Worked to Death (Working Stiff Mysteries Book 2) (10 page)

"Moonshine or Moonpies?" —Things We Say in the South

Since it was obvious that Hollon Brothers wasn't going to be doing much business, I radioed Cletus and told him that I was closing the office for the rest of the day.

Then, I headed home. I had just enough time for a shower and a change of clothes before I had to meet up with Dr. C. and grab some lunch. I had to be at the clinic in two hours time.

After taking my long, steaming-hot shower and slipping on some much needed fresh clothes, I wandered over to Ms. Lanier's to check on Pickles.

"You hungry?" she asked as I entered after one knock.

"How do you always know?" I gave her a big grin.

"I know you, don't I?" She smiled back and then the smile fell from her face. "What is that?" She pointed at my head.

I reached up to my throat, and it felt tender and tingly. I was guessing that the bruises had started to show.

"Yeah, there was a little incident down at the towing company this morning."

She started to wring her kitchen towel in between bony, arthritic hands. "An incident? I haven't heard anything about this yet. Are you okay?"

I nodded—my neck hurt—so I stopped. "I'm fine. The police arrested the guy, and Ty is on the case."

I wandered over to the sofa and plopped down next to my huge Bullmasador with the giant, square-shaped noggin. He lifted his head and gave me a dog version of a smile and then, as if that was enough exercise for the day, put his head back down and went back to sleep.

Sleep. It was a great idea. If only I had time for a short nap. I was suddenly exhausted.

"Here's a sandwich for you. I was just making one for myself. Fried bologna okay?" Ms. Lanier handed me the plate over my shoulder, and her hand was shaking just a little bit.

I reached up and took the plate with one hand, holding onto hers with the other.

"I'm fine," I said.

She opened her mouth as if she were going to inquire further but then let it drop.

She must really be worried about me.
She never let things drop.

It must look bad. I swallowed down a bit of sandwich, and it kind of hurt to swallow. I thought of my dessert date with Officer Cutie this afternoon and wondered if I should cancel. But then I wondered if I was canceling because of my appearance, my exhaustion, or because of the fact that Colin was back in town.

I took another bite of sandwich and watched the end of the noontime news in silence.

"So, Maimie and I had a great webcam meeting last night. But she's coming over for dinner tonight, and we can discuss it then. You're definitely coming, right?" Ms Lanier confirmed as she sat down in her rocking chair right next to the sofa.

It was an old, white rocking chair, covered in a thin layer of fabric. It had a matching footstool onto which she propped her slipper-covered feet.

"Of course, I'm coming. After work, I'll pick up Paget, and we'll be over to eat and grab Pickles. Or, you can drop him at the house whenever."

His ear twitched at the mention of his name, but he wasn't motivated enough to attempt another head lift.

"No, no. I love having him here. When Paget is not here, he keeps me company." She smiled at me and then started in on her own sandwich.

I finished mine off and took the glass of tea she'd left for me on the end table, quenching my thirst.

"Thanks for this. I hate to eat and run, but Dr. C. wants me to see something, and I need to run if I'm going to have time before my afternoon shift." I also didn't want to watch her pretend not to study me out of the corner of her eye, as she was most definitely worried about my visible injuries.

"All right, Mandy. But will you have him look at your neck?" Her voice cracked a little.

I turned and smiled at her. "Yes ma'am. I will. But it is really not as bad as it looks."

I wasn't sure how bad it looked, but I was sort of afraid to see it now that she'd responded so oddly.

She returned the smile.

I took my plate and glass to the kitchen and washed them in the sink. Then, I let myself out the front door.

"Bye, Ms. Lanier. Bye, Pickles." I started to pull the door shut.

"Oh Mandy?" She hollered from the living room.

"Yes?" I asked, sticking my head back inside.

"Can you ask Dr. C. if he has any antibiotics?"

I raised my eyebrows. "I'm sure he can get some. What do you need antibiotics for?" I was afraid to ask. Ms. Lanier always had something medical that she wanted me to look at.

"I think I have this infected ingrown toenail. I want you to look at it tonight, but I think I'm gonna need some antibiotics."

Ugh.

"Okay. Will do."

Suddenly I wasn't sure if ingrown toenails really went along as the perfect side dish to lasagna and garlic bread. I made a gaggy-face as I returned to Stella.

Then, I thought about how good Ms. Lanier's lasagna was and decided that I'd probably find an appetite regardless.

