by K C Hart
The cracking of the bathroom door as it ripped off its hinges and slammed into the toilet jolted Katy into a new instant state of panic. She grabbed for the shower curtain as she lurched forward to dodge the falling door but lost her balance. Her behind instantly slid into the tub of ice-cold water. She sucked in a deep breath as she sat completely clothed, except for her shoes, in the tub. The clingy white shower liner and the lovely country blue ruffled curtain complete with metal rod crashed down on her head.
“What the……”
Katy struggled to untangle herself from under the shower curtain as she listened to her husband behind her, who, for some crazy reason only known to him, had just kicked down their bathroom door.
“John,” Katy’s head finally emerged triumphant above the slick plastic and stiff ruffles, “are you okay?”
“Just a minute.” John stood frozen in the now empty door frame with their nine-inch black cast iron frying pan raised above his head. The look on his face was a mixture of panic, confusion, and a sprinkle of ‘uh-oh’ all rolled into one. “Let me get this broken door out of the way.”
John sat the skillet on the closed toilet lid and picked up the splintered door and propped it against their bed in the next room. Katy turned off the cold water that continued to splash down onto her scrub pants and proceeded to climb from the tub. He returned to the bathroom and handed her a towel as she stripped off her soppy wet nursing uniform. Her toe was throbbing again as she pulled on a bathrobe and then limped into their bedroom.
“Are you okay?” John asked, trailing behind her like a guilty police dog with his tail tucked between his legs.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, grinning at her husband’s look of total dejection. “I need some gauze and tape from my nursing bag to doctor my toe.”
“I’ll get it.” He bolted to the bedroom door like greased lightning. “Be right back.”
Katy started to call him back but decided to just wait until he returned to find out what had just happened. She gathered the rest of the supplies needed to doctor her foot and limped to the living room. The bleeding had stopped, but the area from about mid-foot to the end of her great toe was starting to swell and turn a stormy shade of blue. John walked into the living room just as she was easing herself into her recliner.
“Do you want to let me in on why you needed to kick in the bathroom door?” she asked, wincing as she eased the chair back.
“I sure do, but I also want to know what happened in the kitchen.” He handed her the gauze and tape while he sat on the edge of the couch to watch her bandage her foot.
“Well,” Katy winced as she dabbed the raw flesh with alcohol.
“You want me to grab the hydrogen peroxide for you?” John’s wince was a little more pronounced than hers. “It won’t burn.”
“I’m almost through cleaning it.” She smiled at his sympathy pains. “I’ll just tough it out.”
“Well, okay, but I know that’s got to hurt like the dickens.” He waited until she pulled the blood-tinged gauze from the wound to continue. “You know all everybody is talking about are these two murders.”
“Yeah,” Katy nodded. She gently blew on her foot to relieve the stinging.
“All I’ve heard today is how people better be protecting themselves from the Skeeterville serial killer.” John ran his hands through his hair, glancing from Katy’s face to her foot. “Folks are dead bolting their doors even when they’re home inside, and sleeping with their guns by their beds. It’s crazy.”
She listened while she applied the antibiotic ointment and gauze dressing. “Uh-huh.”
“Well, I guess I just got a little edgy. I drove up and saw your car home, but when I turned the knob the door was unlocked.”
“That’s because I just walked through the door.”
“Yeah, well, seeing as how we talked just last night about locking the doors, I was kind of surprised.” He stood up and started to pace, something he only did when he was very excited. “But then, when I came on in, the trash can was knocked over with garbage scattered everywhere. And to top it all off, there’s blood on the floor with footprints going toward the bedroom.” He paused to glance at Katy to see how she was reacting. “You have to admit that this is not the usual scene I come home to in the afternoons. Anyway, I just imagined the worse, so I grabbed something heavy and went to see what was going on.”
“Aww, you were coming to rescue me with the iron skillet,” Katy said, grinning from ear to ear.
