Sing It to Her Bones

by Marcia Talley

  David regarded me with steady, unblinking eyes and shook his head.

  I covered my eyes with my hands. I was certain that the only copy of Katie’s medical record lay somewhere—along with my checkbook, credit cards, and pictures of Paul and Emily—at the bottom of the Baxter’s pond. If Dr. Chase had destroyed Katie’s file, as Liz had ordered, without that photocopy, it was just my word and Angie’s against everyone else’s.

  chapter

  14

  In the wee hours, when dreams are hard to come by and good sense sometimes prevails, I made my decision. If the good citizens of Pearson’s Corner wanted me gone badly enough to kill me, I would leave. My narrow escape from the pond had left me weak and shaking. As mad as I was with Paul, I didn’t want to spend another day in Pearson’s Corner if it meant sleeping with one eye open or flinching every time another car tried to pass me on the road. In the morning I would call Paul and ask him to meet me at the Provincetown Airport, if only I could remember where I had put the scrap of paper on which I’d written his phone number.

  In the soft glow from the bathroom night light I could see Connie’s green linen jacket, a tragic canvas of stains and wrinkles, draped over a hanger in the doorway, dripping dry. I thought I had put Paul’s number inside Connie’s jacket, but a frantic middle-of-the-night search of the pockets had yielded nothing.

  “You don’t suppose Paul’s phone number was inside my purse?” I said to Connie as we were having breakfast the next morning.

  “If it was, you can always look the number up in the phone book. How many Zelcos can there be in North Truro?”

  “It’s a rental place, Con. Lord knows whose name the phone is actually listed in.” I sat at the table opposite her and pinched pieces off a slice of dry toast.

  “Call the Zelcos in Annapolis,” she suggested. “Maybe someone’s at home who will know.”

  “Already did. Got the answering machine.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it then, Hannah. Paul will get the message eventually, and even if he doesn’t, surely he’ll call when he hasn’t heard from you.”

  I wasn’t so sure. After our recent telephone conversation he’d know I was still furious with him over that disgusting Jennifer Goodall business.

  Connie leaned across the table to fill my empty glass with orange juice from a carton, pausing in mid-pour to examine my face. “Except for that red spot on the bridge of your nose, I’d never guess you’d been in an accident.” She handed me the raisin bran. “So what are you going to do today, now that you’ve more or less snooped yourself out of a job?”

  “Go to work, of course. Dr. Chase doesn’t know that I know he knows about my finding Katie’s chart. It’d be suspicious if I didn’t show up at the office today, don’t you think?”

  “Brilliant, Hannah. Now I’m convinced you’ve lost your so-called mind.”

  “I’m not sure how Dr. Chase got involved in this cover-up, but he seems to be a decent sort of guy. I’m going to ’fess up. Admit I saw the chart. Reason with him about it. I should be able to persuade him to share whatever he knows with Dennis. Dr. Chase works with the police department, don’t forget.” I poured some cereal into my bowl. “If he had anything at all to do with those people who ran me off the road, I figure the best way to protect myself is to let him know that I told Dennis all about it.”

  Connie stared at me without speaking, a frown of disapproval clouding her usually cheerful face. Suddenly I remembered that I was without wheels, completely at this woman’s mercy. She read my mind. “And I suppose you’ll be wanting to borrow my car?” I nodded. “Jeez, Hannah. With your track record, how can I be sure it’ll be safe with you?”

  “Trust me.”

  “Oh, I trust you. It’s the maniacs you seem to attract that I worry about.”

  I had to agree. I’d been mulling it over all morning. I must have stepped on someone’s toes. Big time.

  I finished my raisin bran, then spread some toast with grape jelly. I had eaten my toast and was licking the crumbs off my fingers before Connie relented. “Okay, you can have the car, but this is absolutely the last time I loan you any clothes. I don’t need to be shopping for a car and a new wardrobe. And, Hannah?”

  “Yes?”

  “Be careful. I don’t need to be shopping for a new sister-in-law either.”

