by A W Hartoin
I watched them go back and forth for a minute and decided I had to try for some information once again. “So I found out something interesting this morning.”
Raptor sucked in a breath, her eyes fixed on me. “You know who did it?”
“Maybe.”
Robert was less excited. “I’m getting hungry. Mercy, can you check on my tray, please?”
Raquel pressed the call button and Robert’s hands went into fists.
“Can I help you?” asked a voice out of nowhere.
“My grandfather would like to know when he’ll be getting breakfast,” said Raptor.
“I’ll check. Should be any minute now.”
“Thank you.” Raptor looked at me and not with hate. A new experience for me and it took a second to recover.
“Oh, I found out that Steve Dudgeon was kicked out of the army for dealing drugs.”
“Who?” asked Robert, avoiding my eyes. He knew exactly what I was talking about and Raptor knew it, too.
“Grandpa, you have to tell what you know. Somebody tried to kill you.”
Robert blew off the idea, saying it was the rally and crazy things happened.
“They haven’t had a murder in ten years,” I said. “And there’s been three in the last forty-eight hours.”
He twitched. “Three?”
I told him about the Millfords and he denied knowing them. He denied that he knew Cheryl Morris, even though I pointed out that she was the wife of his deceased lieutenant.
“I didn’t know the wives. How could I?” he asked. “We didn’t have Facebook back then.”
Raptor and I pressed him, asking questions every which way, but he wouldn’t give in. I guess fifty years of silence cements a secret pretty well.
The nurse, a sweet guy named Willy, brought in his tray and the pain killer. Robert made it clear that the topic was closed. He wanted to eat his oatmeal in peace. I gave up, but my curiosity was seriously piqued. What could he be hiding that was worth killing over five decades later? I had to know, but I didn’t think the answer was going to be any prettier than the video of the Millford homicide scene.
Chapter Nineteen
RAPTOR CHASED ME down the hall. “I’m going with you.”
“Where do you think I’m going?”
“To figure out who killed Hal.”
“I’m going to change a bandage. You can watch, but it won’t be exciting,” I said.
She grabbed my arm and spun me around. “You’re not cutting me out. I’m going.”
“Why? You didn’t even think Hal was murdered.”
“I changed my mind.”
“You want to help? Get something out of your grandfather or mine.” I took off down the hall again with her on my heels.
“I would if I could, but he’s so stubborn.”
Talk about stubborn. We walked onto Grandad’s ward and found him trucking down the hall with his IV pole.
“What are you doing?” I ran up and headed him off.
“Trying to find my pants.”
“I told you I’d get your pants.”
“You weren’t here. My kidneys are swell. I can leave and I need my pants.”
“Dr. Gail isn’t coming until eleven. We won’t know until then,” I said.
“Tammy gave me the numbers and I looked it up on Kidney.org. I’m good.”
Dammit, internet. Stop being so helpful.
“The doctor will decide. Now let’s get back to your room.”
“Are you trying to boss me around, young lady?” asked Grandad with glittering eyes.
“I sure am. Go get in bed.”
“Go get my pants.”
I covered my eyes for a second. My hands smelled like pug and I’d washed them twice. So smelly. “Can you please just—”
“No. I’m not a prisoner. I’m leaving.”
I dropped my arm, feeling a little tearful. I was so damned tired and the only person who wanted to help was Raptor. Raptor! After we figured it out, she’d probably shank me.
“I’ll find your clothes,” said Raptor. “Mercy’ll change your bandage.”
“Tammy did it,” said Grandad. “I’m ready to roll.”
Raptor went off in search of Grandad’s bloody clothes and I got him back to the room. For an old guy with a massive number of stitches, Grandad moved well. Raptor got the on-call hospitalist to release him and picked up his prescription for painkillers that he declared he’d never take and a supply of sterile bandages and whatnot. She was so efficient we were walking off the floor in a half hour. No wheelchair. God forbid.
