“My name is Jake Del Vecchio.” He held out his hand and she tentatively shook it. “I’d like to ask you a few questions. Do you have a minute?”
“Sure.” She pointed to the monitor. “I was just doing some paperwork. Nothing that can’t wait. What would you like to know?”
“A friend of mine had an accident last Saturday and called Dr. Underwood for help.” Jake rested a hip against the counter. “Do you remember that?”
“I do.” Madison gazed at Jake, her solemn baby blue eyes never leaving his. “We were almost out the door when the call came in.”
“But you came back, right?” Jake’s posture remained relaxed and his tone casual.
“Yes.”
“That’s a shame.” Jake’s expression became remorseful. “As it turned out, my friend wasn’t as badly hurt as she thought and she ended up not going to his office after all. Now she feels bad and wants to know if the doc waited around a long time for her.”
“Gee.” Madison screwed up her face. “I don’t know how long Dr. Underwood waited. He told me I could go ahead and leave, so I did.”
“Well, shoot.” Jake glanced around. “Did anyone stay with him?”
“Yes.” Madison bobbed her head. “Yale—the physician assistant—left with me, but Mom stayed.”
“Do you think I could have a word with your mom?” Jake asked.
“Sure.” Madison stood. “You wait right here and I’ll go get her.”
“I’d appreciate it.” Jake smiled. “By the way, what’s her name?”
As she disappeared into the back, Madison called over her shoulder. “Eunice Vogel.”
Jake decided that Madison must take after her dad’s side of the family because he couldn’t see any of her soft prettiness in Eunice. They were both petite and blond, but that was where the resemblance ended. Eunice’s white uniform hung on her thin frame as if she’d recently been ill, and her face looked as if it had been carved from the side of a mountain.
Her eyes were full of censure when she marched up to Jake and admonished, “It was extremely rude of Ms. Brown to ask the doctor to wait and then not show up for the appointment.” Hitting the palm of her hand with the business end of a stethoscope, the nurse stared at him as if daring him to deny her statement.
Eunice’s disapproval was sharp enough to slice a decade-old fruitcake and Jake wondered if he was bleeding from her cutting stare.
“Yes.” He hurried to assure her. “I know. And she is very sorry.”
“Well, she should be.” Eunice jabbed a finger at Jake’s face. “The doctor had an important personal engagement that evening and she made him late for it with horribly disastrous consequences.”
“That’s terrible.” Jake pretended that he had no idea to what the nurse was referring. “How long did the doctor wait around?”
“Long enough.” Eunice’s stance oozed contempt. “Wasting even a minute of that saintly man’s precious time is a sin.”
“Ms. Brown did try to call and say she wasn’t coming after all, but no one picked up.” Jake took a chance at lying since Madison had said she wasn’t at the office to answer the phone. “Why didn’t you or the doctor get the telephone? Surely if you were waiting a long time…” He trailed off, hoping she’d reveal something.
“Well.” The nurse’s voice held a lot less conviction than it had a moment ago, and red stained her cheeks. “Actually, since it was Valentine’s Day weekend and all, the doctor told me to go. I had tickets for a play, and my husband was waiting in the parking lot.”
“What time was that?” Jake asked immediately, not giving her a chance to think.
“A few minutes after five.” Eunice’s voice faltered.
“Let me see. The call came in at what, four thirty?” Jake thought out loud. “And Madison and Yale left a few minutes later, and you followed at five.” Jake stared at the nurse. “Dr. Underwood may have stayed another hour. Or he could have left as soon as you were out of sight, which would explain why no one answered the phone.” Jake stepped closer to the older woman and gazed down at her. “You have no idea if his time was wasted or not, do you?”
The nurse didn’t admit her lack of knowledge, but neither did she duck his accusation. Instead, she pursed her lips, gave him a withering look, and said, “We’re through here. You need to leave right now.”
CHAPTER 16
My cell rang as Gran and I were eating dinner. The phone was on the table between us, and Birdie’s eyes lit up when she saw Jake’s name appear on the tiny screen. I must admit my heart accelerated a little, too.
