Claws and Effect, page 25
“Cheater,” Susan humorously complained.
“Tally called me a liar. You’re calling me a cheater. Anyone else want to unburden themselves?” He stared down at his ex-wife’s pretty head. “I retract that offer.”
Harry reached for and squeezed his hand. Laura Cramer was on the other side of the table.
“This is a lively group.” Laura laughed.
“Wait until the drinks hit.” Susan giggled.
Harry introduced Fair to Laura as they moved around the table.
He gallantly carried her plate, put both plates down on the long coffee table, and headed to the bar for Cokes for each of them. Fair never drank during the day, although he did drink socially.
Cooper walked over. “Some party.”
“Have you had anything to eat?”
“Yes. Too much. I’m going back for dessert.”
“Come sit with us.” Harry indicated they’d sit on the floor.
The Cramers also sat on the floor, using the coffee table as their table. Graham, Dennis, Cooper, Susan, and Miranda squeezed in. Fair and Joe talked medical talk, since veterinary medicine used many of the same procedures and machines as human medical science. In fact, some procedures successful on humans were pioneered by veterinarians.
Graham regaled Cynthia Cooper with tales of training green racehorses to use the starting gate. Dennis Foster and Laura compared packs of hounds in northern Virginia, always a subject of passionate interest to foxhunters. Susan listened intently and Laura invited her, the whole table, to join them at Middleburg Hunt for a ripsnorter.
At one point Joe leaned over, whispering to Harry what he’d said to Sam and Bruce. Just then Jordan Ivanic bent over to say his hellos and Joe repeated what he’d told Sam and Bruce to Jordan, who blanched.
“I’ll look into it. We’ve had some unfortunate occurrences.” Jordan smiled tightly.
“I think murder qualifies as an unfortunate occurrence.” Graham picked up a piece of corn bread.
“Now, Mr. Pitsenberger, we only know that Hank Brevard was killed in the basement of the hospital. We have no information that would connect other irregularities to that incident,” Jordan smoothly replied.
“That’s not what the newspaper says,” Graham needled him.
“Newspapers sell issues for the benefit of advertisers. Now if you all will excuse me. It’s nice to see you again.” Jordan nodded to the Cramers.
“That’s a cool cucumber,” Graham remarked as Jordan was out of earshot.
“He wasn’t so cool when Hank was murdered,” Susan filled him in. “At least that’s what I heard.”
The visiting hunters had been well briefed about Hank’s demise and Larry Johnson’s murder. They knew nothing about Tussie Logan.
“For a small community you don’t lack for excitement,” Laura dryly said.
A shout at the front door attracted everyone’s attention.
“George Moore, what are you doing here?” Tally laughed as a tall man breezed through her front door.
“I’m here to sweep you off your feet.” He picked her up.
“Brute!” She threw up her hands in mock despair.
He carefully placed her down. “Have you eaten any of your own food?”
“No. I’ve been the hostess with the mostest.”
“Well, come on. I’ll be your breakfast date.” He slipped her arm through his, walking her to the table.
Everyone knew George so there was lots of catcalling and waving.
Little Mim teased Bruce Buxton. “With a name like George, you have a lot to live up to in Virginia.”
The breakfast rolled on for hours. Tally had hired a pianist, which augmented the already high spirits. After everyone had eaten they crowded around the piano to sing, a habit common to Tally’s generation and all but lost by the time Harry’s generation was raised.
As the guests finally left one by one, Dennis accompanied the Cramers.
Rick quietly watched everyone from the front windows of the house. Coop used the excuse of helping Harry load her horses to go back to the trailers.
“I’ll ride home with you.” Cynthia’s voice indicated this was an order not a request.
“Great.”
“Rick’s going to push Sam and Jordan about the records and he wants me to stick with you.”
“I’d say there’s someone at this breakfast today who is sweating bullets.”
“You know, here’s where the human ego baffles me. Why not take the money and run? If you’re the kingpin of this scam, you know the noose is being tightened—just run,” Coop said.
“Maybe the money is not easily retrieved.”
“All the more reason to run.” Coop shrugged.
“I think it’s ego. He thinks he can outsmart all of us.”
“Could be. He’s done a good job so far.” Coop waved as the Cramers and Dennis pulled out.
By the time Harry and Coop reached the farm, unloaded the horses, fed them, cleaned up, they were tired.
As they discussed the events of the day, the animals listened.
“I hate to admit this but I’m hungry again.” Harry laughed.
“I can always eat.”
They raided the refrigerator.
“You know, Mom has that chirpy quality,” Tucker noticed.
“That means she’s going to do something really dumb.” Murphy said what Tucker and Pewter were thinking.
