Checked Out

by Sharon St. George

  “I’m not sure anyone knows the answer to that. Most likely he got anxious thinking about the procedure. If Dr. Poole explained what she was going to do, it might have spooked him. She’s notorious for her appalling bedside manner.”

  “I think it was more than that.”

  “Why?”

  “When he called me in New York that night from the hospital, something was bothering him. I tried to reassure him, but he said it wasn’t about his operation. He wanted me to fly out as soon as I could. He said when I got here he’d explain, but I was too late.”

  My pulse quickened with that bit of news. So there was something troubling Cody, but if not his surgery, what could it be? “Maybe your father knows.”

  “I thought of that, and I plan to ask him, but not while he’s still trying to get his mind around Cody’s death.”

  I smiled. “I remember meeting your father years ago when Keely invited our dance class to a swimming party at the ranch. Is he still larger than life?”

  James took a deep breath and gazed out at the passing traffic, illuminated by street lights. “I’m afraid not. I’m worried about his health. He’s not the same man I saw when he visited me last year in New York. He was a patient at TMC back in July, but you probably knew that.”

  I read discouragement in the slump of his shoulders. “No, I didn’t,” I said. “I wasn’t hired until August. Why was he admitted?”

  “He said it was for a suspected heart problem, but his doctor didn’t find anything. Now he’s blaming his symptoms on old age, but that doesn’t explain the way he’s gone downhill since last year. He has pain in his abdomen, his energy’s at rock bottom, and I could swear his skin is turning yellow. That can’t be good.”

  At the mention of yellow skin, a few nasty possibilities raced through my mind. I didn’t mention any of them to James. “Maybe he needs a second opinion. Do you know who his doctors are?”

  “He has a cardiologist and a family doctor.” James gave me their names and asked what I knew about them.

  “They’re both on the TMC medical staff. Good doctors, but it sounds like he needs an internist. You might suggest that his family doctor refer him to someone.”

  “I’ll try, but I’m not sure I can convince him to see another doctor. I’m afraid he’s given up on getting well. He’s more concerned about revising his will.”

  I shook my head. “That’s probably because Cody’s no longer a potential heir. It doesn’t mean he’s expecting to die soon.”

  “But most wills take into account that an heir could die prematurely,” James said. “If Dad wants to make a change, it must be for a significant reason that wasn’t accounted for in the current version.”

  “Maybe he just wants to make sure. It’s the responsible thing to do, isn’t it?”

  “I hope you’re right.” James opened my car door. “I’d better let you get home.”

  I slid into my driver’s seat and rolled down the window. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

  “My pleasure. And tell Jack and your grandmother I plan to visit them while I’m in town. Are they still out in Coyote Creek?”

  “Yes, same place.”

  He pulled a pen and the card I’d given him from his pocket. “What’s their number?”

  I gave him the number, considered ’fessing up about living on their property, but decided to let it go. Maybe he wouldn’t get around to calling them.

  Driving home, I tried to piece together what I’d learned from James. Cody had made an urgent call from his hospital room asking James to come to California right away. Then he’d bolted from TMC in the dark of night. Did he get cold feet? Was he afraid of Dr. Poole? Or did something else spook him?

  And what about Seamus O’Brien’s failing health and his anxiety about his will? His medical record might hold some answers. I wanted to investigate Seamus’s health status for myself. It struck me that three O’Briens had been patients at TMC: DeeDee, Cody, and Seamus. Two were dead and the third might be dying. Would any of their medical charts hold clues to Cody’s death or Laurie Popejoy’s disappearance? I’d need Cleo’s help to sort that out.

  Chapter 7

  At home I glanced at the light on my ancient message machine in case Laurie Popejoy had called again. It wasn’t blinking. I checked my cellphone, hoping she had managed to get my number, but my only call was from Nick.

