by Abby Deuel
Chapter Seven
The first patient for the afternoon was a poodle named Marge, with her owner, Fred. They had come in because Marge’s ears were red and sore from her incessant itching. Fred was the hairdresser down the road. He rented a space behind the general store. He was a very fashionable hairdresser, a little out of place in this small town. Today, he was wearing a sparkly blue shirt underneath a white cardigan. His pants were tan smooth-washed, tailored, boot-leg khakis. On his feet were unusual loafers with a blue accent on the side. Fred had a very effeminate posture and spoke with a lilt. His haircut was clean and neat, with highlights and lowlights and a little gel sculpture. On his right hand was a single gold ring. His poodle had a perfect clip for a miniature poodle, complete with a pink studded collar. From the look of Marge, she wouldn’t have a flea on her.
“What seems to be the problem?” asked Mandy.
“Marge here is as mad as a March hare. She keeps scratching her ears,” answered Fred.
“Have you taken Marge swimming lately?” asked Mandy.
“Oh no, not for Marge. She never touches water unless it’s for a bath. We lead a very clean life, don’t we, Margy?” he asked, talking to his dog.
“Have you changed her diet at all?” asked Mandy.
“Nope. Nothing has changed at all,” answered Fred.
Mandy grabbed the otoscope and examined Marge’s inner ears. They were indeed irritated. She took a swab to have a look under the microscope. She applied a stain to the slide. She placed it on the stage of the microscope, adjusting the knobs to bring the sample into focus.
“That’s a fancy little trick there. What do you see?”
“It looks like poor Marge has a bit of an infection; some yeast and bacteria have set up shop in her ears.”
“What do we do to make her feel better?”
“I’m going to give you some topical drops to put in Marge’s ears to help solve the local problem. I will also give you some oral antibiotics to make sure that we zap this before it gets worse. When you get home, I want you to clean Marge’s ears thoroughly with this solution. Once they’re cleaned out, start the drops. The drops have a steroid in them to help soothe the irritated ears straight away while the antibiotics start to take effect. Does that all sound doable?” said Mandy.
“Sure thing. Anything for Marge,” said Fred. “How are you holding up anyway, dear? I heard about the tragedy.”
“I’m ok,” said Mandy. She was amazed that he had already heard about her morning scare.
“Welcome to the family. Poor Buck. Although you could say he had it coming. Not only did he wear brown shoes with black belts, but he wasn’t exactly a favorite around town,” said Fred.
“Really, what do you mean?” said Mandy.
“Well, I know you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. But, since you’re new in town, I may as well give you the town noise. Buck wasn’t the most gracious loser. He was a pretty competitive guy. When we were little, he used to get to the sack race before everyone else and choose the biggest sack. It wasn’t much of an advantage, but he believed that he needed to have the biggest sack in order to maneuver to the finish line the fastest. I don’t think that he ever outgrew that mentality,” said Fred.
“Interesting. Well, it looks like my next client is here. Here is your sack of medicines for Marge. If you have any questions, please let me know.”
“I think we are good.”
“It was nice to meet you, Fred. I might come down to have you cut my hair sometime,” said Mandy.
“Nice to make your acquaintance, and thanks for helping Marge. I would just love to have a chance to play with your hair. With all of that body, we have loads of styles we could play with. You know where to find me,” said Fred.
Mandy always thought it was interesting that hairdressers couldn’t wait to get their hands into her mane even though she had fought with it most of her life. And now the story of Buck was getting a little more complicated. She walked into the waiting room to meet her next client. There were two clients in the waiting room, though.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Bell, can I help you?” Mandy asked the toned man in the boot cut Levi’s.
“Oh, he’s my friend from New Mexico. He’s in town visiting for the Halloween Hoedown. We went to school together. Then his Dad got a job out of state and he ended up settling out West. We get together once a year to catch up. Dennis, this is Dr. Mandy Bell,” Fred said as he clutched Marge on one side of his waist.
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am. That’s some handshake. Are you going to be playing softball at the Hoedown? We could sure use all the help we can get. Fred here is our expert cheerleader,” Dennis said as he looked at Fred.
