Whispering Pines Mysteries, Books 4-6, page 16
Tripp growled at me. “Sexy. If you’re lucky, I’ll actually let you eat.”
Heat rose from somewhere in my belly. I opened my mouth to make an equally saucy reply but thought better of it and headed for my shower.
Meeka trotted after me, the bounce all but gone from her steps. She climbed the boathouse stairs like she was making the final push for the summit of Mount Everest. I filled her food dish and gave her fresh water then slipped beneath the heat of my massaging shower head.
Try as I might, and I really did try, I couldn’t stop thinking about this case. Kyle and Kristina alibied each other for the night in question. Kristina was absolutely certain that Constance had not killed her harassing husband. As for the others in the party who knew Nick, I had no reason to believe that any of them had done anything.
With my hands braced against the shower wall, I closed my eyes and let the water pound on my tight and aching upper back. It didn’t make any sense to me that a random villager or a tourist would have killed Nick. Yes, he was abrasive and insulting, even infuriating to some, but there were people like him everywhere. They didn’t get picked off by strangers on the street.
It was a remote possibility that Nick had been the last straw for someone. Maybe that person had been bullied or abused on social media, where people said horrible things from behind the supposed cloak of anonymity and distance that cyberspace afforded. Maybe they’d been bullied in real life. Maybe it was pure and simple bad luck—or bad karma according to the Wiccans—and Nick picked on exactly the wrong person. Perhaps that person came to safe and accepting Whispering Pines hoping for a reprieve from the garbage in their life. Instead, there was this stranger, this otherwise ordinary man who had decided he had the right to do and say whatever he wanted to women. Or maybe it wasn’t a woman. He had been picking fights with men as well.
It was more likely that the killer was someone who knew him than a random stranger. Either way, “Served him right.”
I slapped a hand over my mouth. As much as Kristina insisted that a nurse taking a life went against everything nursing stood for, a law enforcement officer wishing vigilante justice on someone was equally upsetting. I needed to get some sleep.
The water was starting to cool, so I turned it off and toweled myself dry. Knowing that Tripp would be waiting for me outside when I was done, I took a few extra minutes to dry my hair rather than leaving it wet. I was noticing how desperately I needed a haircut when Jayne in the mirror—the biggest pain in my life, next to Flavia—spoke up.
You know, it’s entirely possible that Nick was simply hit by a car. Why do you have this need to be the hero of a scenario that you don’t even fully understand yet? Listen to Briar and Dr. B and turn this off for the night.
“I call it preventative investigating. What if he was murdered and that person is still in the village? If I don’t start asking questions, how will I catch them?”
As I said the words, I realized even more how unlikely it would be that a stranger had been involved. If it was murder, it had to be someone he knew.
“What am I missing?”
Besides your mind? All the facts, for one. Turn it off and wait for the autopsy report. Go enjoy dinner with your man. And put on something sexy, dammit. The last thing he wants is to see you in a baggy T-shirt and saggy sweatpants.
Jayne in the mirror had no idea what she was talking about when it came to law enforcement. I had to admit, she was pretty smart on the topic of dating, however.
I stepped out of the bathroom and heard Meeka snoring on her doggie cushion. Poor girl. She wasn’t any more used to two-thirty wake-up calls than I was.
Instead of the comfortable, two sizes too big outfit I had threatened, I pulled on a pair of leggings and a tank top instead. Then I added an off-the-shoulder slouchy sweater and a pair of ragg-wool socks from my dresser drawer.
Outside, Tripp had turned the sundeck into a romantic bistro. He had strung lights all around the railings, and a fire was crackling in the little gas fire pit in the middle of the big square coffee table.
“When did you have time to do all this?” I asked then added, “How long was I in the shower?”
Tripp laughed and pulled me in close, running his hands up and down my back beneath my sweater. “I put them up this afternoon and took a chance that you wouldn’t notice until I turned them on.”