  “Hey, you. Got your text.” I heard him laughing as he hung up. Not the sound of a lonely guy. He sounded happy. Happy to hear from me or happy for some other reason? I didn’t like the direction my thoughts were going. I nuked a cup of leftover coffee and called him back. He picked up on the second ring.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi, yourself,” I said. I heard whining in the background and a loud woof. “What was that?

  Nick chuckled. “My new best friend. I picked her up yesterday. Her name’s Ginger.”

  “You got a dog? Why?”

  “I’m lonely.” He laughed, and I heard another woof. “Why did you ask me to call?”

  “It was Harry’s idea. I need help with a problem.”

  “What kind of problem?”

  “I need to find a missing person.”

  “Another mystery? Didn’t that last scrape teach you anything?”

  “This is different.” His reference to my last scrape had to do with my face-off with a suspected killer a couple of months earlier. I’d survived intact, but for a moment I’d expected a bullet in the head. Nick hadn’t shown up until the worst was over, and he felt terrible that he hadn’t been there for me. I had promised not to play detective again.

  “So who’s missing?” Nick asked.

  “We need to get together so I can explain.”

  “Okay. Where and when?”

  “Can you come by my place tomorrow?” I wanted him to hear Laurie’s messages.

  “What time?”

  “After jujitsu. Are you going to black belt class in the morning?”

  “Can’t make it. I have a training thing with the dog until noon.”

  “I’ll be home from the dojo by one o’clock, then I’ll be helping Jack and Amah all afternoon.”

  “That’ll work. I can help you help them. What will you be doing?”

  “Shoveling.”

  “Llama dung?”

  “ ’Fraid so.”

  Nick arrived at one o’clock Saturday afternoon with Ginger, his newly acquired Chesapeake Bay retriever. A full grown dog about the size of a Labrador, she walked easily on a leash and seemed smitten with Nick. Amah was an instant pushover, fussing over the pretty waves in Ginger’s red-brown coat. Jack observed the animal with his usual cool reserve and finally expressed his opinion.

  “Nice dog.”

  “Thanks.” Nick beamed. He had been an avid reader of Jack’s articles in outdoor magazines even before he met me. There were few things he valued more than the approval of Jack Highland.

  Startled by a high-decibel howl, we all turned to see Amah’s cat, Fanny, with her back in a Halloween arch, fur standing on end, and bushy gray tail straight up. With flattened ears and a malevolent glint in her yellow eyes, she hissed and spat at Ginger, who dropped onto her belly and hid her nose in her front paws.

  “Shame on you,” Amah told the cat. She shooed Fanny into the house and shut the door.

  “You can tie the dog over there.” Jack nodded toward a peach tree near the pasture fence.

  While Jack and Amah tended the remains of their vegetable garden, Nick helped me shovel and haul several loads of llama droppings. I told him about Cody O’Brien’s death and the subsequent disappearance of Laurie Popejoy. I mentioned Cleo’s suspicions about Dr. Poole and her worry about letting her fiancé go under Poole’s knife.

  Nick leaned on his shovel and wiped his brow. “You think there’s anything to it—the idea that this woman doctor is doing something hinky with her male patients?”

  “It sounds far-fetched to me, but I’ve learned to take Cleo seriously. In her job she s
ees it all, and she’s told me some stories about aberrant behavior by doctors that are hard to believe but well documented.”

  “Do Jack and Amah know you’re meddling again?”

  “Of course not. And I’m not meddling. I want to reassure Cleo that Sig’s surgeon isn’t a serial castrator.”

  “Is that even a word?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll look it up.”

  Nick laughed. “I’m sure you will.”

  We kept at our task for two hours, transporting our full wheelbarrows to a small fenced area where Jack stored the rich manure. Llama dung piles look like giant mounds of oversized coffee beans. The smell is earthy, but not repulsive. Jack uses some of it every spring to fertilize his garden, and the rest goes to various neighbors who prefer it to commercial fertilizers.

  Amah finally announced that it was time for a break. She spread a paper tablecloth on the picnic table in the backyard under the shade of a blue oak and put out iced tea along with sliced tomatoes, marinated zucchini, smoked salmon, and chunks of crusty bread.

