by Jan Watson
“Well, the sheriff was there, but he wouldn’t tell me nothing. The bust-in I figured out for myself. The windowpanes are smashed to smithereens.”
“Did you go in?”
“Nah, the sheriff, he’s making everybody stay outside until he finishes his look-see. You got all kinds of people minding your business. Daddy could smoke ’em for you if you want.” Timmy laughed at his own joke.
Lilly ruffled the boy’s hair. You couldn’t tell where one cowlick ended and another began. “I’d best get a move on, then. But first I need to show you something.”
Timmy’s eyes widened when she cracked the bedroom door. “Boy,” he said. “You oughta turn Kip loose in there. He’d make a stack cake with mouse guts.”
“Now, don’t hurt them. Take them out to the woods and turn them loose. Okay?”
“I could take them down to Miz Tippen’s. She’s got all them cats.”
“That wouldn’t be a fair fight, would it, Timmy? The babies are not big enough to run.”
“Nah, that’d be like two on one. I’ll keep them safe, Doc Lilly, and sweep up the mess they made. Where’s your broom?”
Lilly got the broom and dustpan from the back porch and a brown-paper sack from the pantry. “Here are your tools. Do you have time to do this properly before you meet your mother?”
“Yeah, sure, she’s going to that reading and Bible study class. You know the one that meets on Friday but got postponed till Monday on account of the teacher got sick? Daddy says, ‘It’s Monday. When’re you going to do the laundry?’ and Mommy says, ‘Whenever I get around to it, Landis.’ Daddy knows whenever Mommy says Landis thataway that he’s got on her last nerve. Usually she calls him honey.”
Lilly opened her coin purse and handed Timmy a quarter. “I trust you to do a proper job.”
Timmy flipped the coin into the air with the nail of his thumb. “Heads!” The coin rolled under the stove. “Oops.”
“You can fish it out with the broom, Timmy.”
The boy looked up with a crooked smile. “Well, lookee there. Kip’s got egg all over his mouth. He’s done cleaned up one mess for me.”
A deputy stood outside the private entrance to Lilly’s office, keeping the gawkers well away. Lilly stepped inside to find Chanis waiting.
“Dr. Still, can you open the pharmacy cabinet? I figure whoever broke in must be looking for drugs. But as you can see, he didn’t jimmy the lock.”
Since she carefully inventoried the medication cabinet every evening, Lilly could tell there was nothing missing when she surveyed the amber-colored vials and the paper-labeled bottles. “He didn’t take anything from here. Have you checked the surgery and the waiting room?”
“I walked through. Nothing seems amiss, except for right around the window.”
“Maybe someone threw a rock through it.”
“Good thought, Doc, but rocks don’t bleed. This guy got a nice cut for his efforts.”
“Thankfully there weren’t any patients in-house.”
“He wouldn’t have busted in if anybody was about.”
Lilly turned the key in the lock and faced the room. It all looked as tidy as when she had left it except for her paperwork. The metal-bound charts were kitty-corner on the desk. When she’d finished working Saturday night, she had left them as she always did, squared up at her right hand, ready to be filed by Mazy.
Reflexively, she reached to straighten them. “Someone went through my charts.”
Chanis caught her hand. “Let me look first.”
As if he thought a copperhead might be lurking between the pages, Chanis opened the top chart with a pencil he took from the desk. “Why would he be interested in this medical stuff? There must be something else. Keep any money, any pills or jewelry, in the drawers?”
One by one, Lilly pulled them open. Everything was just as she had left it.
“Doggies,” Chanis said, obviously disappointed. “I was wanting to lay this off on a morphine addict or some such fly-by-night.” Careful of the glass, he leaned on the windowsill and looked out. “Look here, Doc.”
Lilly positioned herself beside him. Kip nosed his way in between.
“See across the road? See how you can look right up the alley between the commissary and the cream station? Saturday night I found a man sleeping there. He acted like he was drunk, but there wasn’t a hint of alcohol about him. I didn’t think much of it at the time.” Chanis rubbed his hand across his chin. “I want to have a talk with that gentleman.”
“Why, Chanis? Do you think he had something to do with this?”
“I think he was staking out the office. He’d made himself comfortable like he was going to be there for a while.”