He led me to the sofa that faced the lake. There, a spaghetti dinner complete with garlic bread and a salad was waiting. He directed me to sit, covered me with a cozy blanket, and handed me a glass of wine.
“Wine?” I asked. “We never have wine.”
“I told you I was going to start learning about it. I went over to Sundry this afternoon. Turns out, they’ve got a wine guy there. Who knew?”
I didn’t want to tell him, because he was so proud of himself, but I really didn’t care for wine. I took a sip, mentally prepared a compliment, and found I didn’t have to pretend.
“This is pretty good.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Well, to be honest, I’ve never really liked any wine that I’ve tried.”
“That’s what the wine guy said. He suggested we start with something a little sweeter. That’s a Zinfandel. It’s not normally paired with pasta, but it goes well with red meat, which is in the sauce.”
I was so impressed with this mini-lesson, I couldn’t respond. Instead, I sat back to enjoy my glass of Zinfandel and watch my boyfriend uncovering the dinner dishes, pampering me yet again.
Tripp had been ready for us to have a relationship after knowing each other for a week. No way was I ready that fast, but why I waited so long, I couldn’t say. Actually, I could say. Fear of rejection. Fear of someone I cared about trying to control me. Fear of someday losing him. No matter how well things were going, and all seemed well at this point, I would rather remain friends with him and never know him romantically than to lose him from my life.
Briar’s words screamed in my head. Quit comparing Tripp to Jonah. You’re always in the past or the future, never in the present.
With both dinner plates prepared, Tripp joined me beneath the blanket. Between the little fire in the pit, the surprisingly decent wine, and our combined body heat, I was perfectly content.
“Oh my god.” I covered my mouth with my hand and swallowed the bite of meatball. “This is really good. Is there anything you can’t make?”
“Oatmeal cookies,” he said immediately with total seriousness and remorse. “I’ve tried dozens of times, and they turn out flat like a crêpe and crispy every time.”
While we ate, we chatted about the successes of his day. Breakfast had gone well, again, despite the more subdued mood of his guests. Having Arden or Holly set up the dining room the day before was a “stroke of genius.” The only thing negative on his list was that he wasn’t as crazy busy as he had anticipated.
“That’s a bad thing?” I asked. “After a day like today, I’d give anything for a non-crazy-busy day.”
“You know what I mean. We were prepared for the place to be packed and buzzing.”
“Tripp, it’s the opening weekend. Considering the time crunch we were under to get the place ready, I’m thrilled that we have five of the seven rooms booked.” I had to push Mom’s seventy percent success means thirty percent failure comment from my brain. We’d get to “no vacancy” soon. “I can’t tell you how many people came up to me while I was patrolling the commons and said they want to stay with us. Don’t worry, in no time, we’re going to have a waiting list six-months long and you’ll be begging for downtime.”
He kissed me on the forehead. “You’re right. I know you are. It’s just, I feel like all the odd-jobs I did while wandering the country have prepared me for this. Running a B&B is what I want to do, and you are the exact person I want to do it with.”
He set our dinner plates and wine glasses on the table, pulled me onto his lap, and kissed me well and thoroughly. Things got quite heated, as they tended to do, and I pulled away.
“I told you,” he said with a husky, sultry voice, “I wasn’t going to make this easy on you.”
“Are you saying this is easy for you?”
I laughed at the look on his face and snuggled into his arms, enjoying the cool night air, strange as that temperature was for late August. As we used to do earlier in the summer, before I became sheriff and house renovations took over our world, we just sat and enjoyed the fragrance of the lake and the pine trees. A gentle breeze blew the boughs around, causing them to make the whispery whooshing and shushing sounds I had come to love. From somewhere deep in the woods, a wolf howled.
A tickling sensation down the bridge of my nose startled me.
I blinked and looked up at Tripp. “What happened?”
“You fell asleep. I knew you were going to. You settled in against my chest and your breathing got deeper and steadier.”
“How long have I been out?” I yawned.
