Little Shop of Homicide (18 page)

“He didn’t do anything.” I pulled myself together and shook my head. “And I’ve learned that when you try to get even with someone, you’re only allowing that person to continue to harm you.”

J
ake sat in his truck watching as the dime store’s door closed behind Devereaux and wished she was still beside him. Better yet, still in his arms. Why was he allowing her to affect him this way? He whacked his head against the back of the seat and stared at the ceiling.

Things were going way too fast, and his life seemed to be careening out of control. How had he gone from deciding not to tell Devereaux about his ex-wife to asking her out on a date? What happened to letting her think he was a two-timing jerk so she’d keep him at a distance? Had he completely lost his mind?

When he’d stopped by the store to talk to Devereaux yesterday afternoon, she’d given him an out for their interrupted lovemaking Tuesday night. But had he accepted her rationalization and let the matter drop? No. Instead he’d accused her of being a snob. She had voiced his feelings exactly—emotions only mess people up. So why didn’t he agree with her and pretend nothing had happened between them?

That would have been the smart thing to do. Instead he’d kissed her, and would have continued kissing her if she hadn’t chosen that moment to tell him about Woods harassing her. Jake whacked his head against the back of the seat again. Was he going crazy?

Maybe so. A sane man wouldn’t have a burning desire to go back to the restaurant, find Underwood, and beat him to within an inch of his life for making Devereaux cry. A sane man wouldn’t allow a woman he barely knew to crowd his every thought. A sane man would be able to control himself, and stop thinking about laying her down and tasting her sweetness.

Jake pounded the steering wheel. He was leaving town as soon as he was healed. He repeated what he’d told himself the previoius day: Relationships didn’t work for him and it wouldn’t be fair to Devereaux to hook up with her for just a few nights of wild sex.

Despite having just told himself all of the good reasons to cool things between them, Jake closed his eyes and savored the memory of her soft warmth in his arms. A long shudder traveled over him and he felt something deep in his chest. It wasn’t an itch that could easily be scratched and forgotten, but more an all-consuming craving. A wanting beyond anything he’d ever felt before.

This was not good. Frowning at his own weakness, he scrubbed his face with his fists. He couldn’t allow this feeling to override his common sense. The safest course would be to avoid Devereaux—at least until he had himself under better control.

Instead of meeting up with her and her friends that night as he’d promised, he would call and cancel. He’d claim an emergency on the ranch, and report his findings from this afternoon’s interviews via the telephone.

Jake took a deep breath and pulled himself upright. It was time to go to work. He checked the crude map that Devereaux had drawn for him on a paper napkin, threw his truck into reverse, and backed onto the street.

Snow clung like white moss to the trees that lined the country road connecting Shadow Bend with the county seat. Jake drove the speed limit, giving himself a chance to collect his thoughts and figure out a strategy for approaching Underwood’s staff.

Even going a sedate fifty-five, his F-250 ate up the miles, and he arrived at the hospital at three fifteen. The Baby Wellness Center, a government-subsidized program, was housed in the oldest part of County General. As Jake crossed from the hallway of the recently remodeled part of the building into the corridor of the untouched wing, he noted that there was nothing cheerful or even new inside the clinic. Instead of fresh paint and modern equipment, there was only a bleak sense of constantly having to scrape by. Whoever had been in charge of disbursing the grant money had been tightfisted, seeing no need for frills.

Entering the waiting room, Jake realized he was in luck. The center closed at four, and there were only one mother and baby waiting to be seen. As he walked past the exhausted-looking woman, she glanced up from trying to soothe the screaming infant she held in her arms. He gave her an encouraging nod and she smiled wearily.

From her perch behind the check-in desk, the receptionist peered up at him for a long moment, then asked doubtfully, “Can I help you, sir?”

“I hope so, Madison.” Jake leaned in, reading the ID card hanging from a lanyard around her neck. “I sure could use some help.”

Madison was in her early twenties and wore a pastel smock printed with baby animals. Blond curls framed her heart-shaped face, and there was a vase with a single pink rose next to her computer.

“My name is Jake Del Vecchio.” He held out his hand and she tentatively shook it. “I’d like to ask you a few questions. Do you have a minute?”

“Sure.” She pointed to the monitor. “I was just doing some paperwork. Nothing that can’t wait. What would you like to know?”

“A friend of mine had an accident last Saturday and called Dr. Underwood for help.” Jake rested a hip against the counter. “Do you remember that?”

“I do.” Madison gazed at Jake, her solemn baby blue eyes never leaving his. “We were almost out the door when the call came in.”

“But you came back, right?” Jake’s posture remained relaxed and his tone casual.

“Yes.”

“That’s a shame.” Jake’s expression became remorseful. “As it turned out, my friend wasn’t as badly hurt as she thought and she ended up not going to his office after all. Now she feels bad and wants to know if the doc waited around a long time for her.”

“Gee.” Madison screwed up her face. “I don’t know how long Dr. Underwood waited. He told me I could go ahead and leave, so I did.”

“Well, shoot.” Jake glanced around. “Did anyone stay with him?”

“Yes.” Madison bobbed her head. “Yale—the physician assistant—left with me, but Mom stayed.”

“Do you think I could have a word with your mom?” Jake asked.

“Sure.” Madison stood. “You wait right here and I’ll go get her.”

“I’d appreciate it.” Jake smiled. “By the way, what’s her name?”

As she disappeared into the back, Madison called over her shoulder. “Eunice Vogel.”

