Pecked to Death (9 page)

The best way to simultaneously prove her father wrong and get out of Dodge was to finish her investigation into Aunt Abby’s death. Yesterday’s encounter with Hal had given her a starting place. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before. Doctor Jones was not only the entire neighborhood’s family doctor, he had also been Aunt Abby’s oldest and closest friend. If anyone had signed off on her death certificate, it was him. He was also irascible. Aunt Abby had been the only one who could ever carry on a civil conversation with him. That was why Sadie wasn’t surprised when she couldn’t get in to see him. His staff seemed as surly as he was.

After arguing unsuccessfully with the female desk clerk, she turned and scanned the waiting room for a target. Across the room, a man sat rifling a magazine.
Bingo!
She sat gently beside him, purposely trying not to disturb his reading. And then she started to cry delicately, head down, hands over her face.

“Miss, are you okay?” he asked, almost on cue as if she had pre-scripted the conversation. In a way, she had; she had been having it with various men for most of her life.

Sadie nodded and dabbed her eyes. “I’m okay, it’s just that my beloved aunt died, and the doctor signed off on her death certificate. No one will give me any information, and I really want to talk to him. I only need five minutes, but he says he doesn’t have time for me. I want closure, you know?” She glanced at him, letting him get a good look at the tears glimmering on her innocent blue eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be unloading all this on you.” She reached for a tissue and dabbed at her nose.

“No, it’s okay. I wish there was something I could do to help.”

She let her luminous, misty eyes settle on him as the male gene that wanted to fix the world began calculating.
Get there faster,
she silently urged.

“Hey, I know! What if when it’s my turn, you sneak in ahead of me for a few minutes?”

Sadie let her eyes widen in delighted surprise. “What a wonderful idea. Would you really do that?”

“Five minutes?” he clarified.

“Five minutes,” she gushed as she grasped his hand and shook it. This time her enthusiasm was real. “Thank you so much.” She beamed at him again and he blinked at her, dazed.
Time to dial it down a little,
she thought. There was flirtation, and then there was a line that she never crossed. For all she knew the guy might be married. She dabbed at her eyes again and turned away until his name was called and he poked her.

“That’s me,” he whispered.

“Thank you again,” she whispered in return, and then slipped into the open door before the nurse could protest.

When Doctor Jones entered the room, he wasn’t happy. “Sadie, what is this about? I already told you I’m busy today.”

“This will only take five minutes,” Sadie said, undaunted.

“I don’t have five minutes. Go.” He opened the door and pointed. She didn’t budge. She hadn’t spent so many years with Gideon for nothing; she was unfazed by strong, angry men.

“I’ll just keep coming back,” she said. “You might as well talk to me now and get it over with.”

He gave up much easier than she expected, sighed, and sat down. “What do you want to talk about?”

She sensed by his tired tone that he already knew. “Did you sign Abby’s death certificate?”

“I did.”

“What was the cause of death?” she asked.

“Natural causes.”

“How does someone perfectly healthy die of natural causes?”

“Who said she was perfectly healthy?” he asked.

“She never mentioned any health problems to me.”

“Abby enjoyed her privacy,” he said.

“That’s true, but if she had sensed the end was coming, then she would have said goodbye; she would have prepared me. Then there’s the matter of the letter. You know she insists she was murdered.”

“How can someone predict her murder before her death? And, if she really thought she was going to be murdered, why didn’t she go to the police?” he asked.

Those were good questions that Sadie had already considered and been unable to find answers for. “Did she mention any suspicions to you?”

He paused before answering, biting the inside of his lip as if deep in thought. “No.”

He’s lying.
Sadie had bent the truth enough times to recognize when someone else was doing it. “You were her closest friend. Why wouldn’t she confide in you?”

“Why indeed?” he said. He crossed his arms over his chest, a sure sign that he was becoming defensive. He was hiding something, but what?

“Did you actually see her body when you signed off on it?” Sadie asked.

“Of course I did.”

“How did she appear?”

“Perfect. There was nothing suspicious in her death.”

“But what if someone was really good at hiding murder?” Sadie said.

Doctor Jones threw up his hands in frustration. “I was with her when she went, Sadie. I’ve been a doctor almost twice as long as you’ve been alive, and unless you think I’m ready for Shady Acres, then you need to stop questioning my judgment.”

“What’s Shady Acres?” Sadie asked as the reference temporarily distracted her from the importance of his statement. She wondered if that had been his agenda.

He sighed and sat back, looking defeated. “Shady Acres is a nursing home built a couple of years ago. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it; it’s been big news around here lately.”

“I haven’t kept up much. Now that I think about it, though, I guess Abby did mention it. She wasn’t a fan.”

“She hated those places,” he said. He sounded sad, but his sadness worked to remind her of what else he had said.

“Wait, did you say you were with Abby when she died?”

“Yes. We knew the end was coming, and she wanted me there. It was very peaceful, if that’s any consolation.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Sadie said.

“A lot of things Abby said or did didn’t make sense,” the doctor said. “Now I need to get back to work and your five minutes are up.”

