by Ellie Hart
Don snorts. “Oh, sure. I’ll at least buy the coffee. So, whaddya say? Are you available this evening? Or would tomorrow morning be better?”
I’ll say one thing for Don Butler. When he gets the bit between his teeth, he’s full steam ahead.
“Um, tonight? I have to work in the morning.”
“Sounds good. Where would you like to meet? It’s your call.”
“How about the Turf Club?” Jinx grins suddenly, a sassy expression on his face. “It’s not far from here, just down in Hayward.”
“I know where it is, thanks.” Don’s tone is dry, causing me and Jinx to laugh. “Say about eight?”
“I’ll be the one in sequins.” Jinx’s voice is thick with laughter. I can imagine the expression on Don’s face, and I smile.
Don disconnects the call and Jinx stands up, holding out one hand to me. “Thanks, Doc, for seeing me. I appreciate it.”
I hug him instead, and I can feel just how thin he is. He reminds me of Marta, both of them delicate under my hands, their bones avian and hollow.
“No problem.” I pull back from him and smile. “Did you have to pick the campest gay bar?”
“Why, yes indeedy.” Jinx flutters his lashes at me, hands resting on his slim hips. “A boy’s gotta get his fun somewhere, right?”
I shake my head as I retrieve my phone and replace it in my lab coat pocket.
“Just be nice. And don’t scare him.”
“Moi? Surely you jest.” He winks at me, his emotional equilibrium apparently restored. I give an exaggerated sigh and motion him out of the office ahead of me. I have a feeling Don is in for a wild ride tonight, courtesy of Jinx.
The rest of the day flies by, and I’m almost surprised when five o’clock hits. I’m tired, though, and I’m looking forward to a relaxing evening with Marta. I haven’t heard from her at all, which is a bit unexpected, but I’m sure her day has been chaotic at best.
Leaving instructions for the office staff to forward the calls to my cell phone, my stopgap plan until I get a messaging service, I head out to the parking lot. The evening breezes have sprung up, and the pungent scent of eucalyptus is in the air. My office is surrounded by a stand of these stately trees, their branches providing a home to what seems like a million cawing birds.
Tonight, though, they are silent, almost eerily so. The edges of fog beginning to roll in behind the light winds give a slightly macabre cast to the dying light, and I shiver as I click the fob to unlock the CRV.
Of course, I could have simply put my hand in through the broken window.
Chapter Nine
The officer who arrives to take the report is kind, making sure I’ve called my insurance already and I know when the official report will be available.
“This is a fairly quiet area, to be honest,” he says as he caps his pen and replaces it in his breast pocket. “I’m kinda surprised you didn’t hear your alarm go off when the glass broke.”
I can feel my face flush, and I’m glad it’s getting dark outside.
“It’s been on the blink lately, going off at random times for no reason, so I guess I disconnected it.” I give a shrug, trying to play it off. Truthfully, I’m afraid my insurance company isn’t going to be quite as understanding when I have to admit this.
“Well, that might cause a little bit of snag, but you need a window.” He holds out his hand and shakes mine firmly. “Try to have a better evening, Doc.”
I certainly plan on it.
The drive home is chilly, damp tendrils of the bay fog reaching into the Honda. I can already hear Marta, although I might need to remind her I unhooked the damn thing for her sake. Every time she finally fell asleep, the alarm would begin its incessant blaring. If I can get her talking about her day, I might be able to conveniently forget to tell her until later. Like next year.
In the meantime, I’m debating whether this was a random stroke of bad luck or something more sinister. Perhaps it’s a warning, a cautionary message telling me I need to back away from investigating any more. Or maybe it’s just my turn to be the victim of a crime. This is the Bay Area, after all. Anything can happen here and most usually does.
My house is lit up like a Christmas tree when I pull up to the curb. Marta has a habit of turning on every light as she passes through each room. I usually come behind her and turn them off again. We are the yin and yang of conservation, balancing out what could be a very large electric bill each month.
