An Embarrassment of Itches Page 8

  “You’re forgetting. I’m a big girl now, and I have a big dog.” I hadn’t brought Remy this morning because it had been easier to deal with the horses without his youthful energy.

  That drew a snort out of Joe. “Your Canine Marshmallow? He’s a pushover.”

  Ugh. He sounded like my mother. “While it’s true Remy has never met a person he didn’t like, he looks like he would protect me. And that’s what counts with most people.”

  Though, to be fair, Remy’s easy-going nature had me doubt whether he would protect me in a pinch as well.

  “Still, do me a favor and send me a text when you’re headed out this way and when you’re leaving. For my peace of mind.”

  I really didn’t want to do that, but it was his property. Besides, after a few early morning messages, he’d probably ask me to stop.

  The drive back into town was pretty, but long. The inconvenience of not being able to pop into the local grocery or having to go into work in bad weather was probably worth it, though. I envied Joe his little slice of heaven, even as I wondered how long he would stay this time.

  Chapter Six

  One thing led to another, and it was almost time for dinner before I made it to the sheriff’s office to pick up my phone. I saw a litter of snotty-nosed kittens and vaccinated Hank Davis’s new working Great Pyrenees puppy. The giant fluff ball looked like a cuddly polar bear baby at nine weeks of age, but by the time he turned a year old, he’d be a massive, aloof member of the flock, ready to protect Hank’s sheep from all predators. I filled prescriptions, unpacked a box of vaccines I found waiting for me on the porch that had to go in the fridge right away, and caught up on records. It wasn’t until I glanced at the clock that I realized it was almost time for dinner.

  A quick check of the fridge revealed nothing inspiring. I tended to make something in the crock pot once a week and live off it three meals a day until it was gone, but aside from my quick run the day before, I hadn’t made it to the store recently and was low on everything. Running into town to pick up my phone would give me the excuse to grab something from Sue’s diner, and then I could swing by the store on the way home. It was a good plan. I could offset the guilt of an old-fashioned cheeseburger and fries by loading up at the grocery with vegetables that would likely rot in the crisper drawer of the fridge.

  Belatedly, I remembered the cats at Amanda’s. I’d ask someone from the sheriff’s department to meet me there when I picked up my phone. A check on the weather showed it would be mild enough for the next few nights I could risk putting out traps, so I stuffed my live traps into the car, whistled up the dog, and drove into town.

  It was a relief to get my phone back. When had we become so dependent on the pesky things? Joan at the station desk told me to call when I needed someone to meet me at Amanda’s, as she had no one available she could assign to that duty then. I took my phone back to the car and powered it up.

  Surprisingly, the phone didn’t blow up with messages when I turned it on. That’s when I realized that Joe, or one of his people, had listened to them all. Rattled, I hoped I didn’t overlook any as a result, as I always left my messages marked as unread until I dealt with them. I nearly thumped my fist into my forehead when I read the text from Andrea Chapman asking where Bluebell’s medication was. I knew I’d forgotten something. I texted back explaining the issue with the phone and promised to phone the prescription for Bluebell’s heart medication to the pharmacy at once. I completed that task before doing anything else.

  There were a slew of voice mails as well, most calling to request refills, set up appointments, or reschedule existing appointments. My mother had been nagging me to set up a website or a phone app where most of these communications could take place online, and I admit, it was looking as though she might be right. I didn’t recognize the number of the five remaining messages waiting for me, but I decided they could wait until after I’d eaten. As usual, I was starving.

  Though it would be light for several hours yet, it was close to dinnertime, and the streets became more crowded as people sought their evening meal. Most of the stores on Main Street would be open until nine p.m., though it wasn’t unusual to see a sign posted saying a store had closed early for the day. Once the weather warmed up, we’d get more tourists and day-travelers passing through, but I honestly wondered how most places stayed in business during the winter months. Greenbrier was the kind of town you stopped at on your way to somewhere else.