  The temperature had climbed to a humid ninety degrees, which wasn’t unusual for a mid-October day in Coyote Creek. Nick and I were hot, sticky, and covered in dust, so we scrubbed and rinsed up to our elbows in Jack’s mudroom before sitting down to eat.

  Whenever Nick was on the premises, Amah was on romance alert, hoping our relationship might take a turn toward matrimony. Throughout the meal her sharp hazel eyes studied Nick and me, analyzing every word, gesture, or nuance. Jack’s scrutiny was less obvious, but I knew where he stood on the matter. He would never criticize my choice of men, but as far as he was concerned, Nick was The One.

  After we ate Nick and I walked down the lane to my little apartment over the barn. Settling into a chair at my dinette table, he listened to both Laurie’s recorded calls several times. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a moment.

  “What do you think?” I asked. “Can we find out where she called from?”

  “I doubt it. This equipment is ancient. Where did you get it?”

  “The phone and answering machine are old discards Jack found in his storage shed. He never throws anything away.”

  “Why would she call on this old phone instead of your cellphone?”

  “I’ve never given her either of my phone numbers. She must have gotten my landline number by calling Information.”

  “Well, forget about tracing her calls. You need to figure out why she called you. Are you good friends?”

  “We knew each other at work, but we weren’t really close. All I know is it has something to do with how Cody O’Brien died. She said it wasn’t Game Boy. She knows his horse didn’t kill him. She must know who did. She either witnessed it or she discovered some kind of evidence.”

  “Any idea why Laurie would be anywhere near where the murder took place?”

  “No. I do know she was working on Cody’s floor that night. Cleo said no one noticed Cody was gone until after Laurie’s shift ended and she left the hospital. The nurse who took over Laurie’s patients on the next shift found an AMA form on Cody’s bed. He was gone.”

  “What’s an AMA form?” Nick asked.

  “It means ‘Against Medical Advice.’ He signed the form, but there was no signature by a physician or a witness on the form.”

  “You think Laurie gave him the form? That she was mixed up in Cody’s escape from the hospital.”

  “It’s possible. At least she must know something, or else why call to say the horse didn’t do it? I’ve left a dozen messages on her phone, but she hasn’t returned any of my calls. Since her second message, the one about Game Boy, I haven’t heard from her again.”

  Nick stood and looked out the kitchen window toward the main house, checking on Ginger. I followed his gaze. Jack was standing over the dog while she drank from a water dish.

  Nick turned back to me. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I was hoping we could have the tape from the answering machine analyzed. Maybe there’s some background noise we can identify that will tell us where she was calling from.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, but don’t get your hopes up.” Nick popped the tape out of the machine. “Aimee, if she is on the run, you could be asking for trouble.”

  “Nick, I just want to make sure she’s all right.”

  “Hell and damn. I might as well do this or you’ll ask someone else.” He dropped the tape in his shirt pocket. “Do you have another tape to load into this thing?”

  I gave him another tape. “How long do you think it’ll take?”

  “A few days, maybe. If you hear from her in the meantime, let me know.”

  “Okay.” I walked toward the door and opened it.

  Nick sat, watching me. “Going somewhere?”

  “I thought you were.” I stood at the open door, feeling silly.

  “You’re letting flies in.”

  I closed the door. “So are you leaving or what?”

  Nick stood, stretched, and yawned. I recognized that particular stretch and yawn. They were reliable signals that he was in the mood.

  “Must be nap time,” he said. “Too much good food.”

  “Amah’s cooking will do that.”

  Nick walked over to me, took my hands and leaned his forehead against mine. Desire weakened my resolve. I wanted his arms around me. He pulled me close, nuzzling my neck and awakening every nerve in my body. As he leaned in to kiss me, the old landline phone rang, shattering the moment. I backed away from Nick. The phone rang again.

  “Son of a gun,” Nick said, in a ragged whisper.

