“In fact, in my manuscript,” Howie said, hefting his stack of paper, “I speak of the history of man and nature in California—”
“Your manuscript is—” Sandstrom cut in angrily.
“I treat the deer that visit my house with respect,” Howie cut back in quietly but surely. “Just as generations of Californians have. I set out a bucket of water, a salt lick and vegetables and fruits that the grocery store would throw out—”
“You knucklehead!” Dr. Sandstrom overrode him by pure volume. “Don’t you know that you’re just inviting them into your own neighborhood? I bet your neighbors love you. Inviting the whole nation of gentle deer to your street. Hah!”
Nope, the doctor hadn’t been knocked on the head nearly hard enough.
“But deer and humans can live in peace,” Howie insisted, undaunted.
“They are animals!” Dr. Sandstrom yelled back. Then he looked Howie straight in the eye and asked, “Do you eat beef?”
Howie’s features seemed to blur again. “Well, a little lean meat occasionally—”
“Hah!” the doctor crowed. “And what do you think the difference is between a cow and a deer?”
“Well I—”
I thought I heard Maxwell Yang sigh.
“Oh, come on, stop picking on him,” Lisa Orton put in. I assumed she was talking to the doctor, not Howie.
“Antlers, perhaps?” Gilda guessed. “At least for the male deer, all that testosterone, don’cha know.”
“Huh?” Howie and Sandstrom said simultaneously.
“The difference between deer and cows, gentlemen,” she reminded them. “Antlers.”
Dr. Sandstrom glared Gilda’s way, but Howie just looked confused. Apparently he’d never had anyone as formidable as Gilda Fitch at his school. Or Dr. Sandstrom.
“You don’t kill the cow,” the doctor belatedly answered his own question. “Someone does it for you. Don’t you realize that it’s the same thing? You’re killing our ‘gentle friends’ either way. Eating lean beef from Safeway is the coward’s way out—”
“Freezerful of venison, perhaps?” Gilda inquired innocently.
The doctor had to acknowledge Gilda’s presence now.
“Wouldn’t that be better,” he began, his volume back to normal. “We all eat meat. Maybe we’d have a more ‘natural alliance’ if we were real about its source.”
“I don’t eat meat,” I pointed out. Not that the idea of fresh venison hadn’t had its appeal after seeing my rose stalks. But something made me want to argue with this man.
He turned to me, squinting. On second thought, maybe I didn’t want to argue with this man.
“I don’t eat meat, and I don’t kill deer,” I expanded, in case he hadn’t taken my point.
“Do you get plenty of plant protein?” he asked. He didn’t seem to be yelling anymore. In fact, his tone was almost sympathetic. Paternal.
“Well, yeah,” I answered, shifting uncomfortably in my chair. I wasn’t sure where all this was leading. “Tofu, beans, seitan—”
“You look all right,” he told me, and he really was examining me, at least with his eyes. But his gaze was no longer frightening. I realized it was concerned. He truly was a doctor.
“Not anemic?” he prodded. Yep, a doctor all right.
I shook my head. Not that I actually knew the answer. I just wanted him off my case.
“Well, your diet’s probably okay,” he pronounced. “But if you feel any unusual fatigue, you might want to have your blood tested for protein levels.”
“Or try a little venison, my dear,” Gilda added with a sparkling smile. “The doctor chappie here has a freezerful to share with you.”
Dr. Sandstrom’s head swiveled.
Reed tried a cheery preemptive strike. “So, we have three possible approaches to invading deer,” he summarized. “Resistant plants, repellents, and fencing. Can anyone think of any other approaches?”
“Hah!” the doctor answered. “Guns, bows and arrows, land mines, poisons, booby traps, explosives…”
Dr. Sandstrom was gone. General Sandstrom had returned. I went back to worrying about Felix while the doctor made verbal, military mincemeat of our gentle allies. I lost track of the voices that argued, objected, and otherwise tried to derail him. I could have told them. It would take a land mine at least to derail the man. Maybe a coffee-can claymore mine.