* * *
46
Rick walked into his office just as the dispatcher told him to pick up line one.
“Sheriff Shaw.”
“Hi, Sam Mahanes. I dropped back by the hospital after Tally’s breakfast and we do have records for cleaning out the infusion pumps. Joe Cramer must have been confused.”
“Where are you now?”
“Home.”
“Can anyone working a computer terminal at the hospital pull up a maintenance file?”
“No. If people could do that they could also get into medical records, which are strictly confidential. The only people accessing the maintenance file would be myself. Well, Ruth, of course, Hank Brevard, and now Bobby Minifee.”
“What about the men working with Bobby? Someone like Booty Weyman. Wouldn’t Bobby teach him to use the computer? Anybody responsible for equipment, for shipping, would have to access the records.”
“I’ll double-check with Bobby on Monday. I’m not sure. I always assumed Hank gave marching orders and that was that.”
“Maybe he did but it would have made his life a lot easier if someone could work the computer, otherwise he’d have been bugged on his days off, on vacation.” Rick paused. “And Jordan Ivanic. As your second-in-command he would have the maintenance records or know how to get them.”
Sam airily dismissed Jordan. “He could, I suppose, if he felt it germane but Jordan shows little interest in those matters. He likes to focus on ‘above the line’ as he calls it. He feels that maintenance, orderlies, janitorial, and even nurses are ‘below the line.’”
“Speaking of nurses, are you on good terms with Tussie Logan?”
“Yes. She’s one of our best.” A questioning note filtered through Sam’s even voice.
“H-m-m, why don’t you meet me in your office in about an hour? Jordan will be on duty this weekend. We can all go over this together.”
“Sheriff, an oversight about infusion pumps seems small beer compared to the murders.”
“On the contrary, Sam, this may be the key.” He paused. “Anything not quite on the tracks at Crozet Hospital interests me right now. And one other little thing. Joe and Laura Cramer have examined the invoices. The billing numbers aren’t their billing numbers. These invoices are bogus, Sam.” Rick could hear a sharp intake of breath.
“In an hour. Eight-fifteen.”
* * *
47
“Coop, are you going to spend the night?” Harry innocently asked.
“Yes.” Cynthia checked her watch. It had been losing time.
“Seven.” Harry answered without being asked.
“I’d much rather the damn thing gained time than lost it. Well, it only cost me forty dollars so I suppose I could afford another one. There’s no sense wearing good watches on my job.” She reset her watch, to synchronize with Harry’s: seven o’clock.
“Those Navy Seals watches are pretty neat. They glow in the dark.”
“So do people who live near nuclear reactors,” Coop joked.
“Ha ha.” Harry stuck out her tongue. “Wouldn’t it be helpful if you could read the dial in the dark? What if you’re creeping up on a suspect or you have to coordinate times, synchronize in the dark?”
“Your fervid imagination just runs riot.”
“You should live here.” Pewter yawned.
“Coop, there’s two of us. I’ve got a .38 pistol. You’ve got your service revolver.”
“Harry, where is this leading?”
“To Crozet Hospital.”
“What?!”
“Now hear me out. Three people are dead. My stitches still itch. Joe baited Sam, Bruce, and Jordan. Right?”
“Right.”
“What we’re looking for has to be in that basement. Has to be.”
“Rick Shaw and I crawled over that basement with a fine-tooth comb. We studied the blueprints. We tapped the walls to see if any are hollow. I don’t see how we could have missed anything.”
“The floor,” Murphy practically screeched in frustration.
“Pussycat, do you have a tummy ache?” Harry swung her legs off the sofa but Murphy jumped on her lap to save her the trip to the chair.
“I am fine. I am better than fine. What you want is underneath your feet.”
“Yeah!” Pewter joined the chorus.
“It’s so obvious once you know,” Tucker barked.
“Pipe down.” Harry covered her ears and they shut up.
“Something provoked them.”
“Human stupidity,” Murphy growled.
“Maybe you need a tiny shot of Pepto-Bismol.”
“Never.” Mrs. Murphy shot off Harry’s lap so fast she left tiny claw marks in Harry’s thigh.
“Ouch. Murphy, behave yourself.”
“You ought to listen to us.” Tucker stared at her mother, her liquid brown eyes soulful.
“Here’s my idea. We take our guns. We take a good flashlight and we go back down there together. I even think we should take Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker. They can sense and smell things we can’t. Coop, you know Rick won’t let me or the kids down there and what we need is there. Has to be.”
“You’re repeating yourself.”
“This is our only chance. It’s nighttime. There won’t be as many people around. The loading dock will be closed. We’ll have to contend with whoever is on night duty, assuming we can find him. Come on. You’re a trained officer of the law. You can handle any situation.”
