“Tw-Twins?” my father managed to say seconds before he downed the rest of his Manhattan.
“So, you’re pregnant?” Dr. Wilcox asked. “Who’s your doctor?”
I waved my hand in the air. “Not me, silly.” I held him captive with my eyes. “The librarian. And by twins I meant the twin tumors she had.”
“Good heavens, Sylvia, don’t do that to me again.” My mother fanned her cheeks with her shaking hands. “Do you know the scandal that would have caused?”
My father flagged down the waiter and ordered another drink while wiping the perspiration off his brow. “Scandal? I’d be ruined.”
“For God’s sake, you two. I’m nearly thirty, and we aren’t living in the Dark Ages.”
Dr. Wilcox’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “How did you know about Ms. Robbins’s medical condition? That information is private.”
Thankful for the interruption, I focused on the doctor and simply said, “The tea leaves told me.”
My father muttered something under his breath, then grabbed the waiter’s arm as he walked by. “Make my drink a double.”
“Tea leaves?” Dr. Wilcox smirked. “I didn’t realize they could talk.”
I breathed slowly and deeply, striving for patience. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard comments like that. “When I read Ms. Robbins’s tea leaves, I saw twins. At first I thought that she was pregnant, but then I realized the twins were twin tumors. My visions are always accurate. They just sometimes take a bit for me to interpret correctly. She was upset and rightfully so. I can’t imagine discovering news like that. She seemed so alone. I heard she had no family around here, pretty much spending all her time in the library. I don’t know how she had the energy or how no one discovered she was ill.”
The smirk left the doctor’s face, a sober expression taking its place. “I can’t discuss Ms. Robbins’s appointment because of doctor-patient confidentiality, Miss Meadows. You should know that, given your father’s occupation.”
“Exactly, Sylvia.” My father shot me a disapproving look. “You know better than that.”
All I knew was that I was still a suspect, and I would pretty much do anything to get to the truth and solve this case. I leaned in close to the doctor and plastered the most innocent expression on my face.
“I’m just saying no one should have to go through something like that alone. It’s just not right having no one there for you.” I shook my head sadly.
The doctor’s jaw hardened as his beeper went off. He checked it, then abruptly stood. “I’m sorry for the interruption, but I’m going to have to cut dinner short. It was very nice to meet you all, and I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other soon.” His eyes cut to mine once more, and then he was gone.
We’d be seeing each other soon, all right; he just didn’t realize how soon.
“Come on, Tink, what’s taking so long? We need to leave,” Detective Stone said as I opened my front door bright and early the next morning. His thick dark hair was still slightly wet, the ends curling up a smidgeon. He wore a light blue dress shirt under a fawn brown sports coat with no tie. The top button of his shirt was undone, revealing a tanned throat, neck, and face. I took in his five o’clock shadow barely covering his jagged scar and settled on his full lips. It wasn’t like he was drop-dead gorgeous, so why did he do funny things to my insides?
Those same full lips turned down at the corners. “You having another spell, Tink?”
“Apparently so,” I snapped, and raised my eyes to his. “Please shake me when I get like that because I’ve obviously lost my mind.”
“Well, hurry up and find it, would ya? We’re late.”
“Hang on for two seconds. I can’t leave without my phone in case the vet calls.” I kept searching through my bag but couldn’t for the life of me remember where I had left my cell.
“The vet? Why, is that demon cat of yours sick?” He scanned the inside of my house before he stepped across the threshold.
I paused. “He’s not a demon—at least I don’t think he is—but he definitely is different.” The corners of my lips tipped up slightly. “Special,” I added, then scowled at Detective Stone. “And don’t look so excited over the thought of Morty being sick. He’s not sick. I just want to make sure he’s up on all his shots and healthy.”
“Whatever.” The detective glanced at his watch. “Hurry up or the doc’s waiting room will be full and he won’t have time to talk to us.”
