Hemlock for the Holidays Page 9

  There were even more shoppers crowding downtown than there had been a couple of days earlier, and I had to park in the city lot again and walk a few blocks to the Roadrunner.

  A line had formed at the counter, and Susan was working as fast as she could to process each transaction. With me bagging and Susan ringing up each sale, the work went faster. The Roadrunner had only one register, so it could get hectic during busy times.

  “Pamela already left for the dentist,” Susan told me when the rush had subsided.

  “I figured. I bet she has an abscess. I've had one before, and it was extremely painful, almost unbearable, really, but once I started on some antibiotics, it started to feel better.”

  “It sounds awful. I'm lucky. I've never had so much as a twinge,” Susan told me. “Knock on wood,” she said, as she tapped on the wooden countertop.

  The tinkling of a bell caught my attention as the gallery door swung open. It was a new feature that hadn't been there when I'd worked on Tuesday.

  Looking a bit startled by the bell, Chip came into the gallery. “What's with the bell, Aunt Susan?” he asked. “Something for the holidays?”

  “I guess it's permanent,” she informed him. “Rich installed it yesterday.”

  “Is he still giving Pamela grief over me?” Chip asked.

  Unfortunately, Chip and Pamela had had a brief fling several months earlier, and Pamela's husband Rich suspected as much. To keep the peace, Chip had resigned from the Roadrunner's board, stopped using the apartment over the gallery as his studio, and scheduled himself to work in the gallery only when Pamela wouldn't be around.

  “I haven't heard Pamela mention it lately,” Susan said.

  “Neither have I,” I confirmed.

  “That's good. I wouldn't have dropped in today except that I happened to see Pamela going into Dr. Crawley's office when I drove by. If she's not coming back this afternoon, I'll stay and give you a hand.”

  “Good,” I agreed. “It looks like you're just in time.”

  Another crowd entered the gallery, and it was all the three of us could do to keep up with helping our customers and processing sales, especially since several more shoppers came in after the large group.

  Later, when only a couple of browsers remained in the gallery, Chip told us that Josh had scheduled Eric's memorial service for Saturday afternoon at a local funeral parlor. I'd barely known Eric, so I wasn't sure about going, but Susan asked me to attend with her, and since we'd been the ones to discover his body and she wanted me with her, I decided to attend.

  “Josh is really broken up over his uncle's death,” Chip said. “To make matters worse, Josh had to ask a relative to pay for the funeral because he couldn't afford it himself, and Eric's estate doesn't amount to anything because he had so many debts.”

  “Maybe Josh can eventually recoup because of the lawsuit,” I speculated.

  Chip shrugged.

  I probably shouldn't have mentioned it, but since the cat was out of the bag, I plunged ahead and explained what I'd heard.

  “Lawsuits usually take a long time, according to Josh,” Chip said. “Even if the estate receives a settlement, I'm guessing it could be years away.”

  “I suppose Josh will have to sell Eric's house, in that case,” I said.

  “He's already listed it with a real estate broker, but, according to the broker, it'll end up being a break-even sale at best. Evidently, Eric hadn't made any mortgage payments in months and foreclosure proceedings have already begun.”

  “I don't get it,” Susan said. “Eric seemed to think that he had a big payday coming, and he expected it soon, but, from what Josh told you, there doesn't seem to be any money in the mix at all.” Susan shook her head. “Maybe he was kidding himself.”

  “Or he thought a settlement of his lawsuit was imminent,” I reminded her.

  “It isn't,” Chip offered. “Josh said the suit could drag on forever. That's if Eric's lawyer doesn't drop the case. He told Josh he'd taken it on contingency, and he wasn't sure he could continue to put the hours in that he’d need to prepare.”

  “That's odd,” Susan said. “I wonder why he agreed to take the case in the first place.”

  Chip shrugged. “No clue. All I know is that Josh has a big job on his hands settling the estate, and he's not going to inherit a dime. It'll probably end up costing him money.”

  “How's Josh holding up?” Susan asked.

