A Wee Murder in My Shop (A ScotShop Mystery) (15 page)

I glanced down at my chemise. “Is there blood on anything else?”

He took a moment to look carefully, and then reached for a coat hanger. “Nope. Everything else is okay. Just wet from the rain.” He hung the chemise and overskirt from hooks on the wall, put my underwear back in the closet, and picked up the arisaidh. “And how are you doing? Other than wanting to leave, that is.”

“I’m okay.”

He raised an eyebrow, and his eyes ran the length of me.

“No, really, I’m fine. I just want to get home.”

“You’re fine?” There was a quizzical twist to his words. “Do you know what
fine
stands for?”

I shook my head as much as the brace allowed.

“It means Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, and Egotistical.”

I could hear the capital letters. I laughed, but that hurt, so I took a deep breath instead.

“There,” he said. “That’s better.”

“How is the truck driver? Was he hurt?”

“He’s fine—I mean he wasn’t hurt at all. He told me that he’d been wondering for some time about whether or not he should sell the garbage business.” A funny expression, one I couldn’t interpret, flitted across Harper’s face.

“He owns it? What was he doing driving a truck then?”

“Well, that’s the funny part. His business started small, here in Arkane, but then he was so successful, he expanded into Hamelin and a couple of the other towns around here. Usually he sits behind a desk, shuffling paper, but some of his men are out with the flu, and he decided to take one of the runs. That’s the only reason he was in the truck.” He paused, sliding my arisaidh, which he’d been holding all this time, onto the coat hanger.

He was quiet so long I prompted him. “So, what does this have to do with selling his business?”

“He said that running into you made up his mind. All because he filled in for somebody else.” He held my gaze for a second or two and then looked away. “Amazing what can happen when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Fill in for somebody.”

That didn’t make sense, but I let it drop. “Does Gilda know? Is the shop open?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. I called her. She said she and Sam would be there all day. They’re planning to stop by this evening during visiting hours.”

“My car?” I hated to ask, but imagining the worst was no fun.

He shook his head. “Back end is crumpled. Frame is bent. Totaled.”

“Oh, jolly.” Why hadn’t I taken that old ’57 Chevy when my dad offered it to me? It would have been dented but still drivable, although it probably would have gotten about twelve miles per gallon. “How’s the garbage truck?”

The man actually snickered. “You think your little car could damage a garbage truck?”

“Whew. At least my insurance won’t have to pay for truck repair.”

He smiled. “Martin, the guy who owns the garbage company, told me at the scene that it was entirely his fault. He was going too fast. He said he thought his insurance should pay for the whole thing.”

“You’re kidding.” I remembered the voice that had pulled open my door, terrified that I might have been badly injured.

“Gave him a ticket.”

“You gave that nice man a ticket?”

“He was practically asking for one.”

The door opened and Amy, the nurse, bustled in. Why do nurses always seem to bustle? She winked at Harper. I had the distinct feeling that these weren’t visiting hours. He’d probably just smiled at her and she’d let him in. “Hi, Harper. Don’t worry; she’s doing just fine.” She turned to me and lowered her voice. “My friend here has been sitting in the waiting room for the past two hours, ever since he got through doing his cop stuff.”

“Buzz off, Amy; I’m working.”

She stuck out her tongue at him. “No, no, no. I’m the one who’s working here. Out you go.” She lifted my hand, inspected the IV site, and winked at me. “I’d be willing to bet my patient has to use the potty.”

Harper blushed a bright red. I didn’t know he could blush. Amy looked at me and giggled. He left hastily as she pulled back the sheet. “Close the door on your way out,” she called.

After I took care of the essentials, Amy helped me rinse the kerchief and wring it out.

It wasn’t long before I was inundated with visitors. Well, only two, one on each side of the bed, but it felt like a crowd.

“They made us wait out there in that dreadful waiting room, when I should have been in here with my baby the whole time.”

“Hi, Mom. I’m doing just fine.” Harper’s definition rang in my head and I grinned.

“What’s so funny?” She reached back and pressed her hand into her lower spine. It was a movement I’d seen her make so many times, I almost didn’t notice it anymore. “Here you are almost dead and I haven’t even been able to stay with you, and now you’re laughing?”

