Claire Gulliver #02 - Washington Weirdos (16 page)

“Nice party.” Jack took a sip and seemed to relax a bit.

“How would you know? You’ve missed the whole thing. I bet you didn’t get anything to eat, did you?”He shook his head.

Doug having just returned with his drink said, “Well, I don’t think you had anything to eat either, did you, Claire?”

She grinned ruefully, “No. I was so disappointed about the spinach soufflé, I lost my appetite.

“So, are you going to tell us about it?” she inquired, “or are you keeping secrets?”

Jack shrugged. “Nothing to keep secret. I didn’t catch him.” His face clearly reflected his thoughts about that failure. “I didn’t even see his face, just the back of his head as he drove out the gate. We have the local police looking for the van, and for him. He won’t get far.”

“Jack, it was him. I couldn’t be mistaken.”

Jack looked at her and nodded. “I never doubted you for a minute. Not only am I sure his face was clearly imprinted on your brain, but why else would he have hightailed it out of the kitchen and then steal one of the vans in his effort to get away? No, it was him. But what was he doing here?”

They stared at each other as if the answer was there to see.

“Tomorrow we’ll be at the caterer’s first thing in the morning to review their personnel files. The police are currently visiting the guy who recommended him, so we may get identification later tonight. We will get some answers,” he promised Claire. “Meanwhile, I’ve missed the fun.” He stood up and held out his hand. “How about a dance?”

Claire excused herself from Doug and followed Jack to the dance floor. Just as they stepped onto the dance floor, the band delivered
The Harbor Lights
David had promised her yesterday, and the exhausted dancers smiled gratefully for the respite.

Claire fit perfectly in Jack’s arms. They were the same height, although the sandals Claire wore gave her an inch advantage.

“Did I mention how super you look tonight?” Jack murmured in her ear.

“No, I don’t think you did.”

“Well, you look great. I don’t know what you did with your hair but it’s nice. And I get goose bumps when those little scarlet painted toes peek out from under your dress.”

Claire smiled. “Oh, so you’re one of those?”

“Those?”

“Guys with a foot fetish.”

“Hmmm. I never thought about it, but maybe I am. Or I’m just developing one.”

The band slid into the
Theme from Summer Place
and the dancers glided over the floor. Claire just enjoyed being held. It was romantic, the warm night, the slight breeze from the bay, the stars overhead and the muted light all adding to the mood.

Then the rock music was back, and Cliff was there to claim his dance. Jack headed for the house to find something to eat and Claire gave herself up to the beat. After all, it was a Gala.

The black Porsche glided into the deserted parking lot and moved toward the public facilities. This was a popular launching ramp for boaters, so it was well maintained, albeit completely empty at this time of night. He pulled up as far in the shadow as possible and got out of the car.

He looked around but saw no sign of movement. Then out of the darkest shadow he saw something.

“Tony? Christ, are you mad? Calling me at the Lickmans’? Why don’t you just take out an ad in the Post?” He couldn’t help it. He was mad. Furious!

“It wasn’t my fault,” Tony whined. “Everything was fine until that dog appeared. And then she was there, just staring at me. She recognized me immediately. I had to get out of there.”

Tony’s face hardened. “It wasn’t my fault. I did everything you wanted. It wasn’t in the cards. And now I’m blown. I’ve got to get out of town. I need my money and I need a ride to the Baltimore train station.”

He nodded. “Where’s the van?”

“I ditched it a couple miles that way.” Tony gestured with his head. “Then I hoofed back here to call you. It was too big, too white and too noticeable to disappear in.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I saw it.” He nodded again, sympathy on his face as he moved forward. “I can’t believe the bad luck. Of course I’ll pay you.” He was very close to Tony now, as he reached into his pocket and brought out the gun. He didn’t even pause as he pulled the trigger. Once, twice, and then bending directly over the body, a third time. He wasn’t taking any chances that Tony would be caught and able to tell his story.

Then he turned, got in the car, revved up the motor and took off for home feeling much cheerier.

