2 Any Meat In That Soup? (11 page)

As we left I told her, “It’s been weird talking to myself instead of talking to you.” She agreed. “I have so much to talk to you about, but I have to get to work. Two important things—the therapy dog test is tomorrow in Chatham, you’ll have to let me know if you’re up for it. The second thing is I love George.”

Clancy tried to jump on my lap. “Not while I’m driving.” I pushed her back into her seat. “Does that mean you’re happy?”

It did.

“Oh, one more quick thing. I’m going to have you stay with Gus and Georgianne while I’m at work. I know you’re okay, but I’d worry if you were alone. Okay?”

She was always happy to spend time with my landlords, so no problem there. When I dropped her off I was grateful I had an empty stomach. First of all, Georgianne was in her usual, flower-endowed housecoat, and she made a lot of kissy noises to my friend. Gross. Clancy was my dog and no amount of kissing was going to make her belong to Georgianne.

Why couldn’t I just give in and be happy that my landlords loved Clancy and Clancy loved my landlords? I didn’t mind that she also adored Gus. So did I. It would take a while for me to forgive Georgianne for the way she had initially treated me.

It occurred to me then that maybe she felt the same way about her husband as I felt about my dog. She didn’t want to share—at least not with me.

Gus shooed me out the door with the promise they’d let me know if anything changed. I parted with, “I might call too.” Gus, Georgianne, and Clancy all laughed at that. Of course I’d call. I couldn’t help myself.

At the office, my first client was waiting for me. It was the young computer whiz, Andy. Before I could say anything, he gave me a note from his mother that had been crumpled up in his pocket. “Andy said it was important I let you know that he did his homework every day and he did well in all his quizzes. He wouldn’t tell me anything else. Please let me know if I can help further.”

The kid was beaming. He was a far cry from the boy who wouldn’t talk to me a few months ago. He blurted, “So now I can help you investigate about the dogs?”

I had to tread lightly here. I couldn’t ask Andy to do anything that even remotely smacked of danger, plus I had to be careful of the “dual relationships” clause of my social work Code of Ethics.

For once, I thought about my words before speaking. “You can help me in one way. This may not sound important to you, Andy, but it really is. I want you to listen to what people are saying about the dog poisonings. There’s not much being said about the dogs, and of course we’re concentrating on the people. But I’m really worried about the dogs.”

His mouth drew down into a frown, and he said, “That’s all? I worked my butt off all week and this is my reward? That’s nuts.”

“I’m sorry, Andy. I don’t think you know the importance of this. You might be the one who gets the clue that solves the case.”

He brightened at that.

I continued, “Please don’t do anything rash. All I’m asking you to do is keep your ears open. Don’t do anything out of the ordinary. Understand?”

Andy nodded, but that wasn’t enough for me.

“Say it.”

“Okay, I won’t do anything out of the ordinary. I’ll just listen.”

“And, just maybe, your listening will make you the hero of a real life adventure.”

As much as he loved video games, I knew this would hook him for sure. My hope was that “just listening” would be enough motivation to get him to continue doing what he was supposed to do at school and home.

I added, “And remember you have to keep doing your homework and other responsibilities or the deal is off. This is your reward for good behavior.”

Andy gleamed. It amazed me that he didn’t realize he could “just listen” without having good behavior, but apparently he agreed that it was a reward. For a kid who has everything, meaningful rewards are hard to come by.

And then he said, “I do know something though.” His brown eyes widened in anticipation of being able to tell me something. I nodded. He continued, “All the dogs were in one section of town.”

“Where is that?”

“I dunno. I just heard some grownups talking about it.”

Drat. Why hadn’t I thought of that? I might have to tell Andy that it was enough information. That would surely disappoint him. Maybe I could come up with something else. And why didn’t George tell me that information?

“Andy, instead of just listening, I have a better idea. Why don’t you do some internet searches? A lot of investigation happens that way.”

Computers were his life. “That would be cool. What do you want me to look for?”

I thought I better warn him. “Don’t look up information on arsenic, because that looks suspicious if anyone would check for some reason. Okay?”

He nodded.

