Trick or Deadly Treat (13 page)

“They'll take good care of you and Buck there,” she said. “I'll miss seeing him, though. He's such a cutie.”

“Oh, we'll be back,” Sam said confidently. “Once things have settled down, Doc Baxter will be Buck's vet from now on.”

“I hope you're right,” Holly said, but she sounded rather doubtful. She looked sad, and it was easy to understand why. She was faced with possibly losing her job, and as she had said, with the economy in the shape it was in, jobs weren't easy to come by.

Of course, Hank Baxter had an even worse fate possibly facing him: prison.

Sam said good-bye and turned to leave the office. His head was full of thoughts, mostly about Tommy and Kyle Woods. If the dog breeder was mixed up in something illegal or at least unethical and needed somebody to help him now that Baxter was out of the picture, Tommy was in a particularly vulnerable position. Sam wondered how he might be able to talk with the young man again.

He was so absorbed in those musings that while he was aware of another vehicle pulling into the parking lot, he didn't really pay much attention to it. He was reaching for the handle of the pickup's driver's-side door when the doors of the car opened and a familiar voice said, “Well, there's your good old friend now.”

Sam looked across the pickup's hood and felt a shock of recognition go through him as he saw Jimmy D'Angelo standing there. The lawyer had just gotten out from behind the wheel of the car.

Hank Baxter stood on the other side of the car wearing a dark suit. He frowned and asked, “What are you talking about, Jimmy?”

“This guy,” D'Angelo said as he pointed a finger at Sam. “He showed up at the office the other day asking questions and acting like you and him were lifelong pals. But as it turned out, he was lying.”

“He sure as hell was.” Baxter came around the front of the car. Angry lines formed on his face as he rounded the pickup, slapped a hand on the hood, and demanded, “Just what are you up to, Fletcher?”

S
am supposed he couldn't blame Baxter for being suspicious and upset. After everything that had happened, Baxter had to feel like the whole world had turned against him.

But at the same time, Sam didn't like being confronted like that. He said coldly, “Take it easy, Doc. You don't have so many friends right now that you can afford to lose one.”

“You're not my friend,” Baxter snapped. “You're just a man who brought his dog here.”

“And you did a good job of takin' care of that dog,” Sam said. His tone eased a little as he went on. “That makes you a friend, as far as I'm concerned. A friend to Buck and a friend to me.”

D'Angelo said, “You still haven't answered the question. You're up to something, Fletcher, and we all know it. You'd better come clean. If you're trying to sabotage my client's defense—”

“Good Lord,” Sam said. “You fellas are way off base. I'm
tryin' to help your client. I'm tryin' to find out who really killed Susan Baxter.”

Hank Baxter's eyes widened in surprise. He said, “Who asked you to do that?”

“Nobody. I just figure you're innocent, that's all. I don't want to think that somebody who cares for dogs as much as you do could be a murderer.”

“Hitler had dogs,” D'Angelo said.

A harsh, humorless laugh came from Baxter. He said, “You're not helping, Jimmy.” He narrowed his eyes again as he looked at Sam. “You really think I'm innocent.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Well, I appreciate that, I guess. Nearly everybody I see these days looks at me like they're scared I'm about to go berserk and start slaughtering people.”

“If they'd seen the way you took care of Buck, they'd know better.”

Baxter grunted and said, “That's good to hear. I'm not sure about this business of you investigating the case, though. Won't that get you in trouble with the law?”

“I'm not messin' with evidence or witnesses; just lookin' around and askin' a few questions. I'm not pretendin' to be a cop or anything like that.”

D'Angelo asked, “Is Mrs. Newsom helping you?”

Sam said, “Yeah, a little—” He stopped short and frowned at the lawyer. “How'd you know about Phyllis?”

D'Angelo chuckled and said, “I have a confession of my own to make. When you came to my office the other day, before my secretary let you in to see me, I looked up your name online. That led me right to your connection with Phyllis
Newsom and your involvement in the cases she's solved. That's why I talked to you. That story you made up didn't fool me for a second.”

Sam's frown deepened as he said, “Then all that stuff you told me about the case . . .”

“I was hoping you'd pass it along to Mrs. Newsom and that she'd be intrigued enough to take a hand in this. I'm not proud. If it helps my client, I'll take help from anybody, even a crime-busting little old lady.”

“Wait just a minute,” Baxter said. He looked completely confused by now. “What little old lady? What's going on here?”

“You remember the lady who was with me when I first brought Buck in? The one who brought those treats for the Halloween party with her friend Carolyn?”