At first it sounded as if he was opting out of the evening’s plan to get together, but after a few minutes of confusing chitchat, he finally confirmed Boone’s address and said he’d see me later.
Boone’s was the only place where we could be assured of complete privacy. I, of course, lived with Gran, and although Poppy had an apartment above Gossip Central, I didn’t think this kind of discussion should take place when the bar was open for business. There would be too many curious eyes speculating on Jake’s presence, and how he fit into our group.
Before Jake hung up, he mentioned that he might be a little late. Considering that we weren’t meeting until nine because Poppy had to work until her relief bartender came in at eight thirty, I wondered what could delay him at that time of night.
Gran and I played poker for a couple of hours—she wiped me out of toothpicks. Then at eight I left her watching a rerun of CSI and went to change out of my sweatpants and T-shirt. I didn’t allow myself to think about why I was changing outfits, but I suspected it was because Poppy would be dressed to seduce—her usual style when she tended bar—and I didn’t want to look like her ugly stepsister. I also managed to convince myself that I was only putting on makeup so Boone wouldn’t give me a hard time. It’s amazing how much bullshit I can persuade myself to believe.
Sadly, my hair required more effort than I had the patience to give it. Although I tried setting it in hot curlers, evidently I had forgotten how to do that, because an untamable cloud of ringlets sprang forth when I unwound the little white rods. Giving up my attempt to appear glamorous, and choosing not to look as if I were auditioning for the role of Little Orphan Annie, I wound the whole mess into a loose bun on top of my head.
After stopping in the living room to check on Gran, who was snoring mightily in her La-Z-Boy with Banshee curled on her lap, I hopped into my car and headed toward town. I wasn’t sure if supper hadn’t agreed with me or if I was getting the flu or if the stress of the last few days had settled in my stomach, but it felt as if pterodactyls were playing paintball in my intestinal tract. Maybe I should have brought along a barf bag.
Boone lived in the best part of town—where all the old money resided. He’d inherited the Prairie-style house from his grandmother, and the only changes he’d made were to enlarge and remodel the master bathroom, convert one of the four upstairs bedrooms into a walk-in closet, and add a detached garage out back.
It was a relief to see that I was the first one to arrive, and I parked in the empty driveway. As I did almost every time I visited Boone, I stopped for a moment to admire the grouping of multipaned windows that was the focal point of the second floor. They were the crowning touch on what otherwise would have been a rather humdrum facade.
Boone was waiting for me in the foyer. He greeted me without commenting on my spiffier-than-usual appearance, which I deemed a good omen.
While he hung my jacket, I peeked in the mirror opposite the coat closet and cringed. Smoothing the black lace of my shirt over my hips, and tugging up the deep V of the neckline, I wished I’d worn something else. I was sporting way more cleavage than I was comfortable exposing, and the top’s stretchy material clung to my generous curves.
Since my body type was more apt to be seen in a Rubens painting than in a Vogue photo spread, I liked my clothes loose. It was my opinion that the only entity that should cling to another entity was plastic wrap. Which made me wonder wh
y I had ever bought the damn shirt in the first place, let alone worn it tonight.
“You look fine.” Boone pulled me away from the mirror and into the library.
Draperies the color of expensive brandy pooled on the hardwood floor, and a nutmeg-colored leather sofa and matching chairs were arranged in front of a fireplace. An oak table held a crystal vase full of chrysanthemums and asters, and brass lamps gave off a warm glow.
“Have a seat,” Boone invited. “So at last we get to meet the mysterious cowboy who rode in on his white horse to rescue you.”
“What do you mean ‘at last’?” I chose the chair nearest the warmth. “You met him Tuesday afternoon, not ten minutes after I did.”
“Right.” Boone sank gracefully into the other chair.
I frowned. That left the couch for Poppy and Jake to share. Geesh! When had I become such a jealous shrew? I had never cared before who sat next to the men in my life. Which, by the way, Jake was not.
