Last But Not Leashed Page 2

  “Knowing my brother, I second that,” Mari said.

  Soon the room had emptied, leaving Mari, Barbara, and me alone in the lounge. A janitor in gray coveralls started emptying wastepaper baskets and straightening chairs.

  “Time to go, I suppose,” Barbara said.

  Mari put on her coat and asked me if I wanted to walk out with them.

  “I think I’ll use the restroom. You go ahead.” I picked up my belongings and thanked the women for inviting me. “Nice seeing you, Barbara.”

  “You, too.”

  Mari and her sister-in-law walked toward the front door. I took a quick look around, trying to remember where the bathrooms were.

  “Can I help you?” the janitor called out.

  “Yes. Where are the restrooms?”

  “Straight down that hallway and to the right.” He bent back down and picked up a spray bottle of cleaner.

  “Thanks. I’ll be quick.”

  “No hurry. Won’t be closing up for another half an hour.”

  Hoping not to be the last to leave, I slipped my backpack over my shoulder and took off down the hall. Midway down, I caught a glimpse of a janitor in a gray utility jacket and a baseball cap. His back was to me as he slid a large, black garbage bag along the floor.

  In my hurry, I must have taken a wrong turn because I ended up in front of the crafts room. I hadn’t visited the community center in a while, and this late at night all the hallways looked the same. The bright overhead lighting was amplified in the white corridors. After another wrong turn, I doubled back and finally spotted the restroom signs.

  The women’s room appeared to be empty. A small armchair in the corner proved a convenient place for my coat. After washing up, I looked in the mirror. The overhead fluorescent lights cast twin gray shadows under my eyes, lending an unhealthy, yellowish gleam to my pale skin. Why did they always have the most unflattering lighting in public restrooms? At least my hair wasn’t sticking straight up, crackling with static electricity.

  After making a mental note to apply blush before I went out in public, I slipped on my coat. Thank goodness this night was over. Oh well; my staff would think my Q and A with Sookie was hysterical. I hoped I wouldn’t bump into any more clients on the way out. A quick glance at my watch noted the time at eight forty-five.

  I glanced around for the janitor to say good night but didn’t see him. The lounge area, now empty, resembled a hotel lobby. My lone footsteps echoed loudly on the shiny floor tiles. Braced for the cold, I pushed open the glass doors and checked to make sure the walkway wasn’t slippery.

  Because I’d been late getting to the lecture, I’d been forced to park at the end of the parking lot. Now only two vehicles remained in the lot, each with a fresh dusting of snow. Closest was my beat-up Ford F-150 pickup, with the magnetic Oak Falls Animal Hospital signs on its front doors. Next to it sat a boxy new RAV4.

  A bright motion detector light flicked on just before I got to the truck. Startled, I stared into the yellow beam, temporarily blinding myself. Bolted above what I guessed was a back door, it illuminated the walkway leading to this part of the parking lot. Glad for the extra light, although momentarily seeing glowing circles, I slid into the front seat, then dropped my backpack on the passenger seat. I started the engine and was about to leave when I noticed what looked like a pile of clothes next to the building. Bushes partially obstructed my view.

  Even with the truck’s high beams on, I still couldn’t make out what it was. But if those clothes contained a human or an animal, they’d freeze to death tonight.

  My guard up, I removed the pepper spray from the side pocket of my backpack. It was a gift from my Gramps, who made me promise to carry it with me at all times. As a fireman, then an arson investigator in New York City, he’d seen too many bad things happen to women. “Prepare for the worst, Katie,” Gramps always said.

  I got out of the truck and carefully approached the lump, not knowing what to expect. I called out, “Hello? Are you all right?” Gradually, my mind translated what my eyes saw: legs protruding from a black pantsuit. An expensive dark wool coat crumpled in a heap.

  Her upper body curled slightly, like a snail in the snow, Sookie Overmann lay motionless, cheek resting in a pool of frozen blood. Above her perfect French braid gaped a nasty head wound. Splattered with red and lying in the nearby bushes was the yellow-handled snow shovel that had bashed her head in.

  Chapter Three

  Tired and thirsty, with a headache that wouldn’t quit, I sat in my truck next to Oak Falls Chief of Police Bobby Garcia’s SUV, its emergency lights making day out of night. I was still parked in the community center parking lot about twenty feet from the crime-scene tape. After checking for a pulse, I’d called 911 and waited for help. That had been forty minutes ago.

  Through the windshield I saw Sookie’s legs sticking out of the bushes, but no house had fallen on this wicked witch.

  Chief Garcia asked me to tell him everything I remembered. Anxious to repeat my story and get home, I began to explain but then backtracked to add more background and clarification about why I was at the lecture. A flood of words erupted, and I realized he didn’t find them helpful.

  “Gather your thoughts and I’ll be right back.”

  Portable lights had been set up as photos were taken and evidence collected. Everyone worked efficiently. As more time passed I started to feel hungry, since I’d skipped dinner. After rooting around in my backpack, I remembered those oatmeal raisin cookies I’d taken while happily chatting with Mari and Barbara. It felt like years ago.

