Pick and Chews

by Linda O. Johnston

  attorney-client privilege.”

  “I figured. I’ll try to keep it simple. First, you indicated that Raela was your client, right?” If this turned out not to be true, I could ask a whole lot of things that I otherwise wouldn’t get answered.

  “Yes, she was.” He nodded, his face void of any emotions.

  Okay, that was confirmed. I’d be cautious how I asked the next few questions. “Did she seek your advice for things she needed to know to open that new veterinary clinic?”

  “Yes, and before you ask any particulars—and this is a stretch for me to say—but I can tell you she did consult me about several matters relating to the property and permits, that kind of thing, although the advice I provided was minimal. I can’t tell you more.” He took a long sip of his wine as if he needed a bit of a boost, and I did the same, glancing at Billi. She, too, drank some wine, saying nothing and watching us.

  “Did … did she ask your advice about how to deal with the competition with the other veterinary hospital in town?”

  “Maybe, and that’s all I can say about that.” Shea’s tone seemed to be getting sharper, though not overly so. He might have had some emotions relating to being Raela’s attorney, but he clearly wasn’t going to talk about them. Or her.

  I nevertheless asked, “I understand you and Arvie spoke, though I gather you made it clear you couldn’t talk much with him. Did you—I mean, did he ask, once Raela was gone, if you could represent him in anything?”

  Like, his veterinary practice—or to handle any criminal allegations against him?

  “That’s something you should talk to Arvie about.”

  I didn’t have the sense that Shea was a criminal attorney, though he could have done criminal work along with his transactional stuff, I supposed. But if Arvie happened to believe he was a major murder suspect, maybe he would have checked with Shea about representation.

  Was that the case?

  I hadn’t asked Reed if he had hired Ted Culbert yet—the local defense attorney I’d had dealings with thanks to the other murders. If so, Ted wouldn’t be available to anyone else in this situation. Could Shea, having been Raela’s transactional attorney, represent someone who might be a suspect in her murder? Seemed a conflict of some sort to me, but I was far from an expert.

  “Okay,” I finally said. “I may have more questions, and you may have more non-answers. But just let me ask one additional thing. Well, two, actually. Do you happen to know if the clinic Raela started is still open, or will be after the criminal investigation is over? And if you do know, what’s the answer?”

  “I can answer those easily: I don’t know. I guess we’ll all find out eventually. And if it is open, well, I have an idea who the vet there will be. But I’m not even sure of that.”

  This sounded like Shea could have met Oliver during his representation of Raela. Maybe he’d even worked on some kind of contract between them. That would be interesting. Even if it was true, though, Shea probably couldn’t, or wouldn’t, discuss it with me either.

  Oliver, on the other hand … maybe he’d be able to tell me what was in such a contract, and anything in it that Raela had found important.

  And would that help give me more clues about who might have killed her? I guessed I’d find out then … maybe.

  Twenty-Two

  There wasn’t much left to say on this topic after that. Or maybe there was, but I figured no one was going to talk about it anymore, especially Shea. I therefore started asking about the current residents at Mountaintop Rescue, a subject I knew every one of us cared about.

  Eventually, we all decided it was time to take the dogs out for a final walk while we were together. Shea led the group, pointing out some of the features of the gated community where he lived, including a large meeting facility and a swimming pool that would be closed for at least another month.

  “Very nice,” I said, and I was somewhat impressed with it for what it was. I didn’t live in the most exclusive area in Knobcone Heights, as Billi did, and even Reed’s home, closer to me, was in a neighborhood that catered to people who brought in more money than I did. Shea’s place was probably in between Reed’s place and mine in property value—but my preference was to live in a stand-alone home rather than a duplex in a gated community.

  The dogs seemed impressed enough with it. They all sniffed their way around the grass edging the sidewalks and took care of their business in the most appropriate of ways. Shea had come prepared with plastic bags so his neighbors would have no issue with our outing.

  We returned to Shea’s condo then, and at Billi’s car she and I said good night to our host. I bent down to attempt to appear to be adjusting Biscuit’s collar so that the other two humans could have a teensy bit of privacy to convey whatever farewells they wanted, including a kiss if they so chose, but they didn’t. Yes, I was peeking.

  Did they abstain because of my presence, or because that wasn’t where their relationship was, at least at this point? Not really my business—though I remained curious.

  Billi and I helped our dogs into the back of the car and we were soon on our way. I didn’t feel as if I’d learned much that evening, except that Shea might have more information that would be helpful but he wasn’t about to impart it to me—most likely justifiably.

  Did he have an idea who’d killed his client? I hadn’t asked directly, but I figured that if he did, he was more likely to follow the law, or at least common sense, and tell the police rather than a person like me who kept nosing into murder situations without any authority.

  “I’d like to see it,” Billi said as she turned off Shea’s street and onto a wider avenue heading toward my place.

  “What’s ‘it’?” I asked.

  “That interloper veterinary clinic-slash-murder scene. I have a general idea where it is but haven’t gone by it. Would you mind showing it to me? I know it’s out of our way.”