  Dr. Chase stood on the porch watering geraniums when I pulled into his parking lot twenty minutes before Saturday afternoon office hours were scheduled to begin. I was dressed in comfortable black slacks and a pink, short-sleeve knit top, accessorized with a frayed tapestry vest. Instead of black patent leather pumps, I wore a sensible pair of Easy Spirit sandals. On my head was my wig, washed, brushed, and looking ratty. Following yesterday’s dunking, it was barely presentable, but I wore it anyway. I didn’t have a hat that matched my vest.

  As I climbed the steps to the front door, the doctor rested his watering can on the porch rail and smiled as if nothing had happened, completely disarming me. Finding Katie’s chart must not have been that big a deal; otherwise he would have been much cooler toward me. Dr. Chase wore his emotions on his face. He didn’t strike me as that good an actor.

  “Hey, Hannah. Thought you were Connie for a minute.” Then he noticed I didn’t have my car. “Your car in the shop?”

  “So to speak. A tow truck pulled it out of Baxter’s pond this morning.”

  His eyes grew wide. “No kidding? How’d it get in there?”

  “Haven’t you heard? I thought the news would be all over town by now.”

  “Nope. I’ve been holed up here since last night.”

  Without going into detail, I told him about the black van that had run me off the road. I watched his face transform from a mask of amusement into one of deep concern. “I was going to make some smart-ass remark about your being accident prone, but this is serious!”

  “Dennis is treating it as a hit-and-run, but he’s not optimistic he’ll find the driver.”

  “I’m surprised you’ve come to work today. Sure you’re okay? Come inside. Let’s have a look at you.” The way he fussed over me made me miss my mother.

  “I’m fine, Doctor. Really. But I would like to talk.”

  “Well, of course. Come in, come in.” He set the watering can down on the porch next to a fuchsia plant in full bloom and held the door open for me. I headed directly down the long hallway and turned into his office. Dr. Chase followed and tossed his key ring on the desk. While he got settled, I pulled up a blue upholstered armchair, tried to collect my thoughts, and began to sweat. My anxiety must have showed.

  “Sure you’re okay?” He appeared genuinely concerned.

  “Quite sure.” I leaned forward and took a deep breath, knowing when I did so that the charade would be over. I’d be putting an end to my part-time employment. “Dr. Chase, I have a confession. I know you told me Katie Dunbar’s chart had been shredded, but yesterday, when I came to work, my curiosity got the better of me. I’m sorry, but I went rummaging through the file room, looking for it.”

  Dr. Chase stared at me, eyes enormous behind his glasses, his tented fingers just touching his lips.

  “As you know, I didn’t find it there. But I did happen to notice a chart on your desk when I was cleaning up some spilled coffee.” I pointed. “It was stuck under your blotter.”

  The doctor still didn’t comment, so I floundered on. “I meant to put it back, of course, but things were so hectic yesterday, I just stuck it in the nearest file cabinet.” I thought it would be wise not to mention the photocopy. “I’m sorry. I feel just awful about this. I know I’ve betrayed the confidence you placed in me. But what’s done is done.”

  I straightened my back and took another deep, steadying breath. The next part was going to be harder. It would have been easier if the doctor had reacted to anything I’d told him so far but no, he sat there like the great Sphinx, drawing the point of a pencil mindlessly forward and back along a seam on the arm of his chair. “Dr. Chase, I need
to tell you that I did read the chart. I know that when your father examined Katie in 1990, she was two months pregnant.”

  Dr. Chase rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and adjusted his position slightly, as if trying to get comfortable. “Sometimes charts that would normally be declared inactive get missed when they’re part of a family unit that includes current patients. In Ms. Dunbar’s case, though, the chart was shredded.”

  “But, Doctor, I saw it!”

  It was weird. Dr. Chase was staring at the bookshelf near the window, but I had the feeling he was aware of every move I made. “You’re mistaken.” The doctor removed his glasses by the nosepiece and, still holding them, rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Maybe it was easier for him to lie to someone whose face appeared before him as an impressionistic blur.

  “Katie Dunbar is dead, Dr. Chase. What can her pregnancy matter to anyone now?”