  “About as well as he can, I guess. He's upset that the police haven't been able to figure out what happened. I sure hope they come up with the answer before Josh does because, if not, watch out. He's liable to try to take down the poisoner himself.”

  Chapter 19

  “What do you mean, Chip?” Susan asked in alarm.

  “Josh has a temper when he's riled, and he's definitely riled now, but maybe he's being overly dramatic. I keep telling him to let the police investigate, but he says they're taking too long. Yesterday, he got into it with the chief, and he had Josh escorted out of the station.”

  “I know he's upset, but that's not going to do anybody any good,” Susan said.

  “Yeah, I know. I tried talking to him, but he wasn't in a listening mood. So did Kayla, but she didn't have any better luck than I did. I can understand why he's angry, but arguing with the chief of police won't help matters.”

  “No, it won't,” I agreed.

  “He even suggested that Eric's neighbor, Mrs. Costa, might have made the poison carrot bars. I told him that was nonsense.”

  “Why would he suggest such a thing?” Susan asked.

  “She was his biology teacher in high school, and they didn't get along. She tried to get him kicked off the basketball team, but his uncle intervened. He claims she had it in for both of them.”

  I didn't comment on Chip's last statement. He'd omitted the reason that Josh should have been banned from the team. I wondered whether Chip knew the whole story. I probably would have asked him then and there, but several more shoppers came into the gallery, and we were busy until after our official closing time. Since Chip had to be at work at five, he left a few minutes early, so by the time Susan and I were ready to close the gallery, he'd already departed.

  Susan had parked in the city lot, too, so we walked together to the car park and arranged to meet at the funeral parlor Saturday afternoon for Eric's memorial service.

  As I pulled onto Main Street, I felt briefly tempted to stop at the supermarket's deli, which sold delicious homemade lasagna, but when I saw the number of vehicles in front of the store, I decided against it. Reheated leftovers would have to do. I'd been on my feet all day, and I was looking forward to relaxing, which is exactly what I did after I served my eager pets their dinner and ate my own.

  After dinner, Mona Lisa wasn't content to sit on the arm of my chair. She plopped herself down in my lap and curled up, purring loudly. Laddie sat next to me, and I petted him while I watched an action movie on the TV. I raised the footrest on the chair and lowered the adjustable back a bit, and before I knew it, I fell asleep. I woke up in time to see the last minute of the movie. Of course, I had no idea what the story line was, so the wrap-up didn't mean much to me. After staying awake long enough to watch a silly reality show, I gave up for the night, and we all trooped off to bed.

  Laddie's appointment at the vet's office the next morning was scheduled for nine o'clock, giving us plenty of time for a walk first. As soon as we got home, I took Laddie out to the patio and brushed his long coat thoroughly. He cooperated nicely, enjoying the grooming. After I finished, he pranced around me proudly.

  “There, now,” I told him. “You look very handsome for your doctor's appointment.”

  He wagged his tail as he accompanied me to the car and jumped into the back seat. Luckily, I had no trepidation about Laddie's upcoming visit with the vet since he'd always been a cooperative patient. Today, he was scheduled for his rabies booster shot. I'd transferred his records from our vet in Kansas City when we first moved to Lonesome
Valley, and he'd had a checkup at the time. He hadn't been back to the vet since then, but I couldn't say the same for Mona Lisa, who'd had an ear infection and an upset tummy a few months later. Getting her into her kitty carrier had been an ordeal each time. On the last couple trips to the vet, I'd had to enlist help from both Belle and Dennis.

  There'd been no such problems with my golden boy, though. Laddie hopped right out of the car when we arrived and made friends with a cocker spaniel while we waited in the reception room. After about ten minutes, a vet tech in a white coat called us back to the exam room.

  “Dr. Madison will be right with you,” the vet tech told me, placing a tray with a vial and a syringe on the countertop beside her before leaving Laddie and me to wait for the vet.

  I sat down on the cushioned bench provided for pet parents, and Laddie stationed himself beside me.