Marta’s car is typically parked in the detached garage with me behind it in the driveway, but I’m going to need to park inside until I get the window fixed. Which means I’ll have to tell her about the whole ugly incident much sooner than I’d prefer.
I decide not to say a single word about the lights.
I can hear sounds from the kitchen as I shut the front door behind me. The tantalizing aroma of garlic greets me, and I can’t help smiling. Marta is cooking again. Thank goodness, since my limited store of culinary skills was used up long ago.
“Hey, there,” she says from the stovetop, turning around and giving me a smile. “Hope you’re hungry. I’ve got manicotti with ricotta in the oven and a ton of garlic-infused veggies almost ready.”
I walk up and slip my arms around her waist, or where her waist used to be. It’s grown right along with her belly, and I’m amazed to notice how much it’s expanded in such a short time. Mr. Flores’s unwelcome prediction floats into my mind, and I kick it out just as fast. I am not going there.
“If you’re cooking it, I’ll eat it.” I drop a kiss on her shoulder and step back, leaning against the counter as I watch her expertly stirring the vegetables simmering in a large skillet. “So, tell me about your day. Was Chrissy there?”
Marta taps the spoon on the side of the skillet and lays it on a tile trivet. “Yes, much to my surprise. I honestly thought she’d be out trying to figure out how she was mistaken for that dead woman.”
“Ah. That.” I give her a sheepish smile. “I might have some idea of how that happened. Remember Jinx?”
“Yes. And he’s involved in this great revelation how?”
“Can you sit down for a minute or so?” I motion to the kitchen table. “I’ve got quite a bit to tell you.”
“Sure,” she says, turning down the gas flame under the vegetables. “Start talking.” She playfully shakes a finger at me. “And leave nothing out.”
Great.
“Jinx stopped by this morning and had quite a few interesting things to say.” I repeat the conversation as close to verbatim as I can, ending with the “date” he and Don have this evening.
“I have a feeling ol’ Don is going to get an eyeful,” I say with a shake of my head.
“No kidding. From what I recall, Jinx is quite the drama queen.” She begins to rise but I put out a hand to stop her. I might as well get it over.
“But wait, there’s more.” I use my best imitation of a TV salesman and coax a smile out of her. It’s a wary smile, though. Marta knows me too well. “I’ll need to park in the garage just for tonight, at least until I get a window replaced.”
“What happened, Gij? Are you okay?” She looks me over with anxious eyes, making sure I’ve not been cut by breaking glass.
“I’m fine. And I already made the police report and called the insurance. It was broken while I was in the clinic.” I mentally cross my fingers she won’t think to mention the obvious.
“Why didn’t the alarm go off?”
She wouldn’t be Marta if she didn’t ask. I sigh, trying for a remorseful expression.
“You might not remember this, but I kinda disconnected it a few weeks back. It was going off for no reason, and I was afraid it would disrupt your sleep.” There. Hangdog eyes, contrite tone. That should get her.
“You ‘kinda’ disconnected it?” Her air quotes let me know just how irked she is. “Gij, that’s the most ignorant thing I’ve heard you say in a long time.”
“Well, I guess I could’ve let it keep blaring.”
My hackles are up, and I’m beginning to feel just a tad self-righteous. I did it for her, willing to risk the possibility of something like this happening.
All right, maybe that last point is a bit over the top. I should have remembered to hook the thing back up. I’m not about to admit it, though. Instead, I watch as she gets up from the table and all but stomps over to the stove. If I don’t take a helping of humble pie along with the manicotti, I could be in for one long night.
“Marta,” I begin hesitantly, knowing how bitter the next words will taste, “will it help if I say that you’re right and I’m wrong?” She looks at me, and I see the glare has been dimmed to almost normal. “Sorry I upset you. Really.”
She gives me a one-fingered response along with a smile.