We met Big Mike, Barney, and Janet in the waiting room. Barney and Janet were yawning and bent over coffee cups.
“I let them sleep,” said Big Mike.
Grandad hugged everyone and said, “Good. You need your rest.”
“So do you,” said Janet. “Where are you going?”
“Shopping,” he replied with a huge grin. “Life is short.”
Oh, no. Don’t say it.
“You do need new clothes,” I said quickly. “Those are trashed.”
“I need a bike. I like the Indians. What do you think, Barney?” Grandad asked.
Barney took a slow drink of coffee under the icy gaze of his wife. “Indians are nice, but you can shop any time. You were almost killed.”
Grandad scoffed. “Almost killed? It’s a scratch. The doctor said I’m strong as an ox.”
“She said you’re stubborn as an ox,” I said.
“Tomato. Tamahto. I need a bike.”
I crossed my arms. “How are we going to get it home?”
“You’ll ride the BMW and I’ll ride the Indian.”
“I don’t have a license.” Take that, old man.
Grandad snorted and I saw a flash of the daring pilot I’d heard tell about. “License. You don’t need a license. You have good sense.”
“I don’t think the cops will give me a pass on sense.”
“Cops? Screw ‘em.”
“Grandad!”
He leaned in and whispered. “I can say damn, too. And shit. And—”
“Knock it off. You’re freaking me out.”
Grandad threw back his head and gave out a belly laugh without a wince. It must’ve hurt his back, but he didn’t show it. His laugh was infectious and it spread to Barney, Big Mike, and Janet. Only Raptor remained stoic.
“Look at you,” said Grandad. “Getting all prissy. Worrying about the cops. Acting like you don’t cuss.”
“You’re a cop,” I pointed out.
“Retired and that’s why I don’t give a shit.”
I gasped a little. I’m not gonna lie.
“We won’t get pulled over. You drive like an old lady. I blame your mother. The woman has a serious case of feather foot. Besides, I’ll be there. You won’t get a ticket.” He waved to Big Mike and gave him a thumbs-up. There was something in that look. A little Don’t worry about Mercy. I’ll take care of her and I didn’t like it.
“What was that about?” asked Raptor.
“That is about having a good time,” said Grandad. “You remember having a good time, don’t you?”
Raptor’s expression said she didn’t, not one bit.
“Well, we’re going to buy a bike and have some of that barbecue Aaron’s been talking about.”
“Aaron’s been talking?” I asked.
“Don’t you listen?”
“I thought I did.”
Grandad took my arm and steered me out of the waiting room. “It’s definitely the Indian. What do you think about the Roadmaster?”
“Are you kidding?” I asked. “That thing’s a beast.”
“Reminds me of my Huey,” he said wistfully. “Do you think Grandma will like it?”
“I think she’ll throw more rolls at you.”
He chuckled. “Sometimes, I don’t know where you came from. You’re such a pantywaist.”
“What does that even mean? What’s a pantywaist?”
Grandad pushed me out the f
ront doors of the hospital and maneuvered me into the BMW’s sidecar.
Finally, a break.
I looked at Raquel. “Sorry. We’re not both going to fit.”
She held up a set of keys. “I told you I’m going.”
“In what vehicle?”
“The truck you stole last night. My grandfather told me to buy it off that kid so you wouldn’t get in trouble and I did.” She tilted her head to give me a sly smile. “I think that means you owe me.”
Crap on a cracker.
“What do you want?”
“I want you to find out who tried to kill my grandfather and I’m going to be right there to make sure you do.”
Grandad held up a hand. “Nope. We’re shopping. The cops will handle everything else. I almost died. This is my day.”
“You just said it was a scratch,” I said.
“Now it’s a near-death experience. Get in.”
I didn’t get in. I negotiated. I’d go shopping for a bike that he was absolutely not buying, if he rode in the bloody truck with Raptor. He reluctantly agreed and untied Wallace, who was halfway to crazy town.
