by Diana Orgain
“Yeah, I’ve been to that shelter,” Maeve says and glances down at me; I had escaped from that shelter along with Penny’s cat. When she gives me that stern look, I notice a spark of purple magick in her eyes.
She needs to get out of this room. Soon.
She looks back at Dr. Roberts. “So James really helped out here a lot? No offense, but he hadn’t exactly given me that sort of impression.”
“My father ran this shelter back when James and I were kids,” Dr. Roberts says. “James’ family dog had a brain tumor, and they couldn’t afford the surgery. They were going to have to put him down, but my father did the surgery anyway and covered the costs. James was fifteen at the time, and he got another nine years of life from his family’s beloved dog. James, I’ll admit, was not exactly well-liked around these parts. But every year, during our fundraiser, he remembered what my father did–and my father was very passionate about this annual adoption drive. James, no matter how big-headed that man got, always volunteered. If anyone in town got along with James, it was certainly me and my employees.”
“That’s a very sweet story,” Maeve says. “It’s nice to know James had a heart under that bullying persona of his.”
“There’s something about a boy and his dog that can tug at a person’s heart,” Dr. Roberts says. “Even a cold heart like his.”
I notice Maeve starting to scratch at her nose, and little bits of purple fairy-like dust seem to trickle down her wrists. I nudge myself up against her, and she looks down in her lap in time to see the magick dust that is now seeping out of her pores. “I think I need to step out,” Maeve says, standing up before Dr. Roberts can notice the strangeness that is her witchery. “The scented candles are giving me a headache.”
“Oh, sorry about that. I use candles to help cover up the euthanasia smell. One of my nurses is putting a dog down this morning,” he says. “If there is anything else I can do for you, let me know.”
“Will do,” Maeve says, bolting out of the office. She breathes deeply before heading back up to the front. She takes a moment to talk to some of the ladies at the front desk about Mayor James, and they all seem to confirm Dr. Roberts’ story. This veterinary clinic is the one place in town that doesn’t have a single person who hated Mayor James’ guts.
“Oh, you should have seen him at last year’s fundraiser,” one woman says. “He was so sweet, running around with this new litter of puppies!”
It’s a weird image, and I don’t care for it. I prefer to think of James as a creep.
I decide to do a little sniffing around myself. I manage to slip into a back room, and suddenly I smell death.
I freeze.
There’s this mom and her son standing in a corner crying and petting this dead dog on a table. My stomach churns as I realize I just walked in on a dog being put down. The smell in the room is cloying, and I feel like I’m going to pass out. Maeve arrives right behind me, and she drags me back to the room while she apologizes over and over again to the mom and kid who were having a private last moment with their pooch.
We go back into the waiting room so that Maeve can finish speaking with the women at the front desk, but I keep picturing the dead Labrador on the table.
If something happened to me and Maeve couldn’t afford the vet bills, would she do that to me?
Would she have me put down?
I can’t help myself, I frantically rub my snout against Maeve’s leg.
Love me, please love me. Love me.
Maeve absently pats my head, and I relax for a moment.
I don’t think she’s going to find any suspects here, and she seems to think the same. We head back out of the building.
Once in the parking lot, Maeve sighs. “Looks like we’re back to square one. Maybe I should go talk to the local pharmacies and hospitals and see if there’s anyone with a connection to James there?” Maeve speaks out loud as we walk. She shakes her head. “I don’t even know if pentobarbital would even be something that’s just stocked in a pharmacy though! Really, this is the only place in town that would make any sense for someone to be able to gain easy access to the stuff. So someone who had a grudge against James who knows he’s been popping pills and who has a connection to this place has to be the killer! And, whoever it is, also has to know where James keeps his pills in order to have placed the pentobarbital into his pill capsules.”
Maeve has gotten a little bit ahead of me. I’m distracted, looking for Damien. I was hoping he would have waited outside, but it seems like he’s moved on for the day. Just as I am about to trot over to Maeve, I hear the sound of screeching tires. This black car comes hurtling into the parking lot at full speed …
And Maeve doesn’t see it!
