Blame It on the Dog Page 6

  How could I POSSIBLY leave home without the little twerp?

  “Would you like another muffin, Gabriel?” said Sophie.

  “No, ma’am. Four is more than enough. You’ve got to show me how you make ’em sometime.”

  She smiled. “That won’t be necessary, dear. Not so long as I’m here.”

  Gabe looked surprised. “Are you going somewhere?”

  She took his plate and shuffled to the kitchen. “At 87 I never know when the Lord will call me home, but not any time soon, I hope. At least not until I find out what – or who – has murdered dear Harald.”

  “What are you talking about? I thought he had a stroke.”

  “I don’t believe he did.”

  “Of course he did. One big stroke leads to another until… you know.” He drew his finger across his neck.

  She paid no attention to his indelicate gesture. “That is what I always thought, too, Gabriel, but his doctor told him that is no longer true. If he followed doctor’s orders he did not need to worry about having another stroke. Harald was very compliant.”

  “But the medical examiner said he had a stroke.”

  “That does not make it so, Gabriel.”

  Come on, Sophie, don’t go goofy on me.

  “I know what you’re thinking but I’m not suddenly senile.” She was smiling. “And just because I’m 87 doesn’t mean I have Alzheimer’s, either. Dementia doesn’t run in my family. My mind still works as well as it ever did and I think Dr. Leonard is wrong. He’s a pediatrician. He only does the medical examiner job because that new doctor has gobbled up too many of his patients. He doesn’t want to open an office in the next county. ‘Too much driving,’ he said. So he serves as the Medical Examiner on the side. I’m sure it adds nicely to his practice income.”

  “Well, okay, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong. Besides, what are you going to do about it? Harald’s already in the ground. You can’t just dig him up.”

  She pursed her lips and said, “That’s why we’re going back to Mountainview. We’re going to talk to his other friends and snoop around.”

  “We? What do you mean ‘we’?”

  “I want you to go with me. You’ve done this before and I haven’t.”

  “Not really. That other time was a fluke, Sophie, and you know it. I didn’t even know what I was doing. Why don’t we just drive down to Milieu and talk to Sheriff Noble? That makes a lot more sense to me.”

  She smiled and said, “No, Gabriel. Sheriff Noble will just think I’m a crazy old woman–like you did. He’ll pat my back and patronize the senile old lady right out the door, and you know it.” She was still smiling. “That’s why we are going back to Mountainview in two hours.”

  “Two hours?” he squeaked. “Sophie…”

  This is nuts. She’s nuts.

  Aw, come on, Chance, Sophie’s your friend. She’s Mother’s friend.

  Yeah? Well that doesn’t mean she’s not nuts. And I don’t want to. So get outta my face.

  That’s ungrateful, don’t you think? She just fixed you a delicious breakfast – again. Sophie would do anything for you. You owe her. Do it. And stop acting like such a baby.

  He grimaced. After a long, deep sigh he said, “Sure. I got nothing else to do. I’d love to take you out to Mountainview and talk to a lot of old people I don’t know. I’ll make myself look like a fool for you, Sophie. But it’ll cost you: waffles tomorrow, okay?”

  Sophie’s smile expanded and deeper wrinkles cascaded across her face. “Of course, dear. Waffles. Tomorrow. And ham for both of you.”

  The drive to Mountainview was without incident. He hoped he could say the same about their entire visit.

  “Thank you for going with me, Gabriel. And don’t worry, these are good people. They will not think you are being foolish. They will admire you for caring enough to investigate Harald’s death. And I will tell them you are Lucille’s son.”

  “Why would that make a difference?”

  “Your mother often accompanied me on my visits and she spoke about you frequently. She told them how smart and capable you are, and how much you care about people.”

  “Humph.”

  “But we will have to let Tigger do his business, first.”

  “Not necessary. He peed and pooped – sorry; urinated and defecated before we left.”

  “That may be, but he has to go again,” she said.

  Gabe glanced at the dog in the middle of the Pink Lady’s front bench seat. The pink AMC Ambassador was just one more of the humiliating strings his mother had left tying up her will.