Lilly shivered. “I was here until past dark catching up on work Saturday evening.” She indicated the two medical tomes on the desktop. “And I was doing some research on mongolism and cleft palate.”
“You’re speaking a foreign language, Doc.”
“Our little foundling has those disorders. I was reading about them so I’ll know how to best treat her.”
Glass crunched under the sheriff’s heel, and Lilly said, “Let me put Kip up before he gets a sliver in his paw.”
Kip howled when Lilly shut him in the bathroom. She opened the door and shook her finger. “No whining!”
Then she looked about the office. “Are we safe here, Chanis?”
“Until we get this sorted out, don’t stay late, Doc, and never work alone. I’d say he was passing through, looking for something to steal, but you never know.” Chanis began to pick up shards of glass and burnt matchsticks, pitching them into a black metal waste can. He looked up from his task, his eyes frowning. “Where’s Miss Mazy this morning? I wouldn’t want this to frighten her.”
“Mazy has the morning off. She had some errands to do.”
“Good. Good.” He put the waste can out on the porch and motioned to his deputy. “Let the nurse and Doc’s patients into the waiting room; then go see if you can find Turnip Tippen to come fix this window.”
The deputy tipped his hat to Lilly. “Why you reckon he broke out the window instead of busting through the door?” he asked of Chanis.
“Easier and less likely to attract attention,” Chanis said. “See, he only needed to tap the windowpane to break it, reach in and turn the latch, then slide the window up. Once he was inside, he struck a match and had a look around. Piece of cake.”
“Takes all kinds,” the deputy said.
“Sure does,” Chanis replied, following the deputy out. He leaned in again. “I’ll stop back by directly. Don’t worry—we’re on the job.”
Lilly dusted the seat of her chair although she didn’t see any bits of glass. A feeling of disquiet unsettled her. She wished she had time to look through the charts remaining on her desk. As improbable as it seemed, there might be a clue there. But the nurse was ushering in her first patient. Later—she’d have time later.
“I ain’t staying long enough to sit,” Armina said when the nurse pulled out the patient chair for her. She was wearing her best print dress, her wispy brown hair pulled back into a tight bun. She carried a black patent-leather handbag with an imitation gold clasp—a castoff of Lilly’s. The faint scent of Cashmere Bouquet powder accompanied her.
“Armina, what are you doing here? Where’s Hannah?”
“She’s resting her fanny in the waiting room,” Armina said. “Ain’t I got a right to talk to you in private?”
“Oh, Armina, of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to question you. Please, sit down.”
At the sound of Armina’s voice, Kip began scratching frantically on the other side of the bathroom door.
“Either you got a beaver in here or Kip wants out,” Armina said, turning the knob to the lavatory door.
Kip bounded out, barking at the top of his lungs. The hair on his back stood up in a ruff.
“Quiet yourself, Kipper,” Armina said, making a stop sign of her right palm. “How’d ye get yourself
shut up in there?”
Kip licked Armina’s palm. Finally somebody was listening to him. Lilly laughed despite herself.
Armina sat down and patted her knees. Kip sprang into her lap, and Armina settled him up against her purse. Four brown eyes looked accusingly across the desk at Lilly.
“I come for one reason,” Armina began, her words as straight as a sourwood sprout. “I don’t need a nursemaid a-fetching for me and a-humoring me all the livelong day and half the night. I won’t stand for it no more. Ye got no right to make me a prisoner in my own house.”
“Do you think that’s a fair charge against me? I’m your friend as well as your physician.”
Armina dropped her eyes. “I’m a right pain, ain’t I?”
“Sometimes you are, but I love you anyway.”
“I’ve been a-thinking. What if I stay days by my lonesome and stay evenings and nights at your house? I promise not to go off berry picking or any such thing.”
Lilly’s ears perked. “Have you wanted to go pick berries?”
“I don’t rightly know where that thought come from. It’s just Friday evening—when I was looking for my sycamore stick—I noticed my berry bucket was gone. You recollect I always keep it hanging on a peg in the storage cupboard. My walking stick’s always leaned up beside it, resting against the wall.”
Confusion clouded Armina’s face, but she didn’t lose composure. Lilly took that for a good sign.