  I reached for the phone, hoping it was Laurie. Nick grabbed my arm. “Wait. Let’s see if the new tape in your message machine is working.”

  It was Amah. “Hi, honey. James O’Brien dropped by. He’s asking if you might come up to the house and say hello.”

  Nick cocked his head at me. “Who’s James O’Brien?”

  “Brother of the dead cowboy.”

  “Why is he visiting your grandparents?”

  “He’s a family friend. Didn’t I tell you? We’ve known the O’Briens since I was a kid.”

  “No, you didn’t mention that.” He gave me a speculative look. “Anything else you didn’t mention?”

  “If I think of anything, I’ll let you know.”

  Nick and I walked up the lane and found Amah, Jack, and James in the backyard. I introduced Nick and James. They shook hands, but said nothing beyond a cursory “Nice to meet you.” Jack finally broke the silence by inviting Nick and James into his den. He wanted to show them brochures of Namibia where he and Amah would be on safari in a matter of days.

  As soon as the men were out of range, Amah stopped cleaning the picnic table. “Okay, young lady, what’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What’s Nick’s doing here?”

  “He wanted to pick up some books and CDs he left with me.” I hated lying to Amah, but I wasn’t about to admit I was trying to solve another mystery. “I told him I’d be doing chores, and he offered to help.”

  “So it isn’t a date?”

  “No. Sorry.”

  “And James?”

  “He came by the hospital to ask about Cody. He did mention that he’d like to see you and Jack, but I didn’t know he was going to show up today.”

  “So he came by to visit Jack and me. That I believe, because he was surprised to hear that you’re living in our barn, but it doesn’t explain the look on his face when he saw you with Nick.”

  “You must have imagined that. James is just an old friend.”

  “I have a pretty good memory, you know. He was your first big crush, wasn’t he?”

  “That was a long time ago. I was just a kid.”

  Amah raised a skeptical eyebrow, but let it go.

  A few minutes later, Nick and James appeared on the veranda chatting like long-lost buddies. Amah asked if they wanted iced tea, or maybe a cold beer. They declin
ed, each making noises about how it was getting late and how he should be leaving. It couldn’t be soon enough to suit me.

  “How long will you be in town, James?” Amah asked.

  “I’m not sure. Family matters are going to take some time, I’m afraid.”

  Jack put an arm around Amah’s shoulders. “Let us know if we can help.”

  “You’re always welcome,” Amah added. “Come by any time. And we’d like to attend Cody’s memorial, if you have one planned.”

  “I’ll let you know.” James turned to me. “I had a great time last night. Thanks for inviting me.” He kissed my cheek in front of everyone. Amah gasped, Jack coughed, and Nick’s smile had a dangerous twist.

  After James left, I walked to Jack’s driveway with Nick and waited while he loaded Ginger in his SUV and slid into the driver’s seat. Through his open window he said, “So James is an old family friend?”

  “Yes. I wanted to see Code Blues at Margie’s Bean Pot last night. I hoped Laurie Popejoy might show up. I needed an escort, and James was available.”

  “So was I.”

  “That wouldn’t have worked. I wanted to hear what I could about the rest of the O’Brien family. James and Keely’s father is gravely ill. Seamus wants to change his will, but James doesn’t think it’s because Cody died. He thinks there’s some other reason.”

  “Ah, the plot thickens,” Nick said.

  “You have no idea. I found out yesterday morning that the O’Brien’s filed a wrongful death suit against TMC. Last night James claimed he knew nothing about it.”

  “You believe him?”

  “I think so. He asked Jared Quinn how to get a copy of Cody’s medical record. Why would he do that if he knew the record had already been subpoenaed?”

  “To cover himself and keep you guessing what he’s up to?”

  “Possibly, but I’m more concerned that Laurie Popejoy knows something that has put her in danger. I won’t stop worrying until I hear from her again.”

  Nick started his engine. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  “How can I? She called me twice. I have to know why. What if she’s been abducted?”