Chili Con Corpses (9 page)

Murphy’s eyes grew round with surprise. “I don’t know. I only talked to him the one time, and he seemed like a great guy.” She paused. “Kinsley mentioned that Colin was helping out with Parker’s practice until they could hire another vet. She also said that Parker’s current partner, Dwight Hutchins, is fantastic with animals, but apparently shies away from dealing directly with animals’ owners whenever possible. Parker used to complain to Kinsley about Dwight’s quirks.” Murphy pointed the remnants of her pickle spear at him. “James, you’ve got to go to Luray and check them both out.”

“But I don’t have a pet!” James protested.

“Oh, you should get one. They’re such wonderful company. You could always adopt a kitten or a puppy and bring it up to Luray for shots.”

James thanked Dolly as she cleared away their bare plates. “’Bout licked clean,” Dolly said happily as she examined their dishes. “That’s what I like to see.”

“Murphy,” James continued after Dolly was gone. “I’m not adopting a pet just to snoop on Parker’s boyfriend and co-worker. Owning a pet’s a big decision, a big commitment.”

Murphy looked sheepish. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She grew thoughtful. “What about the other members of the supper club? Anyone have a pet?”

“Gillian’s got a cat.”

“Well, take her along. It’s good to have a second pair of eyes when you’re trying to get a take on someone.”

James thought about Gillian’s tabby, the Dalai Lama. He didn’t seem like an easygoing character that would enjoy an unnecessary visit to the vet, but he couldn’t think of any other way to investigate Colin Crabtree.

“You two want some decaf?” Dolly asked, reappearing from nowhere.

“Sure.” James looked at Murphy. “Unless you’ve got someplace to be?”

“Nowhere better than here,” she replied with a saucy smile.

Dolly gawked at the pair for a few seconds and then hastened off behind the counter where the coffee carafes were kept.

James felt warmth spread beneath the collar of his shirt. “I never know quite how to read you, Murphy,” he confessed.

Murphy waited for Dolly to serve their coffee and reluctantly walk away to help another customer before she spoke. “Then I’ll make it easy for you, James. I’ve liked you from the start. I have never cared about your weight, your ex-wife, or the fact that you live at home with a hermit for a father. You’re smart, cute, and funny. When you and Lucy became an item, I was pretty bummed.”

She broke eye contact and focused on stirring sugar into her coffee. “I know that I’m more aggressive than Lucy. I know that she and I are pretty different and that I’m probably not even your type. I also know that you’re not over her and may not be for some time.” She blew on her coffee before taking a sip. “But I’m still interested in you, James. When you and Miss Future Deputy are really done, I’ll be waiting.” She wagged a finger at him. “But not too much longer, Professor. First of all, I’m a catch. Second, I’m not a patient woman and I don’t want to be the one to initiate things anymore. If you want me, you’ll have to be mighty clear about it.” She made a move to take out her wallet.

James recovered himself enough to reach for her hand and stop her from pulling out any money. “I’ve got this.”

Murphy flipped her hand around and squeezed his warmly. “Whatever happens or doesn’t happen between us—thanks for helping me, James.” To his consternation, her hazel eyes glistened with tears. “This whole thing with Parker has really shaken me up and there’s not much in this world that can do that.” She blew her nose into her napkin and composed herself. “Okay, enough of that. We’ve got a job to do, James. You and I are going to find Parker’s killer and after that,” she finished her coffee and slung her purse over her shoulder, “maybe you’ll be ready to take a chance on us. See you when I get back.” She stood up to leave.

James stumbled to his feet, not knowing whether he should attempt to hug her goodbye, shake her hand, or do nothing. Murphy made it easy for him by stepping out of his reach in order to button her coat.

“Good luck,” he finally said as she walked away.

He watched her until she had stepped through the front door and disappeared outside.

“My, my!” Dolly exclaimed as she collected the coffee cups. “Tonight’s been better than a whole tootin’ season of
The Bold & the Beautiful
. What in the world is going on with you, Professor Henry?”

James rubbed his temple and prayed that a new headache wasn’t making itself known. “I’m not sure I can answer that yet,” he responded vaguely and then ordered two slices of pumpkin cheesecake pie to go.

James was unprepared
for the amount of noise one cat, trapped within the confined space of the Bronco, could create. The Dalai Lama howled from the moment Gillian covered his green eyes and shoved him into his purple carrier, and he didn’t show any signs of letting up once they had gotten underway.

“He
knows
where he’s going.” Gillian said as she stuck her fingers through the narrow bars of the carrier’s door in order to allow her tabby to smell her fingers. The Dalai Lama stopped mewling for a fraction of a second as he sniffed, then resumed his pathetic keening.