At least Felix had stopped staring at me. He was staring at the doctor now, fascinated. Felix had probably told half the known world of our new marital status by now. I looked up at Wayne. His face was no longer granite, but there was worry in its shape. About Felix? I gave Wayne’s thigh a surreptitious squeeze. We were on honeymoon, after all. He smiled and reached for my hand.
I mimed a kiss his way.
“Well, that’s all we have time for tonight,” Reed broke in. “It’s been fun. Let’s keep it upbeat next time, enjoy ourselves.” I pulled my hand back guiltily, wondering what I’d missed.
I had a feeling I hadn’t missed anything pleasant. There was relief in the air as people popped out of their metal chairs. You could hear it in the big breaths they exhaled and the lilt of social voices. But there was anger too. I could almost smell it. Was it coming from Dr. Sandstrom? But he lumbered out the doorway before I could sniff out my answer, just as I saw Felix jogging my way, his finger pointed and his mouth opening for attack.
Then Avis put a gloved hand on my arm.
I turned to my old acquaintance, hearing but not seeing the door open and close again after the doctor. Maybe it was just my imagination, but it seemed to me that all of the remaining members of the Deerly Abused were watching and waiting to hear what Avis and Felix had to say to me. The suspense didn’t build for long.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were married, dear?” Avis asked, hurt inflected in her soft voice. My heart sank all the way to my toes. I’d been afraid that’s what she was going to. ask.
“We haven’t told anyone,” I explained, wondering how many times I would have this conversation after Felix told the other half of the known world our news. “We wanted to keep it secret till we had a more formal wedding—”
The hand on my other arm wasn’t nearly as gentle.
“Thought you could bury the scoop from your old friend, huh?” Felix rasped. “Your own compadre, your old amigo, and do I hear diddly?”
“Felix,” I tried, “it’s a secret. Thanks to you, a few people know, but let’s leave it at that, all right?”
He smiled. I kept forgetting the trick. Don’t interact with a pit bull.
“I’ll be glad to keep your secret,” Avis said from my other side and patted my arm.
I waited for Felix to follow verbal suit. A few seconds was all it took to realize how futile that hope was. So I turned and hugged Avis. She couldn’t stop the firestorm, but at least she’d sprinkled it a little.
We were mid-hug when Reed appeared next to us. Had he been listening as attentively as everyone else?
“We’ll have to open the gate, Avis,” he told her. “People need to get their cars out.”
That’s right, I remembered, the iron gate had locked us in as effectively as it had locked the deer out. And with Felix! He was still spouting about our betrayal as Avis and Reed ventured through the doorway into the cool night air to unlock our iron prison.
Once the gate was open, Avis flitted back inside and gave Wayne a hug too. Then she sang, “Happy trails to you,” in a lilting whisper. And finally, Wayne and I left the building, waving goodbye to Avis.
Wayne and I walked quickly toward our car. But not quickly enough. Felix joined us within a few steps, still grousing.
“So, Big Guy,” he addressed Wayne, “any last words for the press? Time to share a little poop on the big day—”
“Felix,” Wayne warned, his voice heavy with menace.
But then Felix stumbled. Neither of us had pushed him. At least I didn’t think so. Wayne and I glanced at each other questioningly as Felix look
ed down at the ground.
“What the hey?” Felix breathed.
Then Felix, the fearless pit bull of reporting pointed where he was looking, his soulful eyes widened, and he fainted dead away.
- Three -
I looked down at the spot where Felix had pointed just before he fainted. Actually, we weren’t far from the bumper of his own, precious, vintage ‘57 Chevy. Only Felix wasn’t in his car. He was on the ground. And he wasn’t alone.
Felix had landed face down, his feet across another pair of feet. Was that why he’d stumbled? Had those feet tripped him? I didn’t want to look any closer, but as usual, my eyes had their own agenda. They traveled up from the entangled feet to the top of Dr. Sandstrom’s prone body. Déjà vu, I thought as my lungs locked and my muscles stiffened. No, that wasn’t the right word, my brain informed me coldly. Déjà vu wasn’t supposed to be worse. It was supposed to be the same. The air seemed to shimmer around the bodies. A part of my brain may have been playing linguistics, but the rest of my body wasn’t. Maybe if I breathed? I forced some air out of my lungs and drew some new air in. It didn’t help. Because this wasn’t just worse, it was much worse.