“Of course,” Baxter said. “Mrs. Newsom. I know who you're talking about.” He looked back and forth between Sam and D'Angelo. “What I don't understand is this business about crimebusting.”

“Phyllis has solved a few murders in the past,” Sam admitted.

“Close to a dozen, in fact,” D'Angelo said. “I've done more extensive research since you came to my office, Fletcher. It wasn't long ago she trapped that killer at the state fair in Dallas.”

Sam shrugged. Phyllis's exploits as a detective had been written up in the newspapers, so they were a matter of public record.

“You thought this woman could help you win my case?” Baxter asked.

“I thought it was worth a shot. What do you say, Fletcher? Do the two of you want to work for me as consultants?”

“Me and Phyllis, you mean?”

“That's right.”

“That'd make us like . . . private detectives?”

“Well, I wouldn't go that far,” D'Angelo replied. “Like I said, you'd be consultants. That would give the two of you a little legal standing.”

That was something they'd never had, Sam thought. They had always been strictly amateurs in their investigations. He didn't know how Phyllis would feel about making it even quasi-official.

“I'll have to talk to Phyllis about it,” he said.

“Of course. In the meantime, why don't the three of us sit down and have a talk.”

“About what?” Baxter asked.

“I want to fill Mr. Fletcher in on everything we know about the case. That'll help him make an informed decision.”

“How do we know we can trust him?” Baxter glanced at Sam. “I don't mean for that to sound offensive, but really, I barely know you. I'm still not completely sure why you're so determined to help me.”

“Because it's the right thing to do,” Sam said without hesitation.

Baxter thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “All right,” he said. “Let's go into my office and sit down and talk.”

D'Angelo asked Sam, “How about it, Mr. Fletcher?”

Sam had already decided that he needed to put his cards on the table with Baxter. He hadn't figured that he would get a chance to do it this soon, but it made no sense to turn down the opportunity. He answered D'Angelo's question by saying, “I think I'd like that.”

Baxter glanced at his watch as they started for the clinic
door. He said, “I need to keep track of the time. Susan . . .” He had to stop and take a breath. “Susan's funeral is this afternoon.”

Sam thought the emotional catch in Baxter's voice was more evidence that the veterinarian hadn't murdered his wife. Baxter seemed genuinely upset about Susan's death. Of course, it was possible he was acting. Sam had seen cold-blooded killers do that before.

In the end, though, they hadn't been good enough actors to fool Phyllis.

She should be here for this, he told himself. After all, it was her detective skills D'Angelo wanted to enlist in Baxter's defense, not his. But if he asked them to wait while he called her and got her over here, Baxter might change his mind about cooperating. With all the turmoil going on in his brain and heart, it was hard to predict what he might do.

Sam decided he would just have to remember everything that was said and repeat it back to Phyllis later on, as close to verbatim as he could. Actually, he had gotten pretty good at that over the past few years as he assisted her in her investigations.

As the three men entered the clinic, Holly looked surprised and stood up from the stool behind the counter.

“Mr. Fletcher,” she said, “I thought you were leaving.”

“I was,” Sam said, “but then I ran into the doc here.”

Baxter said, “I really don't care for being called Doc. Why don't you just make it Hank?”

“All right,” Sam said with a nod.

“We'll be in my office, Holly,” Baxter went on. “I don't want to be disturbed unless it's an emergency.”

Holly still looked confused, but she nodded and said, “Of course, Doctor.”

Baxter led them behind the counter and through the door into his office. It wasn't big, and its furnishings were plain and functional. Sam liked that. Baxter wasn't interested in putting on a show, only in taking care of animals.

There were two chairs in front of the desk, one behind it. Baxter went behind the desk and waved Sam and D'Angelo into the other chairs. He said, “There are some soft drinks in the refrigerator in the lab . . .”

“I'm fine,” D'Angelo said.

“Me too,” Sam said.

Baxter spread his hands and said, “Where do you want me to start?”

“Go over what you told the police,” D'Angelo suggested.

“Again?” Baxter made a face. “I've told it so many times, and it never does any good.”

“One more time won't hurt,” the lawyer said.

Baxter sighed and nodded. “All right. The day that Susan was . . . killed . . . I went by her office to pick up some drug samples I knew she had. I wanted to see if they might help a patient of mine, a dog with liver disease.”

“Is it all right for me to ask questions?” Sam said.

“Yeah, I suppose. Go ahead.”

“Your wife was a surgeon. Why would she have these liver pills?”

