Give the Dog a Bone (14 page)

I paused, noticing a section in which the grass had been recently tramped down. This was in the same general area as the shortcut that Ruby could have taken from the vets, so I followed the makeshift path.

I’d not gotten far before I saw an offwhite piece of plastic on the ground. I knelt and picked it up, wondering if this discovery was just a coincidence. In any case, the plastic looked identical to the thickness, pattern, and color of the cover of my missing answering machine.

A few feet ahead of me, more plastic pieces lay, then an electric cord. I found myself staring at my stolen answering machine, smashed to pieces.

Chapter 14

Both the hard plastic shell and the electronic insides of my recorder had been smashed to small pieces, apparently between the two jagged rocks that were nearby. Not far from where I stood, I could see the construction site near the clubhouse that Ken had mentioned. This all but proved to me that the bones and the murders were related. Someone was using this particular stretch of public property as a private destruction pad.

I glanced back at the trailers, then across the street at Joanne Palmer’s home and animal clinic. It was likely that the sound of the stone hammering had carried and could have been overheard at either location, but unlikely that there were any witnesses.

Why leave evidence to be found? Why destroy it out here in the open and not toss it into some dumpster? Other than me, there were few people who would recognize the significance of this particular piece of office equipment. Was the killer taunting me?

There was no sense in getting paranoid about this. Things were bad enough already. The killer had no way of knowing that I’d ever walk along this particular stretch of open space. Maybe the killer had finally made a mistake—had left the machine and telltale fingerprints here with the assumption that no one would see the significance in a smashed piece of electronic equipment near the side of a road. I had to tell the police about this and hope for the best.

In the meantime, there was virtually no chance of the possible evidence disappearing. I decided to leave my smashed answering machine where it was and go forth with my original plan to see Joanne Palmer. According to her posted office hours, this was before the time that she would start seeing her patients.

Joanne was looking out the window with a coffee cup in her hand when I reached her front porch. She opened the screen door for me, its hinges squealing in protest.

“Hello, Allida,” she said with a sigh. “More troubles with Maggie?” Like her greeting, her expression held no warmth at seeing me. She was wearing what looked like a man’s plaid shirt over a T-shirt and jeans.

“No, she seems to be adjusting reasonably well. The medication does seem to be helping.” Although, for all I knew, Mom might be beside herself by now while Maggie was tearing up the house.

“I’m glad to hear that.” She stared out the window, the morning light catching the lines on her face. In this lighting, she looked to be in her forties, older than I’d first assumed her to be. “I can’t believe that a second of my . . . that a second murder has taken place at the trailer park.”

“It’s more than a little disturbing,” I muttered, still studying her. Like Mary, she was a small-framed woman who couldn’t easily have physically overcome Ruby, let alone Ken, without the aid of a sedative. She had such easy access to ACP.

“ ‘Disturbing’ is hardly the word for it. These are people I know, whose homes I can practically see from my yard.” Joanne tore herself away from the window, which, I noted, faced the irrigation ditch. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“No, thanks.” Wanting to test her reaction, I asked, “Did you happen to notice anyone near the irrigation ditch yesterday afternoon, or hear any hammering noises?”

“Not that I can recall. Why?”

“Just now I found a piece of electronic equipment left there that looks as though someone deliberately smashed it to bits.”

“Huh,” she murmured.

If the remains of my answering machine now suddenly disappeared, that was going to all but assure in my mind that Joanne was the killer. “Did you ever suspect that Ruby was taking T-Rex’s medication herself?”

She chuckled. “You can’t be serious. Why would she do that?”

“That’s what one of her neighbors told me she was doing.”

“Nobody in their right mind would do that, would take their pet’s pills.”

“Maybe she
wasn’t
in her right mind, though.”

Joanne set down her coffee cup and put her hands on her hips. “Let me guess where this is going. You’re so obsessed with T-Rex and his medication that now you think I was Ruby’s supplier, or something? That she was addicted to her dog’s drugs, perhaps? What
is
it with you? You seem to think that I’m some sort of . . . veterinarian pill pusher!”

I spread my arms. “I’m just repeating what someone said to me.” She was acting so defensive that perhaps she did indeed have something to cover up. I needed to report Yolanda’s allegations to the police, bizarre as they were, and let the authorities sort them out.