Later, after I’ve moved my car into the garage and parked Marta’s in the driveway, careful to set the alarm, we cuddle on the couch like two kids on a date. I’ve slipped one of our favorite movies into the DVD player and made a batch of popcorn, not quite walking on eggshells but close enough to be extra solicitous. Marta eats it up, both the popcorn and the attention. I let her, glad to be out of the proverbial doghouse. This sofa can be uncomfortable for someone as tall as I am.
When I arrive the next morning, the clinic is literally teeming with life. Someone has abandoned a very pregnant cat on the doorstep, and she’s given birth in the lobby. Lou has arrived before me as usual, and she’s kneeling besides the box someone commandeered for the mewling family.
“Well, looked what the cat dragged in,” she says, nodding at the box. “Got a few minutes for a mommy checkup?”
“Sure, no prob.” I take a peek over Lou’s shoulder. At least eight tiny bodies crowd together, the small blind faces rooting against their mom’s side. I can’t even imagine trying to parent more than one child at a time. I could never be a cat. “Let me get set up for the day, and I’ll get right on it.”
By nine, I’ve examined the mother and the babies, seven females and one lone male in the bunch. Judging by their markings, daddy must have been Siamese. They’ll be beautiful animals.
“Lou, I’ve got an idea.” I walk into our shared office, wiping my newly washed hands on a wad of paper towels. “How about we put them in the reception area and see if we can get folks interested in adopting?”
“Sounds good to me.” Lou looks up from her iPad, dual lines of worry between her eyebrows. “Giselle, what do you know about someone named Rex?”
The name takes me by surprise.
“Let’s see. Yorkie pup by the name of Tramp, likes to eat lots of fatty food, prone to pancreatitis. The dog, not the man.” I edge closer to her desk, peering down at the screen in front of her. “Why?”
“I was checking messages from last evening, and we had a disturbing voice mail from someone by that name.” Lou prefers a written transcript of any messages left for the clinic, hence the iPad. She looks at me, her gray eyes steady. “He asked for you.”
“Oh, that.” I give a short laugh meant to sound casual, but it comes out strangled. “I gave him some dog food when he came by the free clinic this weekend. What’s he doing, asking for more already?”
She shakes her head, a half smile on her lips. “Actually, he said he had something for you. As in who broke your car window. Any idea what he might be talking about?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” I shove both hands into the pockets of my lab coat. “When I left last night, the driver’s side front window of the CRV was smashed in.” I shrug. “Hey, we’re just lucky it hasn’t happened more often.” Nodding toward her iPad, I ask, “So who does he say did it?”
“He didn’t say. He wants you to contact him when you have a minute.”
“Ha. He’ll have to get in line. I need to get a mobile glass replacement here first, plus Marta wants me to double-check her ultrasound appointment.” I grin, heading for the door. “And this place isn’t going to run itself, chica. Let’s get out there and be superheroes.”
“I hear ya.” Lou pushes the chair back with her substantial legs, slipping the iPad into a side drawer. “I’ll take even rooms and you can have odds. Kinda like you.”
“Oh, ha and double ha.” Still, I’m smiling as I head down the hallway toward room one where a pregnant guinea pig and her nervous owner are waiting to hear if the babies are all right. Hopefully, I’ll have some time around midmorning to make those phone calls. I put Rex and his message to the back of my mind and greet the first client of the day.
It’s nearly noon by the time Lou and I have seen all of our patients. Even now, after several successful years, it still amazes me enough concerned pet owners have the wherewithal to bring their precious fur children to a see a vet. In this economy, when luxuries go by the wayside for most folks, our clinic is still thriving.
The window has been replaced. I decide to take a break outside, maybe snap a picture to send to Marta. I still need to contact the ultrasound folks and call Rex. We keep a set of lounger chairs on the back patio of the clinic, and I sit down gratefully, aware my capacity for standing long hours isn’t what it used to be. How Lou does it, particularly with her girth, is a mystery.
As I finish the phone call for the ultrasound appointment, I hear footsteps in the narrow alley that runs behind the clinic. It’s not an especially salubrious place to take a walk, and no one should be back there anyhow. I hesitate, wondering if I should dash back inside or wait to see who it is.