  Though if it turned into the bedroom community suggested by all those new sub-developments, downtown Greenbrier might become rejuvenated. That is, if new businesses didn’t wipe out the downtown area altogether. Main Street had its charm in a fashion reminiscent of the fictional town of Mayberry. It seemed a pity we couldn’t capitalize on that fact somehow.

  A delicious scent of frying meat wafted out of the little Greek restaurant sandwiched in between the bakery and the used bookstore. I was tempted, but I had my heart set on a cheeseburger. If you didn’t want chain fast food or pizza, the only choices in town were Calliope’s and Sue’s diner at the end of the street. I would not find better parking than I already had, so I cracked the window and told Remy to wait in the car.

  Poor Remy hadn’t been out for a good run in days. I’m lucky he wasn’t the type of dog to eat the upholstery in the car because his energy levels were climbing. Which was probably why he chased Ming the day before. The temptation was too irresistible.

  As I passed Calliope’s, I noticed Brad sitting at a booth near the window, sharing a glass of wine with a striking woman. Her blonde hair was cropped in a sleek, asymmetrical bob that angled down from the back to swing below her chin, and she was dressed in Manhattan-chic—or at least what I imagined Manhattan-chic to look like—in a smart black suit with a blood-red blouse to match her lipstick and nails. They appeared to be examining the contents of a large portfolio-type folder with great animation on the table between them. Drawn despite myself, I couldn’t help slowing down to glance at the papers in the folder. If I wasn’t mistaken, they were drawings from Amanda’s sketchbook.

  Brad looked up sharply, caught my interested gaze, and slapped the folder shut.

  The phrase “if looks could kill” suddenly took on personal meaning.

  He made as if to rise, but the New York City woman laid a restraining hand on his arm, even as she cast a piercing glance in my direction.

  I couldn’t help but stare back at the two of them, but even as I started to turn away, a man in an expensive suit stopped at their table. You didn’t see many people wearing suits in Greenbrier outside of a funeral home, and certainly no one around here wore anything that fit like it was tailor made.

  Brad broke off glaring at me to shake hands with the newcomer, and realizing I’d pushed the bounds of politeness, I pretended I hadn’t been staring.

  Thankfully, my phone rang, giving me a legitimate reason to look away. It was the mystery number again. Hoping to avoid another confrontation with Brad, I answered it as I hurried down the street.

  “Hello. Dr. Reese here.”

  “Dr. Reese.” The gentleman’s voice on the other end was tinged with relief. “This is Lindsay Carter over in Clearwater. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

  Clearwater was a bit outside my practice range. When I’d first started my business in Greenbrier, I hadn’t been too proud to drive a long way for a house call, but now I could afford to be a little choosy. If only because I no longer had the time to drive all over the state.

  “I apologize, Mr. Carter. There was a mishap with my phone. I only now got it working again, and I haven’t had a chance to listen to my messages. What can I do for you?”

  “It’s what I can do for you, Dr. Reese.” He sounded pleased with himself now. “I’m the lawyer handling Ms. Kelly’s estate. We’re holding a reading of the will this evening in my office, and I would strongly suggest you make every effort to attend.”

  “Wait. What?” I stopped dead in my tracks, causing a pedestrian
to mutter as they almost ran into me. Mouthing “sorry” at them, I stepped close to the buildings to be out of the foot traffic. “I thought Amanda died without making a will. At least, that’s what her brother seemed to think.”

  “Yes, well, he would be wrong. Ms. Kelly may have chosen not to use her family’s law firm for personal reasons, but she did, in fact, write a will. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you ever since the news of Ms. Kelly’s death was made public. The reading is at 7 p.m. I realize that’s an unconventional time, but—”

  “In Clearwater, you say?” If I skipped dinner, I could make it with time to spare. I could grab something at a drive-thru and eat on the road. As I debated the best course of action, the door to Calliope’s opened, and Brad and his mystery date stepped out onto the sidewalk. She walked away without looking back, but Brad appeared to fixate on my location and began stalking toward me.

