After waiting five beats, Darci slowly opened the door and peered into the hallway. Glancing at us over her shoulder, she flashed a broad smile. “Here I go.”
A second later she disappeared.
“Do you think she’ll find anything?” Aunt Dot asked in a loud whisper.
“Shh.” I held a finger to my lips. “Your voice carries. Aunt Dot, you can’t let on Darci’s up to something. You have to act as if this is just a normal visit.”
She snorted. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not senile, you know. I can handle that doctor.”
The door opening cut short my response, and Christopher strode into the room. He paused, momentarily flustered when he caught sight of me sitting in the chair next to the table.
“Ophelia,” he said smoothly as his bedside manner slid on like a glove. “Kevin told me about your daughter. I’m so sorry. Has there been any word?”
I shifted in my chair uncomfortably. “No, but they’re doing everything they can to find her.”
He said nothing, but laid a sympathetic hand on my shoulder.
I scooted away from his touch.
“Miss Cameron, how are you feeling?” he asked loudly as he approached Aunt Dot.
“It’s my wrist, not my ears, that are broke, so you don’t need to shout,” she answered with a scowl.
An ingratiating smile lit his face. “Quite right, Miss Cameron. Let’s take a look.”
It only took a moment for him to review Aunt Dot’s chart and to examine her wrist. Satisfied, he patted her knee. “Everything’s fine,” he said. “My assistant will be in shortly to remove the plaster cast and fit you with a fiberglass one.”
No, no, no. I peeked at my watch in apprehension. Only five minutes had elapsed since Darci had disappeared out the door. If he left the room now, he might catch her coming out of his office. What to do? What to do?
I opened my mouth to speak, but Aunt Dot beat me to it.
“Can’t you take the cast off?” she said with a pitiful whine.
“Don’t worry, my assistant is very qualified,” he reassured her and began to step away from the table.
Aunt Dot’s good hand shot out and grabbed the hem of his lab coat, stopping him. “I know I’m just an old lady…my life will be over soon. What if your assistant makes a mistake and my hand is crippled? It’ll take away my few pleasures left.”
“He knows what he’s doing, so you’re not going to be permanently incapacitated,” he replied as he tried to tug his coat from her grip. “It’s only a small bone in the wrist.”
Her fingers tightened. “What if he chips a bone taking the cast off? It could go to my heart and kill me.”
“Miss Cameron, I have other patients waiting.” His eyes flew to his watch.
“He’s going to use one of those saws, isn’t he?”
“Yes, and he’s used them to remove hundreds of casts.”
Aunt Dot pursed her lips in a firm line. “What if the saw goes too deep and he cuts my skin? It’s fragile, you know.”
“I know, but that won’t happen.”
“What if the saw slips and he cuts off a finger?”
Christopher, evidently moved by Aunt Dot’s plea, sat next to her. “You’re letting your fears get the best of you,” he said gently. “My assistant will have the cast off in no time.”
“Can’t you remove the cast?” She held her broken wrist firmly to her chest and stared at him with tears in her eyes. “Please?”
With a sigh, Christopher stood and made his way to the door. Opening it, he stuck his head out and called to his nurse.
“Nancy, Miss Cameron wants me to remove her cast. Would you please tell the other patients that I’ll be with them in a minute?”
From behind his back, Aunt Dot gave me a cheeky grin. However, when Christopher turned, her face instantly settled into that of a sorrowful old lady.
I hid my smile. Man, she was as good at manipulation as Darci. I wondered if Abby was on to Aunt Dot yet.
Soon the hum of the saw filled the room as Aunt Dot patiently sat and let Christopher remove her cast. He was so intent on his work that he didn’t see the look of victory cross her wrinkled face.
Once the plaster was removed, it only took a moment for him to fit the fiberglass cast on her wrist. “There,” he said with a smile. “All done. You’ll be more comfortable now.” He pushed back his sleeve and snuck a look at his watch again. “If you have any problems, give us a call.”