This time, Dr. Sandstrom didn’t moan from the ground. He didn’t stand up and brush off his clothes. He couldn’t. His head was battered in. It was clear that he hadn’t just been hit once this time. Only repeated blows could have produced the dark hole in the side of his head; blood, bone, and worse splattered from that hole. The doctor’s aviator glasses lay crushed next to his head, along with the bronze deer statuette. And, incongruously, the whole mess was topped with a branch of rosemary, as if a mad chef had added the finishing touch.
But deer didn’t eat rosemary, I thought. No, rosemary was definitely not on the deer’s favorite-foods list. This seemed very important to the side of my brain that had provided linguistic support earlier. More important than the shimmering light and floating sensation that tugged at me, trying to lift me up off my feet. More important than the gruesome reality lying in front of me. More important than—
Wayne! I’d forgotten Wayne. I turned to him, and instantly felt my senses thud back into my body, bringing awareness of cool air, my aching face and muscles and lungs, traffic sounds in the distance, the mixed smell of flowering plants and gasoline, and Wayne’s face.
I looked up into his eyes. I knew they were asking if I was okay. I nodded, and my eyes returned the question. We continued our facial conversation for a matter of seconds, a conversation that would have taken hours verbally. After our mutual concern, we shared the shock over Dr. Sandstrom’s obvious demise. Then Wayne’s questioning eyes wanted to know if I was going to get involved in this murder, if I would want to find out who did it. I shrugged, too dazed to know the answer. His mouth seemed to sigh its resignation, but then he reached out and ran his hand over my cheek with a touch that assured me he would love me no matter what I did or didn’t do. I grabbed his hand and held on, remembering why I’d married the man.
“Felix needs—” he began.
But before he got any further, a car started in the parking lot. Both of us jumped.
Our next shared look was urgent. There was a murderer in this place. And maybe there was evidence of the murderer’s guilt on their body or in their belongings. No one should leave.
“Hey!” I shouted. Even with a car running, my voice seemed loud enough to wake the dead. Not the dead, I reminded myself. But maybe Felix.
At least I was loud enough to attract the driver’s attention. Gilda Fitch turned to me. The top was down on her old Fiat.
“Stop!” I shouted again, waving my hands in the universal symbol of panic.
Gilda turned off her engine. I closed my eyes and sighed my relief. I’d forgive Gilda her jokes from now on.
“Cripes,” a voice boomed from behind us. “What are you—”
Wayne and I whirled around simultaneously, arms rising automatically.
Reed Killian froze. Did he know he was seeing Wayne’s karate and my own tai chi in motion? Or was it just the expressions on our faces?
“Excuse me,” he said more softly, “but what—”
Then he spotted Felix and Dr. Sandstrom on the ground. His eyes widened. He turned, poised to run.
“Someone killed Dr. Sandstrom,” Wayne said quietly.
Maybe it was the quiet tone. Reed stopped, mid-flight, and turned back to us.
“Not you guys?” he asked, his voice too high. I caught a whiff of acrid perspiration. Reed was a frightened man.
We both shook our heads.
“What about the other guy?” he inquired. I had no idea what he meant until he pointed at Felix.
“Fainted,” Wayne supplied.
“Right,” Reed murmured, apparently considering the option himself.
“Listen, Reed,” I cut in hastily. I didn’t want another body on the ground. “We gotta stop everyone from leaving.”
“Why?” he asked, his voice lazy with shock.
“Murder, crime scene,” Wayne answered.
Felix chose this moment to moan from the ground.
“Felix?” I ventured.
And another car started up in the lot. The smell of exhaust wafted our way.
“The entrance,” Wayne suggested quickly. “Can we close the gate?”
Reed nodded, and then he and Wayne rushed to the entrance, just as a Saab backed out of its space and headed their way. They beat the Saab, and cut off its exit. And as they closed the iron gate with a clang, I saw eyes looking in from outside. Deer eyes, three sets each. I shivered. I knew that deer were the reason for the high gate and fences that surrounded us. A good deer feast can eat a mighty big hole in a nursery owner’s profits. But still, there was a spark of intelligence there. Did the deer know that a man who had declared war on its species had been murdered? The air was getting shimmery again. It was too weird. Too spooky.
