The Perils of Peaches (Scents of Murder Book 3) (10 page)

Gloria shrugged. “I don’t want to go to someone who hasn’t been here for long and doesn’t really know the town.”

Odd. But I’d heard weirder things when typing. I didn’t want to continue the debate with Gloria. It seemed she was suspicious of nearly anyone with a medical background. After what she’d been through, I didn’t blame her. But Barkha had been here two years already. Evidently that wasn’t long enough for some people. “So is everyone planning to be here next week?”

“Sounds good to me,” Maryann said. I smiled at the young woman. She and her husband, Gabe, had become good friends. Gabe had a cleaning business and she was going to college part-time.

The women started collecting their babies and toddlers, and Sadie answered the ringing phone in the office. Mia hung back as the rest of the group left.

“Do you have a minute?”

“Sure. I’d rather be here than doing laundry.” I smiled at Mia. “What’s going on?”

Her brow furrowed. “You know about Terrance and his back. He’s . . . he’s like a different man now. He’s not the man I married. People change, I know, but I’m not sure how much more I can take.”

“What do you mean? You two looked happy together when I saw you at the restaurant. He’s not hitting you or anything?” Great. I’d transcribed the dictation from his office visits with Dr. Bradley in the past, but usually I pretended I didn’t know about people’s medical issues. Of course, he’d been talking about his back pain the other day in the parking lot at Honey’s Place. Plus, Mia had just mentioned taking him to the emergency room.

Mia shook her head. “It’s not that. He would never lift a hand to me. But he’s grouchier than a wounded animal. When the pain’s bad, he won’t sit still. Paces back and forth. Friday night he didn’t come home from work, either.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like him.” Her sigh wrung my heart.

“Has he been going to a doctor regularly? I mean, besides going to the ER the other night?”

“He used to see Dr. Bradley . . . you probably know that . . . but then, with Dr. Bradley passing away . . .”

“I know. We’re all in shock over what happened.”

“No, it’s not that. Dr. Bradley refused to see him anymore. And our insurance doesn’t cover any other doctors that are within an hour of Greenburg. It’s so expensive for him to go, even with a copay, and then he has to take time off work.”

“I’m so sorry. What are you going to do?”

Mia set her jaw. “I’m giving him a month. He needs help, and I’ve tried tellin’ him . . . and I’m afraid he’s going to lose his job. If that happens, I’m taking Lizzie and going to my mom’s.”

“Would he go to Dr. Mukherjee?”

“I don’t know. She’s new, isn’t she?”

“Maybe a little new to Greenburg, but she’s an excellent general medicine doctor. Maybe she could refer him to a specialist or physical therapist.”

“He won’t go. He says it hurts too bad and takes Tylenol like it’s candy.”

“That’s not good, Mia. He can really hurt himself with taking too much medication. Especially Tylenol with his kidneys.” Okay, I wasn’t a doctor, but I’d listened to two of them diagnose medical problems regularly for quite a while.

“I’ll try to talk to him.” Mia frowned. “I love him and I won’t live without him, but I just can’t live with him like this. Thanks for listening.”

“I’m glad I was able to. And I’ll pray for both of you. For your marriage and for healing for Terrance.”

“Thanks. You sound like my mom.” She quirked a hint of a smile as she turned to go out the door. Now I felt old. She wasn’t quite young enough to be my daughter.

The glass door eased shut behind her. I thought of everything I’d just heard. Terrance, not being seen by Dr. Bradley anymore. Chronic pain. Anger. A strained marriage. Popping Tylenol like candy, as Mia put it. I wouldn’t think about the part about sounding like her mother. I might be at the brink of forty, but don’t push me there too soon.

What if Terrance had gone into Dr. Bradley’s office that night? He seemed like a hardworking man, although I didn’t know him very well. Mia adored him and he doted on their baby. But Mia . . . the thought of Terrance being a suspect made me pause. Guilty people never thought about the ones who loved them being hurt by their actions. Or if they did, hurting a loved one didn’t matter as much as getting what they wanted.

I needed to talk to Jerry.