  The sugar soon revived me, and I began to go over the evening in my mind, placing the events in a logical sequence, as I did when taking a patient history. That meant one emotional image needed to be pushed to the back—the sight of Sookie curled up dead in the fallen snow.

  The police chief tapped on the hood of the truck and beckoned me to join him. With the temperature hovering around thirty-four degrees, he decided to take my statement inside his nice warm vehicle.

  “We can postpone this if you’d like,” he said. His jowly face showed concern.

  I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. Better to tell it now while my memory is fresh.”

  In a conversational voice he explained the procedure to me. This was to be an audiotape only, so nodding or gesturing wouldn’t convey any useful information.

  “Understood. Should I start from when I left the restroom?”

  A text message pinged on his phone. As he looked down at the screen he answered, “That should be sufficient for now.”

  Once ready, he turned off the heat so the blower noise wouldn’t interfere with the recording. The chief held up the phone and began. After a slew of official declarations that included time, date, place, and case number, he cued me with a pointed index finger.

  “This is the statement of witness Dr. Kate Turner, who discovered the victim.”

  I squinted a little. The chief had turned on the bright overhead dome light.

  “Can you state your name for the record?”

  That began my lengthy interview. After I went through my movements, step by step, the chief peppered me with questions. By the end, I could barely think.

  At last, he turned off the phone and clicked the heat back on. “We might need to do this again at the station. I’ll be in contact.”

  “Well, you know where I am.” The Oak Falls Animal Hospital receptionist, Cindy, happened to be the chief’s sister-in-law. A former head cheerleader at Oak Falls High School, Cindy had a perky exterior that softened her drill sergeant personality. She bossed us all around, and we let her. Not even the chief of police was immune.

  When I opened the passenger side door and started to slide out, my pants stuck to the vinyl. No leather interiors for surveillance vehicles. “You sure I can go now?”

  His head tilted up from his computer screen. “Yes. Want a police escort? It’s no problem, but it might take a while to find someone.”

  I opened the door and inched off the tacky seat. “No thanks. I’ve got to get up early and work tomorrow. I’ll be okay.” The cold air blasted me in the face. For once, I welcomed it.

  The chief called after me. “Sookie Overmann was the victim of a vicious, angry attack tonight.” Gray patches under his eyes made him appear older than he was. “You be careful out there, Doc.”

  ***

  Not a single car passed me on the twenty-minute ride home. The dark trees cast no shadows; only the snow shone briefly in my headlights. By ten fifteen, I passed the hospital sign and with relief drove through the parking lot to the side entrance of my apartment. A large truck with an attached snowplow idled a few feet from my door. Plumes of exhaust billowed white in the freezing temperatures.

  Then a giant holding a big wrench got out.

  Over six feet tall and three hundred pounds plus, my neighbor, Pinky, cut a formidable figure. To the people who knew him, he was a pussycat. He waited as I climbed out of the truck.

  “Heard the news on the police radio,” he said. “Someone mentioned your name. Figured you’d be home late, so me and Princess waited for you.”

  An elderly poodle pressed her muzzle to the glass and barked.

  “You working tonight?” I hoisted my backpack and locked the truck door.

  “Yep.” He shifted his weight. “One of the weekenders decided to drive up tomorrow, so I got to go plow him out.”

  Pinky ran two very popular businesses—winter snowplowing, and summer yard work and cleanup. Many of his clients were second-home owners here in the Hudson Valley, as well as loyal locals. Cindy hired him to do both, and to
keep the hospital grounds tidy all year.

  His pampered poodle barked again.

  “You’re keeping Princess up past her bedtime.”

  Pinky looked upset for a second, before seeing my smile. “Oh. You’re joking, Dr. Kate. You know she likes to keep me company when I plow.”

  “Of course she does.”

  Now slightly embarrassed, he flushed bright pink. I found myself relaxing. Our casual exchange helped to restore some normalcy to this lousy evening.

  With a nod I wished him good night then added, “Don’t work too hard.”

  He waited until I opened my door to say, “Sorry you found that dead lady.”

  Chapter Four

  My morning alarm woke me out of a deep slumber. I’d finally fallen asleep at about two fifteen. That meant I had to function on less than five hours sleep. This day began shaping up as a multiple-cups-of-coffee day, starting now. After taking my dog, Buddy, out for his walk and eating a piece of leftover pizza for breakfast, I made two important phone calls—neither of which I looked forward to.

  “What!”

  So exclaimed the voice of my boyfriend, Luke, on hearing I’d discovered a body the night before.

  “It’s not like they think I did it,” I retorted.

  “I would hope not,” he replied. “So, what happened?”

  Spinning it the best way I could, I said, “She was lying on the ground, sort of hidden by the bushes, when I went out to the parking lot to get into the truck.” That was the truth—a small, intensely edited version of it.

  “Maybe she slipped on the ice?” he suggested.

  With Luke immersed in his coursework, I didn’t want to add to his anxiety, so I changed the subject. “Let’s talk about a more pleasant subject. When are you coming home?”

  “I’ll be back on December twenty-ninth, provided the Thruway isn’t closed down. Did you make any New Year’s plans for us yet?”