  When the door opened, my face must have registered my surprise. Dr. Madison, Laddie's vet, was a vivacious, curly-haired woman in her late thirties. The bald man who came into the room looked about sixty.

  “You must have been expecting to see my daughter today.”

  “Yes, I didn't realize it was a family practice.” The clinic's name—Lonesome Valley Veterinary Clinic—had given me no clue. For some reason, I had assumed that the younger Dr. Madison ran the practice alone.

  Wagging his tail, Laddie wandered over to the senior Dr. Madison.

  “You're a fine fellow, aren't you?” he asked, patting Laddie.

  Laddie looked at him as though he were in complete agreement.

  Dr. Madison set the chart he was carrying down on the counter and glanced at it. “Time for a rabies shot, I see,” he said. “This won't take long.” He took the syringe, prepared the shot, and administered it, all the while talking to Laddie in a soothing voice. Laddie didn't so much as flinch.

  “He didn't act like he felt a thing. That's great,” I told Dr. Madison.

  “Coming up on thirty-five years now I've had to practice my technique.” He laughed. “I see from the chart that you transferred records from a clinic in Kansas City. How do you like Lonesome Valley?”

  “I love it! Of course, I'm upset about the poisonings, like everybody else. From what I understand, hemlock grows around here.”

  “It does, indeed. Nasty stuff. I treated one of the Equine Center's horses for hemlock poisoning a few months ago. There's no antidote, but luckily the horse survived.”

  “That's good. I wish Eric—you know, the man who died—had been so lucky.”

  “Did you know him?”

  “Only slightly; he was a friend of my friend Susan Carpenter.”

  “Isn't she the artist who makes those life-size paper mâché animals?”

  “Yes. They're great, aren't they?”

  “Very striking. I thought about buying one for our waiting room, but I decided it would take up too much space. You don't happen to be an artist yourself, do you?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I'm a painter. I met Susan when I joined the Roadrunner.”

  “What kind of painting do you do? I mean, what are your usual subjects?”

  “Expressionistic landscapes, mostly, and some pet portraits, too.”

  “I'd like to see them. I'll tell my wife we should stop in at the Roadrunner sometime and take a look.”

  “I have a website, too.” I dug in my purse for my packet of business cards. The web address is right here,” I said, handing him a card.

  He thanked me, glanced at my card, put it into his pocket, and opened the door for Laddie and me.

  “Well, what do you think of that, Laddie?” I asked as we drove home after stopping at the reception desk to pay the bill. “Is the doc really interested in my paintings or just being polite?”

  In the back seat, Laddie panted happily, pleased with his outing, but his warm breath on the back of my neck held no clue as to whether the vet might prove a potential customer.

  Chapter 20

  After lunch, I intended to tidy the studio in anticipation of the evening tour. I hoped the mayor would show up, but since her assistant had told me how busy she was and I'd witnessed it myself when she'd been called away from the Roadrunner just as I was pitching her my landscape, I knew I couldn't count on it.

  After I tidied the studio and cleared the floor, I removed my painting of Mr. Big from its hiding place in the closet and set it on an easel in the middle of the studio so that I could reach the hand-dyed scarves I'd stored in the back of the closet. I arranged a brilliant red tie-dyed scarf on a display bust and began hanging the rest of the scarves on a counter display that Dennis had made for me. It was the same type of clever wooden display stand that Belle had designed for me as an incentive for retailers who might want to sell my unique scarves in their shops.

  I wasn't so absorbed in my task that I didn't notice Laddie jump up and run to the kitchen door. From the speed his tail switched back and forth, I knew Belle was my visitor. I rushed to put Mr. Big's portrait back into the closet and shut the door before joining Laddie to greet Belle.

  “Laddie looks none the worse for wear,” she said. When I looked confused, she added, “From his trip to the vet.”

  “Oh, right. He acted as though he didn't even feel a pinch when the vet gave him a shot. How's Mr. Big today?”

  “He's fine. I think you were right about the gloomy weather. We were all feeling a bit tired and not very lively, but we're back to normal today. I brought you something.”