Curiosity wins out over common sense. Curiosity also killed the cat. I should have gone inside.
When the first shot ricochets off the clinic’s wall, I am frozen in place. When the second buries itself in the ground just front of me, I am up and running, a frightened deer leaping for cover. Slamming in through the back door, I dive for cover into my office and straight into Lou’s arms.
“Giselle! Are you all right?” Her moon face is creased in concern, eyes wide. “Someone’s already called the cops.”
“Someone just shot at me.” My voice is shaking and so are my legs.
“Are you certain? This is the Bay Area, after all.” She gives me a wry smile and a pat on my arm. “Unless there’s a hit out on you, I’d guess it was random.”
I know she’s trying to calm me, to steer my emotions away from the edge. Still, I can feel angry tears in my eyes, and I want to punch something. First the window and now this.
“It didn’t feel random.” I swipe at my eyes with the back of one hand. “In fact, it felt pretty damn personal. Whoever it was hit the wall just behind me and the ground in front of me. That doesn’t feel random, Lou.”
She looks at me for a moment, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. This is the signal she’s mulling over something important.
“Okay, let’s say it was purposeful. Who would want to shoot at you?”
Before I have time to respond, the receptionist comes hurrying down the hallway.
“The cops are here. Want them to come back to the office?” Her face is paler than usual, contrasting the dark bangs on her forehead with her complexion. I might have been the one targeted, but everyone in the clinic is affected. And I can finally read her name badge. It’s Maxi. Not Maxine.
“That’s a good idea,” I say, trying to conjure up a smile. “And if we don’t have any more appointments, maybe we should close down for the day. Lou?” I turn to her for confirmation and she nods.
“I’ll get right on it.” Maxi looks slightly relieved. I’m sure she just wants to get out of here and get home. I know I do.
The two officers who arrive to take our report look vaguely familiar. I might have seen them around town, since San Leandro is not a very large place.
“So, we meet again.” One of the officers, the first one down the hall, gives me a smile and then the penny drops. These officers responded at the Vineyard when Bev Strait was injured.
“I promise you, I’m not always involved in stuff like this,” I say as we shake hands. “Thanks for getting here so quickly. Would you like to come into the
office?” I gesture to the open door behind me. “I can bring in a couple more chairs.”
“No, that’s okay,” the first officer says. “This won’t take too long.” He turns to Lou. “Were you out there when the shots were fired?”
She shakes her head. “No, I was in here, going over some paperwork while I ate my lunch.” She motions to me with her chin. “Dr. Cutler was the only one out there.”
They pose a few more questions and send her out to sit with those in the front office. I take my seat and point to Lou’s chair across the room.
“If one of you wants to sit there, I’m sure Dr. Grafton won’t mind.”
They both shake their heads, and the one whose badge says “S. King” points to his dark uniform pants.
“No offense, but it takes forever to get animal hair off these things.” His smile is wide, easy. I can see the edge of an old flip phone peering from the front pocket of his shirt, a testimony to either frugality or low pay. I have a feeling I know which it is. Those willing to put their lives on the line for the rest of us are notoriously underpaid and overworked.
We go over the facts, the footsteps, the shots. I tell them about the broken car window and the message from Rex, and they exchange a glance.
“It’s a long story, Officers. The weird part is that it’s sort of related to that incident at the restaurant, the woman who was injured in the parking lot.”
“Well, that’s what we’re here for, to find out what’s going on, Doctor.” Officer King looks at his partner, nods to the doorway. “Do you want to go outside and check out the wall and the ground? I’ll get her statement and then join you.”
“It might take a while,” I say, trying to sound jovial. “It’s been a little crazy lately.”
“I’ve heard crazy before, trust me.” He takes a small recorder out of his back pocket, putting it on the desk in front of me. “I’m going to record this just because it’s easier, okay?”
I nod and take in a deep breath. “Where do you want me to begin?”