Felix groaned, louder this time.
I forgot about the deer and bent over to help Barbara’s sweetie up. I’d grabbed one of his arms when he made the mistake of looking where he’d landed the first time and fell over again.
“Felix, are you okay?” I asked.
Nothing happened on the ground. Though I heard another car start up. I told myself they wouldn’t get very far now.
“Felix,” I tried. “Shall I call Barbara?”
Nada from Felix. Though someone honked their horn.
I thought about slapping Felix. It might not revive him, but at least it would give me some pleasure. Then I closed my eyes and told myself to be a good human being. And a creative one.
“Felix,” I cooed. “You’ve got a scoop.”
“Mrmph?” came his voice from the ground.
A car door slammed nearby.
“There’s a fresh stiff here, just for you,” I offered. “So don’t ever tell me I’ve never given you diddly.”
More doors slammed and I heard the sound of voices, argumentative voices.
“Kate,” Felix murmured, rolling away from Dr. Sandstrom. “Thanks.”
Was he joking?
I never got a chance to ask.
“What is going on?” Howie Damon demanded, coming upon the scene. “Why is the gate—” Then he looked down at the doctor. “He’s—”
“Dead,” I supplied.
“Under the lilies, man,” Felix piped up, as if I hadn’t been clear enough.
“But, he…can’t…be…”
Felix stood up as Howie Damon fell down.
“Howie!” I yelled in frustration. We needed a nurse out here. We needed a whole MASH unit out here.
“Holy moly, what a geek,” Felix commented.
I just glared at him. Then I saw the damage on his face from his fall.
“You’ve got blood and dirt on your face, Felix,” I informed him coolly.
“Doin’ better than the doc,” he replied, but he turned away in spite of his snappy comeback. Would he ever admit he’d fainted? “Gonna fix my friggin’ face,” he told me
and sauntered off to the restrooms. But the saunter looked a little forced. Was Felix limping?
Howie muttered from the ground, and I forgot about Felix.
I knelt down, gently patting Howie’s hands, a method that would have been inconceivable for use on Felix. It worked on Howie, though. The high school administrator’s eyes opened.
“You all right?” I asked.
“Be…okay,” he assured me. “Give me a minute.”
I saw Gilda coming our way. I just hoped she wouldn’t faint.
“Spot of trouble, m’dear?” she asked, smiling. Then she saw the doctor’s body. Her face stiffened. “Is he really dead?” she asked, her voice almost accentless now.
I just nodded, suddenly very tired. Why was I standing here with Dr. Sandstrom’s dead body? Bad luck? Karmic impairment? A deer stunned in the headlights?
“What happened to Howie, then?” she asked.
“Fainted,” I whispered. I had a feeling he might be embarrassed.
“Howie, old bean,” Gilda offered sympathetically. “Need a hand up?”
Howie accepted and Gilda helped him to his feet, slowly and carefully.
“Kate?” a frail voice whispered at my side. Avis, finally.
But one look at Avis told me she was not riding in to save the situation like the Mounties. If anything, she might be on the ground next. She wavered before my eyes. I put my arm around her quickly, feeling how birdlike her body was under all those layers of clothing. If she fainted, she might break.
“Kate?” Avis said once more. I got ready for the obvious question, but it didn’t come. “I suppose we should call the police, offer our cooperation.”
“Of course,” I answered with relief. The police. At this point, I’d be happy to see them. Maybe they’d bring some nurses for all the fainters.
“Can you manage the call?” I asked her. Despite myself, I wanted to stay near the body. Maybe I was protecting evidence. Maybe I was just being foolish. But it seemed like the right thing to do. And Dr. Sandstrom had been a human being after all. He had. And I hadn’t even considered his humanity since I’d seen his body lying there. Did he have a family? Did he have people who loved him? I remembered the concern with which he’d interrogated me about my diet. And tears moistened my eyes. Damn.
Murder, My Deer (A Kate Jasper Mystery) Page 3