I got in the sidecar and Aaron dropped Wallace on my lap. She dug her nails into my thighs and I screeched.
“Alright, pantywaist,” Grandad said with a grin. “Let’s go buy a bike.”
“Mom’ll kill me,” I said.
“You can handle yourself.”
“Have you met my mother?”
Grandad popped my helmet on my head and went with Raptor to the truck. If he had any hesitation about riding in a truck covered in his friend’s blood, I didn’t see it.
“You aren’t buying a bike. It’s not happening!” I yelled as Raptor helped him climb in.
“Watch me!” he yelled back.
Better and better.
I followed Grandad through the bikes in the Indian area. The salesman loved him. They talked storage, engines, and some sort of communication system that Grandad thought Grandma would love. She wouldn’t because she was never getting on one of those bikes.
I nodded when they spoke to me, but my mind was on other things. Mostly, what Morty had said about Grandad not being a target and he wasn’t. It seemed like a crime of opportunity. The storm at The Stone House. Nobody was looking. Hal seemed like the same thing. He was drunk, alone, and vulnerable. They used his own meds to kill him, but how did they know what they’d find in his room?
“Where’s the closest bathroom?” I asked the sales guy.
He directed me down the street past the community center. I went around the corner and called Uncle Morty.
“What do you want?” he growled. “It’s been like five minutes.”
“Believe me, it hasn’t. I have a quick question about Hal’s email. Does he get those pick up your meds messages from his pharmacy?”
He thought for second. “Yeah, he does.”
“Can he access his messages from his computer?” I asked.
“Yes…ah, that’s how they knew what was wrong with him.”
“What about the rest of them? Lots of meds?”
“I wasn’t really looking. I told you nobody cared about their emails. Did somebody else get sick?” Uncle Morty sounded worried and it made me think.
“Big Mike.” I told him about the vomiting on the first night.
“So he drank. Big whoop.”
“It was a big whoop. He’s a recovering alcoholic and couldn’t have drunk enough to make him sick. I would’ve seen him doing it. Gotta go.”
“Wait—”
I hung up on him for a change. Big Mike. That first night. That vomiting. It wasn’t right. Maybe he was a target. One way to find out.
I went back to the Indian area, my mind in a whirl.
“Come on, Mercy,” Grandad said. “Get on the green and cream one.”
“I value my life, so that’s a pass,” I said.
Grandad fluttered his hand over his chest. “It’s my day. I almost died.”
He explained his brush with death to the salesman who looked at me like I might be the worst granddaughter alive. I got on the bike and Grandad took a slue of pictures of me with Raptor standing next to me. I kept thinking she would push the bike over in an attempt to crush me, but she just whispered, “How is this solving anything?”
“If you’ve got any ideas. I’m open for business,” I whispered back.
Grandad finished and showed us the shots. “I think this one’s the best. It has a real vintage look to it and the brown leather saddle is the best. You look great.”
I look like dead meat.
“So are we done?” I asked. “You should really get back to the B&B and change clothes.”
“I don’t need clean clothes for a test drive.”
“Test drive? You’re not taking a test drive. That’s crazy.”
The hand went back to the chest. “I almost died.”
“You’re going to die if you take a test drive. You’re stiffening up. I can see it.”
The sales guy said ever so helpfully, “No problem. He can go nice and easy.”
I wanted to punch him and it must’ve showed because he backed away slowly.
“It’s not happening. You can do it when you get back home,” I said.
“Your grandmother won’t let me have any fun. She acts like I’m old and decrepit.”
“You are decrepit right now.”
“Somebody has to test this bike.” Grandad turned to Raptor. “You can do it.”
Raptor started. “What? Me? You have to test your own bike.”
“In a perfect world, yes, but Mercy’s here and it’s not perfect.”
“Thanks, Grandad,” I said.
“It’s how you made it.”
It was how I made it and it was perfect. For me, that is. Rid of Grandad and Raptor in one go. “How long will it take?”