“About fifteen minutes. I would love nothing more than to sit right here and hold you all night, but it’s probably better for you to get into bed.”
I yawned again. “Between the wine and the food and the sound of your heartbeat, I’m not at all surprised that I fell asleep.”
He scooped me into his arms and carried me through my apartment to my bed. Standing there, still holding me, he said, “I’d volunteer to undress you but then you’d never get any sleep.”
Instead, he kissed me again, set me down on the bed, and left.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I slept deep and heavy, straight through the night. I don’t think I even moved. What finally woke me was something rubbing against my cheek. I expected to find Meeka pawing at me to wake up and let her out, but I opened my eyes to find Tripp sitting on the side of my bed. When he leaned in to give me a kiss, I covered my mouth.
“Morning breath. It is morning, isn’t it? I thought you left.”
“Yes, it’s morning. Yes, I left. I came back to wake you up. Figured you’d want to go into work at some point today.”
I sat bolt upright, nearly bumping heads with him. “What time is it? Did I sleep through my alarm?”
“You must have. It’s ten to eight.”
“Crap. Now I’m going to be late.”
He propped an arm over me, trapping me under the covers. “That’s why you have a walkie-talkie. The villagers will contact you if they need to. You worked almost eighteen hours yesterday; no one is going to blame you for sleeping in a little bit.”
“Okay.” I dropped down onto the mattress and sprang right back up. “I have to let Meeka out.”
“Already taken care of. She was sitting by the door and burst through when I opened it. I gave her some food, too. The furry one is fine. Even she knew you needed sleep.”
I lay down again and snuggled in with the blankets pulled up to my chin. “How come you’re so good to me?”
“Because I care so much about you. I’ve got to get back over to the house, though. Our guests were just starting breakfast when I came over, and I need to make sure they have everything. I saved a little for you. Get up, get dressed.”
“What’s on the menu today?” I asked as he walked away.
“Frittatas with green onion, red pepper, diced ham, a little bit of Parmesan, and a good deal of swiss.”
The frittata—accompanied by a small cluster of green grapes, some orange wedges, and a nice thick slice of his signature rustic oatmeal bread—was the perfect way to start a day. Also, the cold snap had finally broken. The sky over Whispering Pines was a bright, beautiful blue without a cloud in sight, and the temperature was easily twenty degrees warmer than it had been yesterday. The first two days of this holiday weekend had been fabulous for the retail and restaurant owners. Today would likely be the last of the ultra-busy days for the marina.
Fully rested from her early bedtime, Meeka decided to explore the station when we got there instead of scurrying to her spot beneath the cot. Reed still wasn’t in, so while my K-9 ensured that there were no intruders hidden in the corners or behind the filing cabinets, I settled into my office and stared at the list of names on my suspect board, hoping an answer might be glaringly obvious after getting some sleep.
Since Kristina and Kyle had alibied each other, I drew lines through their names. I had just settled in to evaluate my remaining contenders—Constance Halpern, Jeremy Levine, Doug Croft, Elaine Snow, and River Carr—when Dr. Bundy called.
“Have you got results for me?” I asked.
“I do have results. Want to take a guess?”
“No, because I’m never even close.”
“I don’t believe he was hit by a car. If it had been a hit-and-run, I would expect significant injuries. He has no broken bones or bruising indicative of that kind of impact.”
“You’re ruling out death by car. Was he murdered some other way?”
“Mr. Halpern had a heart attack.”
“He what? You’re saying he was walking alongside the highway in the middle of the night and dropped dead from a heart attack?”
“That’s what I’m saying. I can’t rule out murder, though. That’s your job.”
“You’re talking in circles. What did the autopsy tell you? What are you putting on the death certificate?”
“I am ruling it death via commotio cordis.”
“And now, you’re speaking in Latin. Help me out, Doc.”
“Commotio cordis is a somewhat rare condition that results in sudden cardiac arrest. It occurs most commonly in younger people. You know how every now and then you’ll hear of an otherwise healthy teenager who drops dead at sports practice or during a game?”
