Moonlighting in Vermont (7 page)

I called the office and left a message for Meg, telling her I’d be late to work. Then I shrugged myself into my scraped-up jacket and buckled on my boots. I rummaged through the mudroom and found my spare helmet. I’d send the old one into the manufacturer for replacement when I got a minute. For now, my spare would do.

I limped out of the house and pushed the bike out of the tractor shed. I gave it a quick once-over. It was scratched, but there wasn’t any mechanical damage. The bike started right up, and I gingerly put my full weight on my left leg and swung my right leg over the bike. So far, so good.

I headed for Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center in Lebanon, New Hampshire. It would take me forty minutes to get there. There was a smaller, local hospital closer, but Hitchcock had the best trauma center. I rode carefully down the hill and made the pavement in one piece. I motored carefully down Route 14 toward town and decided I needed a cup of coffee. My leg was killing me.

As I stopped at the one stop sign in town, Jim pulled up on my right. He rolled down the window of his car, shaking his head at me. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked at me slit-eyed. I could tell he was trying to maintain control.

“So what happened to you?”

“Dumped the bike avoiding a deer last night. It looks worse than it is.”
“Well, that’s good, because it looks as if you’re going to bleed out through your thigh.”
“How would you know? You’re on my good side.”
“I was in the law school parking lot and saw you drive by. I just about took out a parked car when I saw that leg. Where do you think you’re going looking like that?”
“I was going to stop in at the paper and grab a coffee at the cafe. Then I’m off to Dartmouth Hitchcock. I think maybe I need to be stitched up.”
“You think? Jeez, Bree. You can’t ride your bike down there looking like that. Someone’s going to see that leg and drive off the road. Park that thing, and I’ll drive you. You should have called me.”
“You’ll be late to work. I didn’t want you to get in trouble.”
“I’m a partner. I don’t get in trouble. I get someone to stand in for me. Get in.”
I pulled the Kawasaki around and parked in a space on the side of the road. I hated to admit it, but I was glad for the ride. I opened the door to Jim’s Lexus IS and looked down at my leg.
“I can’t get in your car. I’ll get blood all over.”
“It’s okay, Bree, get in.”
I shook my head. “I can’t. This car is worth more than my house. I can drive myself.” I turned back toward my bike.
“Oh, good grief! Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.” Jim climbed out of the Lexus and strode down the street. A few minutes later, he came jogging back with an arm full of towels. “Here, I got these at the thrift store. You can bleed all over them.” He threw a couple down on the seat and handed me the rest.
I slid into the car and relaxed into the seat. I didn’t like to admit it, but I wasn’t feeling my best. I was tired, and I hurt. I fell asleep about five minutes into the ride and didn’t wake up until Jim stopped outside the emergency room.
“Do you want me to come in with you?”
“No, I know you need to get to work.” Something about him puzzled me. “Why aren’t you wearing a suit? You always wear a suit.”
“Not always. We have staff meetings today, but no clients, so we’re dressing down.”
“You’re wearing sneakers, jeans, a dress shirt and a suit jacket. That’s not dressing down. You’re cheating. Only half of you is dressed down.”
“I’m not wearing a tie. That’s all that counts. Now get your butt in the emergency room, or I’m going to have to do it for you. Call me when you’re done, and I’ll come get you.”
I grunted and eased out of the car. I gave Jim a little wave and attempted a smile as he pulled away. Then I turned and trudged into the hospital. I checked in at the desk and a nurse whisked me away. I guess they didn’t want me to bleed all over the waiting room.
It took a couple of hours to get me cleaned up, stitched up, medicated, and lectured. I didn’t bother to tell the doctor that I knew exactly what I had done wrong. I just sat there and took the lecture while she pulled the sutures through my leg.
It didn’t occur to me that I should have brought spare pants until I pulled my sweats back on. The left leg was stiff with dried blood. Gross. The blood had trickled down inside my boot, and that was disgusting, too. The boot was soggy, my sock was soggy, and my pants were disgusting. I didn’t care about the sweats, but these were my favorite boots. I cussed in my head and gave the E.R. staff my most winning smile as I thanked them.
My mind was occupied with the chances for success if I Googled how to clean my boots. I limped out into the waiting room and immediately did a double-take. Meg was sitting there, reading a magazine.