“He couldn’t get out of there fast enough that day.” Boone adjusted the creases in his khakis. “And you’ve been strangely reluctant to talk about him.”
“That’s not true,” I protested. “There’ve just been more important things to discuss. Like how to keep me from going to jail.”
Before Boone could respond, we heard Poppy yell a greeting as she let herself in. She burst into the room, gave me a hug, and plopped down on the sofa.
Poppy had come directly from the bar and was wearing skintight jeans that laced up the side, exposing tantalizing glimpses of porcelain skin, and a black bell-sleeved knit shirt held together by a single satin ribbon tied between her breasts. Suddenly my choice of clothing didn’t seem quite so risqué.
After we all had helped ourselves to a drink—I stuck to soda, but my friends had martinis—Boone and Poppy tried to grill me about Jake. When I didn’t cooperate, they changed tactics and interrogated me about the case. I put them off, saying we’d go over everything once Jake arrived.
Usually the three of us found enough to say to occupy us for hours, but tonight the conversation seemed forced and stilted. It was as if we were all waiting for the main event. I hated that Jake had already changed the dynamic among us.
Squirming, I checked both my cell phone and my watch. No messages, and Jake was already nearly twenty minutes late. Maybe he’d changed his mind and wasn’t coming after all.
Sad to say, I realized that might be best after all. Jake and I needed to keep our relationship impersonal. Meeting my friends and becoming a part of the group was not the way to do that. So why was I upset by his absence?
The next ten minutes dragged by as I tried to pay attention to Poppy’s story about her father’s latest outrage against humanity. Finally the doorbell rang, and relief surged through me. When Boone sprang from his seat, it was all I could do not to follow him out to the hallway.
Gripping the arms of my chair so I’d remain seated, I heard the front door open and a muffled exchange between the men. A few seconds later Jake stepped into the den. His eyes immediately found mine, and he shot me a devastating grin.
I beamed back at him, not sure why we were both so darn happy.
After Boone introduced Jake to Poppy, he asked him, “What can I get you to drink?”
“A beer would be great.” Jake seemed distracted as he studied the brimming bookcases built into three of the four walls.
“Sam Adams okay for you?” Boone asked, and when Jake nodded, Boone ordered Poppy, “Help me bring in the munchies.”
“Let me.” I put down the ginger ale I had been sipping to soothe my traumatized gastric system.
I started to rise, but Poppy was already up. With a wave and a wink, she followed Boone into the kitchen.
Once my friends were out of earshot I said to Jake, “If you were busy tonight, we could have postponed this meeting.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized they sounded petulant. “I mean, I know you have other things to do than just help me.” Shoot! That hadn’t been much better. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I don’t know if I ever thanked you, but I really am grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”
“You’re very welcome.” Jake’s deep voice filled the room and I felt goose bumps form on my arms. “Sorry I was late, but I had to wait for a call.”
“No problem.” Was the call from his ex-wife? I clamped my lips shut and concentrated on not asking that question. “Have a seat.”
Jake examined the options, then folded his long frame onto the chair opposite mine. For a moment, he rested his head on the back and closed his eyes, a position that displayed his handsome profile.
My mouth went as dry as a week-old doughnut, and I drank in the appealing picture he presented sitting there. Studying him like that, I saw the lines of pain around his eyes and mouth. He never spoke about his injured leg, but I’d bet the dime store’s next mortgage payment that reminders of it were seldom far from his thoughts.
I glanced up and caught Jake looking at me, his expression unreadable. At that moment Poppy came in with a serving platter full of hors d’oeuvres, saving me from having to come up with something to say.
She held out the silver tray to Jake with her right hand and offered him a napkin with her left. “See anything you like?” Her voice was sultry and she fluttered her eyelashes. When he froze, she giggled and said to me, “Boone was right. He’s quite a hunk.”
Jake tipped an imaginary hat at Poppy and said, “Why, thank you, ma’am.”