  “Sophie, you and Mother were friends for a long, long time. Why did she put so many conditions on her estate? Did she secretly hate me?”

  “That is the most ridiculous thing you have ever said, Gabriel Chance. Lucille believed you had made a mistake when you left home; that’s all. She was certain that if you were to come back for a few years you would understand that you really love it here and that there is a part of you that longs to return.

  “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Brandt, Texas is the last place on Earth I want to live my life. The only reason I’m staying is because I can’t walk away from that much money. Once my three years are up I’m dumping the dog and going back to California.”

  She ignored his comment and said, “Nevertheless, Tigger still has some unfinished business to attend to.”

  “He’s fine. I told you he pooped before we left.”

  “”I am sure he did, but he needs to go again.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  She pursed her lips. “Gabriel, you should pay more attention to your dog. Look at him: he’s panting. And he can’t sit still. He’s anxious. And haven’t you noticed he has flatulence?”

  “Haven’t you noticed me rolling the windows down? He always has flatulence. He’s a cotton-picking fart machine! If I stopped every time he farted we wouldn’t get there until tomorrow.”

  The silence that followed was heavy. Finally he sighed and said, “Okay, whatever. But the twerp has to stay on a leash.”

  “Gabriel.” It was a soft and gentle admonishment.

  Gabe rolled his eyes. “Tig-ger,” he said, accenting each syllable, “will have to stay on a leash.”

  “Now, didn’t that feel better?”

  After they parked in front of the clubhouse the dog trotted across the parking lot and into the grass beneath a cedar tree. A few minutes later he returned with a lighter step and a dog smile cutting his face.

  Don’t look so smug, poophead.

  He leashed the dog to a chair leg in the deep shade on the front porch and was surprised when he lay down quietly and closed his eyes. Inside, lunch was just being served. Sophie guided him across the room to a window table occupied by a distinguished looking man dressed in a white suit and tie. He noticed that everyone was dressed well. All of the ladies wore dresses and most of the men were wearing coats and ties. He felt conspicuous and out of place in his Ski Oakland t-shirt and blue jeans.

  The old man pushed his chair back and said, “Sophie! How good of you to come for lunch. Please, join me and be my guest. Who is this young man with you?” He stood and pulled out the chair next to him.

  “Thank you, Sean. This is Gabriel Chance, Lucille’s son. Gabriel, General Sean Perez.”

  “Pleased to meet you, General,” he said, shaking the offered hand. He was surprised by the strength of the old man’s grip.

  Rambo with grey hair, he thought, consciously not caressing his mangled fingers. This guy isn’t as old as I thought. With that body and that grip he could easily be what, 60? 65? Younger?

  “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Chance. Please,” he said, motioning to the chair next to Sophie. “Your mother was such a delightful woman. Her death was a terrible, terrible loss. To all of us.”

  “Yes, it was, sir.”

  “We had a late breakfast, Sean, but Gabriel is probably hungry.”

  “Great! Here’s today’s menu,
Mister Chance. I recommend the filet mignon, medium rare. I would join you but cholesterol, you know? And the balsamic vinegar roasted potatoes are a delight.”

  “Sounds great to me, General Perez.”

  “Please call me Sean, Mister Chance.”

  Gabe nodded and said, "And I would appreciate it if you called me Gabe. That’s an unusual blend of names you have, General. Uh, Sean.”

  “Both of my parents were immigrants. My mother was from Ireland; my father was Puerto Rican. Sean was her father’s name.”

  “It must have been interesting growing up in the Perez household. Corned beef and cabbage with enchiladas?”

  The General chuckled, “You have no idea, Gabe. I savored both cultures and I was their only child. They gave me everything I wanted. The Irish and the Puerto Ricans really love their children.”

  “Sounds like you had a blast as a kid.”

  “Oh, I did. But there wasn’t that much structure. Kids need structure. Adults, too.”

  “So that’s why you joined the army?”

  “Good call. What we don’t get as children we often try to find when we’re grown. The Army was a correct relationship for me.”

  “You sound like a psychologist.”