“What are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you, too. Jim called me and told me you were here. He offered pick you up, but I was looking for an excuse not to work today, so I told him I’d come down.” Meg gave me the once-over. “I want you to promise me that if you ever fall off that motorcycle again, you will call me immediately. Not after you’ve driven yourself to the hospital, not a day later when you are still bleeding. Jim told me he saw you riding that motorcycle with blood running down your leg, and he nearly lost his breakfast. I nearly passed out when he told me. Here,” she handed me a bag. “I brought you a pair of jeans.” She looked at my sweats and made a face. “You’d better put them on.” She went back to her magazine.
I stood there with my mouth open for a couple of beats. I snapped it shut and headed for the ladies room. It was painful to pull the jeans up over the bandages, and I wished for something stretchy and baggy. Then I felt ungrateful, so I just sucked it up and zipped them. I tossed the blood-encrusted sweats into the trash. On the way out, I caught a look at myself in the mirror. Good God! I looked like a bag lady. I ran my hands through my hair, but that only made it worse, so I gave up and slouched out to Meg.
“Okay. Let’s go to work.”
We reached town and parked on the street below the office. I limped up the stairs to the office and sat gingerly in my chair. I wasn’t bleeding through my pants anymore, but I was still pretty uncomfortable. Someone had left a handwritten article on my desk; one glance at the writing told me it was Lucy Howe. She usually sent her articles in electronically. Either her computer was down, or she was looking for new ways to torment me.
I powered up my computer and looked at the stack of stuff I needed to get done. I couldn’t seem to get started, so I limped down the stairs and up the street to the deli. I got myself a Coke and a sandwich. Meg had walked over to the post office to get our mail, and she joined me on the street.
“Anything but bills in there?”
“There are a couple of classified ads and some calendar items. Nothing earthshaking.”
We climbed back up the stairs to the office. I pulled my chair over to Meg’s desk and ate my sandwich while she opened the rest of the mail. There wasn't much of interest in the mail today, so I picked up Lucy’s article.
It was about Vera’s murder. Vera Post, head p.m. housekeeper at the exclusive five-star hotel, found dead, blah, blah, blah. The first thing that struck me was that Lucy had broken the ban on writing about Whispering Birches. The hotel guaranteed its clients there would be no publicity, and they could make breaking the silence pretty uncomfortable for anyone who challenged that. The second thing that struck me was the sentence: Bella Bree MacGowan, the
Royalton Star
employee who moonlights at Whispering Birches, discovered the body and is currently the only suspect.
Fabulous.
I looked over at Meg. “Have you seen Lucy’s article?”
“No. She told me she was going to write about Vera. What’s up?”
“She wrote about Vera’s murder, including where she was found, and she says I’m the only suspect.” My mouth felt tight. “Did you know about this?”
“Jeez, Bree, what do you think? You think I would say ‘Yeah, go ahead, rat on my friend’? I thought she was writing about Vera’s life. Hand that over, let me see what it says.” Meg stood up and reached over for the article.
I handed it to her and limped to the window, agitated. The sun was shining on the trees, lighting the red, orange and yellow leaves. It was beautiful outside, warm for a fall day. There were a few small children running around on the green and climbing on the old cannon, their mothers watching. The moms were chatting together, and they all looked so happy.
Meg spoke from behind me. “It isn’t that bad. We need to cut out all the references to the hotel, but I think we need to leave you in. It would look biased if we took out the references to you finding her.”
“What about the part where I’m the only suspect?”
“Leave those in, too. Look, I’ll typeset this if it bothers you. It won’t take me too long.”
“No, I’ll do it. I should know what the whole thing says in case someone asks me about it.” And I needed all the ammo I could get for when I saw Lucy next. As I took the pages back from Meg, I decided that Lucy had left it in rough draft on purpose. She was trying to get my panties in a twist. Well, she had succeeded.
I fumed while I typed. This would be a front-page article, which meant the larger papers might pick it up. Everyone in the Upper Valley would know I was a murder suspect. Maybe it was time to visit my younger brother in California. I didn’t need any extra attention. I generated enough just living my life.
I calmed down when I moved on to set some ads that had come in. The process of taking a sketch made by someone who couldn’t necessarily draw, and turning it into an ad, took all my concentration. I placed graphics, fiddled with font size, and did initial proofing before I sent ads over to Meg for the final proof. I was working on my third ad when the phone rang.
“Well, there you are,” said a familiar voice.