“However, you can look up anything and everything about the dog poisonings. Check local papers, national papers, CNN, anything. And you can let me know next session. Remember that this is a reward for good behavior, so that behavior has to continue.”

He nodded again. Back to his old trick of not talking.

“Use your words, Andy.”

“Yes, I understand. I won’t look up arsenic, but I’ll check about the dog poisonings. Can I still listen?”

I nodded.

He said, “Use your words,” with a big smile on his face.

I smiled too. “Yes, you can still listen, but don’t go out of your way to do so. Nothing that looks suspicious. Nothing dangerous. Understand?”

He nodded. Then, at my look he said, “I understand.”

We still had some time left so we talked about his behaviors and his feelings. With many teenagers and even young adults depression is manifested as anger. Andy was one of those teenagers. And since he was only thirteen, I was committed to helping him so he didn’t live a life of sadness. At least we had a good relationship, and that was a start.

As soon as he left I called Gus and had to go through Georgianne to get to him. She waxed eloquently about my dear little “poochy-woochy.”

“Gus please, Georgianne. I’m in a hurry.”

I heard her harrumph, but did get to Gus. “Hey, Sam, what’s up?” Gus always sounded healthy when he was involved in something. Before I could even answer, Gus went on to say, “I know you’re calling about Clancy. She’s doing great. Georgianne and I have been fighting over her attention all morning.”

My eyes misted over. “Thanks, Gus. I love you.”

“You too, kiddo. And call anytime.”

I finished up the morning with a few more patients, and then happily began my second job over the lunch hour. I imagined myself decked out a la Sherlock Holmes, pipe and all.

FIFTEEN

I
stopped off at the hospital, even though I wasn’t due to work for two more hours. I wanted to check out the one suspect I hadn’t dealt with yet—Dougie. As I walked in I was greeted by an exuberant Loretta near the nurses’ station.

“Two more people came in with poisoning, and Dougie saved them. Between him and Jill we are really preventing a lot of deaths.”

“You are really proud of your son, aren’t you?” I asked.

She gave me a funny look and got really close as was her habit. “Of course I’m proud of him. Wouldn’t you be?”

She had me there, “Yes, certainly.” I remembered that I really hadn’t checked into Loretta’s activities either. She was such a loved person, and other than her “close talking,” didn’t show any suspicious activities. I had to admit that her own version of Space Invaders caused my vibes to kick in, but I’d always been that way when people got too physically close without an invitation.

After telling Loretta that I was happy no one else had died, I wandered around a little bit. Jenny and some other staff were at Dr. Adams’ funeral, but since the ER functioned 24/7, not everyone could go.

As I wandered, I saw Dougie come out of an examining room. He nodded at me, and kept walking. We had never really talked except for the one lunch and casual hellos, and I knew that it had to happen. So I dove in.

“Dougie.” He turned around. “Are you going to lunch soon?”

“Yeah, I have some errands to run. Why?”

“I just thought we could eat together, that’s all.”

“Great idea. Just not today. I do have some things I need to do.”

“Okay, we’ll do it another day.”

He hurried away. I thought that I needed to follow him. There was nothing concrete in my head, no real goal, but in the movies people always followed suspects.

I exited through the ambulance bay and jumped into my car. I didn’t think Dougie knew what kind of car I drove, so I slunk down in my seat, put on my St. Francis U ball cap, and waited.

Just a scant minute after I did so, Dougie came out of the staff entrance and got in a red mini-truck. Definitely not the kind of vehicle I pegged him for. Not because he was Black, but because he was a doctor.

He took a quick right onto Broadway and I followed as soon as traffic would let me. This was Quincy’s busiest street, and I thought I’d have adequate cover. However, I didn’t want to be so far back that I would lose him. I wondered if there was a class one could take to learn surveillance techniques, because I really didn’t know what I was doing. I just used what I’d learned from the movies, TV, and books.

Dougie took a left on Fifth Street and then a right on Maine. When he got to Fourth Street he hung a quick right and parked on the west side of Washington Park. I was far enough back that I was able to find a spot on the Maine Street side of the park. I stayed in my car for a minute, watching as Dougie entered Holtschlag’s Feed and Grain Store, one of the old, established businesses on the town square. Not many people went in there nowadays, just those looking for old-fashioned service and merchandise. Dougie came out a little later carrying a dust-covered bag on his shoulder.