Dang, he was leaving, and Darci still wasn’t back. What was taking her so long?
“Ahh, ahh, is there anything special Abby and I need to do for Aunt Dot?” I stumbled, trying to delay him.
His brow creased in a frown. “Special? What do you mean?”
“Umm…well…vitamins? Are there any vitamins that would help speed the healing?”
“Calcium,” he replied with another glance at his watch.
“Anything else?”
“No, it will take time for the bone to heal.” Irritation laced his voice.
“What about pain? How should she deal with the pain?”
“Miss Cameron, are you in pain?” he asked, focusing on Aunt Dot.
Her eyelids drifted down. “A little,” she said with a pathetic sigh, “but I don’t like to complain.”
He pulled a prescription pad out of his pocket and quickly wrote a script for medication. “She can take these as needed,” he said, handing me the slip. He glanced back at her. “Is there anything else?”
The door swung open then and Darci strolled into the room. “Are you about finished?” she asked.
I tried to mask the relief I felt at seeing her. “I think we’re done. Are we done, Aunt Dot?”
“Yes,” she answered, and to Christopher’s surprise, slid off the table with amazing agility.
With a shrug and a murmured “Thanks,” I followed the two schemers from the room.
Twenty-Five
We killed the hours between Aunt Dot’s appointment and noon by eating lunch in the cafeteria.
“Anything interesting in Christopher’s files?” I asked between bites of salad.
“I don’t know—not much relating to his tissue supply business,” she said with a shrug. “I suppose he keeps those records at the business.” A speculative light shone in Darci’s eyes.
“No,” I whispered as I leaned in close. “We’re not burgling his office.”
She gave me an injured look. “I wasn’t suggesting that we do.”
“Good.” I stabbed a piece of lettuce with my fork.
“But…taking a look at those files might be enlightening. I did a little searching on the Internet last night. Did you know that a body sold off in parts is worth thousands in fees?”
“Huh?”
She nodded. “Biomedical suppliers charge fees for storage and handling. There’s a huge demand for various body parts at research facilities.”
I laid my fork down. “That sounds like something out of Frankenstein.”
“Not as long as ethics are observed. There are age limits to be followed; if the tissue is to be used for transplants, the health of the deceased prior to death is important—”
“Wait—what does their health have to do with it?”
“If they’ve tested positive for HIV or hepatitis, their tissue can’t be used.”
“That makes sense—might be a chance of spreading the disease.”
“Exactly.”
“You didn’t find any paper trail leading from the biomedical company to Buchanan’s Funeral Home?”
“No.” Her eyes slid slyly my way. “I found something else interesting, though.”
“What?”
“A love letter and a card. Recent, too.”
“From Mrs. Buchanan?” Aunt Dot inquired in a hushed voice.
“How recent?” I asked, ignoring her.
“Last month.”
“Evidently, last month he was involved with someone, but this month he’s speed dating? He didn’t wast
e much time jumping back into the dating pool, did he? Were the card and letter signed?”
Darci exhaled softly. “No, darn it.”
I chuckled. “Did you think you’d find something incriminating signed, ‘Love you madly, Mrs. Buchanan?’”
“Silly, she wouldn’t sign ‘Mrs. Buchanan,’ she’d use her first name.”
“Which, if I might point out, we don’t even know.”
“It’s Barbara,” Aunt Dot said, joining the conversation.
My face registered surprise. “How do you know?”
Aunt Dot looked at me as if I was an idiot. “I asked her at the funeral.”
Darci stood and gathered up our trays. “We’d better get out to the car so we’ll be ready when Mason leaves.”
After a boring twenty minutes of watching people come and go from the building and listening to Aunt Dot softly snore in the backseat, Darci shifted around to face me. “You’ll recognize his vehicle, won’t you?”
“I think so.” I eyed her speculatively. “You’re sure you know how to tail someone?”
