“A pity. What kids have to deal with. All I worried about was trigonometry.”
Charlotte took photos through the passenger window, then moved to shoot a few at an angle from the back window on that same right side. “Coop, it’s like everything else in this life. You make choices. She made those choices with her eyes wide open. Thadia and the coke crowd mocked the rest of us. We ranged from uncool to no cool to clueless.”
“I reckon she paid for it. Maybe the ultimate price. Right now, I’m clueless.”
“Hey, Coop, how many times have I seen you and Rick figure it out, finger the killer? You will this time, too.”
“Damn well better.” Coop made a note to remember that Charlotte was uncommonly observant.
• • •
Two other uncommonly observant creatures, Harry and Tucker, along with Mrs. Murphy and Pewter, headed back to their farm. As it was the first day after her first treatment, Harry had wanted to do something out of her normal routine and to ride the horses Sue Rowdon so loved. Harry had seen them in the show ring, in the hunt field. They could all jump. She had looked forward to the morning. She’d promised herself, along with a new workout program at Heavy Metal, to do something new every day. Grateful that this something new hadn’t occurred when she was farther along in her treatments, she couldn’t get the cut throat—a clearly visible bifurcated windpipe—out of her mind.
Tucker had filled in the cats as the humans untacked and washed the horses. They were furious to have missed such an adventure. For Pewter, this was twice she’d missed out on something big. She pouted at Sue’s barn, pouted in the truck, and pouted at her own barn.
Harry called Noddy Cespedes at Heavy Metal even before calling Susan.
“Noddy, it’s Harry Haristeen.”
“Oh, Harry, I’m looking forward to working with you tomorrow.”
“Me, too. Is Thadia Martin a member of the gym? Forgive me for asking about another person.” Harry carefully did not spill the beans.
“No.”
“You know who she is, though?”
“Only because she sometimes comes in to watch Cory Schaeffer box. It embarrassed him. I stayed out of it. I think he told her he’d like to keep his training matches private. I never asked.”
“Don’t much care, either,” said Harry. “But isn’t it odd that a surgeon would take such risks with his hands?”
Noddy thought a moment. “I guess. I just figure whoever comes in here knows what they want and the bodily risk. He was on his college team. I guess he figured the workout, the concentration needed for boxing, rejuvenated him.”
“Painful sport.”
“Harry, it’s the most complete sport there is. Think about it, you’re out there all alone, pitted against another human being in your weight class but with different skills. You have to figure out your opponent as he’s trying to figure you out. You have to be in fantastic, unbelievable condition to go fifteen rounds, even ten. Here they stick to three. Cory is good, a very balanced fighter. Younger men all want to spar with him.”
“Hmm. You have any women boxers?”
“A few. Slowly but surely, women will pick it up. Like I said, to box you have to be in splendid condition, and it’s the best, and I mean the best, thing you can do for your hand-eye coordination.”
“Really.”
“Trust me. The best. If you’re a serious baseball player or tennis player, even if you don’t want to take a punch or throw one, you work the speed bag, then the big old heavy bag, run like a boxer runs to get in condition, you’ll be doing yourself a big favor.”
“I never thought about that.”
“No one does. Oops, gotta go. My noon client just came. A real success story. Overweight at seventy-two. Made a commitment to be healthy. He’s already lost thirty pounds in five months. No pills or crank diets, either.”
“You’re a miracle worker.”
“Well, thanks. I’m not. I just unlock the potential in everyone’s body.”
After hanging up with Noddy, Harry sat at the kitchen table, drank a Coca-Cola, and thought about the situation.
She called Susan and discussed it with her. Susan predictably told her she was engaging in her favorite sport: meddling, then jumping to conclusions.
Irritated as one can only be irritated by a spouse or best friend, Harry thumped to the barn followed by her other three best friends.
Even Pewter kept her mouth shut. She knew Harry was one step ahead of a running fit.
All the horses were out in the perfect spring day. Harry vented her thwarted energies on cleaning the barn. That took just one hour, because it was pretty clean to begin with.
Dusty, she stomped her boots, shook herself, then walked outside, lifted the back of the Volvo, whistled for the kids to jump in. She set off for Central Virginia Medical Complex.
“On a mission,” Mrs. Murphy said and sighed.
“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want to be on it with her,” Pewter said, nodding.
“You jumped in the wagon,” Tucker said.
“Only because I couldn’t bear to be parted from you, Bubble butt,” the gray sassed.
Mrs. Murphy laughed, and Tucker, who hated being called Bubble butt, couldn’t help it. She laughed, too.
“All right. What’s going on back there?”
“Nothing,” all three replied in unison.
Confused but motivated, Harry wanted to talk to Toni Enright before news of Thadia’s murder reached the medical complex. What nagged at her was the scarab. Did Thadia kill Paula? How? Did someone who loved Paula figure it out and kill Thadia? Harry was making herself crazy.
“Stick to facts,” she said under her breath.
Harry didn’t know Toni Enright’s work schedule, but she knew where her small office was, shared with other nurses. Toni wasn’t there, but two nurses mentioned she was in the operating room. Harry left her cell number and asked if they’d give it to Toni.
On her way to her husband’s clinic, the phone rang. She pulled to the side of the road, a two-lane paved one, not heavily traveled. It was Toni. Harry told her Thadia was dead. Neither the sheriff nor Coop had told her she couldn’t.
Toni, voice rising, asked, “Did you see any evidence of drugs?”
“There was a small carton on the passenger seat. Don’t know what it contained.”
“Nothing in the backseat?”
“Her old sweater.”
“God, I hope she’s not full of drugs.”
“Why?” Harry naïvely asked.
“It will just kill the people in her recovery groups. Say your prayers, Harry. Say your prayers that she was drug- and alcohol-free. This is just terrible!”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have told you.”
“You did exactly the right thing. I’ve been in the operating room, so Thadia missed her morning groups and I didn’t know. I’ll get a few other nurses; we will inform all her groups and call the people who are in the morning groups. Harry, some of these people are very fragile. They need to be informed in as supportive a way as possible.”
“I understand.” She was beginning to, at any rate.
“Why was she murdered?”
Harry told her what she’d seen.
“I just hope one of her old associates”—Toni said “associates” with dripping contempt—“didn’t reappear. She was in jail, remember?” Then Toni sighed. “She cleaned up. She tried to make amends. It was a bad end. I’d be a liar if I pretended to like her. I tolerated her. But she really did a good job with her groups. Too much drama for me, but that’s me.”
“Toni, that’s all of us except another ex-addict. I think most of those people feed on drama.”
“They certainly create enough of it.”
“Like politicians,” Harry crabbed.
“I’ve noticed lately that you’re spewing venom in that direction.”