  “That was my baccalaureate degree. It helped me understand why people do the things they do.”

  “Sean has a PhD in Engineering,” said Sophie.

  Gabe was impressed. “You’re the first Doctor General I’ve met. Or is it General Doctor?”

  “Neither. Just Sean, please.” He turned and addressed Sophie. “What brings you out today, my dear? I doubt it was just to introduce me to your young friend?”

  “We wanted to talk with you and Emma and Andrew about Harald.”

  “Oh? What about Harald?”

  “We really should wait until after lunch….”

  “Nonsense. You’re not eating, and I’m sure Gabe doesn’t mind, do you, Gabe. What about Harald?”

  Sophie leaned forward as if she were delivering a secret. “We don’t believe Harald died of a stroke.”

  Gabe began to protest but Sean raised a commanding palm towards him. Then he leaned forward, too and said in an exaggerated whisper, “What do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, “but I am certain he did not have another stroke. I believe it was more diabolical than that.”

  Sean leaned back and frowned. In a normal tone he said, “Diabolical. That’s an interesting word. Andrew said the same thing. I don’t believe in the Devil.” He dismissed the idea with his hand. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

  That got Gabe’s attention.

  “Are you saying you might agree with this nut… uh, theory? You don’t think the M.E. knows what he’s doing?” he asked.

  Sean said, "I wouldn't say that. But even the most competent professionals make mistakes. Perhaps the doctor made a mistake this time. And, perhaps he didn't. What do you think?

  I think you’re all fruitcakes!

  “I tend to come down on the M.E.’s side. I’ve met Dr. Leonard and he’s a sharp guy. I don’t think he misses much.”

  Sophie added, “I understand he is very good at his job, Sean. Even so, I believe Dr. Leonard is one of the people that Gabriel will want to interview as he does his investigation. I assure you, Sean, Gabriel will leave no stone unturned.”

  “I believe you’re right, Sophie. Ah, there are the Jefferson’s. I’ll have them join us and we’ll get their perspective.” He stood and strode across the dining room to a portly couple. The man was at least a head shorter than the General. The woman’s hair was somewhat wild and in disarray. Even from this distance Gabe could see the large diamond ring she was wearing on her left hand.

  “That’s quite a rock,” he said where only Sophie could hear.

  “Yes it is and Emma is quite proud of it.”

  “Is she ok, Sophie? She seems a little off balance, or is that just the distance.”

  “She is not the woman she once was. But, then, who is.” Sophie said. “Hello, Emma, Andrew, this is Lucille’s son, Gabriel.

  Gabe stood and Andrew Jefferson reached for his hand. “Gabe! Loved your mother, God rest her soul. She left quite a hole out here.”

  Without saying a word Mrs. Jefferson sat two chairs to the right of the General, across the table from Gabe.

  “I’m always happy to meet Mother’s friends, sir.”

  “Gabe, I told Andrew and Emma the purpose of your visit on the way over. And they are looking forward to talking with you.”

  Andrew said, “I certainly am. Something doesn’t smell right about this place. Too many of us are kicking off before our time and our time is coming soon enough without someone speeding it up. We don’t believe Harald died of a stroke, either.”

  Emma Jefferson said, "I told Andrew the same thing, didn't I Andrew? Didn't I? I did. I certainly did. Somebody killed him and we're next!" She addressed first her husband who had taken his seat beside the General, then Sophie, and then no one in particular. She avoided eye contact with Sean, allowing her eyes, instead, to flit like flies until they finally came to rest on Gabe. Suddenly they seemed too big for her head.

  “Emma, no one is going to kill you.” Andrew patted her hand and then held it. “I don’t know what happened to Harald, Gabe. His stroke was bad, we all knew that. Poor man could hardly walk at all. But his doctor said he likely wouldn’t have another one. Had something to do with the drugs he was taking.”

  “They killed him as sure as I’m sitting here. I want the chocolate pudding, Andrew. I love pudding,” said Emma.

  “You can have the pudding, Emma. Right after you eat your salmon.”

  “I don’t want fish. I hate fish. Give it to him.” She pointed across the table at Gabe.