Her red fingernails fluttered in my face. “Of course I do. You can’t believe the number of times when I was a kid and my brothers—”
“Good,” I said, slumping down in the seat. “’Cause there he is.”
Darci slammed her sunglasses on her face and turned on the ignition. “Keep an eye on him,” she said, backing out of the parking space.
Christopher walked a few cars down from where we’d been parked and got in a white SUV. Darci hung back, allowing him to pull ahead of us. We watched as he slowly drove out of the lot and took a left onto the street. Darci followed suit.
“I can’t get too close or he might spot us, so don’t lose sight of him, okay?” she said, focusing on the traffic.
“Look.” I pointed at the windshield. “He’s changing lanes.”
With a jerk of the steering wheel, Darci whipped her car to the left. A horn sounded from behind us.
Aunt Dot’s snoring came to an abrupt halt. “What? What’s going on?”
I turned and reached over the seat. “It’s okay. We’re following Dr. Mason.”
“Shoot, he’s turning at the light. I’m not going to make it,” Darci exclaimed as she gunned the car.
“Might want to buckle up,” I called to Aunt Dot. The soft snick of the clasp told me she’d followed my advice.
The car shot forward, and I grabbed the dash to steady myself. “You okay, Aunt Dot?”
“Yes,” she whispered in my left ear. A quick glance over my shoulder showed her leaning forward as far as her belt would allow. Her face mirrored her excitement.
The light changed to yellow just as Darci approached the intersection where Christopher had turned. She pressed down on the accelerator. Tires squealed and horns blew as her car sped through the now red light.
As an apology, Darci waggled her fingers at the other drivers. One of them did return her wave, but with only one finger.
I craned my head to watch him as we whizzed by. “Man, you ticked that guy off.”
“Tough,” she replied, her eyes never leaving the white SUV pulling farther ahead of us.
“Running a light is a good way to have an accident. The other car had the right of way, you know.”
“Oh pooh, who cares? We made it through the intersection, didn’t we?” She increased her speed to close the distance.
I watched the needle of the speedometer inch past the legal limit.
“Aunt Dot, still buckled in?”
Her good hand clasped my shoulder, while her voice sounded in my ear again. “Hurry up, Darci, don’t let the bastard get away!”
“Aunt Dot!” My eyes flew from her to the road. “He’s slowing down and has his turn signal on.”
Darci let up on the pedal, and the car slowed to the speed limit.
The SUV made a right turn into a business mall parking lot and pulled into a reserved spot in front of one of the offices. Christopher exited the SUV and entered the office as Darci slowly drove by.
Her head turned to the right, then the left, looking for a parking space.
“One’s open next to the SUV,” I pointed out.
“Duh, we can’t park there. He might see us. We need a spot where we can see the building and not be noticed.”
“To your left, child,” Aunt Dot said from the backseat.
A big smile crossed Darci’s face. “Perfect,” she replied, smoothly turning into the spot.
It was perfect. From that location we could see the office door yet not be obvious.
Still, I couldn’t see the point of it. “This is a waste of time,” I groused. “He’s obviously not meeting Mrs. Buchanan. I can’t imagine a biotech office would be a good place for a romantic rendezvous.”
Leaning my head against the seat, I closed my eyes. “How long are you planning on sitting here? I do need to get home, call Bill, see if I can reach Walks Quietly…” My voice trailed away as I thought of all the things I could be doing to find Tink instead of following Dr. Christopher Mason around.
A jab in the ribs made me raise my head.
Darci jerked her head toward the SUV. “Look, a car’s parking next to Mason’s.”
Maybe Aunt Dot and Darci were right and Christopher did have a meeting with Mrs. Buchanan.
Only it wasn’t a woman who exited the late model car. A man, his face shadowed by the hood of a sleeveless sweatshirt, got out and walked to the rear of the car. With his back to us, he opened the trunk and removed two Styrofoam coolers by their handles. Setting them on the ground next to him, he closed the lid of the trunk. Then he picked up the coolers and walked to Christopher’s office.