“I did used to play in college, but I haven’t played since. That could be really fun. I’ll see if I can dig out my mitt,” she said.
“I played football but these days softball is much better on my joints. I’ll see you there,” said Dennis.
Mandy turned to the next customer, a grey-haired gentleman in greasy overalls. “What can I do for you?” asked Mandy.
“I’m Alvin. I run the town garage. I would shake your hand but I’ve just been working on the gears of Jim Moore’s Ferguson tractor and I’m a bit greasy. You can’t leave a guy without a tractor this time of year so I need to get back lickety split. I just came in for some flea medicine for my dog, Spud,” he said.
“How much does he weigh?”
“About 150 these days,” said Alvin. They put him on the scale to check.
“158 today. Far out, that’s a big dog. Here’s the stuff you need,” said Mandy, handing over a pill for fleas.
“Yeah, Spud’s a Mastiff. He keeps me company at the garage. He’s friendly despite his appearance. My wife loves to call him my junkyard dog. She says he’s uglier than homemade sin,” Alvin said. Spud was lying on the floor with his back legs behind him. Alvin reached down to give him a pat and Spud flipped over to get some petting on his belly. “I heard you got yourself into some kind of mess this morning,” said Alvin.
“Indeed I did.”
“Poor old Buck. A lot of people are going to be unhappy around here. He had a few debts owing to people,” said Alvin as he paid for the flea medicine.
“Interesting. What kind of debts?”
“He was the kind of guy who wouldn’t just play pool. He always had to put a wager on the game,” said Alvin. “I’d love to stay and gab. I need to get back to the Ferguson. It looks like it’s gonna clabber up an’ mildew out there.”
“What?” asked Mandy.
“You’ll learn our sayings around here. That means it looks like it might rain and I don’t want to get wet working on the tractor.”
“Ah.”
“I’ll see you at the Halloween Hoedown.”
“See you there,” said Mandy. Mandy figured that the Hoedown would be the perfect place to learn more about the mysterious deceased man.
Gillian came back up front with a couple of cups of tea and some chocolate chip cookies.
“Sorry it took me a while, I had to fill the sugar container while I was back there and I made a bit of a mess. I figured that I need to keep you caffeinated and sugared up to ensure you get through the day. Right, well it looks like Rhonda is next up to walk through the door,” she said. Mandy wasn’t convinced it was her that needed the stimulants. Gillian seemed to be hooked on tea. She must have one of those metabolisms like a hummingbird because she definitely didn’t have the figure of someone who ate sweet treats all day long.
Chapter Eight
Almost on cue, Rhonda and her dachshund Sugar opened the door and made the old cow bell on the door frame ring. She was wearing a camel-colored leather dress with a giant concha belt loosely around her hips. The belt had chunks of turquoise embedded in sterling silver. She made Mandy feel a tad frumpy in her jeans and fleece pullover.
“Ooh, it looks like I am early. Have your cups of tea, girls, I am in no rush. Tom won’t be home for a while. He’s finishing al
l the paperwork on Buck Dawson. I just don’t know how Tom can examine a dead body and then come home for dinner. I still love him though,” Rhonda said.
“I suppose you get used to it,” said Gillian before she blew on her ceramic horse-themed mug and took a sip of tea.
“Do you know what happened?” asked Mandy.
“Well, I’m not supposed to say. You were the one to find him so I suppose you are more entitled than most to hear the news. Apparently, Buck was definitely murdered. Somebody shot him in the chest. Ironically, it was a one-shot bulls-eye through his heart. Obviously someone other than Buck was a perfect shot. Poor old Buck,” said Rhonda.
“That’s awful. What do you mean it is ironic?”
“Buck was the town aims-man. Anything with a target and he was in, from darts to hunting to rifle ranging. He had quite a competitive spirit,” said Rhonda.
“Does anyone know who might have done it?” said Mandy.
“Nope. He didn’t have a long list of enemies or anything. He sure wasn’t Mr. Popular either,” said Rhonda.