Joanne’s eyes flashed in anger. “Even if Ruby
was
taking T-Rex’s medicine, how was—”

“Help!” cried a woman outside. “Help me!”

We raced to door. It was Yolanda, carrying T-Rex in her arms and trotting toward Joanne’s clinic as fast as her large frame could bring her. We both charged toward her, Joanne a step ahead of me, and met Yolanda just as she was crossing the road.

T-Rex had been perfectly fine just minutes ago. Now he was deathly still in Yolanda’s arms. “Something’s wrong with T-Rex,” she exclaimed between gasps of air. “He collapsed. I don’t think he’s breathing.”

With my help, Joanne grabbed the dog from Yolanda and we both started rushing back inside her clinic. “Did he ingest something poisonous?” Joanne asked, again, a second before I was going to ask that myself.

Yolanda was panting so hard from exertion and panic that she was struggling to speak. “Don’t think so.”

The three of us made our way back over the uneven terrain toward Dr. Palmer’s clinic. Joanne had taken the dog from Yolanda and was already straining under the effort. I was supporting the dog’s weight as best I could.

Having just been there, I knew that the yellow crime scene tape was still blocking off Ruby’s trailer, but I asked, “Did you go back over to Ruby’s just now?”

“No. But earlier this morning I did. Used my own key. Just wanted to get some more dog food. And I brought T-Rex with me.”

We made our way up the concrete steps to the porch. I said to Joanne, “There were pills all over the floor when I was there yesterday. He must have eaten some.” Although it must have been a pill or two that had escaped the police’s attention, since they undoubtedly cleared the scene of all such evidence. “You’d better pump the dog’s stomach.”

She glared at me. “Thank you, Allida. I know what I’m doing. Just get the damned door for me.”

Chagrined by knowing she was right to snap at me, I did as instructed. She carried T-Rex herself the rest of the way and laid him on an examining table in her clinic. Yolanda, meanwhile, hung back in the doorway, watching.

Joanne examined T-Rex and said to me, “He’s still breathing, but faintly. Know how to do mouth-to-mouth on a canine?”

“Of course,” I replied, as Joanne angled the plastic resuscitator tube into his mouth.

“Have at it, then. We don’t have much time.” Performing mouth-to-mouth on a dog was the same procedure as for a child of that size, with shallower, more frequent breaths than for an adult. Meanwhile, Joanne set up an EKG, attaching the clips to the knee joints of his front legs and rear right leg. She then had Yolanda hold T-Rex’s front leg in place while she inserted an IV.

“Move back,” she told me. I stepped out of her way. She explained, “His heartbeat is steady, and he’s breathing on his own now, but I’m going to do a gastral lavage.” She began to pass a plastic tube down his trachea. She started to pass another longer tube down T-Rex’s mouth and into his stomach. “I’ve got to get this stuff out of his system.”

I tried to cover my gagging at this sight by coughing. Though I hated to admit it to the likes of Joanne Palmer, I had to be careful now. I’d taken courses at the veterinarian school in Fort Collins, but had fainted during a couple of medical procedures, which helped seal my fate to stay at the behavioral side of canine treatment. I averted my eyes and started to count by threes to keep my mind occupied.

“Get me some towels out of the supply closet,” Joanne demanded, indicating the direction with a jerk of her head.

I obeyed and used the opportunity to collect myself, already feeling a bit woozy, to my consternation. I found the towels finally and returned.

Joanne was clearly losing patience with me and must have seen the whiteness in my face, for she clicked her tongue and said, “Both of you. Go to the waiting room. I’ll come get you when I’m finished here.”

When I looked over at her, Yolanda was still hovering in the doorway and frowned at Dr. Palmer’s remark, but said nothing and turned on a heel. I followed her into the waiting room and plopped down into a seat across the small room from her.

“You all right?” she asked.

“Fine, just disappointed in myself for getting dizzy. I can be a real wimp sometimes. My mom and my brother are pilots. I have fear of heights. I’m also a bit claustrophobic and, as you just witnessed, squeamish during some medical procedures.”

We sat in silence for a couple of minutes.

“You got yourself a boyfriend, Allida?” Yolanda asked finally.

I let out a derisive laugh and rolled my eyes. “Now that you mention it, none of my phobias can hold a candle to my biggest fear . . . love. Toward a man, that is. Dogs are much safer. Not to mention more loyal.”