It was the appeal to Cooper’s vanity that wore down her defenses. “It’s one thing if I gamble with my life, it’s another if I gamble with yours.”
“What about mine?” an insulted Pewter yowled.
“God, Pewter, you can’t be hungry again.” Harry returned her attention to Cynthia Cooper. “You gamble every day you put your foot out of bed. Life is a gamble. I really want to get whoever killed Larry Johnson. I can’t say I’m motivated by Hank’s death or Tussie’s, not that I wished them dead, but Larry was my doctor, my friend, and a good man. I’m doing this for him.”
Cooper thought a long time. “If I take you, will you shut up? As in never mention this to Rick?”
“Scout’s honor.”
Another long pause. “All right.”
“Oh brother.” Tucker hid her eyes behind her paws.
* * *
48
Harry drove her old blue truck around to the back of the hospital. Everyone in town knew that truck but it was less obvious than Coop’s squad car. She parked next to the back door. Had Harry parked out in the open parking lot even though she was at the rear of the hospital, the truck would have been more noticeable.
Cynthia checked her watch. It was seven-fifteen.
Harry double-checked hers. “Seven-fifteen.”
The young officer checked her .357, which she wore in a shoulder holster. It was a heavy, long-barreled revolver. She favored long barrels since she felt they gave her more accuracy, not that she looked forward to shooting anyone.
Harry shoved her .38 into the top of her jeans.
“Mom, you ought to get a holster,” Tucker advised.
“She ought to get a new brain. She has no business being here.” Pewter, a grumbler by nature, was nonetheless correct.
“We’d better be on red alert. We can’t turn her back.” Murphy’s tail puffed up, then relaxed. She had a bad feeling about this.
Coop opened the back door as the animals scampered in. Harry noiselessly stepped through and Coop shut the door without clicking the latch. They walked down toward the boiler room, stopped, and listened. Far away they could hear the rattle of the elevator cables; the doors would open and close but they heard no one step out. Then the cables rattled more.
The animals listened intently. They, too, heard no one.
The two women stepped inside the boiler room, the large boiler gurgling and spewing for the night was cold. Coop checked the pressure gauge. She had respect for these old units. The trick was keeping the pressure in the middle of the gauge, which looked like a fat thermometer.
“This place was supposed to be on the Underground Railroad. The first thing we checked when Hank was killed was whether the wall was hollow behind what had been the old fireplace. Nothing,” Cynthia whispered.
“You checked all the walls?”
“In every single room.”
“Follow me,” Mrs. Murphy commanded.
“Yeah, come on,” Tucker seconded her best friend.
As the animals pushed and prodded the two humans, Sam Mahanes pulled into his reserved parking space right next to Jordan Ivanic’s car. It was seven twenty-five. If the two of them were to meet with Rick Shaw at eight-fifteen then he’d better prepare Jordan, who, he felt, was a ninny. While Rick asked them about the invoices, Ivanic was capable of babbling about an anesthesiologist who nearly lost a patient. Those things happened in hospitals and Sam was determined that everyone stay on track.
Down in the basement, after a combination of nips, yowls, and pleading, Harry and Coop at last followed Mrs. Murphy and Tucker. Pewter walked along, too, but in a foul mood. Mrs. Murphy and Tucker were showing off too much for her and the only reason she accompanied everyone tonight was that her curiosity got the best of her.
In the distance the animals and humans heard a siren. Someone was being rushed to the emergency room. In the country that usually meant a heart attack, a car accident, or a farm accident.
“In here!” The tiger’s tail stood straight up.
Harry reached for the light but Coop put her hand over Harry’s. “No.” She clicked on the flashlight, half closing the door behind her.
The cartons, neatly stacked, offered no clue to the treasure below.
Tucker ran to the wall, stood on her hind legs, and pressed the stone. Although low to the ground and short, the corgi was powerfully built with heavy bones. The flagstone opened with a sliding sound and thump.
“I’ll be damned,” Cooper swore under her breath as she flashed the light into the entrance.
In the distance the elevator chains rattled, the doors opened and closed.
The humans didn’t hear but the animals did.
“Human. Human off the elevator.” Pewter’s fur stood straight up.
“Quick. Down the hatch!” Mrs. Murphy hopped onto the ladder, her paws making a soft sound on the wood as she hurried down into the hiding room.
“Murphy!” Harry whispered loudly.
Pewter, no fool, followed suit. Tucker, never one for ladders, turned around and backed down with encouragement from the cats.
By now the humans could hear a distant footfall heading their way.
“Come on.” Harry grabbed the top of the ladder, swung herself around, and slid down, her feet on the outside.