I watch in horror as the car rams into her, sending her up and over the top of the vehicle.
“Maeve!” I cry out, and it comes out as a loud bark.
She’s hurt! She must definitely be hurt.
I bark like a complete lunatic as I race toward her.
The two women who’d been working the counter come darting out into the parking lot, obviously having heard the collision as well as my manic howling. Maeve is laid out in the middle of the parking lot.
She’s not moving!
Before I can reach her, a pair of arms wraps around me, yanking me backward.
I bark and growl, and manage to bite my assailant just as I’m thrown into the back of a vehicle. As punishment for the bite, I get a muzzle wrapped around my jaw. I flail around in the backseat of the car that had just hit my Maeve, attempting to get the muzzle off. The man who grabbed me dashes around to the driver’s side and speeds off, leaving Maeve behind.
Wait! What’s going on!
Maeve!
No, no. no. This can’t be happening! For crying out loud, I’m being doggie napped!
Suddenly I smell something.
The familiar smell sends me back to Dr. Roberts’ office and the dog I walked in on that was being put down.
Oh no!
The thing that I had smelled was pentobarbital, and there’s some in the car right now.
Why would someone carrying pentobarbital, a euthanasia drug used on animals, kidnap a dog?
My four legs tremble so much, they turn to Jell-o as we head down a back road at full speed.
Chapter Eleven
Maeve
Maeve saw the car coming from the corner of her eye, and she braced herself for impact. She did not feel a thing apart from a slight tickle against her skin as she went up and over the car. She did, however, feel the very rough landing on the pavement.
“Whoa,” she mumbled as the magick purple bubble she’d accidentally created around herself vanished. She moaned slightly after the rough landing, and as she rolled over onto her back, she heard the car peel away. Through slightly hazed vision, she watched the black Honda swerve down a side road.
“Thank you, Dr. Roberts,” she said under her breath, knowing that the ridiculous amount of scented candles in his office had probably saved her life.
The two women who had been seated at the receptionist’s desk were suddenly standing over her.
“Oh my goodness, are you all right?” one of them questioned, kneeling down beside her. “Did that car just hit you? Call 911!” she shouts at her companion, who’s already whipping out her cell phone to report the hit and run. “I saw everything from the window–that guy hit you on purpose!”
Maeve sat up slowly, but the woman put a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think you should move.”
“I’m fine, really,” Maeve said. “Just a bit shaken up.”
“Amazing,” the woman said, looking her over. “You hardly have a scratch! Thank God!”
Maeve held up her right arm where she had a serious case of road burn, but she counted herself lucky. She could have wound up with broken bones instead. She could have been dead.
“Where’s my dog?” Maeve questioned, looking around for Wanda. She rose to her feet, and she felt a panicky fee
ling form in her chest. “Wanda! Wanda!” she called out.
“Whoever hit you took your dog,” the receptionist said.
Anger flared in Maeve’s belly, and she felt as if her blood were boiling. “Oh! Someone is really going to regret that! “I’m going after Wanda!” she declared. She raced through the parking lot toward her car, but the women stopped her.
“You need to wait until the police get here,” the woman said. “To file a hit and run report. We’re not even sure where the car that took your dog is headed. You’ll just be driving around aimlessly.”
Maeve gritted her teeth, but she knew the woman was right.
The two women walked her inside. One woman pulled out a first-aid kit to dress Maeve’s arm while the other woman frantically informed Dr. Roberts what had taken place in his parking lot.
Dr. Roberts joined Maeve in the waiting room and listened to his staff’s version of the hit-and-run story. By luck or by chance, Officer Joseph was in one of the two patrol cars that responded to the call.
Joseph, along with three other officers, entered the veterinary clinic just as the women finished bandaging Maeve’s banged-up arm. Joseph looked pale as he came and sat down beside her in the waiting room.