“Can I ask one more question?”

“What is it, Sadie?” the doctor said. He stood and shuffled toward the door again.

“Why didn’t you and Abby ever give in and get married?” The question was a whim, a fulfillment of all that Sadie had suspected was between the two longtime friends.

“That’s a question for Abby,” he said.

“Well, I can’t exactly ask her now, can I?”

He sighed. “No, I suppose not. By now I think you’re old enough to understand that sometimes feelings don’t trump everything else like stubbornness, pride, anger, unforgiveness, and myriad other things. Sometimes love doesn’t conquer all.”

Sadie had seen too much of that in her own life to disagree with him. “I guess so,” she said. “Thank you for your time.” He nodded as she eased through the door, and then he closed it firmly behind her.
Now what?
She had no idea where to go next. Nothing added up, and she felt like she was on a wild goose chase.

First things first, she had to work. The newspaper article drew notoriety so that by the time Sadie grabbed her sign and took her place, no less than a half dozen cars were lined up to hear her cluck. She was long past the point of embarrassment. Instead she tried to focus on the extra money she was earning. By the end of her shift, she had more than twenty cluck tips. With the extra, she was able to make her car payment for the month. On the way home, she stopped at the bank and deposited the money. Four more days, and she would have enough for her insurance, three if the cluck tips kept up.

By the end of the day, she was hot and sweaty, but not as bad as the day before. She had taken off the head to drink today, and left it off for a while. For some reason, people tipped better if she clucked without the head. Gideon’s car was in the drive when she pulled in. She sat in the car, tight-fisting the steering wheel. She didn’t want to deal with her father right now. Her glance landed on Aunt Abby’s house. Movement inside told her Luke was there. Her gaze shifted between her house and Aunt Abby’s. Which was the lesser of two evils? Finally, she gathered her chicken head and walked next door.

She knocked, but he didn’t hear her over blaring music coming from the radio. He was listening to rock from the seventies, and she smiled as she let herself inside. Luke was standing on a ladder fiddling with a light fixture. “I had forgotten you were a Credence fan,” she said.

He yelped and wobbled on the ladder, grasping the fixture for support. “Sadie! You scared me.”

“I knocked, but you didn’t hear me.”

“And so you let yourself in,” he said as he descended the ladder. Luke was always grumpy after he was scared. Or sad. Or mad. Basically, he lived most of his life in a state of grumpiness or near-grumpiness.

“It’s Aunt Abby’s house,” Sadie said. “I’ve always been welcome here before. Is that going to change?”

He didn’t answer, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure what she would do if he cut off the one place she had always found refuge. Even with Luke’s geek stuff scattered around, nothing could erase the familiar presence of Aunt Abby. Her scent and style were stamped on everything. Sadie walked to the mohair couch, sat, and rested her giant chicken feet on the ottoman. “I went to see Doctor Jones,” she announced.

“Because of yesterday?”

She had to think for a second to remember her heat exhaustion from the day before. “No, your friend Hal fixed me up. I’m fine today. I went to talk to him about Aunt Abby’s death.”

“Hmm,” Luke said. He didn’t stop working. He was so task oriented; it drove her crazy.

“He said Abby was pregnant,” she said.

“Hmm,” he said, then, “Wait, what?” He stopped short and looked at her, head cocked to the side.

“Oh, so you are listening,” she said. He rolled his eyes and resumed working.

“I can listen and unpack at the same time. Continue.”

“So I asked him if he signed the death certificate, and he said yes. And then he said Abby died of natural causes, and that she may or may not have been secretly sick. And then he said he was with her when she died.”

“Hmm,” Luke said.

“Luke!” Sadie snapped.

He paused to look at her. “What? I heard you, but I don’t see how this is earth-shattering information. He was with her when she died peacefully and signed the death certificate. Isn’t that how it should be?”

“Then why did she say she was murdered?” Sadie asked.

“How could she say she was murdered before her death?” Luke said.

“Exactly. She must have known something or…or…” she sat back, trying to sort her thoughts.

“Or what?” he asked, pausing again. As always with Sadie, silence got his attention better than chatter.

“What if he killed her?” she said softly.

“Sadie!” Luke said. “That’s crazy. You can’t accuse a respected man like Doc Jones of murder,”

“I’m not accusing; I’m brainstorming. And I don’t mean that he strangled her for kicks. But what if Abby was sick, and she asked him to kill her? You know he would do anything for her.”

He sat beside her as he digested that. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “Why wouldn’t she fade away with dignity?”

“Unless it was the type of illness that wouldn’t allow for dignity. What if she had some form of dementia? She would have hated that.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I buy Doc Jones breaking the law, even for Abby.”

“Let’s think of it this way: If I found out I had dementia and asked you to kill me, would you do it?” she asked.

“No. I wouldn’t kill you or anyone, and no one should be selfish enough to ask another person to break the law for them.”

To Luke, the world was nice and monochrome—he refused to acknowledge gray areas. Sadie was heartened by his answer, however. At least he hadn’t said he didn’t care enough about her to do anything.