  Dr. Chase sprawled in his chair and stared at the ceiling, his mouth a thin, tight line. His eyes traveled from the ceiling to the window where sunlight dappled the sill. “It’s too complicated to explain.” He was addressing the magnolia tree in his garden, not me.

  “Explain about Elizabeth Dunbar, you mean?”

  His head snapped in my direction, his dark eyes wide. “What do you know about Liz?” At last! My questions had triggered a reaction.

  “Only what I overheard of your conversation with her last night.” I thought I’d keep him guessing about the point at which I’d stumbled upon their argument.

  Dr. Chase closed his eyes and wagged his head silently from side to side. When he finally spoke, his words lay flat and frosty in the space between us. “You seem to be everywhere, Mrs. Ives.”

  “I admit I had ulterior motives when I volunteered to help out here. I thought it’d be an opportunity to check out the information in Katie’s file without bothering anyone. But discovering you and Liz together was purely accidental. I’d left the phone number to the vacation house my husband is renting at the reception desk, and I had to come back for it.”

  “Humph.” The doctor scowled in my direction.

  “And while we’re on the topic of Liz Dunbar”—I blundered on—“what did she mean by ‘I’ll take care of the other’? Maybe I’m being a bit paranoid here, Doctor, but there’s something I’ve neglected to tell you about my so-called accident. I lost control of the car because two jerks in a dark van tried to force me off the road.” I saw, rather than heard, Dr. Chase’s intake of breath. “And when I didn’t drift off the shoulder obediently, like a good little girl, someone in the van decided to shoot at me.”

  Five seconds passed with no sound in the room but the tick-tick of his pencil as it slipped through his fingers and dropped, point down, on his desk. And again. How could I get him to talk? I decided to change tactics. “I know she was pregnant, Dr. Chase, because I saw it on her chart. But I’m not the only one who knows it. She told a girlfriend, you see.”

  Dr. Chase, who seemed at that moment a bunch of loosely connected parts, gathered himself together at last and responded directly to what I’d said. “Let me deal with this.” He mumbled something I couldn’t catch.

  “What?” I leaned forward.

  “I said …” He paused. “Never mind.”

  “Do you know who shot Katie?” He shook his head. All of a sudden I thought I knew what he feared. “Are you covering up for your father?”

  “No!” The word exploded from his lips.

  “Who then? You must be protecting somebody. Why else would you destroy that chart?”

  Dr. Chase rose from his chair and walked around the desk, wearing his kindly physician face, once again in control. Standing over me like that, he looked taller than his five feet ten, but his face was so calm that it didn’t occur to me to be frightened. “This is more complicated than it looks, Hannah, and I know this is going to sound melodramatic, but for your own protection, I’d suggest you mind your own business.”

  “But—”

  “Lay off it, Hannah.”

  I considered reminding him of his duties as a coroner, threatening to go to Dennis with what I knew, but thought better of it. “You’re a good doctor,” I said instead, grasping his free arm and squeezing it gently. “I’ve seen the way you care about people, and I know you couldn’t have done anything to hurt Katie.”

  “I have no idea who killed that young woman.” He stepped to his desk and fidgeted with a glass paperweight that had a dandelion in full white-headed bloom encapsulated inside like a moth in amber.

  “Then tell the police what you know,” I insisted. “We’re talking about 1990 here! An out-of-wedlock pregnancy wasn’t the end of the world like it was in the forties and fifties. It may not have had anything to do with Katie’s death, but it may help the police.”

  “I’ll consider what you’ve said, but I won’t make any promises.” Dr. Chase returned to his chair and flung himself into it so hard that it rolled backward and the wheels slipped off the edge of the carpet. I decided to leave him there, scowling, with his feet stretched out straight in front of him and his arms dangling limply over the upholstered leather arms of his chair. From my position in the hall he looked small and defeated.

  “Hannah? I’m sorry about your car.”

  I massaged a sore spot on my shoulder. “Me, too, Doctor. Me, too.”

  “But under the circumstances, I don’t think we can work together anymore.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. “I’ll call Redi-Temp and get someone to fill in for me on Monday.”

  “That will be fine.” His voice seemed lifeless.