Jake decided that Madison must take after her dad’s side of the family because he couldn’t see any of her soft prettiness in Eunice. They were both petite and blond, but that was where the resemblance ended. Eunice’s white uniform hung on her thin frame as if she’d recently been ill, and her face looked as if it had been carved from the side of a mountain.

Her eyes were full of censure when she marched up to Jake and admonished, “It was extremely rude of Ms. Brown to ask the doctor to wait and then not show up for the appointment.” Hitting the palm of her hand with
the business end of a stethoscope, the nurse stared at him as if daring him to deny her statement.

Eunice’s disapproval was sharp enough to slice a decade-old fruitcake and Jake wondered if he was bleeding from her cutting stare.

“Yes.” He hurried to assure her. “I know. And she is very sorry.”

“Well, she should be.” Eunice jabbed a finger at Jake’s face. “The doctor had an important personal engagement that evening and she made him late for it with horribly disastrous consequences.”

“That’s terrible.” Jake pretended that he had no idea to what the nurse was referring. “How long did the doctor wait around?”

“Long enough.” Eunice’s stance oozed contempt. “Wasting even a minute of that saintly man’s precious time is a sin.”

“Ms. Brown
did
try to call and say she wasn’t coming after all, but no one picked up.” Jake took a chance at lying since Madison had said she wasn’t at the office to answer the phone. “Why didn’t you or the doctor get the telephone? Surely if you were waiting a long time…” He trailed off, hoping she’d reveal something.

“Well.” The nurse’s voice held a lot less conviction than it had a moment ago, and red stained her cheeks. “Actually, since it was Valentine’s Day weekend and all, the doctor told me to go. I had tickets for a play, and my husband was waiting in the parking lot.”

“What time was that?” Jake asked immediately, not giving her a chance to think.

“A few minutes after five.” Eunice’s voice faltered.

“Let me see. The call came in at what, four thirty?” Jake thought out loud. “And Madison and Yale left a few minutes later, and you followed at five.” Jake stared at the nurse. “Dr. Underwood may have stayed another hour. Or he could have left as soon as you were out of sight, which would explain why no one answered the
phone.” Jake stepped closer to the older woman and gazed down at her. “You have no idea if his time was wasted or not, do you?”

The nurse didn’t admit her lack of knowledge, but neither did she duck his accusation. Instead, she pursed her lips, gave him a withering look, and said, “We’re through here. You need to leave right now.”

M
y cell rang as Gran and I were eating dinner. The phone was on the table between us, and Birdie’s eyes lit up when she saw Jake’s name appear on the tiny screen. I must admit my heart accelerated a little, too.

At first it sounded as if he was opting out of the evening’s plan to get together, but after a few minutes of confusing chitchat, he finally confirmed Boone’s address and said he’d see me later.

Boone’s was the only place where we could be assured of complete privacy. I, of course, lived with Gran, and although Poppy had an apartment above Gossip Central, I didn’t think this kind of discussion should take place when the bar was open for business. There would be too many curious eyes speculating on Jake’s presence, and how he fit into our group.

Before Jake hung up, he mentioned that he might be a little late. Considering that we weren’t meeting until nine because Poppy had to work until her relief bartender came in at eight thirty, I wondered what could delay him at that time of night.

Gran and I played poker for a couple of hours—she wiped me out of toothpicks. Then at eight I left her watching a rerun of
CSI
and went to change out of my sweatpants and T-shirt. I didn’t allow myself to think
about why I was changing outfits, but I suspected it was because Poppy would be dressed to seduce—her usual style when she tended bar—and I didn’t want to look like her ugly stepsister. I also managed to convince myself that I was only putting on makeup so Boone wouldn’t give me a hard time. It’s amazing how much bullshit I can persuade myself to believe.

Sadly, my hair required more effort than I had the patience to give it. Although I tried setting it in hot curlers, evidently I had forgotten how to do that, because an untamable cloud of ringlets sprang forth when I unwound the little white rods. Giving up my attempt to appear glamorous, and choosing not to look as if I were auditioning for the role of Little Orphan Annie, I wound the whole mess into a loose bun on top of my head.

After stopping in the living room to check on Gran, who was snoring mightily in her La-Z-Boy with Banshee curled on her lap, I hopped into my car and headed toward town. I wasn’t sure if supper hadn’t agreed with me or if I was getting the flu or if the stress of the last few days had settled in my stomach, but it felt as if pterodactyls were playing paintball in my intestinal tract. Maybe I should have brought along a barf bag.

Boone lived in the best part of town—where all the old money resided. He’d inherited the Prairie-style house from his grandmother, and the only changes he’d made were to enlarge and remodel the master bathroom, convert one of the four upstairs bedrooms into a walk-in closet, and add a detached garage out back.

It was a relief to see that I was the first one to arrive, and I parked in the empty driveway. As I did almost every time I visited Boone, I stopped for a moment to admire the grouping of multipaned windows that was the focal point of the second floor. They were the crowning touch on what otherwise would have been a rather humdrum facade.

Boone was waiting for me in the foyer. He greeted me without commenting on my spiffier-than-usual appearance, which I deemed a good omen.

While he hung my jacket, I peeked in the mirror opposite the coat closet and cringed. Smoothing the black lace of my shirt over my hips, and tugging up the deep V of the neckline, I wished I’d worn something else. I was sporting way more cleavage than I was comfortable exposing, and the top’s stretchy material clung to my generous curves.