I bit my lip, struggling to remember where I’d left my phone. Suddenly a muffled voice started shouting, Butthead calling, Buuutthead calling. My eyes bugged and I bolted over to the couch to snatch my phone from between the cushions. The voice grew louder, repeating the phrase over and over until I silenced my phone. Feeling my cheeks flush hot, I turned around and forced a smile.
He held his phone in his hand, his eyes springing wide. “You set that as my ringtone?”
“Accidentally.”
“How does someone accidentally set a ringtone?” He looked me over in disdain. “How old are you?”
“Old enough to tell time.” I thrust out my chin. “Full waiting room, remember? I thought you were in a hurry.” I scrambled past him out the door and climbed in his car, refusing to speak until we arrived at Wilcox Family Practice.
Just as we’d thought, Dr. Wilcox’s office was packed. It was standing room only until the door opened and the doctor walked a little old lady out. An old man who I was guessing was her husband stood to join her.
“I’m telling you, Doc, there’s something wrong with me. I’m sure I’m dying. And if I’m not actually dying, then I’m for sure in danger of getting murdered. The streets aren’t safe. What if that maniac tries to kill me?” The frail little lady wrung her hands together, her hair slightly blue and teased out as though trying to hide its natural thinning, and her reading glasses tilted crooked on her nose.
“Mrs. Sampson”—Dr. Wilcox patted her thin, bony shoulder—“I assure you that you are fit as a fiddle. Your exhaustion simply has to do with age. Try to get some rest. Isn’t that what retirement is about?”
“Bah, retirement is for the birds,” Mr. Sampson said. “Come on, Maude, I told you there ain’t nothin’ wrong with you. You’re just a hyper-complainer is what you are. Never happy unless you got some aches and pains to nag about.” The old man stood tall, thrusting his relatively stocky build forward. He slapped his chest. “You don’t hear me complaining. Spent half my life working in that steel mill. Probably spend another ten years before I’ll get to retire. Sorry for wasting your time again, Doc.”
“It’s all right, Bernard. Just get her home safe.” The doctor squeezed his shoulder and then stopped short when he saw Detective Stone and me. “Nurse Doolittle, push my appointments back by a half hour. Something important has come up.”
Mrs. Sampson broke free of her husband, showing a surprising burst of strength for such a little thing. “Detective Stone, you must catch this monster.” She placed her hands on his cheeks and lowered his head to within an inch of hers as she stared hard at him with wild, crazed eyes. “I’m in danger. I can feel it in my bones, and I’ve seen it in the stars. Stars don’t lie.”
Mr. Sampson gently took his wife and peeled her off the detective. “Sorry ’bout that. Them stars is all in her head. She gets dizzy once in a while, thinks she sees things. You know how it is.”
“She’s fine, Bernard,” the doctor interjected. “People often get a little confused as they get older.”
He nodded once and then whispered to his wife as he led her out of the office at a fast clip.
“She must be related to you,” the detective said to me as he rubbed his jaw, watching the woman leave the office. “Crazy as a cuckoo bird,” he muttered under his breath.
“I heard that.” I smirked. “You’re a regular riot, you know that?”
“Gee, I didn’t know ‘buttheads’ could be funny.” His eyes met mine, and he made a face. “Thanks.”
“Ooooh!”
I stomped my foot, drawing the stares of several patients in the waiting room, but I didn’t care. The man was a brute.
“Follow me, Detective,” Dr. Wilcox interjected, shooting me a confused look. “Miss Meadows?”
“Captain Walker made me his partner,” I explained.
“Assistant,” Detective Stone grumbled, all teasing aside, then pushed past me into the doctor’s office.
“He’s a little touchy about the details.” I followed suit.
The doctor joined us, closing the door tightly. He sat in his chair behind his desk, and a serious expression settled over his features. “Ms. Robbins was a remarkable woman. She didn’t deserve to die like that.”
“I agree.” Mitch took a small notebook and pen out of his suit coat. “So where were you the night of the murder?”
The doctor sat up straight and choked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Sorry, Doc. Detective Grumpy Pants hasn’t had enough coffee yet.”