“I’ve got myself off track. I didn’t come here about my berry bucket. A lard pail’s easy to come by. Fry a few chickens and you’ve got another one.” She fixed Lilly with her eyes again. “Are we square?”
Lilly searched her mind for something to barter with. “Would you be willing to let Mazy stay days with you? You know she won’t follow you around—most likely she’ll be propped up reading a book. We could all eat supper together; then you could spend the nights at my house.”
Armina rubbed a spot between Kip’s ears. Her voice fell to a whisper. “Ye think I’m going loony, don’t you?”
“I don’t think anything of the sort. There’s nothing wrong with your mind that time won’t heal.”
Armina slid Kip from her lap and stood. “Okay, then.” She stuck her hand across the desk like she meant to seal the deal.
Lilly moved to Armina’s side. She hugged her friend gently. Maybe Armina didn’t want the contact, but Lilly did. “You’ll be fine, Armina.”
Armina relaxed just the tiniest bit in Lilly’s embrace. It made Lilly sad to think her friend kept a wall up against her.
When Armina cracked the outside door, Kip nudged around her and stuck his nose into the opening. “Looks like Kip’s a-coming with,” she said.
“Don’t you want to go out through the waiting room so you can get Hannah?”
“Nope.”
“She’ll need to collect her things.”
“I’ll set them on the porch.”
Lilly threw her hands up in exasperation. “Armina . . .”
Armina cast a devilish look over her shoulder. “I was only funning you. I got my sea legs back. Me and Kip will walk around and peck on the window. That’ll call her out. Mayhaps I’ll fix some morels for lunch. Serve her for a change.”
Lilly shook her head. “Armina, you really shouldn’t be foraging for mushrooms.”
“Didn’t. There were a brown-paper poke of them spang in the middle of my porch this morning. The bag looked like a big old wilted frog. Somebody didn’t want them to go to waste, I expect.”
Lilly couldn’t resist. “I’ll bet Mr. Tippen left them for you.”
“Humph. Then I’ll pitch them out—paper poke and all.”
“Waste not, want not,” Lilly preached Armina’s favorite sermon.
“If I thought Turnip brung them, I’d take them over to Anne’s and feed them to that fat sow she keeps under the porch. I ain’t seen Anne in a coon’s age.” Armina adjusted the cracked leather purse strap over her shoulder. “I’d like to have me a fat old hog—and a cow. I’ve a mind to get me a cow,” she said as she took her leave.
The frisson of unease that pricked Lilly earlier returned. The berry bucket, Anne—Armina’s mind was laying down clues, bits of information it had stored in a deep, dark recess now coming forward, mingling with things Armina had probably overheard. What might happen when her fragile being remembered what had driven her to snatch baby Glory?
A shard of glass glinted on the threshold. Lilly bent to pick it up. She held it to the light as if there were great truth to discern there. A tiny rainbow sparkled atop the research books resting beside the kitty-corner charts on the desktop. When Lilly moved the glass, the rainbow disappeared. Laying the shard on the windowsill, she reached for a chart only to be interrupted once again.
The next patient filled the doorway, truly filled it. Bobby Bumble stumbled in. Lilly could barely see his sparrowlike mother behind him. Even though the chair was extra large, Bobby’s egg-shaped body barely fit the space between the armrests. The nurse put his chart in front of Lilly.
With a quick read, Lilly refreshed her memory. “How’s that sore throat, Bobby?”
“He cain’t hardly eat a bite,” Mrs. Bumble interjected, flitting around behind her son, smoothing his hair and straightening his collar. “And see here? He’s got this swole place on his neck.” She pressed two fingertips below his double chin.
Lilly took two tongue depressors from a jar. “Turn your chair this way, Bobby.”
Bobby swiveled the chair on its casters as Lilly pulled up another straight-backed one. She sat down facing Bobby and handed him one of the depressors. “If you’ll let me look at your throat, you can take this depressor home.” That always worked with him.
“Quinsy again, ain’t it?” Bobby’s mother said as Lilly probed the depths.
“We’ve talked about this before, Mrs. Bumble. These tonsils need to come out.”
“I cain’t do it. I just cain’t put him through that.”
“Do you need more salicylate of soda? Was he able to gargle with that?”