“It's true that most of what she had in the office were pain meds,” Baxter said. “But those pharmaceutical reps carry just about everything in those sample cases they roll around with them, and they hand out a variety of pills and capsules. In fact,
I'd heard Susan complain about one of them sticking her with samples of this drug. That's how I knew she had them.”

Sam nodded. Baxter's explanation made sense. It was either true . . . or else he had put quite a bit of thought into it.

“Mr. D'Angelo told me about how you sometimes use human drugs on animals,” Sam said.

“That's right. So I grabbed some lunch and then swung by Susan's office to see if she would let me have those samples. She was fine with that.” Baxter's mouth twisted a little and his voice held a bitter edge as he went on. “They were still in my truck when the cops searched it later. But that didn't seem to make any difference. They said I just took them with me after I killed her to make my story more plausible, in case my attempt to frame some make-believe burglar failed.”

“Yeah, that sounds like something the cops would say, all right,” Sam agreed.

“Like I said, Susan didn't mind letting me take the samples. But since I was there anyway, she didn't waste the opportunity to belittle me about treating animals instead of people.” Baxter's hands clenched into fists on the desk. “For God's sake, you'd think she would have realized it's a lot easier to treat a patient who can tell you what's wrong! With animals it's half guesswork.”

“Take it easy, Hank,” D'Angelo advised quietly. “You've got to learn to be able to talk about this stuff without flying off the handle. You lose your temper in front of a jury and it'll cost you.”

Baxter nodded a couple of times as he looked down at the desk. “I know, I know. I don't want people to think that I didn't love Susan. Even though we had plenty of trouble, even though
it didn't look like the marriage was going to work, I . . . I still loved her. I suppose I always would have . . . always will.”

A few seconds of silence went by in the office before Sam said, “So your wife was alive when you left her office.”

“Of course she was.”

“And she was the only one there.”

“That's right. Everybody else had gone to lunch, but Susan stayed to work right through. She did that a lot.”

Sam thought for a second and then asked, “Did you see anybody as you were leavin'? Somebody in the parkin' lot, maybe?”

Baxter shook his head and said, “There were a few cars there, as I recall, but they were all empty. I suppose they belonged to people who were in some of the other offices in the complex.”

There were some questions Sam wanted to ask about the crime scene, but not while Baxter was there, he decided. He wasn't going to start talking about gruesome details in front of the dead woman's husband.

So he changed tacks by asking, “Was that the only real problem between you and Mrs. Baxter? The way she felt about you bein' a vet?”

Baxter sighed again and said, “That was just a flash point, something that set us off. We weren't really compatible in a lot of other ways. And there were times when . . . well, when Susan wasn't faithful to me.”

D'Angelo leaned forward in his chair and said, “You don't need to be saying things like that, either. You don't know that for a fact, Hank. You told me she always denied cheating on you, and you never caught her in the act.”

“I just know, okay?” Baxter bit out a curse. “You think a husband doesn't just know?”

“Not to be too cynical or anything,” D'Angelo said with a faint smile, “but it's always been my experience that husbands and wives don't know nearly as much as they think they do, good
or
bad.”

“Maybe not,” Baxter muttered, “but I
know
.”

“How about you?” Sam asked.

“I just told you—”

“No, I mean did you ever fool around on your wife?”

Baxter started to come up out of his chair as he said, “Damn it—”

D'Angelo held up both hands to stop him. The lawyer's voice was sharp as he said, “You think the district attorney won't ask you the same question, and worse?”

Baxter settled back, but his face had an angry glare on it as he said, “No. I never cheated on my wife. Not once. And I had opportunities, too.”

“Probably better not to say that, as well,” D'Angelo said.

“I'm sorry,” Sam said. “I'm not tryin' to upset you, Hank. But one thing I've learned from helpin' Phyllis is that if you believe somebody's innocent, the best way to prove it is to find out who's really guilty.”

D'Angelo said, “That's irrelevant. My only concern is convincing a jury that Hank didn't kill his wife.”

“Yeah, but if you can point to somebody else and show how all the evidence proves they did it, that's pretty convincin'.”

“You've got a point, I suppose,” D'Angelo said as he inclined his head. “You think if Hank had a girlfriend, she might have a motive for killing his wife.”

“I didn't have a girlfriend,” Baxter said.

“Under the circumstances, that might be a shame.”

“There's somebody else I'm interested in,” Sam said. “Kyle Woods.”

Baxter looked genuinely surprised. He said, “Woods? What does he have to do with this? I'm not sure he and Susan ever even met.”