  “Not really. How about watching the stars at your place sitting by a fire?”

  “Perfect. I’ll call my cousin Rosie and see if the crew can pack us a New Year’s feast.”

  “With pie.” I’m a sucker for a good piece of pie.

  “Of course,” he laughed. “I’d prefer to spend the first day of the New Year in bed with you, but we’re invited to a brunch at my grandmother’s house—and between my mom and my Nonna, there is no turning down this invite.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” One of the things I liked about Luke was his big Italian family, and how close he felt to all of them. The Gianetti family ran a well-known diner just outside of town. Their delicious homemade baked goods were responsible for my tightening waistbands.

  “Miss you, Kate. Got to run.” He noisily blew me a kiss. “Don’t get into any more trouble till I get home.”

  After we hung up, I took another sip of coffee. “Don’t get into trouble” sounded like my new mantra.

  The second phone call turned out to be a little trickier. That’s because Gramps had raised me since I was an angry teenager after my dad wanted nothing to do with me. Gramps and I had been through a lot together. He always knew when something was up.

  “Hey, Gramps. How are you doing this morning?” I smiled while I said it, hoping to make my words sound cheery.

  He cleared his throat and said, “What’s wrong?”

  Busted. “Nothing.”

  “Katie. You never call me this early. Besides, I can hear it in your voice.”

  I immediately felt guilty. I’d wanted to spare him accidentally hearing about Sookie’s death on the news. I should have left well enough alone.

  After a pause, I told him all about the community center lecture and how I’d found a body in the parking lot.

  “Of course you did,” Gramps answered. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Unfortunately, my Gramps knew this wasn’t the first corpse I’d found. “It’s not my fault,” I protested, like a teenager missing curfew.

  “Stop. You did the right thing.” He coughed again. Gramps had lung damage from being a NYC firefighter for over twenty years. “Chief Garcia will have his hands full. The holiday season is a tough time to investigate a murder.”

  That stopped me short. “Who said it was a murder?”

  “Please. Gimme a break.” He chuckled into the phone so loudly that Buddy lifted his head from his dog bed.

  For the second time that morning I said, “Well, I didn’t do it.”

  “No, but someone did. And from the way you described that night to me, you are an extremely important witness.”

  “What do you mean?”

  ***

  What Gramps noticed in my story changed everything. I checked my watch. In a few minutes I had to leave for work, but now I had an additional call to make. I wasn’t happy. This third call threatened to pull me deeper into the mystery surrounding Sookie Overmann’s death.

  “May I please speak to Chief Garcia?” I asked the police operator. After she placed me on hold, I sat nervously tapping my foot.

  “Garcia.”

  His voice sounded tired. Although we sometimes were at odds, his was a job I didn’t envy. With a murder to investigate, there’d be no relaxing New Year’s holiday for him.

  “Chief, it’s Dr. Turner. I’ve been going over what happened last night, and I may have left something out of my statement.”

  Something that sounded like a yawn preceded his question. “What did you leave out?”

  “Did I tell you I spoke to the janitor?”

  “Yes. We’ve already interviewed him. He confirmed your statement.”

  Now the chief sounded like I’d interrupted his nap.

  “Did I tell you about seeing the other janitor cleaning one of the meeting rooms? All I saw was their back, so it slipped my mind.”

  “Where was this?” All hints of exhaustion vanished.

  It proved difficult to explain exactly which room it was. “On my way to the restroom, I looked to my left. There was a small meeting room. It was empty except for another janitor with a large, black garbage bag.”

  “Do you remember anything about this other janitor? Height? Build? Did you catch a look at his face or even his profile?” Garcia asked in an urgent way.

  I reminded him the whole thing was over in four or five seconds. “I’m not even sure it was a man. Why not interview them yourself?” I asked.

  “Because, Dr. Turner, the community center only employs one janitor. That second person you saw might be the murderer.”

  Chapter Five

  Stunned by the chief’s statement, I wondered what to do now. A full day of appointments lay ahead of me, but I felt like going back to bed and pulling the covers over my head. Buddy strolled over and sat at my feet. Maybe there had been a mistake? My impulsive night with the girls just kept getting worse.

  Determined to put my conversation with Chief Garcia behind me, I left the apartment and walked through the connecting door to the animal hospital. As soon as she saw me, Mari came over to give me a hug.

  “We just heard. How awful.” Mari picked up her coffee then added, “Are you okay?”

  I nodded my head.

  The rest of the staff gathered around, full of questions I wasn’t allowed to discuss. “Sorry, guys. The only things I’m allowed to talk about from last night’s meeting are drawers.”

  Cindy turned to Mari, disappointment on her face. “I can’t believe you didn’t invite me to go with you last night.”

  Our technician didn’t miss a beat. “Why would you need to go to an organizing lecture? You could have taught the class.”

  No longer annoyed, Cindy said, “You have a point.”

  Both of us knew that Cindy wasn’t simply organized; she was über organized, which we both appreciated, since it made our work much easier.

  “You know,” Mari said while cleaning the countertop, “I learned quite a bit last night. Too bad the lecture series had to end that way.”