Claire came awake slowly, aware it was late. She smiled and stretched. It had been a lovely party. It was like something out of a movie, not at all real. The last of the guests left very late and then the houseguests mingled a little before wandering to their rooms.

Doug, Cliff and Jack had all kissed her goodnight. Chaste, friendly kisses on the cheek. Doug murmured he would be in touch. Cliff thanked her for being such a good dance partner and helping him have a good time. Jack, a bit disgruntled, perhaps by the number of people milling about in the foyer, said he would call in the morning.

She grinned. She had felt like the belle of the ball. But now she was starved!

She made fast work of her shower and was downstairs in the solarium in record time, where she noticed that even though she thought it was late, no one but Amy was in the solarium. Claire helped herself to some coffee and juice and made her way to the table where Amy sat hunched over a bowl of oatmeal.

“Why such a long face, Amy? Are you a little grumpy from such a late night?”

She shook her head gloomily. “No, I’m just worried.”

“Worried? What’s got you worried?” She sat down and took a sip of the fresh orange juice. The sharp citrus tang jolted her taste buds and she drank more, not really paying much attention to Amy.

“What did you say?” She now turned her attention to the child.

“I said Tuffy’s sick. And,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “he threw up. It was awful. It was green.” Her eyes were big and round.

“How sick? Lots of times dogs will throw up, just like babies do.”

“He won’t get up. When he did stand up he kind of fell over. You know, like he had turned in circles too many times.”

“Where is he now, Amy? Did you go get your Gramimi?”

She shook her head solemnly. “No, Mrs. Kramer told us last night to be quiet this morning so Gramimi and Grandpap could sleep in. And I tried to tell JoJo but she just pulled the covers over her head.”

Claire sat back looking at the child, thinking as she sipped her coffee. Tuffy was such a bundle of energy she couldn’t imagine him sick. She stood up and reached a hand for Amy’s. “We’d better go see him, Amy. Then we can decide what we should do.”

Amy led her to the far end of the nursery where Tuffy’s basket sat. Amy was right. The dog was sick. The dog’s normally white crispy hair was limp and matted, and instead of jumping up when they approached, he only opened one eye to look at them and then closed it again. Claire was no expert but it looked serious to her. She held out her hand and touched his nose feeling how warm it was. She thought that meant he had a fever, and she could see the green mess he had made during the night on the other side of his bed.

Amy stooped down close to the dog. Patting him gently on the head she whispered to him, “Don’t worry, Tuffy. Claire is here. She’s going to take care of you.”

Claire felt a tightening in her chest. She wasn’t sure what to do. Finally she simply told Amy to stay with Tuffy while she went for Mrs. Kramer.

The kitchen seemed to be back to normal already, even after all the activity of last night. Cook had a couple of helpers ready to prepare breakfasts as people ordered from the solarium.

“Where can I find Mrs. Kramer?”

“Take that door, down at the end. I’m sure she’s up by now, but she hasn’t been here yet.”

Claire tapped at the door, hating to disturb the woman who so competently ran this household.

Mrs. Kramer looked surprised to find Claire at the door but asked graciously, “What can I do for you this morning?”

“It’s Tuffy. He’s sick. Amy told me, but she hasn’t told MiMi or David. I did go up to see him and even knowing nothing about animals I can see he’s very sick. I didn’t know what to do, so I decided it would be best to get you.” The last was said to Mrs. Kramer’s back as she had already started moving briskly down the hall toward the back stairwell.

JoJo finally gave up when they traipsed back through the nursery. Rubbing her eyes she grumped, “What’s going on? Why is everyone in here?”

“Tuffy’s sick,” Amy explained. “I told you before.”

Mrs. Kramer knelt down beside Amy and looked at the dog carefully. Then standing up she said to Claire, “I’ll go down, call the vet and talk to Mrs. Lickman. Can you call Charlie? The number is star 17 on the house phone. Ask him to bring the car around and then come up here to carry Tuffy down.” As she went out the door she said over her shoulder, “Don’t worry about that mess. I’ll send someone up to clean it in a few minutes.”