*  *  *

I arrived at RideOut's Funeral Home with only forty-five minutes left until I needed to clock in at the B Positive Clinic. And there was no way I could be late. Mr. Andrulis was a stickler, and since I'd been "sort of" fired by Mr. Hollon this morning for my impromptu shoulder relocation, I needed to keep this job a lock.

As I stepped out of the car and turned to lock the door, I heard a voice that I recognized and a smile enveloped my face.

"I'll see you tonight then, honey." The warm, soft all too familiar voice made me smile. I turned to see Ms. Quick, the secretary from the police station, locking lips with Dr. C. at the door to the funeral home.

The smile slowly faded from my face. The kissing duo broke off their affectionate moment, and Ms. Quick bashfully patted her mouth with a Kleenex as she exited the porch and headed for her car.

"Hello, Mandy."

"Hi," I said, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with a sense of betrayal that I couldn't stop.

"I have those papers ready for you to sign, if you can stop by the station at your earliest convenience." She smiled and nodded as she continued on her way across the sidewalk and to her means of escape from the suddenly awkward scene.

I gave her a sort of smirk but held my tongue. She wasn't the one who was the target of my sudden irritation. Best not to say something that I'd regret.

"See you Sunday at church?" she offered. When all else failed, bring up church. It was a common tactic in the south.

I gave a shrug and headed up the path that she'd just vacated.

"Alrighty then. Bye now." Ms. Quick knew how to make a quick escape, and she took my silence as an opportunity to do just that.

I stepped up to the open door being held by my long-time friend and father figure, Dr. C. He had the courtesy to look embarrassed by the scene that had just played out before us.

"I hope that this wasn't what you wanted me to see." I pushed past him and into the entry foyer of the restored nineteenth-century home that held RideOut's Funeral Home. A place that Dr. C. spent a lot of his time now that he'd been elected county coroner.

The shiny wooden floors spread out before me as I threw my purse on the coat rack to my right and then turned back to face my mentor.

"I'm sorry, Panda. We hadn't meant for you to find out that way. I wanted to come and tell you and Paget in person. I know how she adores Ms. Linda and hoped that you girls would understand my need to move on with my life."

Panda was his childhood nickname for me, and I noticed that he often used it when he was filled with emotion. Currently, I could feel the guilt spilling out from him.

I suddenly felt a little guilt of my own. It wasn't really fair of me to take out my grief and frustration on him. He had loved my Aunt Patty for so many years I guessed that I was finding it difficult to see him with another woman. I still felt that it was a little too soon for him to have "moved on" as he stated it, but it wasn't really my business.

"Let's not talk about that right now, okay. I've had a sort of bad day." I motioned to my bruised neck.

His eyes opened wider at the sight, and he stepped forward to take a closer look. "What in tarnation has happened here?"

Without asking, he started to examine my neck with the tips of his warm fingers. He instructed me to swallow, and he turned my head from side to side slowly.

"Are you having trouble swallowing, any pain?" He gave me a "tsk tsk" look. "I don't suppose you went to the emergency room and had this checked out?"

He knew me so well. Doctors, or almost-doctors like me, were always the worst patients.

"No. I'm fine. And you know that nothing will keep me from swallowing." I offered a small smile.

"Who did this to you, Mand?" He ran his hands down my arms and grasped my hands in his as he stared into my eyes.

We'd never kept secrets from each other. That was another reason why I still felt a little hurt at his new relationship with Ms. Quick. Perhaps that was the main reason I was having icky feelings about seeing them kiss. Well, that, and that I could still remember the way he'd looked at my aunt on so many occasions. She'd been the love of his life.

"We had a little incident at the garage. That oafish redneck who owns the gym attacked one of the mechanics, and Mr. Hollon, and me. Ty has him in custody."

Dr. C. opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"Yes, it is a mess, and I'm involved in it somehow. Ty believes that it is somehow drug related, but we don't know any more yet," I continued.

He let out a deep breath and then held my hand up to his chest, right over his heart. "Mandy, look, maybe you should go home and get some rest. This type of attack causes a delayed sort of shock sometimes. You may simply be going through the motions and not realize that you're in shock. It has a distinct way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it."

I felt his heart beating in a steady rhythm beneath my hand, and it was unbelievably comforting. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in for a much needed hug.

A prickling of tears darted at the back of my eyes, but I blinked them back into submission.