“Yeah, that’s so sad. What does it have to do with Nick Halpern?”
“Commotio cordis is caused from an impact to the chest. Oftentimes it’s because the victim gets hit by something—a baseball, lacrosse ball, or a hockey puck, for example. The condition can also occur during sports such as rugby, soccer, karate, or boxing, where body pads are not worn.”
“What exactly is this condition? Seems like a lot of things cause it, so why is it rare?”
“It’s rare because the impact has to happen at exactly the right moment. Or wrong moment depending on your perspective. The impact, from a ball or kick or punch for example, causes an arrhythmia, or a change in the rhythm of a heartbeat, which then causes cardiac arrest.”
“Are you saying that Nick Halpern was struck in the chest?”
“He was. While I didn’t find any broken bones, I did find a large bruise on his chest over his heart. This led me to the commotio cordis diagnosis.”
This wasn’t quite making sense to me. “An impact strong enough to stop his heart but not break his ribs?”
“The impact doesn’t have to be strong to cause an arrhythmia. It just needs to happen at the exact right moment to disrupt the heart’s rhythm. There are cases of athletes dying after a blow while wearing a chest protector. An ill-timed snowball could have the same result. Like I said, it’s a rare event, but because it happens most often in healthy young people, the cases tend to make the news.”
My brain had zeroed in on one distinct possibility. “We can’t rule out murder, then. If someone struck him, causing his heart to stop, at minimum, that would be involuntary manslaughter.”
Dr. Bundy paused before saying, “I guess a hit-and-run of sorts isn’t out of the question. It’s possible that someone threw something from a car as they were passing Mr. Halpern and the object struck him.”
“Good point. I was thinking more of someone hitting him in anger, he upset a lot of people around here in a very short time, but a flying object is possible.”
And if the blow didn’t need to be hard, “tiny” Elaine Snow could still be a suspect.
“What about that head wound?” I asked. “What did you find there?”
“Ah, yes. As we discussed before, a slice from a knife or some other sharp object would create a smooth line. And impact would create a jagged mark.”
“Let me guess on this one. The mark on Halpern was neither smooth nor jagged.”
“Right you are. What made you guess that?”
“Because nothing is ever easy in this village. What did you find?”
He chuckled softly at my comment. “I found what I’d call a jagged slice. The line wasn’t smooth but didn’t have the burst tomato quality either.”
“What would cause that?” I asked myself more than him.
“I’d say something such as a knife with teeth, like a hunting knife.”
My mind started to spin. Which of my suspects would possess something like that?
“I’ll email you the preliminary report,” Dr. Bundy said. “I don’t expect anything to change, however. The ball is now in your court. Don’t let it hit you in the chest.” He paused for a short beat. “Sorry, that was in very poor taste.”
“You’re a sick man, Doc.”
“A helpful quality in this profession. Talk to you later, Sheriff. Hopefully much, much later.”
I leaned back in my chair with my hands clasped behind my head and stared at my suspect board. A knife with teeth would be harder to track down. I’d focus on the other injury first. A blow to the chest that did not necessarily have to be strong. Well, I did have a bodybuilder over at The Inn who’d disrupted Treat Me Sweetly. Even though being strong wasn’t a crucial item on the checklist, it seemed best to start with him.
“Let’s go, Deputy Meeka,” I called out. The little Westie emerged from beneath Deputy Reed’s desk and looked at me with a questioning tilt of her head. “We need to go interview another suspect.”
As Meeka and I wandered through the Pentacle Garden on the way to The Inn, it seemed that every visitor to the village was outside. Unlike the past two days, the sky was cloud free, and the breeze off the lake was like a warm hug. Gone were the sad faces that the cold weather had caused, replaced with plenty of smiles and the kind of happiness we liked to see from our tourists. We were almost to The Inn when I spotted Laurel standing outside. As in, she was literally just standing in front of the building.