“It seems absurd now, but I was fit to be tied a few minutes ago.” John slowed his pacing and started to chuckle. “I was fixing to lay somebody low or die trying. What in the world happened in the kitchen?”
“Nothing really. I was getting a bag of that sweet corn we put up earlier in the summer from the freezer when the phone rang. The bag was slippery, and I dropped it on my foot. The corner jabbed into me making my foot bleed. I threw the block of bloody corn at the trash can, but I guess I knocked the can over without realizing it.”
“Well, at least you’re okay, or mostly okay.”
“This ain’t too bad.” She winced as she tried to wiggle her toes. “I may have to wear a slipper for a few days until the swelling goes down, but it should heal pretty quickly.”
John held out his hands and gently pulled her up from the chair. “Want to ride with me to the hardware store to buy a new door?”
“Sure, why not.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Katy and John spent the rest of the day installing a new door for the bathroom. It had to be taken down a couple of times and redone before it finally hung correctly. John refused to call anybody to come help, so Katy limped around and assisted as best as she could.
“I’m not in the mood to explain why I kicked down my own bathroom door while my wife was sitting in the tub with all of her clothes on. We’ll just keep at this until we get it right.” So, after several hours and quite a few tries, they finally had a new door up.
“Hey, there’s a message on the machine,” John called from the living room the next morning.
“I wonder if it’s who was calling when I hurt my foot. The ringing phone is what started all that mess,” Katy said, lifting the fourth and final slice of crisp bacon from the pan of piping hot grease. “Do you recognize the number?”
“Nope, probably work-related.” He walked into the kitchen. “Let me fry our eggs while you check it.”
“Alright, and it’s time to get the biscuits out of the oven too.” She passed the egg turner over and went to the living room to see who had called. Evelyn Brown’s smooth southern drawl floated from the machine.
“Katy dear, I’m sorry to call you at home. I hope it’s okay. Mother has been acting a little wobbly and confused today. I was wondering if you could drop by tomorrow and check on her. I would try to get her in to see Chris, I mean Dr. Roberts, but she’s not being very cooperative. Call me back when you get this dear. Good-bye.”
It was just seven-fifteen. Katy would eat, get dressed, and then call Mrs. Brown. She had planned to call Amanda Carson this morning to try to get her to take Laney’s mysterious box in to the sheriff, but that would wait until after she checked on Mrs. Tellman.
“You were right,” she said as she limped back into the kitchen. “It was about work.” She poured two cups of coffee and they sat down to breakfast. John reminded her again to lock the door behind him as he was leaving. Katy reminded John not to kick down any doors when he came home.
It took her a little longer than usual to shower and get dressed. She took the strings out of her left tennis shoe, but her foot was still too swollen to fit. It was more swollen today than it had been last night. She put back on the leopard print house slipper that she had worn the day before and would just make the best of it.
She was supposed to be off today, but after calling Evelyn decided to run by and check on Mrs. Tellman around ten. She made sure there was a specimen cup in the trunk of her car to check for a urinary tract
infection. She slid behind the steering wheel then checked the voicemail on her cell.
“Hey Mrs. Katy, This is Emma Robinson. I got your number from the skincare form you filled out at the party. I was just calling to let you know that your refreshing facial mist is in. Call me back so I can deliver it or meet you with it. Bye now.”
She started her car and turned on the air conditioner to cool off the interior. She had forgotten about her bottle of thirty-dollar water. She punched in Emma’s number. “Hey Emma, can I drop by the bank at eleven-thirty and pick up my stuff?”
“Sure Mrs. Katy. You will never guess what happened.”
“Well, why don’t you just tell me,” Katy said, easing her sore foot out of the way. She put her car in reverse and glanced in the rearview mirror.
“You know Joe Phobs missed his hitch to work offshore and they let him go.”
“Aww, that’s so sad. I hate to hear that.”