"I'm okay, Dr. C. I'm here to see what you have to show me. I need to keep moving. Keep busy." I knew this was true. I was not the type of person that liked to sit around and feel sorry for myself.

I'd done enough of that back in the fall when I'd realized that my dream of completing med school and becoming a world-renowned neurologist who could cure my sister's condition was getting farther and farther from my grasp. I'd made the decision to stay home and take care of her rather than shipping her off to a group home. I was happy with the decision, but it meant that I needed to live a life that was full and busy.

It wasn't easy, but it was necessary.

He released me from our embrace and gave me a pat on the back. "Okay, then. Follow me."

He led me to an elevator that was tucked behind the stairwell. It was an unusually modern addition to an historic home such as this one. But it was a necessary one. For in a funeral home, there had to be an accommodating way to move the caskets up from the downstairs mortuary for viewings and visitations and the like.

We slipped inside the elevator and began our descent into the basement.

"If you're sure you're up for it, there is something I'd like to show you. Do you think you're up to seeing the remains of one of your high school friends?"

I knew he meant Mick Thibault. I pulled at my lower lip with my thumb and index finger. "Yes, I can do it. I've been trained to look at things objectively, and I need to practice the training." I wasn't sure if these words were to convince him or to convince myself.

Seeing the dead body of someone you knew was remarkably more difficult than seeing the body of a complete stranger—like the bodies that were donated to our science lab at school.

"If you feel strange or too emotional, you let me know, and we'll forget it. Okay?"

I studied my mentor for a moment. He'd aged more in recent months than I'd realized. He'd lost Patty the same as Paget and I, and I kicked myself mentally when I thought about what this was doing to him. I instantly felt both proud of him and envious of him. He'd reached out and found some sort of comfort in Ms. Quick. It was a natural thing to do.

I'd reached out for comfort by taking on too many jobs and packing my brain full of one town drama after another. But I hadn't found another person to love me and comfort me. I was suddenly longing for some comfort of my own.

"You ready?" he said as he lifted his caterpillar grey and white eyebrows at me before opening the door to the morgue. The scent of death assaulted my nose.

"What has that got to do with the price of tea in China?" —Things We Say in the South

I came face-to-face with my old high school friend a few moments later. Only, he was lying on a gurney and covered by a sheet and I was standing above him looking down into his grey, slightly wrinkled face.

"His skin looks like it has been in the water for longer than I would have thought," I said as I examined his water-bloated features.

"That's a good observation. I'd say that he was in the water for a number of hours before you pulled that car out. Maybe even all night."

I looked up from Mick's face. "But Matty told me that she'd driven the car into the pool that morning just before she phoned Hollon Brothers. She said she'd been angry after receiving the break-up letter from him and tried to leave in a huff."

He didn't respond.

"She's lying." I said what we were both thinking out loud.

"But that's not what I wanted you to see," he said and motioned for me to follow him over to a glass jar that was perched on the metal table against the wall.

Inside the jar was something that looked like an organ from a human body, but something was terribly wrong with it.

"Is that a…stomach?" I asked. It almost looked like a bladder in size, but I was pretty sure it was a diseased stomach.

"Yes. Good. Someone paid attention in anatomy class."

I gave him a nose scrunch in response. I'd been a top student in medical school. I'd taken all of my classes very seriously. Except for dermatology. I'd not been very interested in the study of skin. Even if it was the largest organ of the body.

"But it is damaged or diseased."

"Yes," he said. "I'd say it was cancer and most likely in stage four, but I've sent a sample off for testing and can't complete the autopsy until it comes back."

"Do you think this is what killed Mick?" I knew it was his organ without asking. Autopsies were not done on every single death so they weren't exactly lined up around the block. In fact, unless the death seemed suspicious in some way, I was sure that Dr. C. signed off on most deaths in short order. Only, this one had been suspicious. Late twenties male found in trunk of car set off alarm bells of all kinds. And this one was beyond alarming. This one was implicating more than one person I knew and cared about deeply.

"I really don't know. But so far, I haven't been able to find another cause of death. Of course, there's also a tox screen pending with the lab as well." He twirled the jar around on the table, and I bent down to have a closer look.

"So there was no apparent trauma to the body. No gunshot, petechial hemorrhaging of the eyes indicating strangulation, no knife wounds or blunt force trauma, no water in the lungs?" I ran through the most common methods for homicide.

"None of those things. I can say with certainty that he was dead when he went into that water."