“I’ve had plenty of coffee. The doc has small feet and access to digoxin. You do the math.”
“Ah, but what motive could I possibly have?” asked the doctor.
“Unrequited love.” A calculating gleam entered Mitch’s eye as the doctor’s face paled. “Small town, Doc.”
“Well, then, you’d also know I eat dinner at the same time every night at Papas Restaurant. They can verify my alibi. And you’re right. I did have a thing for Amanda. I would never hurt her, but she made it clear she only wanted to be friends and that would never change. All I wanted to do was be there for her.”
“Is that what you said to her when you told her about the tumors?” I asked softly. “So that you’d be there for her and she wouldn’t have to go through that alone?”
“Kip didn’t release that information to the public in his coroner’s report.” Mitch stared hard at me. “How did you know about her medical condition?”
“Tea leaves, remember? Or maybe the cuckoo bird told me.” I fluttered my lashes at him, and he grunted, rolling his eyes. I turned to the doctor. “That must have been rough when she rejected your attempt to comfort her in her time of need. Especially when she had no one else.”
He clenched his jaw and ground out, “Look, I’m not the one you should be talking to. Amanda was a sweet, quiet woman, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have enemies. Callista Papas hated her for some reason. I never realized how much until the morning of Amanda’s death.”
The doc stood and began to pace. “Amanda came into the office all concerned about her health once again. She’s allergic to nuts and would never eat them knowingly. Yet when she walked through this very door, her face was swelled up like a blowfish. When I asked her about it, she swore she hadn’t had nuts that morning, just a banana muffin from Papas. I’d bet my practice if you had a sample of that muffin, you’d find ground walnuts as part of the ingredients.”
“Oh my gosh, Mitch, do—”
“Detective.”
“Whatever. Do you think Mrs. Papas could be the woman Miss Hanes said Ms. Robbins argued with on the morning of her death?”
His look said, Shut up now, Tink, you’re revealing too much again, but his words came out polite and respectful and directed toward the doctor. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Wilcox. Here’s my card. If you can think of anything else, please give me a call day or night.” Mitch stood, grabbed my arm, and dragged me out of the office to the parking lot.
“Easy there, Conan.” I dug in my heels and stopped short before his car. “This is the new millennium. Being a barbarian went out centuries ago.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Yet being a blabbermouth is apparently still in fashion.”
I looked sheepish. “Sorry, this whole partner thing is still new to me.”
“Assistant.”
“That really bugs you, doesn’t it? Look, I want to solve this case more than anyone. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I’m going to screw you over like your ex.”
A blast of icy snow swirled around us, and Mitch’s face hardened. “Don’t go there, Tink.”
“I’m sorry, okay? It’s just you have a really big chip on your shoulder that has nothing to do with me. I only want—”
“Drop it and get in.” He climbed in his car and slammed the door shut.
“Fine, but—” My phone started playing the theme song to the Addams Family. “Morty,” I whispered with concern. I’d had a funny feeling when I’d dropped Morty off at the vet this morning, so I’d set that song as my ringtone for their office just in case they called.
“Your cat can dial the phone?” He gaped at me. “What the hell’s next?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed.
“Hey, I wouldn’t put anything past that thing. And how come he gets a cool ringtone?”
I rolled my eyes and answered the call from the vet. “Hello, Dr. Parker, is something wrong? I thought I wasn’t supposed to pick up Morty until the end of the day. Is he sick?”
“Hi, Sunny, please call me Sherry. I don’t want to alarm you, but I really don’t know how Morty is. He looked healthy to me, but I never got the chance to examine him. There’s no way he could have escaped, but when I went in to the exam room, he was gone as though he’d simply vanished.”
A calm settled over me, and I knew in my gut that Morty was fine. He was home, I was sure of it. He didn’t want to have a physical, and that was that. End of discussion, and end of vet appointment, apparently. “Thanks, Sherry. I think I know where he is.”