“Hi, Jim.” His voice made me smile. “What are you up to?”
“Looking for you, at the moment. What are you doing tonight?”
“Having my brain transplanted into a different body. How ‘bout you?”
“I was wondering if you could stop by after work. I need to talk to you about something. Are you all right to ride your bike now?”
“I was never not okay to ride my bike,” I lied, “but when you get that stubborn look in your eye, I know better than to expect you to be reasonable.”
“Oh, really. And I suppose a reasonable person tries to ride a motorcycle to the hospital while her life blood is draining out of her leg?”
“See? You’re doing it again. I bet you anything you’ve got that look on your face.”
“Does that mean you’re not coming over?”
“I’ll be there around seven.”
At six-thirty my eyes were vacant, staring unfocused at the computer screen while my brain was busy calculating the next time I could take a pain pill. Not until I got home. Riding under the influence of narcotics would only get me hurt worse. Not only was my leg smarting, but the other pieces of me were protesting about getting dumped on the road, too.
I shut down my computer and looked over at Meg. “I’m heading out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you,” she looked up at me. “Are you sure you can ride that bike?”
“I’ll be all right. I’m stopping at Jim’s on the way home. That’ll break it up a little.”
“Not working that other job tonight?”
“No, I called them from the emergency room. I’m out sick for the next few days.”
Jim lived in a log cabin that was up a long drive off Route 14. It was big and rambling with a vaulted ceiling in the living and dining rooms. It was a huge place for just one guy, so sometimes he rented rooms to a law student. He was between renters at the moment.
I banged on the door and then walked right in. Country people have the habit of wandering in and out of each other’s homes. Everyone knows if they’re going to have sex on the kitchen floor, they’d better lock the door, or they might get caught in the act. More than one transplanted flatlander has been flabbergasted to walk out of the shower and find his neighbor sitting in the kitchen brewing coffee and waiting for a chat.
Jim was standing at the kitchen sink filling his kettle. He set it on the stove as I walked in and came over to kiss me lightly on the mouth. I looked at him quizzically. Maybe he’d had a bad day. There were ways to loosen him up. My arms snaked around him, and I nuzzled my face into his neck. He relaxed a little. I nibbled his earlobe. His breathing changed as I pressed myself against him. His arms tightened around me, and he bent his head down and kissed me on the mouth. I let the tip of my tongue run along the edge of his lower lip.
He backed me up against the refrigerator and slid his hand into the waist of my jeans. My hands slid up under his shirt, and I let my fingers press into the soft skin of his back. Then I ran them down into the back of his pants. He pulled away.
“We can’t do this right now. I need to talk to you.
“Now? Can’t it wait until later? I’m nice and numb now, later I might not feel so good.”
“It has to be now.” He had a hangdog look on his face. “It wouldn’t be fair to wait until later.”
“So, what’s up?” I asked, adjusting my shirt and sitting down at the island counter. I was getting a bad feeling about this. Maybe it was the way Jim was so obviously not looking at me.
“I’ve got some bad news. I don’t really know how to say this, so I’ll just say it, and then we can work it out after.”
I nodded. I didn’t trust my voice.
“The thing is, I can’t see you for a while.” He was looking studiously over my head. “I’m going to be really busy at work, and some other stuff has come up. It’s not going to be forever, but I’m not sure when I’ll be able to call you again.”
“Okay.” I made an effort to sound cheery and hopped off my stool. This was maybe the weirdest brush-off I’d ever gotten. It would have been better if he’d just said he was moving on and left it at that. I slid my jacket on and grabbed my helmet.
“Bree?” Jim started toward me.
“No, I’m fine.” I held up a hand to stop him. “It’s not like we were engaged or going steady or anything. We never even discussed whether we were exclusive or not.”
“We were exclusive.” Jim was quiet.
“But not anymore?”
“I can’t ask that from you.” He looked so miserable I almost felt sorry for him. “I don’t know how long it will be before I’m free again.”
“That’s fine. You can look me up when you’re available. See you later.” I let myself out the door and closed it softly behind me. I stood outside in the cold air for a few minutes, thinking about crying. I decided it wasn’t going to happen, walked over to my bike, got on, and rode home.
I went to feed my animals and realized Max had already done it. I’d forgotten that I’d asked him. I dragged myself into the house, swallowed a couple of pain pills, and took the dogs upstairs with me. I burrowed under the covers, and the dogs jumped up to lie on the bed. Annie snuggled up next to me and licked the tears off my face.