Yolanda let out a deep, rumbling laugh. “I was married for nearly thirty years, ’fore my husband passed away. We said, ‘I do,’ and we never questioned out loud whether we
still
did, just put up with one another. Our stayin’ together was probably more a matter of inertia than anything else.” She grimaced, then said under her breath, “Love ain’t so scary. ’Specially not when you look at the things
hate
can do.”

We again sat in silence. At length, Joanne entered the room and said calmly, “His vital signs are stable now.”

“Is he gonna make it?” Yolanda asked, rising.

“I can’t say for certain, but I’m optimistic.”

She frowned and shook her head. “Wish I knew how this happened.”

Thinking of how the police had asked me about crushed tablets of ACP in Ken’s house, I said, “Maybe, rather than forcing T-Rex to take his medication, Ruby just crushed up the pills and mixed it in with his food. She might have given him an incorrect dosage.”

“Oh, Jeez,” Yolanda cried. “I forgot all about that. There was almost a full can of dog food in Ruby’s fridge, and since I didn’t have her dry food, I gave him all of that for his breakfast this morning.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at Joanne. “See what happens? You let my friend have all those pills for free, and it done near killed her
and
her dog!”

Joanne blushed and gave no reply. To my surprise, rather than deny Yolanda’s charges, she looked directly in my eyes and said, “It appears as though I owe you an apology, Allida. It does seem as though Ruby
was
abusing T-Rex’s prescriptions, perhaps in more than one way. To be on the safe side, I’m going to report this to the police. They can test his stomach contents.”

“Can I see him now?” Yolanda asked in a snarl.

Joanne nodded and escorted both of us into a back room. He was now in a large pen, lying on a pad. He was sleeping soundly, but obviously breathing much better than he had when Yolanda first brought him.

“Can I take him home with me?” Yolanda asked, her anger at Dr. Palmer still evident in her voice.

“I’d rather keep him here today for observation,” Joanne said.

“And I’d rather take him home with me for observation,” Yolanda retorted.

“Fine. We’ll compromise. Come back before I close tonight . . . six P.M. or so. He should be groggy, but able to walk on his own by then.”

The mention of time made me snap to attention. I glanced at my watch. I had already missed my first appointment of the day, and unless my mood changed rapidly, I’d be a basket case for my second one.

“Can I borrow your phone?”

Joanne said, “Sure,” and pointed me to a phone behind the counter in the lobby. I’d had it with subterfuge, so I told my clients that I was currently with a dog who’d swallowed some pills and nearly died. They were both so understanding that it renewed my spirits some. I decided I’d try my best to at least keep my third appointment that day.

Yolanda was still with T-Rex when I returned, but Joanne’s first scheduled appointment had arrived, along with the receptionist. She let me wander back into the recovery room to get Yolanda. I found her sitting on the floor next to T-Rex’s metal kennel, stroking him through the open gate. She stopped petting him and shut the kennel when she spotted me.

She frowned and shook her head. “I feel so bad about this. Should’ve known Ruby’d just mix up the meds with the canned dog food. Typical of how Ruby did things.” She awkwardly repositioned herself and got to her feet. “It was just . . . penny-pinching on my part. I wasn’t willing to let a can of dog food go to waste.”

We started back toward her place, my mind in a whirl. My destroyed answering machine was still there. Should I insist on our taking the long way to avoid our stumbling across it? I asked, “Do you have a car?”

“Never got my license, if you can believe it. RTD bus stop’s just five blocks from my home, though. I can get anywhere I need to be.”

She was automatically heading toward the path through the open space, and I opted not to try to detour her. It might be interesting to see her reaction. No matter what, there was little chance that she’d taken my recorder, if she didn’t drive. She couldn’t possibly have managed the logistics of taking the bus to my office and back yesterday during the hour or so that I was at the police station giving them my statement.

She was puffing with exertion on the uphill course back to the trailers. I was silent, deliberately staying behind her to allow her the opportunity to spot the recorder.

Just as we were all but literally on top of my phone equipment, she paused and pointed at it. “Lookee here. Looks like it might’ve been an answering machine or something. The thing must’ve broke after the warranty expired, and someone got so ticked off they smashed it to smithereens.”