  “Sure, let’s go.” I hadn’t been there since yesterday. Was it still marked as a crime scene? If not, would we be able to tell from outside whether it was an open business? That might not be clear this late in the evening, but we could at least see if the minimal signage that had been there before was still present.

  The dogs were all settled down in the back, so I doubted they’d mind the extra ride.

  It took us about ten minutes to get there. We passed my shops and wended our way around the town square, ending up on Hill Street. We then went by some of Billi’s territory, including Mountaintop Rescue and City Hall, and beyond them to the building where Heights Veterinary Care Clinic had been opened so very recently, only to witness tragedy that didn’t involve dying, injured, or ill pets.

  As we started to pass on the opposite side of the street, I pointed at it. “No crime scene tape,” I said. Or at least none that was visible under the street lights. “Can you turn around and park for a minute over there?”

  I kept my eyes on the place while Billi did as I requested. A light glowed inside the small, single-story structure, as it had the night I’d seen Reed emerge. Had the police left it on—or had someone else?

  As Billi parked, I observed that there was still a sign in the window closest to the entry door. I was too far away to read it, though. Did it say this was a veterinary hospital—or was it a For Sale or For Lease sign? I determined to find out.

  “I want to check something,” I said to Billi. “Can you wait here a minute with the dogs?”

  “No, I’m curious, too. I’ll join you.”

  We both rolled down our windows a little to let some air in for the pups in the backseat. They were all sitting up now but were well enough behaved not to try to squeeze out as we exited the car.

  Although there were other buildings in the area, they mostly appeared to contain offices, including one or two human medical facilities. I didn’t see any retail stores close by, and nothing appeared to be open this late.

  I went up the paved walkway to the door and looked at the sign. It gave the name of the
veterinary clinic. I peered inside the window behind it—and saw some movement inside.

  Startled, I stepped back, bumping into Billi.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Someone’s in there,” I said quietly. I moved once more to see if I could make out who it was—as the door opened.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?” Oliver demanded.

  I realized I shouldn’t have been surprised. If someone was there and it wasn’t the police, it made sense that it was either the building owner or the person who might take over the vet clinic. And who would the latter be besides Oliver?

  “We could ask you the same thing,” Billi responded. She was now beside me in front of the door. “I gather that the authorities are done investigating this as a crime scene, but from what I understand, the murder victim was the tenant under the lease.”

  “Yes, but—heck, why don’t you come in and we’ll talk about this, okay?”

  We agreed, but I wondered if it was a good idea. Oliver’s presence here certainly ensured that he remained at the top of my suspect list. If he’d killed Raela and thought we knew it, our lives could be in danger, too.

  “We can’t stay long,” I told him. “My brother is waiting for me at home. I told him we were driving by here out of curiosity, and—well, I doubt you know my brother, but he’s overly protective. If I’m not home in a short while he’ll come after me.”

  Okay, I realized this wouldn’t exactly save our lives, but it might give Oliver pause if he was considering doing away with us.

  And if I saw any hypodermic needles out and about, I’d call 911 right away.

  Oliver’s sweatshirt made his shoulders look bulky, giving him more of an appearance of strength than I’d given him credit for previously. But heck, he was a vet. He had to be used to manhandling large dogs for their treatment.

  The front door led into a reception room, similar to the one at my clinic. This room was a lot smaller, though. It had enough cheap-looking chairs for all of us to sit, and a light was on overhead.

  “Okay,” Oliver said in a belligerent voice. “Why are you really here?”

  “To check to see if this place is going to stay a veterinary clinic,” I said. “And since you’re here, I gather that it is.”

  “I don’t know,” he replied angrily. “I’m glad I now have an offer from Arvie to work at your clinic, but I’m just not sure. I wasn’t his first choice, though I like Jon Arden and wouldn’t mind working with Reed and him again. But I got fairly excited about the idea of helping to open a new place in this town, with all its wealthy people, including a lot who love pets. But—well, now Raela is dead and I don’t know what’s going to happen here. I’m thinking about trying to take it over all by myself, to start with. But this place … this place … I found her, you know.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I’d thought things would be so simple if I accepted her job offer. So great. But now, I just don’t know.”

  This all suggested that Oliver had a reason to want Raela alive. But had that been the case when she actually was alive? They could have argued about his position here. They might have started some kind of relationship even before they’d gotten to Knobcone Heights.

  There was a lot I still didn’t know, and this wasn’t exactly the best time to ask.

  “Well, whether to run this clinic or not is certainly your decision,” I said. “I’m biased, of course, but I think you’d be better off joining our clinic. For one thing, you haven’t found any dead bodies there.”

  “Yeah, there is that,” he said. “It was eerie for me to be here, even after the cops cleaned it. If I stay, I might keep the equipment but rent some other building. Or maybe it would be better if I did start working at your clinic.”

  “That’s what I think, of course,” I said. “We’re damned good and have a great reputation. Starting from scratch with a new veterinary hospital, here or someplace else, sounds like a real challenge to me.”