"Well, that's a tiny bit of relief, I guess." I put my hands on my hips and then turned around to look at my old friend who was lifeless on the cold metal table. I was glad that he hadn't been trapped alive in that trunk. Drowning to death was a terrible way to go.

"I wanted to show you this because I thought you'd like to see an organ in this condition. It is not something that we get to lay our eyes on very often. Typically when someone is diagnosed with cancer, the cause of death is known, and there's no reason to cut them open and look at it," he explained.

"Makes sense." I wrapped my arms around my body and gave myself a sort of self-hug. I wondered if Matty knew about Mick's condition. She'd have had to. But she hadn't said anything to me about it. Was this some sort of mercy killing thing?

I expressed my thoughts to Dr. C.

"I haven't ruled it out. But were they just trying to cover that up by sending him off into the pool in the trunk of a car and drawing more attention to themselves? It seems—dumb. For lack of a better word."

I squinted at him. "I've never thought of Matty as being dumb. But I do believe she's an alcoholic."

He nodded. "Mick's liver was in bad shape, too, and it wasn't from the cancer. I'd say they both drank a lot more than they should. He wasn't even thirty yet."

We were all pushing thirty. Me and Ty and Penny. It was hard to believe that our twenties were not quite over, and we'd already lost one of our high school mates.

"Does Ty know that you're showing me this?" I asked, as thoughts of the police captain came to mind.

"No, he does not. I'll leave it up to you whether or not you tell him. I'll have my report for him by tomorrow or the day after. He'll get all the details then. I can't rule it a homicide if the tox screen comes back negative. With the cancer, it could easily be natural causes."

I wasn't sure whether or not I was going to tell Ty about this, but suddenly the things that I was storing up in my mind were becoming overwhelming. I knew some facts about this case that were disturbing, and there was something going on here that was just not connecting. All the dots were lining up, but I felt like I needed a few more.

"Okay, I'll think about it. I've got to get going. My next shift is awaiting me at the clinic." I gave Dr. C. a quick hug and then headed for the elevator.

"How's it going over there?" he asked as he picked up a clipboard and started jotting down some notes.

"It is going very methodically. Mr. Andrulis makes sure of that." I grinned at him, and he gave me a wave.

"Let me know if you need any pain killers for that neck," he offered.

"No thank you. Mr. Andrulis said that they hold random drug screenings at the clinic, and the last thing I need is for my test to come up positive for a narcotic or something."

He gave me a thumbs-up. "Good thinking, doctor."

I stuck my tongue out at him and he smiled. "Oh yeah, I do need some antibiotics for Ms. Lanier though."

He raised his eyebrows, and the caterpillars did a little dance.

"What's it for this time?" he asked, and I opened my mouth to respond. "Wait—never mind. I don't want to know. I'll call it in."

"Good thinking, doctor," I said as the doors closed between us.

*  *  *

I pushed through the doors of B Positive only five minutes before my scheduled shift was to begin. Dropping off my purse, I slipped on my lab coat and clocked in, precisely as the clock ticked to the top of the hour position.

Stepping into the lobby, I checked the sign-in sheet to see how busy we'd been this morning. Only two drop-ins and neither one a name I recognized.

I followed that up with a peek into the billing office to see what work Mr. Andrulis had left for me. Only a couple of files sat in the outgoing "to be filed" box, and I put those away lickety-split. Nothing was in my inbox, and no notes were stuck to the computer for me to work on.

I proceeded to the lab to check for any waiting samples, but everything was completed. Two small, padded envelopes sat in the outbox for the larger lab in Montgomery to pick up during its evening run. That meant that the envelopes contained testing we didn't do onsite. I shrugged. Nothing going on. A slow Thursday.

I stepped into the draw room and checked to see if there was any tidying up that needed to be accomplished, but it was absolutely spotless, as usual.

I crossed my arms over my chest, at a loss as to what to do.

"Mandy, is that you?" Mr. Andrulis' voice sounded from the hallway. I peeked around the doorframe to see him likewise peeking his head out from his office doorway.

"Yes, sir. I'm here. Do you have anything that I need to get started on?" I asked, hopefully. I was going to be bored silly—and that would only add to my nerves about my upcoming mid-afternoon date with Officer Big Guns.

"I need to meet with you a moment. Could you head down this way?" His head disappeared.

Oh, boy. This couldn't be good. The office empty. Nothing pending for me to do. I had the sudden feeling that I was about to get my "reduction in force" meeting. And now that Mr. Hollon was all mad at me, what if I really left here today with zero jobs? From too much to do to nothing at all to do.