“I guess he doesn’t like going to the vet too much,” James observed and then turned off the radio. He couldn’t stomach the combination of cat noise and country honky tonk, though some of the high-pitched fiddle sounds were indistinguishable from the strangled cries issuing from the Dalai Lama’s throat.

“Don’t say that word!” Gillian whispered urgently. “He’s been throwing up his food a lot lately and he’ll get an
especially
upset stomach if you say V-E-T!” Her face turned worried. “Oh dear, I think he might be on the edge of
distress
right now.”

James looked at Gillian in disbelief. “How can you tell if a cat is going through a gastrointestinal event?”

Gillian took the question very seriously. “Well, he kind of scrunches up his face like this.” She twisted her mouth sideways and squeezed her eyes shut. “Then he gives a few shallow coughs.” She replicated the coughs, which sounded like someone clearing her throat. “And then he barfs.”

“He
what
?” James eyed the cat in alarm. The Dalai Lama’s cries increased in volume as he returned the stare.

Gillian slipped a cassette into the Bronco’s tape deck. “I’m glad your truck’s not too new ’cause some of the new cars only have CD players now.
This
is the Dalai’s favorite mix tape. Yanni settles him down immediately.” She turned up the volume knob. “Maybe it’s a good idea that I’m taking him to get looked at. Just the other night, he actually threw up most of his can of Fancy Feast! He’s
never
wasted the tiniest drop of wet food before.” She poked her fingers around inside the carrier. “Here comes some soothing, Dalai.”

As the calming strains of instrumental music piped out of the Bronco’s speakers, James tried to think about what kinds of questions he could ask Colin Crabtree in order to get a sense of his personality, but his attempts at concentration were hopeless. Gillian added to the potpourri of noises already echoing inside the Bronco by humming and swaying with the music, her rows of silver bangles tinkling as she mock-directed an orchestra.

“If I get a headache,” James murmured, “it won’t be related to high blood pressure.”

Some twenty minutes later, as James wished that he had brought a bigger cup of coffee along with some earplugs, Gillian abruptly switched off the music. “Sorry, James, but I need to turn
inward
for a moment and focus on how I’m going to read this Colin fellow’s aura.”

Pulling her sequined peasant skirt over her legs, Gillian rearranged her body so that she was sitting Indian style. Resting her hands on her knees, she turned her palms upward and closed her eyes. Even as the Bronco rounded dramatic curves in the road, Gillian was like a statue. James was impressed by her balance. Maybe there was something to her yoga addiction after all.

Less than a mile south of the town proper, James turned into the gravel driveway marked by a white sign reading
Luray Veterinary Clinic
. Painted wooden cutouts of a variety of dogs, cats, and birds lined the parking lot. At the exact moment that James pulled into a spot marked by a wooden golden retriever, the Dalai Lama stopped howling.

“Good boy,” Gillian cooed into the cage as though the cat’s behavior throughout the trip had been precisely what his owner wanted. The tabby rubbed his cheek against the cage door and smiled, or at least it seemed that way to James.

As they entered the reception area, Gillian took the lead. She told James that she knew exactly how to handle the animal people and that if he left everything in her hands, they’d be able to gain access to Colin and Parker’s partner Dwight.

“Good afternoon,” the woman behind the counter greeted them with a pleasant smile. She was dressed in pink and yellow scrubs decorated with cartoon cats and dogs and was likely an assistant veterinarian rather than a receptionist. James was surprised to see another bird’s nest head of hair in the same Bozo-the-Clown orange as Gillian’s. The woman didn’t have Gillian’s dozens of bracelets on her wrists, but she had three-inch chandelier earrings bearing several tiny brass bells that played a chorus with every move she made. It seemed as though Gillian had discovered a kindred spirit.

“What a
perfect
shirt! Oh, and what a groovy mood ring!” Gillian exclaimed and then placed the purple carrier on the counter, facing the assistant. “Look, Dalai Lama. See the pretty lady?”

The woman leaned toward the carrier. “Oh my, what a
handsome fellow! Do you have an appointment, you darling thing?” she directed her question at the cat.

“He does,” Gillian answered, clearly familiar with the pampered-pet dynamic. As a professional groomer, she probably spoke in a similar manner all the time. “Tummy trouble,” Gillian whispered conspiratorially to the assistant.

“Uh-oh,” the assistant replied. “But we’re not his regular vet, right? I would have remembered seeing someone
this
gorgeous before.”

The Dalai Lama actually started to purr.

Gillian shook her head. “Our regular doc is at some kind of convention. Now, we
love
and
trust
him to no end, but the doctor who’s filling in—” She threw an anxious look at James. “Well, we just don’t feel that he
cares
as much. He doesn’t see the animals as having their own
selves
. Do you know what I mean?”