“Mind giving us your statement as to what happened?” one of the other officer’s asked.
Maeve went through the details of the ordeal, leaving out the part about her magick and writing it off as a miracle that she hadn’t been hurt worse.
“She went right up and over the top of that car!” one of the women exclaimed, “Like an acrobat!” The women grabbed at each other’s hands and seemed more shaken by the ordeal than Maeve.
“Whoever it was took my dog, Joseph. They took Wanda,” Maeve said. She could feel her magick coursing through her body, wanting to escape. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself down lest she reveal her little secret to the roomful of veterinary assistants and local officers.
“I just cannot believe whoever it was that hit you just drove off like that!” Dr. Roberts exclaimed.
“That’s because whoever did it was aiming for her!” one of the receptionists said. “They were trying to kill her!”
“Easy there,” Joseph said. “Let’s calm down, everyone.”
The door to the clinic opened as the first client of the day entered with her large hound. Dr. Roberts shooed the two women back behind the counter and then turned to the officers. “Would it be better if you all had somewhere more private to talk? I’ll have more clients arriving soon. You can use my office,” he said.
It would probably be a good thing to sit in his sauna of scents again, Maeve thought. I’m only alive because of his scented candles!
The four officers and Maeve followed Dr. Roberts back into his office. The man was kind enough to pour Maeve and each of the officer’s some coffee before leaving them to themselves as he returned to work.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Joseph said, sitting in the empty chair beside her.
The other officers remained standing and grumbled.
The lavender and vanilla scents tickled Maeve’s nostrils. She could feel the magick buzzing through her more rapidly now. She tucked her hands between her knees to keep anyone from noticing the purple sparks she kept emitting.
Take it easy, Maeve, she told herself.
“I’m all right, Joseph,” she said. “I’m definitely lucky, but now I’m worried about Wanda. I mean, what kind of person runs someone down in a parking lot and then steals their dog?”
As Maeve continued to breathe in the scented candles, she started to feel incredibly aware of her surroundings. It was as though she could process the scene differently with a more observant eye. She noticed something she hadn’t noticed the first time she’d been in Dr. Roberts’ office that morning.
“That picture,” she said and pointed across the room at Dr. Roberts’ bookshelf.
One of the standing officers turned and pointed; Maeve nodded, and the officer brought it to her.
“Nathan and Alex,” she mused.
The two Navy boys stood with their arms over one another’s shoulders looking back into the camera.
“Does that mean something to you?” Joseph asked.
The door to the office opened, and Dr. Roberts poked his head back into the room. He smiled slightly. “Just checking in,” he said. “Everything all right in here? Can I get anyone some more coffee?”
Maeve held up the picture frame. “How do you know Nathan and Alex?” she asked.
Joseph answered on his behalf. “Alexander is Dr. Roberts’ son. Alexander Roberts.”
Dr. Roberts’ face paled. “Is … everything okay? Alex isn’t … he’s not in trouble, is he?”
Maeve slowly rose from her seat. “Why? Does Alex get into a lot of trouble, Dr. Roberts?” she asked as she returned the picture to the bookshelf.
“Well, no …” he said, but he had hesitated.
Maeve sensed Dr. Roberts was holding something back. She motioned for him to speak, and tried to ignore the spark that flew from her hand.
She glanced nervously at Joseph but his eyes were riveted on Dr. Roberts.
Dr. Roberts sighed. “Alex flunked out earlier this year. The whole reason he went into the Navy was to send himself to school. Wanted to be a vet like his old man. Alex has just been a little on edge since dropping out of college, and then his girlfriend was killed earlier this year …”
“I need to make a phone call,” Maeve said.
“Dr. Roberts, would you stay in here for a moment?” one of the officers asked, shutting the door.
Maeve grabbed the phone off Dr. Roberts’ desk.
“Who are you calling?” Joseph asked.
“City hall,” Maeve said, dialing. It took a moment for her to get Susan Horn on the phone.