Pausing at the door, he turned and looked furtively around the parking lot.
I gasped.
It was Silas Green, making a delivery.
Once we arrived home, Aunt Dot steamrolled up the sidewalk and into the house, letting the screen door slam behind her. Darci and I hurried after her.
We entered the house in time to see her rounding the corner into the kitchen. In her wake, Queenie, Lady, and T.P. scattered to avoid getting their tails smashed by her cane smacking the hardwood floor with each step.
Darci and I skidded to a halt as we heard the words pouring out of Aunt Dot’s mouth.
“…And then we ran a red light. You should have heard the tires squeal. We were almost hit.”
With each word, Abby’s eyes grew rounder with fear. They flew from Aunt Dot to Darci and then to me.
“Hey, I wasn’t the one driving,” I said, crossing to the counter, where I picked up a bag of chips.
Abby zeroed in on Darci. “What have you girls been doing? I thought you were only going to look around Dr. Mason’s office.”
Darci pulled out a chair and plopped down. “I didn’t find anything, so we decided to follow him.”
Abby glanced at me for affirmation.
I shrugged and popped a chip in my mouth.
“That junk’s not good for you,” she said.
“Honestly, Abby, Aunt Dot’s exaggerating a little,” Darci said. “That car missed us by this much,” she added, holding her hands far apart.
Abby fisted a hand on a hip. “What did happen?”
Munching on the chips, I let Darci do the explaining. For once, it was nice for someone else to be in the hot seat.
When she’d finished, I closed the bag of chips and leaned against the cabinet. “Did Bill call?”
“No, but that nice young man Ethan stopped in.” Abby shook her head. “I can’t imagine how you ever suspected him of being a murderer.”
Oh, maybe it was the tattoos, or the fact that he appeared to be a member of a drug-running biker gang, or because he threatened me whenever I ran into him? I kept my thoughts to myself.
“Abby you’ve lived in Summerset for a long time. Surely you knew Silas Green’s family?”
Her brow wrinkled. “Not really. His mother, when she was alive, bought bedding plants occasionally.
I think she mentioned Silas worked up north one time—”
“At a crematorium?” I interrupted.
“No, I don’t think so, but right now I can’t recall what his occupation was. I do know he came home when his father had his heart attack.”
“He took over the business?”
“Yes, I believe so.” She tapped her chin. “There was a rumor going around a couple of years ago that he might have to close the crematorium.”
“Bill mentioned that. I wonder how long he’s been providing Christopher with body parts?”
Darci sat up in her chair. “Do you think that’s how he saved his business? Selling tissues from cadavers?”
I pulled a hand through my hair. “Could be, but as you pointed out at lunch, if he is receiving a fee from Christopher, it’s not illegal.”
“No, as long as he’s following the rules,” she said thoughtfully.
Pacing the room, I tried to shove all the pieces of the puzzle together. “Even if what they’re doing is illegal, how does that connect with Tink?” I stopped in the middle of the room. “If there’s as much money as you said, Darci, I can see how illegal tissue harvesting might have led to Buchanan’s death. Maybe he was involved, or maybe he discovered what Silas was doing and threatened to go to the sheriff.” I shook my head. “But do you think he snatched Tink?”
“If he heard the rumors,” she suggested.
“He thought Tink was a loose end?”
“Possibly. You said Tink had dreamed of corpses missing body parts.” She spread her hands wide. “That ties into what Silas Green is doing.”
“Wouldn’t he have to show Christopher the family consent forms and the death certificates?”
Darci nodded. “Yes.”
“I don’t think Silas Green is smart enough,” Aunt Dot interjected.
“But, Aunt Dot, how do you know?” I asked. “Today was the first time you’ve ever seen him.”
“The fairies mentioned it.”
My eyes met Abby’s from across the room. She gave her head a slight shake.
Aunt Dot picked up on our disbelief. “Well, they did,” she replied defensively as her bottom lip came out in a pout.
The Witch Is Dead Page 18