  I said what made sense for him, I realized, but did it make sense for me and the others at my clinic? Maybe, if Oliver was a good veterinarian, sure. But what if he also happened to be a murderer?

  “I agree it’s your decision,” Billi said from beside me. “And it sounds as if you’ve already made the decision to remain in Knobcone Heights—which, to me, as a representative of the local government, I’m sure is the right one.”

  “Have you two met before?” I asked then. Oliver hadn’t been at the adoption event at the Barkery, nor would he have been at our clinic if Billi brought in one of the rescue animals for a checkup. In case they hadn’t, I introduced them, including Billi’s wonderful credentials as a city councilwoman, spa owner, and pet shelter manager.

  “Wow,” Oliver said, sounding suitably awed. “Well, if I practice veterinary medicine at either clinic, I hope to see you there. But now—well, I hadn’t intended to stay here so late, but I wound up mulling over all the possibilities while I was checking the place out again. The door wasn’t locked, which isn’t a good thing. I’ll have to let the police know, since they were the last ones in charge here.”

  “Good idea,” I said. I wasn’t sure how much equipment Raela had brought in, but I hated to hear of it being susceptible to theft.

  Or was Oliver lying about the open door? Was he lying about anything else?

  Was he a killer … ? Well, when we’d had dinner together, he’d said he wasn’t. I hadn’t asked him again tonight, even though I was still trying to figure it out.

  “I’ll take care of that.” Billi pulled her cell phone from her pocket. She walked away from us as she held a conversation with someone probably at the Knobcone Heights PD. In a minute she returned. “The police dispatcher I spoke with will take charge of making sure this place is locked, though he wasn’t sure whether they had the keys or would need to get them from the property owner. In any case, a patrol car will be here soon to keep an eye on the place.”

  Which meant, at a minimum, that Oliver was unlikely to be able to return to the clinic on his own—unless he was lying and had the keys himself, possibly having stolen them from Raela when he killed her …

  Okay. I was over-thinking this, since I was so eager to be able to prove that the killer was anyone but Reed.

  “Anyway, it’s time for us to leave,” Billi said. “You need to get up early in the morning as usual, right, Carrie?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “I don’t have another shift at the clinic for a few days,” I told Oliver, “so I won’t see you there even if you go in to talk to Arvie. But if you need any information from a very happy part-time employee, you can always contact me.”

  If he did, I might get more of a sense as to whether Oliver could be a killer. Or not. But if he wasn’t—and assuming he was a good vet, since Arvie had made him an offer—I’d be doing my part on behalf of our pet hospital.

  We said our goodbyes, and then Billi and I walked out to her car where the dogs happily greeted us. We slipped into our seats, but Billi didn’t turn on the engine immediately.

  “Are we waiting here till the cops get here?” I asked.

  “You got it,” Billi answered.

  A marked car arrived just then, possibly responding quickly since the Civic Center, which included the police station as well as City Hall, wasn’t far down the street.

  Only after a couple of uniformed cops got out and walked up to the building’s door did Billi drive off.

  “Well, that was interesting,” I said. “But I still have more questions than answers. I haven’t been harassed by my usual detective buddies from the police department this time, but I’m thinking about paying them a visit to ostensibly give them some ideas about possible suspects—like Oliver.”

  “Ostensibly because you’ll really go there to pick their brains?”

  “You got it.”

  Twenty-Three

  I realized it was impulsive, but I called Reed later that night when I was just about to go to bed. Neal was home, and he
and I had chatted briefly before we’d both retired to our rooms, although he’d gone with Biscuit and me for a short final walk for that day.

  I hadn’t gotten into detail with Neal about my evening, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t on my mind. I still had questions about what Shea might have discussed with Raela that could help to solve her murder if he would tell the police about it. Did attorney-client privilege apply after the client’s death? Shea would know the answer, but even if it wasn’t still in effect, I supposed he might have other ethical reasons not to blab about their legal conversations.

  Then there was Oliver—again at the site where he had discovered Raela’s body, this time late at night after it had apparently been released as a crime scene. Pondering what to do next in his life was a potentially good reason for him to be there, although he could have been just clasping his hands in glee at what he’d done, if he’d had good reason, in his mind, to murder Raela.

  I was confused and needed a friendly conversation before I would be able to sleep—or so I told myself. That was a good enough reason to call Reed, after all, though I had no news to impart that might help him sleep better, such as a certainty that I’d found Raela’s killer. A possibility, yes, in Oliver, but I’d already been considering him, and other than the fact that he apparently liked hanging out at the murder scene, there was no new evidence I could hand over to the police.

  Still … sitting up in bed, I pressed in the single digit number I’d programmed into my phone to call Reed.

  He didn’t answer on the first ring. Was he already asleep?

  Was he with someone?

  Okay, that just popped into my head even though I had no idea who else Reed might hang out with this late, except perhaps Jon. But my concern was that it was a woman, and—

  “Carrie! Sorry, but I left my phone in my bedroom when I just walked Hugo. How are you? Where are you?”