  As I left the office, I was sure of only one thing: Until I sprang it on him, he didn’t know about my accident. But by the frightened look on his face, I was certain he suspected who was behind it. And, although I couldn’t work out exactly how she managed it or why, that somebody was probably Liz.

  chapter

  15

  I accelerated away from the doctor’s office, feeling relieved, even though I had just lost my second job in less than four months. On my left, halfway down High, I could see the low brick and cinder-block building of the Volunteer Fire Department, its oversize garage doors rolled open. A single fire truck had been pulled into the drive, and someone had bathed and polished the vehicle until its yellow paint and chrome grill gleamed in the sun. A volunteer dressed in blue jeans and a Grateful Dead T-shirt was washing down the drive with a hose. At the end of the drive stood a sign on wheels with removable letters: WEDNESDAY NIGHT SPAGHETTI SUPPER—ALL YOU CAN EAT. My stomach rumbled.

  I wasn’t in the mood for one of Connie’s PB and Js. My mouth was all set for a thick, flavorful tuna fish sandwich on whole wheat (with fries) from Ellie’s when I remembered I had no money or credit cards to pay for it. I’d last seen my purse as the pond gulped down my car. I checked my watch. Bill Taylor was usually working the afternoon shift at Ellie’s. The last time I’d seen him he’d been standing in water up to his waist, rescuing my car. As a volunteer fireman I knew he would be tuned in to what was going on at the fire hall. Maybe they’d found my purse. He also might sell me a sandwich and an iced tea on a smile and a promise. I wanted to ask him about Katie and his former teammates anyway.

  I pulled into the parking strip in front of Ellie’s and breezed into the store. Neither Angie nor her mother was about. Somewhere a radio played softly, but otherwise, the place was deserted.

  I stuck my head into the kitchen. “Hello?” Nobody was there, either.

  I was about to leave, when I smelled cigarette smoke. Curious, I ambled through the kitchen and stuck my head out the back door. Bill was sitting on the back porch, smoking.

  “There you are!”

  “Just taking a break, Mrs. Ives. Been kinda slow today.”

  I didn’t want to hit him up for a sandwich right off the bat, so I asked, “Any news about my car?”

  Bill took a drag from his cigarette and held the smoke in his mouth for an extraordinarily long time. “We towe
d it to the Exxon station,” he said as he exhaled. “Rutherford doesn’t want anyone to touch it until his forensic team’s been over it with their tweezers and magnifying glasses.”

  “That’s good. How about my purse, though? Any word about that?”

  He shook his head. “Probably sitting in the muck at the bottom of that old pond, Mrs. Ives. If I were you, I’d just buy a new one, claim the expense on your insurance. That’s what insurance companies are for.”

  I slapped myself in the forehead. “I was here to pick up a sandwich for lunch, but I don’t have any way to pay for it. How can I have been so stupid?”

  “You’ve had a lot on your mind lately.” The way he looked at me, one bushy eyebrow raised, made me wonder if he had heard about Paul’s predicament. “I think I could rustle you up a sandwich.” He crushed out his cigarette, and I followed him into the store, my mouth already beginning to water.

  “How are you feeling today?” he asked from the kitchen as I nosed around the empty store.

  “A little stiff.” In point of fact, I was a mass of scars, scrapes, cuts, and bruises, old and new, and my right arm was aching again. “But I’ll do.”

  “You need to be careful, Mrs. Ives. First you fall off that boat; then you wreck your car. Makes me wonder.”

  Is that how he saw me? Ms. Klutz? I wasn’t sure I liked this guy, even if he was making me lunch. “Makes you wonder what, Bill?”

  “Wonder if they might not have been accidents. You come into town and all, pretty much a stranger, and the next thing you know, all these bad things start happening to you. Don’t you wonder why?”

  I had wondered about that, but I didn’t feel like sharing my suspicions with Bill. No telling what he’d do with them. They might even end up in his book. “I can be just as careless or unlucky as the next person, Bill,” I said, peering into the kitchen as he scooped tuna fish salad onto thickly sliced bread.

  “I’d just watch who you’re being friendly with.” He squinted back at me. “That’s my advice.”