Poppy giggled again, then put the platter down on the table and curled up on the couch. A second or so later, Boone returned. He handed a bottle of beer to Jake and refilled Poppy’s martini glass from a silver shaker before settling next to her on the sofa.
Poppy looked around brightly. “So, who wants to go first?”
Three pairs of eyes turned to me and I said, “I guess I will.” It took me a minute to organize my thoughts. “Let me see, we all know everything up until when Boone and I came back from the fund-raiser, right?” All of them nodded their heads. “Well, since I can’t remember who knows what, let’s go over the whole lot from that point on.”
“Wait!” Boone’s cry made me choke on the sip of soda I had just taken.
Poppy sprang to her feet and pounded me on the back, while Boone darted to the desk in the corner of the room and dragged back a poster-size white rectangle. He snapped open the easel and set the board in front of us. Dashing back to the desk, he rummaged in the drawer. “I think it’s a good idea for us to write everything down,” he explained as he rejoined the group, handing us each a different color erasable marker.
“Good idea.” I loved a good list, and charts always made me happy. As I explained about Joelle’s false identity, recounted Woods’s second visit to the dime store to harass me, and outlined the mayor’s claims of a new girlfriend providing an alibi, I jotted the information on the whiteboard using bullet points. I finished with, “Any questions or anything you all want to add?”
“Nope.” Poppy licked the Brie oozing off the edge of her cracker.
“That about covers it.” Jake took a swig of his beer.
“Hardly,” Boone snapped. “What about the good doctor? Don’t tell me no one talked to him. I’m sick and tired of everyone giving him a free pass.”
“They don’t,” Poppy objected. “It’s just that he’s had such a hard time with that mother of his, and he does so much good for the community.”
Boone ignored Poppy’s protest and demanded of me, “Did you or did you not go to see Dr. Do-Right? I bet you chickened out, didn’t you?”
“No. I did not chicken out.” I hesitated. Talking about Noah was still hard and my already upset stomach clenched at the prospect of describing our encounter. I looked hopefully at Jake, but his expression said it was my story to tell.
“I heard Noah would be at the Manor for a shelter committee meeting today.” Sticking out my chin, I straightened my spine and prayed my voice wouldn’t betray my feelings. “S
o Jake and I drove out to the restaurant and talked to him this afternoon.”
“Oh, my God!” Boone cried happily. “You faced off with him in public?”
“It was perfectly civilized,” I corrected.
Boone fanned himself with both hands. “I wish I had been a fly on the wall for that reunion. The women on that committee must have been all atwitter in overdrive when you walked in the door.”
“Yes,” I replied tersely, hoping to move on. “They were surprised.”
“That has to be the biggest understatement of the year.” Boone didn’t even try to suppress his grin. “I bet the fussin’ and whisperin’ could be heard all the way into the next county. I’m surprised I didn’t receive a Tweet about your appearance.”
“Maybe you missed it.” I scowled at my friend and muttered, “They were certainly texting. I’m sure if you check Facebook, you’ll get the full report.”
“So?” Poppy stuffed the cracker into her mouth and spoke around it. “What happened?”
“Did Noah agree to talk to you?” Boone jumped in. “Was he jealous you were with someone as hot as Jake?”
I shifted uncomfortably and answered before they could embarrass me further. “Noah was very cooperative. He told us that he’d been delayed at his clinic and didn’t arrive at the hotel until after the room service waiter had already found Joelle’s body.”
“Really?” Boone drew out the single word and rolled his eyes, indicating his skepticism. “And you two believed him why?”
“Not necessarily,” I replied, in our defense. “I’m just telling you what he said.”
“Good.” Boone nodded to himself, satisfied. “Dr. Devious fools a lot of people into thinking he’s a selfless martyr, but not me.”
Poppy playfully whacked Boone’s upper arm with the back of her hand and said to me, “I take it if you didn’t trust Noah’s account of what happened that day, you checked it out? Talked to his staff?”
Little Shop of Homicide: A Devereaux’s Dime Store Mystery Page 14