“Not laughing, Mom.” I was tired already. “I just thought of something funny, that’s all.”

She didn’t ask what—not that I expected her to—she was too caught up in her monologue. “We’re taking you home as soon as Doctor Carrin says you can leave. Your old room is still just the way you left it. You can move in there for a week or two. Maybe three. However long it takes my baby to heal. You certainly don’t want to go out in public with your hair looking like that. I don’t mind waiting on you hand and foot, even though it will be hard on my back. Whatever it takes to get you well.”

Oh my God, I’d forgotten about Dirk. “Mom, I need to go back to my own house.”
He must be frantic.
I remembered seeing him in the bay window, shouting and waving his dagger. “I need to get there right away.” I pulled back the sheet and swung my legs to one side, more successfully than the first time.

“Now, honey.” Dad sounded reasonable and absolutely adamant at the same time. He reached for my legs, had second thoughts inches from my bare skin, and simply stood in front of me, leaving me no room to haul myself to my feet.

Sighing, I pushed the call button. Amy’s voice came through loud and clear. “What do you need, Ms. Winn?”

“I need to go home. How soon can I get out of here?”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Your brother is absolutely frantic. I told him he could stay with us while you’re there. That way we’ll be a cozy, happy family again.”

“Mom, I don’t need cozy,” I said as the door opened. “I need to be home in my own house. Call Drew back and tell him I’m okay. He won’t want to stay there, either. You know you don’t like Tessa.”

Amy must have had years of practice reading body language. She very kindly but firmly ushered my parents out. “I need to check her vitals,” she said. “We may be able to release her early. You’ll need to go to the waiting room.”

“Better yet,” I called after them as Amy pulled the curtain between the bed and the door, “go home and wait for me to call you.”

I could hear my mom’s objections fading as the
tap tap tap
of her high heels receded down the hallway. “Thanks for saving me,” I said, and Amy chuckled.

“I really do need to get your vital signs,” she said. “You’re doing pretty well, but we have to be sure. Any headache?”

“Nope. The stitches hurt, but no headache.”

“Difficulty swallowing?”

I gave it a try. “None.”

“How’s your vision?”

“I can see just fine,” I told her with some impatience. “I really do have to get home. There’s somebody there I need to check on.”

“Cat? Or dog? You look more like a dog person.”

I couldn’t very well say I needed to check on my ghost. “His name is Shorty,” I said. Amy bent over me and pulled my lower eyelids down as she looked at my pupils or something. She checked the computer readout and noted some numbers on a chart. Then she typed something on the console that sat, like a broody hen, beside the bed. An apt image, since I felt like a plate of scrambled eggs.

I did my best to look alert.

“Who’s going to take you home? Your parents?”

“Heavens, no! I’ll call Sam. They’d haul me across town to their house. I need to be at my own place. Sam can take some time away from the store to come get me.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Not hardly. Cousin.”

“Hmm.” She looked pleased.

“And employee,” I added. I’m not sure why I wanted to clarify that point. “I own the ScotShop in Hamelin.”

“I know. I love that store. I bought my dad a tie there a couple of years ago.”

“You’re welcome to come back anytime.” Every tie helped.

“We have to get you out of here first, though.” She tugged absentmindedly at the corner of the blanket, straightening it. “Is there someone at your house who can stay with you for a couple of days, just to be sure you don’t fall? With a concussion, your balance may not be the best right away.”

Did Dirk count? “Yes,” I said. “There’s somebody there. My, uh, housemate.”

“You shouldn’t do any bending, either. Keep your head above the level of your heart, and let your housemate walk the dog.”

“I have a fenced-in backyard,” I told her.
And Shorty is an indoor cat.

“That’s good. Just be sure you take it easy. Let other people wait on you. Does your housemate cook?”

I had a brief vision of Dirk gutting a squirrel and roasting it over an open campfire. “Not exactly, but my friend Karaline will bring me food from her restaurant.”

“Oh? Which one?”

“The Logg Cabin.”

“I love that place. We go there a lot on Saturday mornings.”

“Yeah. It’s great having a friend like that.”

“You let her pamper you, okay?”

“Fine with me. I love being spoiled. I’ll be just fine.” Fine. Right. Freaked out, insecure, and . . . something or other. I couldn’t remember the rest. Neurotic. That was it. What was the
e
for?