“It turned out okay. Mr. Robinson hired him to drive a skidder with Tubby’s crew. He’s not making the kind of money he was, but at least he’s gainfully employed again.”
“Oh great. That’s good to hear.” Katy glanced at her watch. She needed to get on the road.
“Wait, Mrs. Katy. That’s not what I wanted to tell you. Joe invited us to church Sunday and Tubby said we’re going.”
“That’s even better news, Emma. We’ll save a spot on the back row for you.”
“I knew you would be happy about that. I’ve gotta go so I won’t be late for work. Bye, see you at eleven-thirty.”
Katy backed out of her driveway and headed toward the garden district. Hopefully, this wouldn’t take too long, and she could squeeze in a visit with Amanda Carson today. She tried her number again, but no one answered. A tiny burning sensation began to gnaw in the pit of her stomach.
“She just finished breakfast and is in the bathroom sprucing up a bit,” Nelda said, leading Katy to Mrs. Tellman’s room. “I need to warn you that she’s not too happy that Evelyn called you.”
“Thank you, Nelda. Hopefully, nothing serious is going on.” Katy looked at Mrs. Tellman’s blood sugars for the past several days and was satisfied that her diabetes was being well controlled. She sat in a chair just as her patient opened the bathroom door. As usual, she was in a pink satin gown and matching duster; not a hair was out of place.
“I don’t know why you’re here,” Mrs. Tellman snapped, hastily walking across the bedroom. “I feel fine. Evelyn is just jumping the gun about this. I know you ain’t going to find anything wrong.”
“Well, it’s better to be safe than sorry.” Katy smiled as the little spitfire sat in her recliner and placed the cane at her side.
“Let’s get this nonsense over with,” she said, flopping her arm out in front of her to have her blood pressure checked.
“So far so good.” Katy removed the cuff from the thin little arm and pulled the stethoscope from her ears. “Everything’s checking out well. Let’s look at your wound.”
“It’s almost gone. I’m telling you that this is a waste of your time and mine,” Mrs. Tellman watched Katy remove the dressing on her leg. “I know how I feel”
After Katy cleaned the wound and redressed it, Mrs. Brown came in to check on her. She leaned over and attempted to kiss her mother’s cheek, but Mrs. Tellman turned her face away. “So how is our patient doing?” She sighed and turned to Katy.
“The wound looks great and her vital signs are good. We need to get a urine specimen to rule out a bladder infection, but so far everything looks normal.” She pulled the specimen cup from her bag and tried to hand it to Mrs. Tellman. “Can you give me a urine sample? It doesn’t have to be much.”
Mrs. Tellman crossed her hands over her chest and glared first at Katy and then her daughter. “No, I cannot. I just went and won’t go again for at least two hours. If you would have talked to me about this instead of my daughter, I would have saved you a specimen from this morning. But since yaw are determined to talk about me like I’m not here, you will just have to wait.”
“Okay, Mrs. Tellman, I’m sorry.” Katy sat the cup on the table by the blue recliner. The woman didn’t seem confused, just mad as a wet hen. “You’re right. You’re the patient and I should be talking to you about what’s going on.”
“You bet your britches you should.” She turned to her daughter and wagged a long boney finger in her direction. “And I don’t know what you think is wrong with me, but if I need your help, don’t worry, I’ll ask for it.”
Mrs. Brown ignored her mother’s outburst and looked at Katy with a ‘see what I mean’ look. “We’ll get the specimen and run it by the doctor’s office today.”
Katy stood and picked up her gear. The throbbing in her foot started to increase. “That’ll be fine. I’ll let his office know about the assessment and to expect the specimen.” She looked down at Mrs. Tellman still sulking in her recliner. “I hope you won’t stay mad at me long.”
“I’m not mad, I’m aggravated. There’s a difference.”
“Yes mam.” Katy said, grinning at the woman’s spunk. Mrs. Tellman dismissed them both with a glare, grabbing the TV remote and turning on a morning talk show.