  I glanced in both directions and cut across the street to head back to my car.

  “Do me a favor,” I said as I darted in front of a passing car, giving the driver a cheery wave to show thanks for not running me down. “I’m not in a position to take down your address right now, so could you please call me back and leave the location of your office on my voice mail? I need to hurry if I’m going to get there on time.”

  Mr. Carter agreed and ended the call. When my phone rang again, I ignored it, allowing it to roll over to voice mail so Mr. Carter could leave his message. I was just about to click the key fob to unlock my car when I heard Brad behind me.

  “You,” he said, not bothering with any sort of salutation. “I don’t appreciate you spying on me.”

  I turned to face him. He stood with his fists clenched and his brows beetled together as he leaned toward me in a belligerent manner.

  “I think you’re mistaken.” I kept my expression as bland as possible. When dealing with a dog that is thinking about biting you, the best course of action is to remain calm, not make any sudden moves, and above all, do nothing to escalate the aggression. “I wasn’t spying. I merely realized that I recognized you, and my attention focused on you as a result.”

  As tempting as it was to tell him he was overrating his importance to me, I thought it would be best to remain silent on that front. Also? Probably not the best time to bring up the feral cat situation. I noticed he was carrying the portfolio I’d seen on the table, and involuntarily, my gaze fixed on it.

  He caught the direction of my stare and shoved the large folder under one arm. Taking a step toward me, his radiating anger forced me back until the car’s door handle was beneath my fingers. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll mind your own business.”

  Sometimes when you’re dealing with a threatening dog, you try to calm it down. Sometimes, however, your best move is to redirect its attention. “Aren’t you going to be late?”

  He blinked at the question, and then frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “The reading of Amanda’s will in Clearwater. Traffic on the interstate at this time of day can be bad.”

  His eyes widened and his nostrils flared. Interestingly, he took hold of the portfolio as well, gripping it even as it remained clamped under his arm. “What do you know about that?”

  “Same as you, I imagine. Mr. Carter invited me to the reading as well.”

  Well, that did it.

  “Why the hell would you need to be present at the reading of my sister’s will?”

  If I’d thought he was angry before, he was about to blow a gasket now. His face had turned beet-red, and the tendons in his neck stood out like a weightlifter under a heavy strain.

  “I realize you didn’t know she had even written a will in the first place, but I’m sure my presence at the reading has something to do with finding homes for her animals.”

  He seemed someone mollified by that, but I didn’t like being pinned in so close to my car. I held up the key fob and pressed the button. The door locks disengaged, and Remy sat bolt upright in the car's backseat. I didn’t give Brad time to think. I opened the door. Remy pressed his way through the front seats to drop his head and peer out.

  Brad stopped in his tracks and cleared his throat. “I thought that was the sheriff’s dog.”

  “Nope,” I said cheerfully. “Mine. He goes everywhere with me.”

  I left Brad on the sidewalk, swallowing hard, as I shoved Remy aside and got in the car. I rolled down the window and gave him a friendly little wave. “See you at the reading.”

  The confrontation had driven all thought of grabbing dinner out of my mind until I took the Clearwater exit. Larger than Greenbrier, the town offered much more in the way of shopping and restaurants. Any other time, I would have enjoyed browsing through the local artisan’s shops or a leisurely meal at the Barn Door, but I didn’t have time tonight. Though I probably could have picked up a burger and fries from one of the fast-food chains, the idea of bolting down greasy junk food prior to rushing over to Mr. Carter’s office turned my stomach. Hopefully, the reading wouldn’t take long, and I could get something on the way back.

  Since I had a few minutes, I pulled over and listened to the phone messages from Carter’s office. The first four were polite requests from a woman for me to contact the office, starting out at my convenience and escalating to a taut “as soon as possible”. The fifth was from Mr. Carter himself, presumably to lend weight to the previous requests. The sixth was Carter calling back with the address.