“I hate to be the slave-driver. We should get a move on these x-rays,” Gillian said as she took down three lead gowns for the girls to wear for radiation protection while they held Sugar on the x-ray table. Normally they anesthetized animals for radiographs. With Sugar being pregnant, they didn’t want to administer drugs for sedation that might affect the puppies. Instead they would have to hold her still for the x-ray. The radiation exposure to the puppies would be safe if they only took one x-ray.
“I’ve got the book right here. Let’s see, the factors we used on Maple last time seemed to give a good image. Maple and Sugar are about the same size. So, we’ll try our luck on those,” said Gillian, changing the exposure factors on the x-ray machine. Meanwhile, Rhonda and Mandy put Sugar on the table and positioned her with her right side down on the table and her legs extended out. Mandy adjusted the x-ray beam to aim for the abdomen.
“All clear?” asked Gillian.
“Yep,” said Mandy. Gillian pressed the foot pedal to expose the film. She then took the x-ray cartridge to the dark room for development. While she was gone, Mandy took the opportunity to ask a few more questions.
“So, what do you mean he wasn’t Mr. Popular?”
“Buck was always the alpha of his age group. Despite his relatively small stature, he sure did stir up some trouble. Maybe it was small man syndrome. I remember one time he poured soap in the gas tank of Howie’s scooter. Howie is a sweetie. I don’t think you’ve met him yet. He delivers the mail and does odd jobs like lawn care for people in town. He’s not Einstein. He’s made a life for himself and never causes anyone any trouble. When he was younger, he was a great bull rider until he had a bit of an accident one year where he fell off and suffered a bad concussion. Buck was always tormenting him even though Howie would never hurt a fly.”
“I see. Does Howie have any brothers or sisters?”
“No. His parents are older now and Howie lives in a little carriage house out the back of their house. He keeps to himself mostly. He always goes to the bull riding at the county fair to cheer on his comrades. His parents normally accompany him to any town festivities to keep a close eye on him. They don’t want to see him hurt or taken advantage of.”
“I sure wish the killer could be identified before he or she strikes again,” said Mandy. “The thought of someone at large is disturbing.”
“Tom always says you can wish in one hand and crap in the other. See which one fills up faster. It’s a bit crude, I know. Just don’t get yourself into trouble trying to solve this. A killer is a killer,” warned Rhonda.
Gillian returned with the x-ray and a big smile. “Well, I’m not the vet here. It looks like we are in for a nice litter!” Rhonda shuffled over to the x-ray viewer. She’d seen so many x-rays of her bitches that she was getting the knack of reading them. Mandy walked over to stand beside her while Gillian put Sugar back on the floor.
“Nice exposure, Gillian. I avoid shooting more than one film since the pups are so vulnerable at this time. It looks like you nailed the factors since you can see everything clearly,” said Mandy. As she ran her finger along the x-ray, pointing at a skull and then following the spine of each pup, she counted carefully to herself.
“Eight,” said Mandy.
“That’s what I get too. That’s fabulous. What a clever girl you are, Sugar!” squealed Rhonda. “Oh, it’s going to be a busy few months. Honey is due with a litter of six in the next few days.”
“Well, you know the drill. Give us a shout if you run into any troubles,” said Gillian.
“Sugar hasn’t needed help before. Honey, on the other hand, had a C-section last time. So, you might be getting a call in the near future, Dr. Bell,” said Rhonda.
“Not a problem. Cesareans are such fun. I love bringing pups into the world. Somehow in my head, it evens out the unhappy karma for all of the animals that I have had to put down as a veterinarian. Don’t get me wrong, it’s part of my role: to help animals pass peacefully. I just prefer to bring them into the world every now and then,” said Mandy.
“Hear hear,” said Gillian. “I will go file this away with our other puppy count x-rays.” She left them to head to the archive room.
“I best take Sugar home to spoil her rotten and keep an eye on Miss Honey,” said Rhonda. Sugar must have known what Rhonda was saying. She had stayed very relaxed through the whole appointment but was now waddling in anticipation toward the door. She was almost as round as she was long so her body had a swagger as she shuffled. For a dachshund, late pregnancy ambulation is very entertaining to watch.