As soon as he pulled away I went into the store. Mr. Holtschlag, the fourth generation to own the store, looked up expectantly. I guess two customers in a few minutes was probably a record these days.

We exchanged pleasantries. My family and his family attended St. Francis Church and had done so since the parish was founded in 1861. His store was built around the same time. I didn’t feel like I could come right out and ask what Dougie had bought, but thought if I could get him away from the counter long enough I might be able to find out on my own.

So I asked for something he would have to go look for. “Do you happen to have antique pulls for ceiling fans?”

“Certainly, Miss Darling. What kind would you like?”

“I want a glass one, but I’m not sure what color or shape. Could you bring back a few?”

“Sure. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time.” I meant it.

As soon as Mr. Holtschlag went down a dusty aisle, I jumped behind the wooden counter. There was no computer with its itemized sales, but there was an ancient cash register, and a spindle with light-green receipts skewered on it. I grabbed the top one, desperate to see what Dougie had purchased. I squinted to attempt to read what looked like hieroglyphics. It had Dougie’s name on it, Dr. Douglas Johnson. I could make out the price—$10.99 plus 88 cents tax. The item itself was harder to read. The beginning of the line said, “10 Pounds,” and that was all I could see.

A throat clearing interrupted my nosing around.

“Excuse me, Miss Darling. I believe you are looking at something that doesn’t concern you.”

Here’s where my poor lying skills would not come in handy. “Uh, Dougie is my friend, and his birthday is coming up. I thought I’d see what he bought so I would know of a possible birthday gift.” Oh, God, this one was the worst lie yet. I’d have to get better at it.

“I doubt that buying rat poison would be a suitable birthday gift.”

I fought to contain my elation. Rat poison. I got him. I got him.

Wait. George said that rat poison doesn’t contain arsenic anymore. Unless…”Mr. Holtschlag, was that rat poison really old?” Like the rest of the store? I left the last line unsaid.

“Nope. Just got a shipment in…‌let me check…”

He pulled out a box from under the counter, moved his glasses from the top of his head to his eyes, and shuffled through the metal box until he found what he was looking for. “Let’s see…‌the rat poison is new. Just came in two years ago.”

New? Obviously we had different definitions for the word. However, everything is relative, and to him the poison was indeed new. Even though the rat poison was too recent to contain arsenic, I’d still tell Michael and George.

“Uh, how many have you sold?”

“Two. I remember, because…” The phone, antique like the rest of the place, interrupted him. “Excuse me.” It must have been a wrong number since he hung up right away.

I continued his sentence, “You remember, because…‌?”

“I forget,” he replied, and I decided not to press him.

Because I felt guilty about lying, I bought one of the ceiling fan pulls. I didn’t need one, but thought it might be a good gift for someone. As I stepped outside, who was waiting for me but Dougie. Since I’d never had a real conversation with him I was surprised to learn that he was a Space Invader too. Like mother, like son, I guess. My vibes went on overdrive. Even though he was quite short, he was also quite muscular and I felt a hint of threat.

“What in the hell are you doing following me?”

“I, er, I’m not following you. Were you in the store? I didn’t see you when I was in there?”

“You went in as soon as I started to drive away.”

Damn, my timing was a little off. And I was grateful I had a small sack in my hand that had the Holtschlag stamp on it. “I was just buying a birthday present. Wanna see it?”

“No. Just be careful, Sam. Be very careful. Sticking your nose into other people’s business can cause you problems.”

Sticking my nose into other people’s business was what I lived for. How could that be problematic? I wondered why he was threatening me. Since my filter didn’t work all the time, the words went directly from my brain to my mouth. “Why are you threatening me?”

His face lost its threat, and the veins no longer popped out on his forehead and neck, but for some reasons I still felt uncomfortable. Maybe because he remained in my face. Maybe because he was guilty of something. That’s the problem with my vibes. I get them. I get physical manifestations sometimes. But I never know what they mean. I took a step back before Dougie answered. He took another step toward me. Apparently, I wasn’t going to win the personal space battle.