  My phone’s GPS guided me to a quiet, tree-lined street where the former first-family homes had been converted to professional offices. Carter, Beasley, and Worth hung a shingle on an old Victorian-style house complete with a turret.

  I parked in the small paved lot behind the building and cracked a window for Remy. “This won’t take long, I promise.”

  I’d been saying that a lot lately, and it was utter crap. At some point soon, I’d have to make time to get him out for a long run in the woods. For both our sakes.

  An older woman with her gray hair styled in a severe bob greeted me. “Dr. Reese. So glad you could make it. You’re a difficult woman to get a hold of.”

  “Sorry.” I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for, but authoritative women had my number, something no doubt a psychologist would have a field day with, should I ever seek counseling. “My phone was out of service until today.”

  “No matter.” She ushered me down the hall. “I’m just pleased Mr. Carter was able to get in touch with you. If you’ll wait here, he’ll be with you in a moment. There’s coffee if you’d like a cup.”

  I entered a meeting room to find a stylish woman with bright scarlet hair cut in a super-short afro seated at a large table, nursing a cup of coffee. Dramatic eyeliner made the most of her gorgeous eyes. She wore a small nose stud and a black leather jacket and skirt. My gaze was drawn to her hands, where vibrant, cobalt blue nail polish flashed as she broke off a piece of cookie from the stack resting on a napkin in front of her.

  “Oh, my God,” I said as soon as the assistant had left. “Please tell me there are more of those somewhere.”

  Smiling, the woman indicated the side table, where a carafe of water, a coffeemaker, cups, and a plate of cookies stood.

  I rushed over and selected an assortment: chocolate chip, sugar cookies, and the cheap cream-filled knockoffs pretending to be Oreos. It was a bit late in the day for coffee for me, if I had any hope of sleeping, but I poured myself a steaming cup just the same.

  “Hungry?” The woman at the table grinned when I took a seat across from her.

  “Always. Never time for a decent meal, either. I’m Ginny Reese, by the way. Amanda’s veterinarian.”

  “Ah.” The woman nodded as though this made perfect sense to her. “Laney Driver. Amanda’s agent.”

  We fell silent for a moment, as if remembering why we were here. The siren call of the cookies prevented me from becoming maudlin, however. “I didn’t know she had an agent. Though that only makes sense. She was really talented. S
he had a gift for making her drawings seem almost alive.”

  “That she did,” Laney agreed with a heavy sigh. “It’s hard to believe she’s dead. That there will be no more work by her hand.”

  “What will happen to her art now?”

  Laney shrugged, somewhat angrily, I thought. “It will depend in part on her will. I guess her brother will get the rights to everything. Which sucks because he wouldn’t know a hawk from a handsaw.”

  I recognized the Shakespearean quote but said nothing, choosing to munch on my cookie instead.

  “Her work belongs in a museum,” Laney continued. “Her jerk of a brother will probably sell it to the highest bidder.”

  Brad’s defensiveness in light of his dinner with Miss New York made more sense now. It was always possible Brad was making deals before he had the legal right to do so.

  “Did she have any other family?” I asked, surreptitiously brushing crumbs from my sweater.

  “Not any immediate family that I’m aware of. Her mother died of cancer a few years ago. Her father is gaga, from my understanding, and Brad runs the family business in his place. Something out west. I’m not sure what.”

  I polished off another cookie in two bites so I could speak. “How is it her brother has a different last name?”

  “Oh, that.” She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Amanda Kelly was her artist’s name. Kind of like a pen name for authors. She didn’t want anyone connecting her to her family’s wealth, I guess.”

  Huh. That answered the question about the source of her income, at any rate. Weird to think the woman I knew as Amanda was someone else altogether. Brad’s refusal to call her by name made more sense now, too. It must have grated on some level that she’d chosen to live under another identity.

  “I guess it’s hard to make a living as an artist.”

  “Normally, I’d agree.” Laney leaned forward and tapped the tabletop with a shining blue fingernail. “Amanda was truly gifted, however. Also? She knew how to market herself. Have you ever seen her work?”