“I’ll call Dr. Carrin and see if he’ll release you.”

“Just don’t let my mother know you’re releasing me until I can get Sam here.”

“Don’t count your chickens. Call Sam after Dr. Carrin agrees. He might not release you, you know. And you might not need Sam anyway.”

“Why not?”

She ignored my question and said something about a brolaw, whatever that was. “I’ll go get the doctor.”

I nodded, and she left the room. A minute or so later, the door opened and Harper walked in. “You doing okay?”

I shrugged. “Why are you still here? Don’t you have something else to do? Like finding out who killed Mason?”

“Just thought you’d like to know Shoe was released about an hour ago.”

“Really? That’s great! Did you catch the guy who did it?”

“No, but that lawyer of his convinced the judge to reconsider the fact that all the evidence was completely circumstantial. He pulled in affidavits from leading town citizens saying that Shoe was a young man of upstanding character.” His smile was wry.

“The baseball game, right? Those leading citizens all want Shoe to be able to play against the Arkane Archers on Independence Day?”

“Probably. The charges weren’t dropped, but he’s out on bail.” Harper frowned slightly, and his eyes seemed to go darker. Maybe it was just the shadow from his eyebrows. “It didn’t seem to occur to the judge that a number of convicted serial killers were thought to be of upstanding character before they were caught.”

“Shoe is not a serial killer. He’s not any kind of killer. He’s—”

“Don’t get your britches twisted. I’m just stating an obvious fact that the judge missed.”

“My britches twisted? That’s what Moira says. Did you ever live in the south?”

He avoided the question by asking one of his own. “You ignored my first question. How do you feel?”

“I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”

“A garbage truck.”

“Just my luck. But what about Shoe? He had a forty-thousand-dollar bond. He couldn’t possibly pay that.”

“Reduced to ten thousand.”

“Yuck. That’s still way more than he can afford.”

“Uh-huh. Karaline Logg put up the money.”

“Karaline? You’ve got to be kidding.” This was getting more bizarre every moment. “I didn’t know Karaline had that kind of money.” Why would she bail out Shoe? Surely there was no romantic interest there. Karaline was way too sophisticated for Shoe, and he was goofy over Gilda, anyway. I wondered what was going to happen when he found out Sam had moved into his territory. We’d probably have a testosterone war on our hands. I could only hope that it didn’t invade the ScotShop.

“. . . could take you home.”

“Huh?”

Harper narrowed his eyes, but the corners of his mouth curved up. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?”

I screwed up my mouth. “Guess not. I was thinking. Did you say you’d take me home?”

He nodded. “Amy told me I needed to feed your dog for you.”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“I know. You look more like a cat person. So, I’ll feed your cat. She said you weren’t supposed to bend over until your head had a chance to heal.”

“Get me my chemise,” I said. “Is the arisaidh dry?”

“How are you planning to get dressed with that needle in the back of your hand?”

Crud. I’d forgotten that. “Well, we can at least get everything ready.”

“We can, can we?”

“I have to get home right away.”

He lifted the chemise and shook his head. “What’s the big hurry anyway? Don’t you enjoy”—he gestured around the room—“the ambiance?”

“Poop,” I said, and Harper grinned. Where was Dirk when I needed him to keep my mouth civilized? He was stuck in my house, frantic with worry, that’s where he was. “I’d rather go home,” I said, and took the chemise from his outstretched hand.

He reached for the arisaidh, but Dr. Carrin walked in, followed closely by Amy. He looked so goshdarn familiar, but I still couldn’t place where I’d seen him before. He looked at my clothes spread out on the bed. “A bit premature, aren’t we?”

“Anxious,” I said. “I’m getting prepared, just in case.”

He flitted his fingers at Harper, a completely inappropriate gesture if there ever was one. Harper raised one eyebrow but turned to leave. He paused at the door. “I’ll be in the hall.”

Dr. Carrin held out his hand, and Amy handed him my chart. He spent a few long moments looking it over. I inspected the ropey muscles of his forearm. He took the stethoscope from around his neck. “Let’s take a listen.” Amy pulled the privacy curtain. I leaned forward, gasped when that cold circle hit the skin of my back, and breathed deeply when instructed.