  “You love fish, Emma, and salmon is one of your favorites. Mr. Chance has all the fish he wants, don’t you, Gabe?”

  Gabe cleared his throat. “Yes, Mrs. Jefferson, I have all the fish I want.” He looked down at his steak and then at Andrew who nodded at him and mouthed, “Thanks.”

  “Have a roll, Emma.” Andrew buttered a warm roll from the basket in the center of the table and handed it to her. “You love buttered rolls, too.” Then he continued, “So, if the stroke didn’t kill him, it had to be something else. It wasn’t his heart. His ticker worked good. Harald was as healthy as a horse. He was miserable, but healthy as a horse.”

  “That is true. His stroke left him almost unable to speak or walk, but otherwise he was a very healthy man,” said Sophie.

  “Then you don’t believe he died of natural causes, either. What do you think happened?” Gabe said.

  Andrew leaned into the others and, with a glance back at his wife, said softly behind his hand, “Somebody killed him. Killed him dead as a skunk just like the others.”

  Surprised, Gabe looked at Sophie. “What others?”

  “Tell Gabriel what you mean by ‘others’, Andrew,” said Sophie.

  “Nellie Schmidt, Harald’s wife for one. And Jed for another.”

  “And Helen Kirkpatrick,” added Sophie. Helen died from respiratory arrest.”

  “Nellie Schmidt fell in the lake and drowned; Jed had a heart attack. That really was no surprise since he had already had two bypasses, but he was in good health otherwise. And Helen, Helen had severe emphysema from 60 years of cigarettes,” said Sean. “There’s nothing unusual about their deaths, Gabe.”

  “Except,” said Sophie, “Jed was a stickler about taking his medications, Gabriel. And he had the chef prepare his meals according to his doctor’s guidelines. If it was not on his diet it never entered his mouth. And as far as Nellie was concerned, there was absolutely nothing wrong with her except she was deathly afraid of the water. She was terrified by it. She couldn’t swim a stroke: that would mean getting in the water and she would not even go near it. Whenever Nellie walked down by the creek she never strayed from the path. Even bathing was a quandary for her. She never took baths for fear she would drow
n; only showers. If she ever did have to take a bath she would run no more than an inch of water in the tub. She used a plastic ruler to measure the depth. Her shower chair was a gift from God as far as she was concerned. The fact that she could safely sit down while she showered helped relieve her fears.”

  “They found her in the lake,” said Andrew.

  That got Gabe's attention. "In the lake? Which lake?” He glanced at Sophie for confirmation and she nodded.

  "The creek is spring-fed," she said. It has been dammed up where the road crosses it to form a small lake. There is a very nice walking path that winds through the trees and beside the lake.”

  Gabe pinched the space between his brows then stroked his chin. “That doesn’t compute. How did a woman who was so afraid of water get close enough to fall in the lake and drown?” Gabe sat pondering his own question while the others quietly watched.

  “And Helen?” he said.

  “Helen took good care of herself, too,” said Sophie.

  “Were Jed and Helen married?”

  “Nope. Both widowed,” said Andrew.

  “When did all this start?”

  “About a year and a half ago,” said Sophie.

  “Told you so.” Emma was talking to her husband. A hand-written piece of paper was in her hand from which she read, “First it was Helen, then Jed, and Nellie.” As the volume of her voice increased, the size of her eyes did too. Then, in a whisper she added, “And then they got Harald! Poor Harald, he never hurt anyone. Poor, poor Harald.” Teardrops the size of the capers on her untouched salmon rolled down her cheeks and splattered on the table.

  “There, there, Emma,” Andrew said stroking his wife’s hair. With his other hand he moved her dessert closer and said, “Have a bite of cherry pie.”

  Somewhere inside her mind a switch was thrown signaling a cessation of tears as quickly as they had begun and Emma Jefferson fell on her pie with delight.

  Only Gabe seemed shocked by her bizarre behavior.

  With fire in her eyes, Sophie said, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, “It is outrageous to think that someone has been methodically murdering our friends, Gabriel. Do you see why we need your help?”