Just then, some customers came into the store, and Sadie swept past me from the office to help them. Guess my presence wasn’t necessary here. I scooped up Hannah from the makeshift play area.

Sadie glanced in my direction. “I’ll put all that away for you, Mrs. Hartley.”

“Thanks, Sadie.”

She turned back to talk to the customers.

“Hannah-B, let’s go for a while.” I had a mountain of laundry to attack, and a house to clean before this evening. Because I’d just remembered that I’d invited Barkha to come for supper tonight.

We entered the sunny morning in time to see a slick-looking convertible drive by. At the wheel was Franklin Bradley, wearing shades and grinning like he’d won the lottery.

Hannah finally napped, and I seized the chance to attack the laundry pile in the afternoon. The floors were all vacuumed, and the dust bunnies vanquished. I emptied the dishwasher, even though Ben had promised to do that last night and forgotten. But I couldn’t blame him, with his work hours. Plus, he wasn’t the only one who forgot things around here.

The pile of jeans would be last. I removed the socks and underwear from the dryer and started to sort them, my mind wandering back to all I’d seen and heard that morning. Gloria’s weird remarks about Barkha. Maybe I felt defensive because she’d talked about one of my friends. Prejudice still lurked in Greenburg, and it ought to be exposed and purged. Gloria’s flimsy excuse made no sense, especially since it sounded like she hadn’t ever met this doctor that her mother and aunt went to just over the state line in Corinth, Mississippi.

And Mia’s words about Terrance rang in my ears. Her desperation touched me, and I wished I could help. Barkha had said the other day that she wanted to give people grace. Maybe even Dr. Bradley had tried to help Terrance. I knew how he’d treated me, despite Eunice’s proclamation that the doctor had liked me.

Of course, Franklin Bradley gliding by in a new vehicle spoke volumes. I racked my brain. They’d had a doozy of an argument the day of the break-in. They used to fight about money, I recalled from the dictation recordings. But I couldn’t think of anything more specific. Whenever they’d fight while Dr. Bradley dictated, I tried to fast-forward through the arguments that made it onto tape. That was before Dr. Bradley was murdered. I hadn’t cared about their controversy then. Now I did. And all his sound files were probably deleted, with only hard copies and digital documents remaining. Except for that suspicious last sound file.

Maybe tonight after the dust settled and Barkha left, I’d take listen to the sound file again. I couldn’t ask Barkha to listen. We’d be in all kinds of trouble. I’d had to sign a privacy statement before starting to work for Bradley Medical. So I couldn’t let her listen to the recording. My head hurt.

I took the basket of folded socks to our bedroom, stopping long enough to check on the lasagna cooking in the oven. I’d like to say I made the whole thing from scratch, cooked the noodles, and added the sauce, meat, and heaps of shredded cheese, but I didn’t. Another hour and the lasagna would be done. I heard a truck engine coming up the driveway. Ben! And we’d have at least an hour or so before Barkha arrived. I hurried to our bedroom and piled our clean socks and underwear on our bed, then shot back to the kitchen.

Ben entered through the back door. He wore a tired smile and his stained work shirt and pants. I gave him a big hug anyway. His smile always got to me.

“Have a good day?”

He shrugged. “Pretty good. It’s better now that I’m here with you and our little bug. Speakin’ of her, where is she?”

“Sleeping. But I expect her to be up and playing at any moment.”

Ben ambled to the stove. “Mmm . . . smells great.”

“I slaved over it as only I can. Straight from freezer to oven.”

“That’s my baby. I told Jerry if he wanted to, he could bring some sodas.”

“What?” Hannah’s wail traveled down the hallway, so I started in that direction. “You invited Jerry for dinner tonight?”

“You said he could come anytime. And he’s seemed kinda lonely lately.” Ben followed me to Hannah’s room.

I stopped at her door. “Oh, it’s no problem. Of course he’s always welcome here. It’s just that, well, I invited Barkha for dinner, too. She’s bringing salad.”

“Okay, then, it’s a foursome plus the little bug.” Ben’s eyes glinted. “Here, I’ll take care of her. Diapers and all.”