“Susan, this is Maeve O’Dare,” Maeve said–the officers in the room gave Joseph a peculiar look.
“Mayor’s new assistant,” he said, shrugging.
“Hey, Maeve,” Susan said sweetly. “Everything okay? You sound a little panicked.”
“Well, I might be a little,” Maeve admitted. “Listen, you’re on speaker phone. I have a few officers here with me and Dr. Roberts from the veterinary clinic.”
“Oh, hello Dr. Roberts!” Susan’s voice sang happily.
“I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me,” Maeve said.
“Okay, shoot.”
“Were you aware of Mayor James’ addictions to pain medications?” she asked, and there was a very long pause.
Joseph spoke. “Susan, you’re not in trouble. If you know something, please tell us.”
After another long pause, Susan spoke up. “Okay, okay. Yes, I knew all about it. He had a serious problem. I tried getting him to talk to someone about it, but he got to the point where he would threaten me with my job. He even would have me call up all the different pharmacies in Wisteria Pines and even in other cities to get his fix for him.”
“So you knew where he kept his medicines?” Maeve asked.
“Yes. He kept them in the glove box of his car, and he always had a spare bottle in his desk at work too,” Susan said. “Why?”
“Would Nadine have known?” Maeve asked.
“Are you kidding?” Susan questioned. “When I moved into Nadine’s old office I found a whole notebook full of the names of all the physicians and dealers he got his stuff from. Nadine knew all about it. No doubt James made her do a lot of running around collecting his pills the same way he made me.”
“Thanks Susan, I appreciate it,” Maeve said. “I’ll call you back if I have any more questions.”
“Anytime, Maeve,” Susan said as Maeve hung up the phone.
“What are you thinking, Maeve?” Joseph asked.
“I think that back when Frank and I were dating and we had a hard time at work … overbearing client or whatever… we would complain to one another about it,” she said. “And if Nadine and Alex were dating, no doubt Nadine v
ented to him about having to deal with James’ addiction. Alex could have easily known where James kept his medication. This is the only place in town other than one or two pharmacies that keeps pentobarbital in stock.”
Joseph turned and looked at Dr. Roberts. “Sir, does your son have access to this building? Is it possible he could have stolen euthanasia medication?”
Dr. Roberts looked sick. “I don’t like what you’re suggesting, Joseph!”
“Does Alex drive a black Honda?” Maeve asked.
Dr. Roberts reached for the desk to steady himself. “Yes. My God, is that what hit you out in the parking lot?”
“If Alex was going to school for veterinary studies, he probably could have figured out what sort of dosage to give James that would be lethal,” Maeve said.
Dr. Roberts shook his head. He fumbled around his desk and sat down, rubbing his temples. “It wouldn’t take much,” Dr. Roberts said. “And if James even had one little taste of alcohol, really, any dosage would have done him in.”
“Did your son ever talk about what happened to Nadine? Did he blame Mayor James?” Joseph asked.
“Of course he did!” Dr. Roberts exclaimed. “He blamed Eleanor mostly … once … once he …” the man’s voice cracked.
“Dr. Roberts, please,” Joseph said urgently, forcing the man to focus.
“More than once, I suppose,” Dr. Roberts said. “Alex has a temper. He said he wanted to kill Eleanor for what happened to Nadine. But she’s in prison and out of his reach. He said it a lot, actually.” Dr. Roberts pressed his fingers to his temple. “I thought it was Alex being angry. He said a while back that if James hadn’t been sleeping around with married women, none of this ever would have happened, but I always got the impression that he blamed Eleanor.”
“He couldn’t get to Eleanor, so he displaced his anger onto James–her intended target and the man who drove Eleanor insane to begin with,” Maeve said. “Alex is the one who killed Mayor James.”
Maeve’s phone beeped. Out of habit, she glanced down at it to see that she had a message from an unknown number. “Um … Dr. Roberts, do you have Alex’s cell phone number?”