  She handed me a small bag. I peeked inside and found two plastic containers of fancy toothpicks, one green and one red for the holidays.

  “Thank you! I forgot I'd run out of those. I don't know what I would have used for the cheese cubes tonight if you hadn't remembered.”

  “I almost didn't, but I was shopping at the party store, and I happened to see them on the shelf, and then I remembered that you were out of them.”

  “If I don't have any more people show up for the tour than I've had the last couple of weeks, we'll have to nibble the cheese and crackers ourselves. You are planning to come over tonight, aren't you?”

  “I wouldn't miss it. I'd like to meet the mayor in person. I've only ever seen her on TV and at parades.”

  “I sure hope she comes, but there's no guarantee.”

  “If not, don't give up. You can always contact her again if she doesn't show.”

  “I know, but I don't want to make her feel that I'm harassing her like an obnoxious salesperson who won't take 'no' for an answer.”

  Belle grinned. “Amanda, there is no way anybody would tag you as an obnoxious salesperson. It's all right to show some persistence. She hasn't said 'no' yet, so don't give up until she does.”

  “OK, coach. You've convinced me.”

  “Good. Would you like me to bring any snacks for tonight?”

  “No, I think I'm all set. I have the wine, cheese, and crackers, and I'll put out a tray of Christmas cookies, too.”

  “Don't forget to move the wreath from the front door to the studio door,” Belle advised me.

  “I'll do that right now, before I forget.”

  Belle and Laddie trailed me to the front door and back through the studio as I moved the wreath. Even Mona Lisa took notice and crept up behind Laddie to see what all the fuss was about. When I started to open the door, Mona Lisa looked a bit too interested. I definitely didn't want her exploring the great outdoors where she might get into all sorts of trouble. Mona Lisa was strictly an indoor kitty. I closed the door quickly, picked up Mona Lisa, and handed her to Belle, who cradled her in her arms while I hung the wreath. It took only a few seconds to position it perfectly, which was a good thing, because Mona Lisa was already struggling to get down.

  “All set,” I said, and Belle released Mona Lisa, who scampered off, into the living room. When we went back in, we found her perched on top of her kitty tree.

  “I'd better get going,” Belle said. “I just wanted to drop off the toothpicks, but I almost forgot to tell you that De
nnis is going to string some Christmas lights on your hedge next to the sidewalk to the studio when he gets home from work. It'll add more of a festive air to the tour.”

  “That's great! I hadn't thought of that, but the hedge is a perfect place for lights, not that I have any myself. I didn't pack any Christmas decorations when I moved here. Ned has all our lights, wreaths, bulbs, and everything else at the house, probably just sitting there unused. I suppose Candy will want to use her own holiday decorations.”

  I started to choke up, remembering all the family Christmases we'd celebrated in that house, the home that Ned now lived in with Candy and their baby.

  Belle gave me a gentle hug. “It's OK. You're doing fine here.”

  “I know,” I said with a sniff. “Once in a while, my past life returns to haunt me, but, honestly, most of the time, I don't even think about it.”

  What I'd told Belle was true. I didn't dwell on the past, not like some of the divorced people I knew who constantly chattered about their ex-spouses, but every once in a while, a memory would hit me, along with a wave of nostalgia.

  I shook off the melancholy moment and assured Belle that I was all right.

  “You'll have a great holiday with Emma, Dustin, and your parents. It'll be your first Christmas in Lonesome Valley.”

  “That's true, and I'm looking forward to it.”

  “I know you'll all have a wonderful time.”

  “Thanks, Belle. You're a great morale booster. I don't know what I'd do without friends like you and Dennis. Tell him I'll have a chocolate meringue pie ready for him to take home after he strings the lights.”

  “You have his number. That's one of his favorites, although I have to say that he likes almost any kind of pie.”

  “He's not alone. We all have a sweet tooth.”

  “I admit I do. Life would be pretty routine without a little sugar once in a while, but you don't have to make pie this afternoon; tomorrow's soon enough. Don't you have to get ready for the studio tour?”