“Do you want to reschedule his appointment, then? I could make an exception and come to your house if you think it would be easier on him.”
“Morty’s not afraid, he’s stubborn. Can I get back to you on the whole house call thing?”
“Sure. No problem, just give me a call.”
I disconnected and climbed into the detective’s car.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
“Everything is fine. Where to, boss?”
“Now you call me boss?” He shook his head. “How about lunch?”
“Good, I’m starving.”
“I know the perfect place.” He fired up the car and pulled away from the curb. “Care for a little Greek?”
I rubbed my hands together. “You read my mind exactly.”
Papas was pretty busy when we entered at noon, not a free table in sight. Detective Stone asked to speak to the owner, and we were treated to her own personal table in the back.
Once we’d all ordered, Mrs. Papas said, “Nice to see you again, Miss Meadows. Did you and your parents enjoy your dinner with Dr. Wilcox last night?”
Mitch choked on his hamburger, took a swig of water, and then wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You didn’t tell me you had dinner with the doc.” He stared at me accusingly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know we were sharing information. I thought I was just an assistant.” I looked up at him all innocent-like and sipped my iced tea.
He studied me for a full minute. “What else are you hiding?”
I tossed up my hands and sat back. “Nothing, okay? It was just dinner, and my dad wanted to meet a fellow doctor, that’s all.”
“Riiight.”
“As much as I enjoy the entertainment, you two, I know this isn’t a social call,” Mrs. Papas said. “What do you want to know?”
The detective set down his fork and took another drink of water, then he wiped his mouth. “For starters, where were you on the night of Ms. Robbins’s murder?”
Mrs. Papas threw back her head and laughed. “Running my restaurant, of course.”
“Your husband never takes a turn?” I asked.
The smile left her face. “My husband takes a lot of things, but taking a turn at work is not one of them. I run the restaurant while he keeps the books. I work my fingers to the bone while he goes to the gym . . . or so he says. Do you know what my name stands for?”
I shook my head no.
“Callista means ‘most beautiful.’ My h
usband’s name, Damon, means ‘constant and loyal.’ It didn’t seem quite so ironic when I married him. Why doesn’t he see he has the most beautiful woman already? I never should have married the lying cheater.”
“Did you visit Ms. Robbins the morning of her death?” Mitch asked.
“I cater the library’s author readings and book talks. I needed to speak to Amanda about the menu.”
“Her neighbor heard you two argue,” I added.
“Was poisoning her on the menu as well?” the detective added.
“Oh, please.” Mrs. Papas thumped her fist down on the table. “That little tramp was having an affair with my husband. I knew her allergy wouldn’t kill her. She deserved far more than a slight reaction to some nuts. I was simply warning her to stay away.”
“Maybe your husband was about to leave you for the librarian, so you killed her,” the detective said point-blank.
Her face hardened. “Nonsense. We have been trying to start a family for years. If my husband leaves me for another woman, he knows I will castrate him myself. He knows I want children, but he has been unable to give them to me, so now I make his life a living hell in return. Maybe I should seek elsewhere for that as well, no?” She leaned forward, looked Mitch over, and licked her lips. “Having children is my passion.”
He loosened his collar, eyeing her uncomfortably.
“Why not divorce?” I asked, saving his butt from her unwanted advances. Why, I had no clue. If I were smart, I’d let him squirm.
“We don’t believe in it.” She blew out a heap of air. “No, we made our choice, and now we have to live with it.” She stabbed a finger in our direction. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to make it easy on him.”
“What size shoe does your husband wear?” I asked as a thought occurred to me.
“My husband has very small feet. Why?”
“Just wondering.” I struggled not to be a blabbermouth, but my eyes spoke volumes as I stared at Mitch and winked several times.
“Honey, you should have that twitch looked at,” Mrs. Papas said to me.
“I know, it’s really irritating, but no matter what I do, I can’t seem to make it go away.” I refused to look at Mitch, but I felt his gaze sizzle in my direction.
Tempest in the Tea Leaves Page 7