The assistant pursed her lips. “I certainly do! Oh, I wish you could have met Ms. Willis, the woman who started this practice. She was just
magical
with animals.”

“She’s not here today?” Gillian pretended to be stricken.

“Oh, it’s been all over the news!” the assistant seemed shocked that Gillian wasn’t aware of the latest headlines. “
She
was the one found dead in the Caverns.”

“NO!”
Gillian swooned and James reached out as if to grab her, not knowing how far she would go to put on a convincing performance.

“Yes!” was the woman’s rejoinder. “The police questioned the whole staff three times and tore this place apart looking for clues. It was very traumatic. The
chi
around here was completely destroyed for days!”

“I don’t mean to sound selfish,” Gillian whined, “but who will take care of my precious baby now?”

“Ms. Willis’s partner, Dwight Hutchins.” The assistant stood and handed Gillian a clipboard. “Don’t worry. He’s great with animals, too.” She lowered her voice. “Dr. Hutchins is grieving over the loss of his friend and partner, so he might not be too talkative, but your cat will get the finest care from him.”

Gillian paused and then turned to James. “Oh, I just don’t think I can go back there. Will you take him, James? I’m going to chat with—” She turned back to the assistant. “What’s your name, friend?”

“June.”

“I think I need June’s comforting presence right now,” Gillian said, smiling warmly at the assistant.

Panicking, James eyed the cat carrier. “But I don’t know what to tell Dr. Hutchins about his symptoms.”

“Just tell him how he won’t eat regularly and that he’s puking up half his food!” Gillian wailed and then sank into one of the chairs in the waiting room as if it were all too much for her to take. “June? Do you happen to have any herbal teas?”

June leapt up from behind the counter. “Of course! It’s all I drink. How would you like some Magic Mantra Mulberry?”

Gillian sighed with happiness. “Perfect. I
knew
my instincts were right when I made this appointment. Sometimes you just have to trust in a higher power.”

June beamed. She then gestured impatiently for James to come to the back and wait in Exam Room Two. Without bothering to open the door for him, she scurried off to the kitchen, her earrings ringing in time with her animated steps.

Moments later, the Dalai Lama renewed his mewling. James didn’t have the slightest clue as to how to comfort the animal, so he simply said
hush
over and over again and prayed that the vet would appear soon. As he whispered to the agitated tabby, he examined an oversized poster on the wall depicting different cat breeds. He was so fixated with the illustration of the Abyssinian that he barely noticed when a man in a white lab coat entered the exam room.

“Dwight Hutchins,” he muttered by way of introduction. He did not shake hands but quickly turned to the carrier. Taking a look at the manila file in his hand, he cast a curious glance at the Dalai Lama. “Interesting name. What seems to be the trouble with him?”

The vet never made eye contact with James and seemed more focused on removing the cat from his carrier than connecting with his owner. However, Dwight’s behavior gave James an open opportunity to study him. He was young to be a full-time vet and a partner in the practice. James didn’t think Dwight was a day over thirty. Of medium height with mud-brown hair, deep-set brown eyes, and a pointy nose and chin, Dwight was simply plain. There was nothing about him to make him stand out in a crowd. The man was average in almost every way except that he did seem to possess a unique, calming touch when it came to animals, at least in the Dalai Lama’s case.

“Hey, boy,” Dwight spoke softly to the nervous cat. “What’s wrong, big guy?”

James realized that this was his cue to fill the vet in on the tabby’s symptoms. “Um, he’s not eating with his regular gusto. We’re worried that something more serious might be going on than just fussiness. And he’s throwing up a lot.”

Dwight nodded, his gaze never leaving the Dalai Lama. He stroked the cat’s fur gently and scratched him under the chin. The tabby responded by purring, rubbing at the vet’s fingers, and finally, gazing up at Dwight with a look of pure adoration. Dwight smiled and, even though the smile was tinged with sadness, James saw genuine animation in the younger man’s face. As the vet carefully massaged the cat’s abdomen, he asked, “Is he up to date on his shots?”

James hesitated, but knowing how much the Dalai Lama meant to Gillian, he felt he could safely answer the question. “Yes.”

Dwight nodded. “Does he seem to be drinking more water lately?”

“Uh,” James began. He had no idea what to say. He decided to settle with honesty. “I really don’t know.”

“How about the vomiting? More than once in a while?”

Thrilled to be able to reply accurately, James practically shouted, “Yes! Quite often, actually.”

The young vet ran his long, thin hands over the Dalai Lama’s hips. “After eating?”

“Not right after,” James guessed, “but yes, after meals.”

“He looks pretty healthy to me,” the vet stated in his quiet way. “Still, there are a few things we could check for. He could be lactose intolerant, but if he’s throwing up after eating his regular food, then he could have inflammatory bowel disease.”