“Sounds good. Can you let me know what Dr. Tom finds out about Buck? I’m pretty curious about it all,” Mandy said.
“Oh, call him Doc, everyone else does. I hardly see what a few details among friends could do, though I’m not supposed to,” Rhonda said with a wink.
“My lips are sealed,” Mandy said.
Once Rhonda and Sugar left, Mandy went back into her office and pulled out a blank piece of paper. At the top she wrote Buck and underlined it. Underneath, she wrote Howie, friend of Howie, someone he owed some money. She stopped there, to twiddle her pencil in her hand and bite the end of it. This was a nervous habit she had developed back in grade school, when pencils were standard writing implements. She detested the newfangled mechanical pencils.
She pushed her glasses up on her nose. They always slid down when she was concentrating too hard on biting her pencil or anything else that required focus for that matter. The glasses were vintage. She’d had them for years. A few too many times of bending over for lame cows and falling asleep looking at maps and they didn’t quite stay on as well anymore. She didn’t have the heart to get new ones as she’d become quite attached to them.
Lyle had joined her in the office. She was whining incessantly and pawed at the chair in the corner.
“What it is girl? Is Timmy in the well?” Mandy asked Lyle. Mandy sometimes joked with Lyle about rescuing Timmy. It seemed to make Lyle even more insistent.
Mandy left her list to see what Lyle was jazzed up about. Under the chair was a ball. It must have rolled under at some point. Lyle was obsessive about which toy she would play with. Even if there were ten tennis balls at her disposal, if she started to play with one, it was the only one she wanted until the next play session. Mandy handed the ball to a thankful Lyle. Gillian popped her head in the doorway.
“Next appointment is here.”
“I’ll be right there.” Mandy shoved the list under some files. She’d work on it again later. She grabbed her stethoscope, putting it around her neck. She cleared her mind and made her way to the consult room.
Chapter Nine
Gillian intercepted Mandy just before she went in the room.
“I would have taken vitals. It’s a hamster and I’m not sure exactly how to get a heart rate or a temperature for that matter,” said Gillian, holding back a chuckle.
“That’s quite
ok,” Mandy returned a smile.
“Hi there. I’m so happy you’ve decided to stay. I heard from Alvin at the garage that you are coming to the Hoedown. It’s so nice that you are going to be part of the community,” said Mrs. Bouvier. She had a nice big bun of gray hair on top of her head and a string of pearls around her neck. Her blue cardigan looked like it had been knitted by hand and the mismatched ceramic buttons gave her an artistic flare.
“What seems to be the problem with Pumpkin here?”
“Well, he’s been stuffing his cheeks with every bit of food that my son gives him.”
“Let’s have a look.” Mandy picked Pumpkin up and started with his tail. He was a particularly rotund animal, unable to even turn around to sniff her as she lifted his stubby little tail. “Well, for starters, Pumpkin is a she Mrs. Bouvier.”
Mrs. Bouvier gasped and held her hand up to her mouth.
“How much do you feed her and what do you offer?”
“Lettuce, hamster food from the feedstore, and pinecones. We read that they wear down teeth. I think he, I mean she, always has food in her bowl. She shares the cage with Marvin, our other hamster.”
“Have you noticed Pumpkin gaining weight recently?”
“Well I suppose so. We thought she was just getting fluffy for winter. She isn’t even a year old and we thought she was pretty clever to know that winter in Illinois is worth getting extra fluff for.”
Mandy grabbed a tongue depressor, a pair of hemostats, and an otoscope to visualize the mouth. She gently pried the mouth open with the tongue depressor and used the light on the otoscope to look inside Pumpkin’s left cheek pouch. She inserted the hemostats with her steady hands to feel the cavernous pocket. They are pretty far in there so Mandy couldn’t see much even with all of her tools. Instead, she palpated along the outside.
“Yep, it feels like there is definitely some food squirreled away in there. How old is Marvin?”