“JoJo, it sounds as if a lot of people will be in here in a very little while, so you may want to take your clothes into the bathroom and get dressed,” Claire suggested as she picked up the phone to contact Charlie.

She was right. MiMi was there in a matter of minutes, looking alarmed and rumpled, not having finished her normal grooming cycle when Mrs. Kramer knocked on her door.

“Tuffy, baby. What’s the matter with you?” she cooed as if the dog was going to answer.

When Charlie arrived only a few minutes later she instructed him to take the dog, basket and all, down to the car. “I’ll get my shoes and be right there.”

Mrs. Kramer had returned by then and MiMi stopped. “Oh, my guests...” Then making up her mind she hurried out the door. “They’ll just have to entertain themselves for a few hours; I have to go with Tuffy.”

“Gramimi, can I go too?” Amy’s anxious face looked earnestly at her grandmother.

MiMi paused in the hall. She couldn’t seem to make up her mind, so Claire offered, “Do you want me to go with you? I could look out for Amy.”

“Would you? Thank you.”

Then seeing JoJo come in from the bathroom she said, “JoJo, there you are. You stay with your Grandpap and help him with the guests, will you?” And she was gone.

“Dr. Milhouser, Tuffy’s veterinarian, asked if he ate anything unusual, so I told him about the spinach soufflé incident. He asked that I bring a sample, but I don’t have any. The caterers took all the trash away with them last night,” Mrs. Kramer told them as she headed downstairs with Amy and Claire following.

Then Claire remembered. “What about the towel you used to clean Tuffy last night? Did the caterers take that too?”

Mrs. Kramer thought a minute. “No, I don’t think so. I think I threw it in the laundry. That’s a good idea, Claire. Wait just a minute.” She was back in a very short time with the stained towel in a sealed baggie. “Here, see if this will do.”

And they were off. Claire sat in the front with Charlie. MiMi and Amy sat in the back with the dog, crooning softly to comfort him as Charlie drove as fast as the country roads would let him.

They arrived at the animal hospital a few minutes before Dr. Milhouser. But the attendant was expecting them and led them back to an examination room. Claire looked around surprised at how like a doctor’s office it was. Not having a pet, she had never had the occasion to visit an animal hospital before. And when Theroux the cat decided to adopt the store, she had called in a veterinarian on wheels to check her out, because Mrs. B had advised her it would result in a lot less trauma on all of them.

When Dr. Milhouser hurried in, Claire could see that he had not intended to spend the Sunday of his Labor Day weekend in the clinic. In spite of his tennis clothes, he didn’t seem at all put out with the interruption; his only apparent concern was with the sick dog.

“What’s the matter, Tuffy?” He peered closely at the dog, pulling up an eyelid to look into his eye. Then he inserted a tongue depressor in the dog’s mouth while he examined his teeth and gums. His assistant deftly inserted a rectal thermometer and Tuffy didn’t even flinch.

“Well, Mrs. Lickman, I’m sorry to agree that Tuffy is very ill. I understand there was an incident with some creamed spinach last night?” He picked up the folder his assistant had ready for him on the counter and thumbed through the contents. “Has he ever eaten spinach before?”

MiMi shook her head.

Amy nodded hers. She looked at her grandmother with guilt all over her face. “Well, last Christmas when Mom said I had to eat some,” she gulped, not really wanting to confess, “well, Tuffy was under the table and...

“But, he liked it,” she said earnestly.

“So he didn’t get sick then?”

“Apparently not.” MiMi raised her eyebrows at Amy.

“So it’s probably not the soufflé. Has he been outside? Could he have eaten any mushrooms? You know, in the woods or out on the lawn.”

“I haven’t seen him. Do dogs eat raw mushrooms?”

The doctor shrugged. “Not usually. Has he had access to any poisons?” Seeing MiMi shake her head he said, “Look, why don’t you wait outside while we do some blood work? Then I’m afraid our only hope is to pump his stomach and hope he responds. It sounds like he threw up a good portion of what he had eaten, so maybe we can get the rest out of him in time. Meanwhile, we’ll see if we can get someone at the lab to look at the sample you brought with you.”