The sales guy held up his hands. “One hour max.”
Not ideal, but I could work with it.
“Alright, one test drive for Raptor, I mean, Raquel.” I shooed them. “Go for it.”
“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go,” said Grandad. If he wasn’t so stiff, he’d have been jumping up and down.
“Can’t. Aaron was talking about going over to check out the barbecue place to make sure it’s up to snuff. Right, Aaron?”
“Huh?” Aaron was sharing a piece of pizza with Wallace. I don’t know when or where he got it.
“You know, the barbecue.”
Please, you little weirdo. Pay attention.
“Yeah, barbecue,” said Aaron.
Grandad frowned. “I want us to stay together in light of my condition.”
“Your condition is crazy. I can’t help with that.” I looked at the sales guy and stroked the tassels on the handlebars. “Do they have this one over there?”
He nodded like a bobblehead. “Yes, they do. She can ride this very model.”
Grandad agreed, transfixed by tassels and chrome. He and Raptor headed for the blood truck to ride to the test drive area at the end of town. Aaron, Wallace, and I went the other way, but not for long. The second Grandad was out of sight, I turned to go across the main drag.
“What about the barbecue?” asked Aaron.
“No barbecue. I have to get something more important.”
“You’re hungry.”
“I’m aware, but we have to go to The Rack and Ruin first.”
“Barbecue first.”
“Vomit first.”
“Huh?”
For once, Aaron’s huh made sense.
“It’s a long shot, but Big Mike vomited that first night. There’s a chance it’s still there. I want to get it.”
He glanced at me as I pulled him toward The Rack and Ruin. His look said you won’t eat crab, but you’ll pick up old vomit? Yep. I’ll pick up vomit, fresh or otherwise. I’m a nurse. I’ve done a whole lot worse.
“I want to test it.”
“For what?”
“Isradipine to start with. I
should’ve thought of this last night. I was right there. Such an idiot.”
Bark.
“Thanks, Wallace. At least now it’s unanimous.”
We walked in the bar ten minutes later and it was whisper quiet compared to the night before. A guy with red-rimmed eyes stepped out from behind the main bar. “Sorry. We’re not open yet.”
“I don’t want to drink,” I said. “I need to get to the back area.”
“Sorry. We’re closed.”
“You might have evidence of a crime back there and I need to get it.”
“Sorry. We’re closed,” he said without a shred of interest. I said crime and everything.
“I know that—”
Bark.
Wallace wiggled around, looking what was commonly-called adorable.
Bark. Bark.
The guy stared at her and I got an idea, a stupid idea, but an idea nonetheless.
“This,” I said with a flourish, “is Wallace the Wonder Pug. She is investigating the murder at the Rally Inn and some other stuff.”
His brow furrowed. “Sounds familiar.”
“Do you know Lacy at Sexy Stitches for Hot Bitches?” Those words were hard to get out, but I did it.
“Yeah, I know Lacy. She has the best clothes.”
“Er…yeah. Call her. She knows all about Wallace.”
He called Lacy and she backed me up so much that she had the guy taking pictures of Wallace for her Instagram. Whatever it takes. He finally let us through the empty bar and I went to the corner where Big Mike vomited, holding my breath for more reasons than one.
I found a watery mess of yuck still in the corner. I guess cleaning wasn’t a huge priority. “Yes!”
“That’s barf,” said the guy.
“No. It’s evidence,” I said.
He bent over and took a good look. “I don’t see anything, except barf.”
“The barf is the evidence.”
“How’s that?”
“The person who threw up may have been poisoned,” I said.
His left hand started vibrating. “Ah, hell. I gotta call Bob.”
“In a second. What does that smell like to you?”
He gave me a look like I had six loose screws. “Barf.”
I pulled him down closer and forced myself to breathe through my nose. “Yeah, but there’s a stankness to it.”
“So?”
“So…it’s important. What does it smell like?” I knew the answer. I just wanted to hear him say it.
