on Long Island. “What are you doing up here?” I asked her.

  “I’m in pre-vet,” she explained. “Everyone said I should go to vet school, so here I am.” Her big smile lit up the room, but it was her surgical skills I remembered. As a licensed veterinary technician with a surgical interest, she had assisted two board-certified surgeons five days a week for five years. If anyone could help me with our patient, she could.

  Mari brought Sugar out to show her.

  “Still have an active license?” I asked her.

  “Yes. In fact, I work per diem during school holidays. My wife is a chef in Rhinebeck. She’s the one who encouraged me to go back to school.”

  Sugar sat down, then slid to the floor to take the weight off her back legs. Juliet bent down to pet her. Her talented fingers palpated the mass, following the margins in a large circle.

  Our eyes met.

  “That’s a pretty big one,” she commented. “Maybe eight to ten pounds. Lipoma?”

  “Yeah, about ninety-eight percent sure,” I said.

  “I’ve seen bigger, though. The largest one we removed was twenty-two pounds,” she proudly announced. “Huge Labrador-Shepherd mix.”

  “Want to help me with this one?” I asked.

  Her smile got bigger. “Cool.”

  * * *

  It’s always nice to be able to do something that changes a life for the better. After I spoke to Mr. Nelson, he agreed to leave Sugar with us so we could monitor her before the surgery. I still needed the lab to confirm her blood tests, and we had to prepare our surgical suite with the multiple surgical packs we’d require during this surgery. It wasn’t so much the complexity of the procedure as maneuvering the chunk of fatty tissue and cauterizing all the blood vessels. Monitoring this middle-aged dog’s fluids and electrolyte balance both during and after surgery was vital.

  Unbeknownst to me, Juliet called in her markers. One of the board-certified surgeons she’d worked with, Keith, volunteered his time to us. As payment, Oak Falls Animal Hospital had to take him and his wife out to dinner. That’s when I learned Juliet’s wife was head chef in a rather famous restaurant.

  Juliet never bragged about anything.

  * * *

  The look on Mr. Nelson’s face when his Sugar walked to him the day after surgery lifted all our hearts. Free of the ungainly tumor, she had a spring in her step as well as almost one hundred stitches on her back. Suture removal certainly would be fun.

  “Jingle Bells” began playing again over the sound system, and when Sugar woofed along, all of us joined in for a couple of woofs together.

  * * *

  At dinner, Keith Schraeder, our hero veterinary surgeon, regaled us all with multiple crazy surgery stories, the more gruesome and outlandish the better. Since nothing can rock the stomachs of workers in the veterinary field, we tackled our delicious food with gusto, warmed by the pleasure of a simple good deed. I’d invited Mari as my plus one, while Juliet’s wife made an appearance at the table with a special dessert made just for us.

  Stuffed to the max, I listened to the happy, excited voices around me.

  “Juliet and Keith volunteered at a spay and neuter clinic in Mexico last spring,” Keith’s wife told us. “I work with quite a few groups who bring veterinary care to countries in need, so I helped coordinate with the local authorities and set up our surgical stations. Kate, you should join us.”

  Keith gave his wife a hug. “Lynn speaks fluent Spanish. We couldn’t do it without her. ”

  “To Lynn.” Juliet gave her a round of applause.

  “I’m glad you called us, Juliet,” Keith said. “The vascular pattern turned out to be quite unusual. Want to help me write it up for one of the journals?”

  “Sure.” Her broad smile mirrored Keith’s grin.

  “Spoiler. He would have done it even without the dinner,” his wife revealed. “Now you know his secret. He’s just an old softy.”

  In the glow of the candlelight, I stood up. “First, let me raise a toast to both our Christmas angels, Keith and Juliet. You made Mr. Nelson a very happy man today,” I said. “In addition, let’s celebrate Juliet’s decision to take the plunge and go to vet school. You’re going to make a great doctor.”

  We all raised our glasses. The crisp pings of glass touching glass made a celebratory sound.

  In that moment of friendship and camaraderie I realized how much this murder investigation and the YouTube video scandal had taken out of me.

  Someone had hijacked my life.

  Enough was enough.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Driving back from a weekend run to
the store, I received a text from Ashley at Maple Grove Farms. Lobo had escaped through a loose gate. She’d alerted all her neighbors around her but wanted to know if I had any suggestions on how to get him back. I made a quick detour and told her I’d be there in ten minutes.

  Mari rolled in a few minutes after me.

  My plan was simple. Trap him with love.

  Lobo loved Sweet Potato, the tranquil bay mare who was his preferred companion. Using her as bait, Mari and I planned to guide the mustang home.

  “I saddled her up, but my knee still isn’t flexible enough to ride,” Ashley told me. “Besides, when he sees someone coming on horseback he goes on alert.”

  For most of his life people meant trouble. I understood how he felt. “Let’s try a soft approach first. Once we’ve found him, Mari and I will walk both horses home.”

  I wanted to get started right away, so I tied my veterinary emergency backpack behind the saddle. A free-roaming horse up here faced all kinds of danger. Any large moving object might be mistaken for a bear or buck, and many folks shoot first and ask questions later.

  * * *

  The woods behind the farm were thick with broken underbrush, crisscrossed by old hiking and hunting trails. Not very appealing to a large horse. With brambles and downed tree limbs everywhere, I bet he’d stick to the edge of the woods, near the pasture line. We stuffed our jacket pockets with extra leads, halters, and a long lunge line, then walked Sweet Potato through the corral and out into the pasture. Securing her reins loosely over the Western-style saddle pommel, we led her by a lead rope clipped to her halter. A very gentle older horse, Sweet Potato nickered for treats. We decided to work that habit into our rescue plan.

  We ventured in and out of the trees, the mare periodically nudging me with her muzzle. She could smell the horse goodies I carried, even stored in a ziplock bag. Somewhat familiar with the area, Mari weaved away from the field into cleared land deep in the woods.

  “I can’t see Ashley’s place,” I said after about a forty-minute walk.