As I walked down the hall, it suddenly seemed a little longer than usual, and I felt a little queasy. Thoughts of the aftereffects of shock began swimming in my brain, and the hallway began to bend and turn in places where it didn't normally bend and turn.

When I finally reached his door, I had to lean on the doorframe and bow my head for a moment. I was absolutely dizzy.

"What are you doing there?" Mr. Andrulis' voice sounded somewhat irritated. But it quickly gave way to concern, and the next thing I knew, he was guiding me to a chair and pushing me into it. "Are you all right? Put your head between your knees now. Slow, deep breaths. In through the nose. Out through the mouth."

His feet echoed down the hall, and I focused on my breathing. What was going on with me? My face was burning and my heart was racing. The bologna sandwich was my biggest regret at the moment, but I tried not to think about it.

Moments later, a cold washcloth found its way to the back of my neck, and my body let out a shiver.

"What has happened to you, Mandy?" Mr. Andrulis' voice was calm and concerned.

"This has been a sort of bad day," I said with lips pressed to my knees. My words were muffled.

"Are you ill? Do I need to phone someone for you?" He was standing beside me, evaluating my every movement.

My dizziness had started to fade, and I slowly lifted my head. Continuing the long, deliberate breaths and removing the washcloth from my neck, I pressed it to my cheeks.

"No. I think I might have just been having a panic attack." I let out a small laugh.

"What set that off?" he asked, now feeling safe to return behind his desk and take a seat.

I shook my head but was certain that I could feel my brain moving around in there. I wondered if a migraine would follow this little episode. I hadn't had a true migraine in a couple of years, but I'd suffered from them regularly in the past when my sleep had been deprived.

"Well…are you going to fire me?" I asked, bluntly. Might as well beat him to the punch.

He opened his mouth and then leaned forward, arms on his well-organized desk and gave me a stare down. "No," he let the word out on a breath and then smiled at me.

I think his effort was to calm me down and reassure me, but seeing him smile was weird. He never smiled at me.

"In fact, I'm giving you a promotion."

I blinked several times. "A promotion?" I hadn't thought such a thing was possible. In fact, there were only the two of us who worked here. And sometimes I wasn't sure that my position was really even warranted.

"Yes, well, truth be told,
I'm
not giving the promotio
n
the owner is, and he wants you to start full-time on Monday. Think you're up for that, or will you have another panic attack at the thought?" He tried another grin, but it seemed unnatural on him.

"Uh, full-time? On Monday?" This was exactly what I'd wanted. To get back into the medical field in some capacity. And have the chance to drop my other part-time job.

"Yes." He leaned back in his chair and removed his glasses. He started shining them with his necktie.

I watched in amazement. "But, what will we both do here full-time? I mean, there's not even anything for me to do right now. Things seem slow."

"Well, that's the one catch. You'll be running the clinic all by yourself next week. I'm moving on." He held his glasses up to the light to check for smudges. He continued wipin
g
obviously they weren't up to snuff.

"Moving on? Where?" I couldn't stop myself from asking. This lab was his life. As far as I knew, he didn't have family or anything.

"I've been moved on to a second clinic that will be opening in Birmingham. It will have a full lab and a whole staff in need of management. I'm taking over and helping to get it ready for a grand opening by spring. There's a lot that will need to be done, as you can imagine." His voice was absolutely giddy.

I smiled at him. I'd never seen him like this. "Congratulations."

"Oh, thank you." He smiled again and then his face turned deadly serious in an instant. He jabbed his glasses back onto his face and leaned forward again, almost conspiratorially. "But listen, do you think you can handle this place by yourself? I mean, you have to be sure. I can't leave this place in disarray and in good conscience move on to another job if I don't know that this lab will be kept up to the standards for which it is accustomed."

I nodded with a confidence I wasn't sure I possessed. The panic attack had finally ceased, and I was slowly feeling back to normal. I was pretty sure I needed some caffeine and sugar to pull me all the way out of it, though. Maybe a piece of chocolate cake too.

"I'm sure I can handle it. Will I be able to hire an afternoon assistant like you did?" I was speaking of my current position.

"Negative," he answered and began straightening his desk calendar and lining up his pencil cup that didn't need realignment in anyone else's eyes. "This will be a one-woman operation when I'm gone. You may have to send out more lab work if it gets busy, but that is just the sum total of it."