That was why I loved him. “Maybe it’s a good thing both Jerry and Barkha are coming for dinner on the same night. It’s more personal than a crowded Sunday dinner. They’ll have a chance to spend time together and it’s not like a date. Or a double-date, even.”

The wailing grew louder as Ben entered Hannah’s room, and I leaned on the door frame. He scooped Hannah up from her crib. “Daddy’s home, bug.” She hiccupped and screwed up her face into a smile. Then her lower lip puckered again. I smiled at their interaction. She’d turned our lives on end and rearranged our schedules, but I wouldn’t wish these moments away. No matter how loud. Or stinky. Ben reached for a clean diaper.

“Ands,” he said as he laid Hannah on her changing table, “I don’t think you should try to set them up or anything. And tonight’s going to start out pretty awkward with neither one of them knowin’ the other one’s going to be here.”

“Which is why it’s perfect. This was completely unplanned. Neither of them will be anticipating the pressure or expectations.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Chapter Eight

“So, Jerry,” I asked while I passed him the bowl of tossed salad, “how’s the investigation going?”

He looked tired as he scooped some salad into his empty bowl. “It’s goin’.” He glanced from me to Barkha across the table from him, then back to me again. “Can’t say much at the moment.”

“Well . . .” I ignored Ben’s pointed look across from me. “What have you been able to tell the press?”

“Dr. Bradley’s death is suspicious. The recording alone backs that up.” He passed the salad bowl to me.

“Was it a heart attack or a stroke?”

“No.”

“Organs don’t just shut down on their own.” I piled salad in my bowl, avoiding the onions and snagging an extra grape tomato.

“Even I know that.”

“Were there prints anywhere?”

“We did get some prints at the medicine locker, and some in his office. I don’t know if we’ll find a match or not.” Jerry frowned.

To my right, Barkha’s face blanched. “How soon do you think they’ll have a cause of death?”

“I’m not sure. That depends on how soon the comprehensive toxicology reports come back. We put a rush on it. Hopefully preliminary results tomorrow.”

“What about any local drug offenders?” Barkha asked.

“I’m looking into that. We’ve had a busy summer, and for some reason narcotic prescription drugs are a hot commodity.”

“Speaking of which,” I said. “Have you talked to Terrance Higgins? Mia was pretty upset at Mommy’s Morning today. He has severe back problems. They’ve been at the ER a lot, and Dr. Bradley refused to see him anymore. I hope he’s not addicted to pain medication, the way Mia was talking.” I immediately felt like I’d tattled on Mia’s husband. What if he was merely hurting—and innocent?

“That bears looking into. I’d have to get a court order to look at his medical records, if it comes to that.”

“But it could be someone else, too. Maybe someone we wouldn’t suspect.” I didn’t want to start naming names. Because what about Franklin, and a long shot, Eunice? She certainly wasn’t happy about that earring I saw in the office. People did unthinkable things because of jealousy. With no cause of death, it was hard to pin down one suspect. Yet.

“True, true.” Jerry drizzled oil and vinegar on his salad. “Would you like some oil and vinegar for your salad, Barkha?” Barkha. We’d made some progress. Not bad at all.

“Yes, thank you. My favorite type of salad dressing.”

“Mine too.” He handed her the glass containers, and their fingertips brushed.

Okay, now we had more progress in the last fifteen minutes than the last fifteen months.

“I think the Cardinals game starts in half an hour,” Ben said.

“Great.” Jerry’s expression brightened. “We can sit back and relax. It’s been a while since we’ve had a chance to do that.”

I wanted to kick my hubby under the table, but restrained myself. I was hoping we could all chat about the investigation and the more time Jerry and Barkha spent in the same room together, the better. Maybe Jerry didn’t want to talk about the case, but still . . .

The guys chomped through their meals like oversize caterpillars while Barkha and I focused on Hannah, perched in her high chair at the corner of the table. Several times Barkha looked Jerry’s way, and I noted the same expression I’d seen on her face the other day at Oat Grass. Worried. Very worried.