“We could use some more if it ain’t no trouble. You done good this morning, didn’t you, Son?” Mrs. Bumble put her hand straight against the side of her mouth, as if Bobby couldn’t hear her if she spoke behind a shield. “I made him gargle before I would fix him his breakfast.”
Lilly studied Mrs. Bumble. Bobby was well cared for, except for his obesity, but his mother was elderly, already stooped from rheumatism. Who would take him if, God forbid, something happened to his mother? Had she made any provision? “Doesn’t his sore throat keep him from eating?”
“Not if I make gravy. Gravy’s your favorite thing, ain’t it?”
Bobby flipped the tongue depressor against his hand.
“He loves them things,” Mrs. Bumble said, motioning for Bobby to stand. “Thank you kindly, Doc Still. Say thank you, Bobby.”
He graced Lilly with a lopsided smile. His mother patted a bit of drool from his chin.
“I’ll stop by one day if that’s all right,” Lilly said as she stood and went to the cabinet to get the needed soda. It would be easier to talk about Bobby’s future if Mrs. Bumble was in her own home.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Son?” Mrs. Bumble put the packet of medicine in her pocket. “Come on, Bobby. Let’s go to the store.” She shielded her mouth again. “The clerk always gives him lemon drops.”
Chapter 16
Monday progressed as Mondays do. Lilly saw three more patients before noon: a case of colic, a fractured thumb, and a terrible bout of shingles. Her stomach grumbled. Amid the chaos of the morning, she’d had only an apple and a piece of cheese for breakfast.
Outside the window, Turnip Tippen tapped on the remaining glass. He motioned for Lilly to come.
He had pried a section of the frame loose with a crowbar. “See this here?” The wood was powdery and riddled with holes. “This is all et up by termites. It would pay you to fix the whole shebang now whilst I’m here.”
Standing back, he mopped sweat from his brow with a blue bandanna. “Oh, three shakes of a dead sheep’s tail and I’ll be done with this here project. I’ll need to smoke the foundation with brimstone, though, else the bugs will keep munching until all you got’s a pile of woodchips. The smoking will take a while longer.”
Forevermore, this day was bringing nothing but trouble. “Let me check with my nurse. Maybe I can close up shop for the afternoon—get everybody out of your way.”
Mr. Tippen stuffed the bandanna in the back pocket of his overalls. “I’ll be back—gotta fetch the rest of my tools and stop over to the lumberyard.”
Lilly was glad to turn her key in the lock—very glad for an afternoon off. Her linen bag, full of the unfiled charts and the research books she wanted to peruse, hung heavily from her arm. Heat shimmered like a desert mirage from the ground. Birds sat listlessly in the trees, too hot to sing. Under the shade of a maple tree, an old hound dog raised his heavy eyes to watch her pass by. The taffeta silk dress she wore clung uncomfortably to her back and swished limply around her ankles. Oh, for her usual attire to protect against the noonday sun. Her boxy linen jacket didn’t help, but it would be unseemly not to wear it. The whole day had been off. It would be good to get home.
Momentarily she considered swinging by the beauty shop to see if her sister was still there, but she decided against it. Mazy would see the Closed sign in the office window and know to come on home. Lilly could have a light lunch prepared by then.
She stopped to fetch Kip from Armina’s. Could that be an actual conversation she heard through the open window? Hannah’s carpetbag and a small train case were just outside the door. Lilly knocked.
Armina insisted on wrapping some of the cornmeal-battered, deep-fried morels in newspaper for Lilly to take home. Hannah added a bowl of coleslaw and a round of red-crusted grainy corn bread to her haul. Suddenly weak from hunger, Lilly hastened across the road. Kip beat her to the porch.
As soon as she made it to the kitchen, Lilly tore a piece of the bread from the round and stuffed it into her mouth like a savage. Oh, my word . . . It was the best she’d ever tasted. Taking a saucer from Kip’s stack, she put a small piece of bread on the floor, then went to the icebox and poured a glass of milk from the pressed-glass pitcher on the top shelf. The butter she wanted for her bread was hard as rock, so she set it on the drain board to soften. Kip left the saucer rattling on the floor to follow Lilly to her bedroom.