Evelyn followed Katy to her front yard and watched as she climbed behind the wheel and cranked her car, waiting for the air to cool the sweltering interior. Evelyn stood outside of the car like she had something more to say. Katy had assured her on the way out that her mother was doing fine and that she didn’t see any need for worry, but she let the window down so Evelyn could tell her whatever was on her mind.
“Dear, I appreciate you coming out so much. You understand that I just worry about Momma.”
“There’s no need to thank me,” Katy said. “I’m happy to come to see her. It’s part of my job.”
“I know this is going to sound rude, but I’m just dying to ask you,” Evelyn said, fidgeting with the collar of her shirt. “What in the world happened to your foot? That slipper, and the way you’re limping just make me feel terrible about having you drive all of the way over here.”
“It’s not nearly as bad as it looks,” Katy assured her, giving her a description of what happened the day before. She did not tell her that it was her phone call that had started the whole mess.
Evelyn said her good-byes and Katy finally got underway after about ten minutes. At least the AC worked well in her little car. She was cool and comfortable except for her throbbing left foot.
She stopped at the end of the driveway to answer a call from the office. Since she was already out, they needed her to run by the Byrd’s and follow up with their wound care since the scheduled nurse had called in sick. Instead of turning back toward downtown, she changed directions and started toward the highway. She would not be able to drop by Amanda’s house before lunch. The woman still wasn’t answering her phone.
She passed by Piney Acres Trailer Park almost to the Byrd’s driveway. The car lurched forward and then slowed of its own accord. The check engine light started to flash bright red on the dashboard at the same time pillows of thick white smoke began spewing from the hood.
“Ain’t this just a hot mess,” she said, pulling to the side of the highway and exiting the dying little car as quickly as her throbbing foot would allow. “Well don’t this just beat all.”
She quickly limped away to what felt like a safe distance. In her hurry to get out, she left her phone on the passenger’s seat where she had tossed it after the last call. It looked too unsafe to try and retrieve it now. She could hobble the short distance to the Byrd’s house and call John, but she didn’t want to leave her purse and computer unattended in the back seat. If the smoke died down before she got back somebody could just reach in and take all her stuff.
She would just stand and wait. Even though it was mid-morning, this road still had a lot of traffic. A Good Samaritan would be along any minute now for sure. If not, she would wait until the smoke cleared and the car cooled down, then retrieve her phone and call for h
elp.
The ominous smoke continued to rise from the hood. It was slowing some, but heat devils danced on the silver metal. She would need a tow truck. A mental list of things she would not get done today started to form in her head. Lord, keep my attitude right. This could have been a lot worse.
She watched a few cars fly by, some toward town, some toward the country, but none bothering to stop. She didn’t blame any of them. After all, a killer was running around loose in their little town. John would skin her alive if she stopped to help a stranger on the side of the road.
The smoke from the hood was now rising in soft, slow, fluffy clouds, but she knew the temp of the metal would burn her hand if she touched it. Not that it mattered. Even if she could lift the hood, she wouldn’t know how to fix the problem. She began limping back toward the car. The danger of it flaming up or exploding like they did on television seemed to have passed. Time to retrieve her phone and call John.
As she opened the passenger door a wave of heat hit her in the face. She hastily grabbed her phone and computer bag before slamming the door and retreating. As she backed away once more, a shiny SUV passed by and hit its brake lights. She watched warily as it eased over onto the side of the road and stopped just a few yards from her poor little sick car. The windows were tinted so dark that she couldn’t even see a shadow of the person or people in the vehicle. Her mind immediately returned to the two bodies she’d found in the past few weeks and the conversation she had with the sheriff about the killer feeling threatened by what she’d seen. The gnawing feeling in her stomach returned. Unconsciously, she began taking slow steps toward the back of her car and away from the black mystery wagon. The sweat puddled on the back of her neck and ran down her spine as she waited for the driver to step out.
